“I’m not so sure of that,” Pedersen said. She took off her thick glasses and rubbed her eyes. A not unpleasant-looking woman of 45 or so, if not for the worry lines across her brow.
“Just exactly what do you mean?” Levitt asked.
“Nothing really. Except that… I get the feeling sometimes we’re going about this the wrong way.”
“The wrong way? And what is the right way?”
“I don’t know, Dr. Levitt. I don’t know.”
“I see,” Levitt said – and resumed circling.
On closer examination, it became apparent that the object was acting in a way no normal box would. For one thing, it didn’t rest on anything solid but seemed instead to float just above the ground – as if in a state of permanent levitation or at least repulsion from physical objects. For another, its interior was pulsing softly, giving off a light that could be seen barely spilling over the top edge. And there were black markings on its sides, like stylized wings.
“Any reaction?” Levitt asked, leaning over but making sure not to get too close.
“As unresponsive and as touchy as ever,” Pedersen said. “Nothing we do changes its state. Call it a permanent alarm system.”
“Hmmm. Dr. Greshner, do we have audio amplification?”
“We do,” Greshner said. “But we keep it at the lowest possible setting. It’s quite painful.”
“Painful or not, I would like to hear it.”
Greshner walked over to the computer terminal and tapped the keyboard. Immediately a sound that combined the wails of someone who’s just lost a child with the screeches of a tortured parrot echoed in the room.
“Thank you,” Levitt said, gritting his teeth. “That’ll do. Dr. Pedersen, any opinion as to what it might be saying?”
Pedersen shrugged her shoulders: “Pain, loneliness, death rattle, joy, an attempt at communication. Of course, that’s assuming it’s alive and what we’re hearing is its language. We may be dealing with strictly automatic reactions. Or, at the most, sequentially activated. Like a radioactive material giving off signals as its atoms break down. That would explain its unchanging nature.”
“I appreciate the hard work you’ve both put in,” Levitt said. “We’re just like a family here. However, I think the point is rapidly approaching where we may need a fresh start. Our benefactors are becoming anxious.”
“Understood,” Pedersen said. “Just give us—”
Levitt’s cellphone beeped.
“Duty calls,” he said, pressing his hand against the wall and causing the door to slide open. “I expect a report the moment there’s a breakthrough.”
Before the door closed again, they caught a glimpse of him berating the janitor, pointing to a spot on the floor that obviously hadn’t been cleaned to his satisfaction.
“I expect a report the moment there’s a breakthrough,” Greshner said in mock imitation. “Just like a family, indeed. Who the hell would want to be part of that old fart’s family?”
“Easy there, Bill. The ‘old fart’ is rumoured not only to have a family but to have been mortally wounded by some who didn’t quite measure up to his expectations.”
“Nice guy. I bet he dropped them because they hadn’t been nominated for Nobel Prizes before turning 30.”
“Such bitterness – and I heard him say he considers you a replacement for the son that never panned out.”
“Bullshit! I’d rather be disowned.”
“Come on, Bill. There are worse things in life than working for Levitt Labs. In fact, it’s quite a cushy job, isn’t it? Why, can’t you see yourself – white-haired, rheumy and loaded down with honours – reminiscing about the good old days with your favourite white rat?”
“Thanks a lot. Pretty soon you’ll have me manhandling the young techs à la Dr. Quisted.”
“Now, now,” Pedersen said, sitting in a high swivel chair overlooking the box, “let’s not be too harsh on dear old Eric. After all, where would we be without his latest variation to the solution of the inter-twirled peanut butter-jelly dilemma?”
“A classic. I couldn’t believe it when I heard that he’d been working on it for ten years. What’s he got on Levitt anyway? Fudged results from Chem 101?”
“The truth is Quisted was once quite promising. In the days when this was still Levitt-Quisted Labs.” She straightened her glasses. “Enough. Time to get back to work.”
“Wait a minute. You can’t just leave me hanging. I want the gossip, all the gossip and nothing but the gossip. How else am I gonna make my way up the scientific ladder?”
“There’s not much to tell. A classic story: Levitt was the better administrator; Quisted, believe it or not, had an enviable reputation in the lab.” She paused. “And before you hear it from someone else – yes, we were lovers once.”
“You and Twist Top?” She nodded. “Jesus, I’d heard the rumours but… So what happened?”
“What happened?” Pedersen turned to look at the box. “Let’s just say Quisted and I were working under different assumptions and definitions. He wanted me as one more example of his conquest of approaching old age; I wanted him as the father I never knew. That obviously couldn’t last.”
“Wow, you and Quisted…who would’ve—”
“Okay. Back to work. Let’s go over those printouts again.”
“You know that we could do this more easily on a monitor,” Greshner said.
“Yeah. Just call me old school.”
“Okay,” Greshner said, holding up the two-foot thick pile of computer printouts and then letting it drop to the cement floor. When the echo died, he sat cross-legged in front of the printouts and began to read: “Program One: Input consists of one smooth-surfaced box-like object made of unknown material. Dimensions: two metres long by one wide by half-a-metre deep. Weight: Unknown or none, depending on your outlook. Closed on all sides except for the top.” He looked up at Pedersen who had joined him on the floor. “That is all the empirical data, at least all that makes any sense. As for the rest, pretty scant. ‘Object brought in under closest military guard. Location Found: Queen Charlotte Islands. Origin: Unknown. Metallurgical, chemical, atomic analysis not performed due to inability to scrape sample material from box. Scanners opaque. Results nil. Characteristics: Floats 10 centimetres above rest position. No visible means of support or energy emission. Attempt to push it down displaces it easily but on release results in automatic return to equilibrium but without any intermediate phases that can be detected, either by eye or on film. Interior – which is completely transparent and seems empty – gives off a light pulse whose timing varies, no two being the same. Once again, no energy measurements obtained from pulse and no source for pulse. Exterior: Unidentified stylized markings that also pulse.’ And there you have it. Except for the response reaction, that’s it.”
“You know, Bill,” Pedersen said, “I’m getting a funny feeling about this. Like we’re missing something obvious. Or being betrayed by our own instincts.”
“My instincts tell me we should start over again and re-examine every bit of evidence we’ve collected in the last six weeks.”
“Okay, Bill, as long as Levitt Labs is paying us, let’s just do that, shall we?”
She lowered her head and started to work her way through the printouts. Greshner went over to the terminal and tapped away on the keyboard. The printer spewed out more of the paper. This continued on for several hours, during which neither spoke. Finally, Pedersen stretched and pushed the paper away from her.
“I’ve had it,” she said. “Break time. I think I’m ready to face that hospital cafeteria.”
Pedersen placed her palm against the wall. The door opened. The janitor, a hunchbacked man in his mid-30s, stood in the corridor with a wet mop in his hand.
“Hey, Red,” Greshner exclaimed, holding out his hand for a high-five, “how are we this afternoon? Doc Levitt been hassling you again, huh?”
Red, obviously named for the shock of curly hair that shot up in all
directions, smiled shyly. He tried to speak but it took him a few seconds before the first garbled words came out.
“Oh n...no. He’s a n...nice m...m...man. He f...found me th...th...this job.”
“Sure he is. But how goes it, huh? Win any dance contests lately?” Greshner turned to Pedersen. “This boy’s quite a ballroom dancer, you know. Takes lessons at the ‘Y’.”
“Really?” she said. “You’ll have to teach me sometime. I’ve always wanted to learn how to dance. Can you do that?”
“S...sure, D...Dr. Ped...Peder...sen. B...back hurts r...right now th...th...though.” He looked at Greshner. “Maybe y...you could h...have a l...look, eh, d...doc?”
Red giggled, his blue eyes shining in appreciation of the joke.
“A real comedian, this boy,” Greshner said. “And to think all that talent’s going to waste. What a shame.”
“My m...mother thought I w...was f...f...funny, too,” Red said, turning to Pedersen.
“What are mothers for?” she said.
• • •
The cafeteria did indeed resemble a hospital’s attempt to cheer up its patients. While the rest of the building’s dominant colour scheme was white on beige (so that even three-dimensional objects seemed to fade away), the cafeteria was a sunburst of patterns with the walls a repetition of black and yellow checks, enlivened by green polka dots, and the plastic moulded chairs and tables a sickly mauve. Rumour had it Levitt commissioned the cafeteria on the cheap from an interior designer specializing in mental facility nurseries.
“And barf,” Greshner had said the first time he’d seen it. “It’s like they let a whole bunch of winos in and shoved fingers down their throats.”
No sooner had they bought coffee and seated themselves than Dr. Quisted burst through the door, smiled brightly at a young female technician and then headed their way.
“Ah, Bill,” Quisted’s friendly voice boomed in greeting, as his hand came down on Greshner’s shoulder, “trying to avoid me again, eh?” He nodded curtly towards Pedersen.
“Eric, we’d be more than glad to have you join us. But, as you can see, this is a two-seater and Levitt, in his wisdom, had the tables and chairs bolted to the floor so…”
“No problem, Bill. I just came over to congratulate you on the fine job you’ve done since joining the lab. And don’t let Levitt’s gruff façade fool you. He actually thinks highly of you.”
“Well, most of the credit should go to Dr. Pedersen. It was her translation program that allowed us to get as far as we are today.”
“Of course, of course. I didn’t mean to imply—”
“No implication taken,” Pedersen said, tilting sugar into her coffee before remembering she drank it black.
“At any rate, Bill, keep it up. I look forward to working with you in the future.”
With that, he patted him on the back again, then turned and walked away.
“What the fuck did he mean by that?” Greshner said.
“Forget it, Bill. He’s just trying to get even with me, that’s all. He can’t let it slide that Levitt picked me to head the project and not him.”
• • •
Pedersen and Greshner worked on solving the box for the rest of the week, with Pedersen becoming progressively more morose and uncommunicative. Finally, she spent an entire morning just sitting in her chair and staring at the object, her head hanging just above the pulsing opening. Greshner had to call her name several times before she snapped out of it.
“Sorry, Bill. Daydreaming, I guess.”
“You daydreaming! That’s supposed to be my department.”
“Actually, I was thinking of an entirely new approach. Like what if I take off my clothes and jump right in?”
“Anne, I think it’s time for a nap,” Greshner said, feeling her forehead. “Besides, you’d only bounce off. Like that pen a coupla weeks back.”
The following evening at the weekly meeting of the lab’s senior scientists, Quisted wasted no time in bringing up the subject of the strange object.
“I’m sure we all appreciate the effort put in by Anne,” he said, all the while looking at Levitt. “I, for one, have had a long acquaintance with her work. But, in this case, the results have been underwhelming. Surely, it’s time to try a new approach.”
Everyone looked at Pedersen, waiting for her to explode as only she could when threatened professionally. But she just sat there scribbling, making circles on her memo pad and humming to herself.
“Have you a particular approach in mind, Eric, or are you just speaking generally?” Levitt asked when he saw there’d be no response from Pedersen.
“Well, I do happen to have one,” Quisted said quietly. “What I’d like to try – or see tried at any rate – is something harder. More of a classical handling of the object with full scale use of the lab’s facilities and personnel. Off the top of my head and rather crudely, I can think of electric shock, drugs, minor dissection perhaps. Obviously, some gamma ray bombardment and lasering to test its limits. I’m aware there are some who contend this thing is not only alive and sentient but conscious in a unique way and at least able to produce symbols. That, to me, is poppycock, pure and simple. As scientists, it’s our duty to get back to the conducting of scientific experiments, to collecting that data and making sense of it.”
Levitt turned to Pedersen who was still obliviously scribbling in her pad: “Anne, would you care to present a rebuttal?”
Pedersen kept her head down for a full five seconds, then looked up and said: “Eric is right. I have no objections to his taking over. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
With that, she arose and walked out of the conference room, leaving behind a bewildered and murmuring group that couldn’t figure out if they’d won or been totally routed. Instead of returning to work, Pedersen took off her lab coat and left the building. Outside, she was nearly blinded by the late-afternoon sunshine. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been out of Levitt Labs before dark.
• • •
Once in her condo apartment, the first thing she did was shut down her cellphone. Then she poured herself a stiff drink and, wrapped in a blanket, went to sit on the balcony to watch as the sun set in the west over the ever-crumbling, ever-renewed CN tower, wrapped in its construction shell. She looked out at a vast sprawling place that was well into its old age: sedate, steady, fat in the middle, a bit maudlin and sometimes forgetful that it had been created for the use of the people who lived in it. And yet also dangerous for the undercurrents, the pockets of resistance. It was as well strangely debilitated. It seemed that no matter how quickly they put up new buildings, they were devoured by rust, by leaks, by cracks. She’d heard cases where the bottoms of structures were actually crumbling before the tops were put on. Levitt Labs was the exception. But then no one lived there and it gave off a purely artificial warmth out in the pristine suburbs. Now, there was one more strangeness, one more unexplainable variable in the equation. She had almost managed to fall asleep when the doorbell rang. She leaped up, lost for a moment in the dark, then shivered and went inside. The bell rang again.
“Okay, okay. Hold your horses.”
She pressed the buzzer to release the high-rise’s front door, then waited for her guest to make his way up the elevator. She had a pretty good idea who it would be – for she had no friends or social life outside the lab – and wasn’t startled when she threw open the door.
“Hiya, Bill,” she said. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“What the fuck’s going on?” he said.
“I gave up on the project, that’s all. Wanna drink?”
“What do you mean you gave up? It’s not yours to give up, dammit. And just dumping it in the lap of that poor excuse for a medieval torture master, that’s…that’s…”
“All I’ve got is Scotch and rye. Sorry.”
“Anne, this is insane. You owe me an explanation.”
“Okay, okay. Here, sit down. I haven’t been able to explain it
to myself as yet but maybe trying to tell you will make things clearer.”
They sat down. Pedersen poured herself another drink and downed it in one shot.
“Ugh!” she said. “I hate booze.”
“We were this close to a breakthrough,” Greshner said, holding two fingers about a centimetre apart. “I could taste it. The results were starting to mesh.”
“That’s a pile of bull and you know it.”
“All right, Anne. All right. So, we weren’t getting anywhere but I never took you for a quitter. You told me yourself never to give up. There’s always another angle, another way of looking at something. And even if there isn’t, you just start over again.”
“So, I lied,” she said, rising and walking over to the balcony door.
“I don’t think being flippant about it helps much.”
“Maybe that’s what running out of lousy angles does to you.”
“And two-bit philosophizing has never been your style either, Anne.”
She shrugged and returned to her seat.
“Come back,” Greshner said. “Tell that weasel Levitt you had a sudden lapse. You, of all people, are entitled to one. Tell him you’ll take some of Twisted’s suggestions under consideration. Tell him anything but don’t leave me stranded like this.”
“You know, Bill, I never noticed how young you are. I bet you’re at least 20 years younger than me.”
“I’m 28. What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Nothing, really,” she said. “You’d better go now.”
“I’ll go,” he said, “but not until I get an answer. I want you to come back on this project. Or at least give me an explanation of why you won’t.”
“The answer is no – at least not for the moment. As for an explanation, how about because I don’t feel like it? How about because I’m getting bad vibes? How about it’s feminine intuition?”
“Jeez,” Greshner said in mock horror. “I never thought the day would come when I’d hear such words out of the mouth of the hard-assed Dr. Pedersen, terror to all those who dare say the word ‘qualitative’.”
The Photographer in Search of Death Page 10