by Scott Mackay
‘‘Yes.’’
‘‘And the universe?’’
‘‘Yes.’’
By this time, she had wires attached. She checked the readouts. ‘‘Pulse is normal. Blood pressure and heartbeat are normal. But you say you’ve got this headache now.’’
‘‘Yes.’’
‘‘And it’s not going away?’’
Cam remembered the purple speck of light touching his brow. That’s exactly when his headache started. ‘‘It’s not so bad.’’
‘‘You look tired. Maybe you should take a rest.’’
‘‘I’m fine.’’
‘‘I’m not so sure. Something happened to you.’’
‘‘Nothing that’s medically significant.’’
She conceded the point. ‘‘That’s true, but still.’’
He could see she had plans for him now. ‘‘If you’re going to ask me to give up this new research, forget it.’’
‘‘Maybe you should let Renate take over.’’
‘‘I’m under orders from Colonel Pittman. She isn’t.’’
‘‘Let’s look at your eyes.’’ She shone a small flashlight into his eyes. ‘‘Your pupils aren’t particularly reactive. Sit up and take a look at the eye chart.’’
She had him read the chart, first with one eye, then the other. ‘‘I take it you wear eyeglasses.’’
‘‘I started last year.’’
‘‘And you’re sure you feel fine?’’
‘‘Yes. Just a little bewildered.’’
‘‘Do you know the five warning signs of stroke?’’
This caught him off guard. ‘‘Why?’’
She pressed her lips together. ‘‘Your father had a stroke.’’ She motioned at his chart. ‘‘It’s in your medical history.’’
‘‘That’s ridiculous. I’m perfectly healthy. You think the doctors at NASA would have cleared me for Stradivari if I wasn’t?’’
She looked away. ‘‘No. I guess not.’’
‘‘I just have a slight headache. That’s all. And a headache’s not going to kill me.’’
And then, to get off the subject, he asked, ‘‘How’s Jesus?’’
Johnsie looked away. ‘‘If we had the EEV . . .’’
‘‘Is he going to make it?’’
She thought about it. ‘‘Put it this way. On Earth, yes. Up here, I can’t say.’’
5
Cam got his first Earth-Lunar linkup with Colonel Timothy Pittman the next day. Cam sat in the Gettysburg Control Tower with Lesha, Renate, Bruxner, and various other team members. Pittman, whose face loomed large on the screen, was a rugged-looking man in his midfifties, with close-cropped silver hair, a neatly trimmed silver goatee, and penetrating blue eyes. He wore a gray Orbops T-shirt, the organization’s blue logo on the left breast. He had bulky biceps. Military dog tags dangled around his neck.
‘‘And he died when?’’ asked Pittman. They were talking about Jesus Cavalet.
Cam studied Pittman. ‘‘Yesterday evening.’’
The colonel looked to one side, his face like sheet metal, his eyes widening, his brow leveling. ‘‘I’ve reviewed the new rover tapes.’’ Pittman paused. ‘‘You were abducted against your will, Dr. Conrad.’’
Cam regretted this interpretation. ‘‘I wasn’t abducted.’’
‘‘You were forcibly lifted from the ground and confined.’’
‘‘I wasn’t confined. I was welcomed.’’
Pittman was insistent. ‘‘You got close to it, and it responded with a defensive mechanism.’’
‘‘There’s no evidence to support that particular assessment, Colonel. Don’t let the accidental death of one man cloud your judgment. We have an opportunity here. We can learn a lot.’’
‘‘It’s destroyed eighteen billion dollars’ worth of property, stranded fifteen people, killed Jesus Cavalet, and forcibly confined you. Against your will. I say we’ve learned enough.’’
‘‘Let me stress again: the stranding, the damage, and the death were accidental.’’
‘‘Then it’s my job to prevent future accidents.’’ Pittman glanced down at his waferscreen. ‘‘I see from your report that you’ve postulated an advanced intelligence.’’
‘‘Yes.’’
Pittman looked up. ‘‘How advanced?’’
Cam struggled for terms Pittman might understand. ‘‘We’ve conducted several experiments on the samples we’ve obtained, and over and above its protoplasmic ability to mutate from one element to another, we’ve also registered brief flashes of what in my own field we’ve recently taken to calling hyperdimensionality, with energy readings showing the existence of a fifth and sixth dimension. Current Earth science can only extrapolate with generalized theorems to explain how these hyperdimensions are created, though at Brookhaven we’ve had some success in creating for short periods a fifth dimension by bombarding gold nuclei with high-energy particles. The entity creates this hyperdimensionality naturally in what we believe is a practical application. This evidence has allowed me to extrapolate an advanced intelligence. Extremely advanced.’’
‘‘I don’t get that. Hyperdimensionality. What exactly is it?’’
Cam nodded, encouraged that the man was at least asking questions. ‘‘Width, length, and depth are the first three dimensions, correct?’’
‘‘I would agree. I’m a backyard carpenter.’’
‘‘And time is the fourth?’’
‘‘Okay.’’ Less sure.
‘‘But it’s now been discovered that time has a spiral nature. Picture time not as a straight line but as a corkscrew or a rotini noodle. A spiral. Ordinary time is when we travel sequentially and step by step along the spiral, like climbing a staircase in a lighthouse. But when we travel the diameter of the spiral, say leaping from banister to banister in a lighthouse, we get the fifth dimension, what at Brookhaven we call temporal radius. In this way, time can be manipulated, so that we don’t have to travel it second by second, but can leap over vast stretches of it. The sixth dimension is a more extreme form of acrobatics around the spiral, not jumping from banister to banister, but up and down entire flights, and this we call sequential drop. It’s through these fifth and sixth dimensions that time travel is conceivably possible. We have evidence of nine attainable dimensions, all created through the manipulation of time and space such as I’ve just outlined, but believe there may be as many as twenty-six, ones we think humans are unlikely ever to observe, much less conceive. You see, Colonel, time and space are critically interlinked, and it’s in Alpha Vehicle’s manipulation of curved space-time that I hypothesize an extremely advanced intelligence, possessing what to us is currently an impossible engineering platform. My own work on anti-Ostrander space is just starting to scratch the surface of hyperdimensionality.’’
Pittman paused for several seconds as he thought it through. Cam saw intelligence in the man’s eyes that at least attempted to grapple with some of these esoteric concepts. But then he said, ‘‘Alpha Vehicle is starting to scare me.’’ Like hyperdimensionality couldn’t be trusted at all. ‘‘We’ve got four dimensions. They’ve got six. Which in my book is an arms race.’’
‘‘You’re generalizing, Colonel.’’
‘‘How does our scientific know-how measure up to theirs?’’
What analogy would the colonel possibly understand? ‘‘As ants are to humans, so humans are to the sentients behind Alpha Vehicle.’’
Everyone in the tower grew still. The colonel shifted, and as he once again glanced at his waferscreen, the muscles around his lips bunched, and the skin turned white as the blood was squeezed away.
‘‘So in other words, they can squash us like bugs.’’
‘‘If they can bend time and space, the wholesale elimination of a species like our own is certainly within their reach. But I don’t think that’s their intent. There’s no evidence of that at all.’’
‘‘What about military capability? Does Alpha Vehicle have any?’�
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Cam raised his eyebrows. He remembered his visit inside the entity, particularly that sublime moment when it had revealed something of its nature, how it was a blank waiting for an impression, a mission waiting for its purpose. ‘‘Alpha Vehicle I believe is what I term a proto-form. It gave me this impression when I was inside it. It’s nothing yet. It’s like a stem cell. Stem cells are the base coinage of all cells. They can take on many different cytological profiles. A stem cell can become a brain cell, a kidney cell, a blood cell—but as a stem cell, it remains a blank. That’s what Alpha Vehicle is right now. A blank. One, I think, with mutational properties.’’
‘‘So you think it’s going to mutate?’’
‘‘One would infer the likelihood of a future mutation, since that’s what it’s designed to do.’’
‘‘Is it within the realm of possibility that it might mutate into a weapon?’’
‘‘I don’t have enough information to draw any conclusions about that.’’ He added pointedly, ‘‘And neither do you.’’
‘‘Any idea where it came from?’’
Cam said, ‘‘I’ve been transmitting Greenhow System imagery and radio data to an astronomer friend of mind, Dr. Nolan Pratt. He’s affiliated with the University of Hawaii and assistant director of the W. M. Keck Observatory in Mauna Kea. He’s one of the most brilliant astronomers I know. He’s uplinked to the Next Generation Space Telescope. You’ve heard of the NGST, haven’t you? The one that came after Hubble?’’
‘‘Yes. A research toy, isn’t it? I’m of course more familiar with the Greenhow ring, as I was one of the military advisers on the project.’’
Cam raised his index finger. ‘‘That’s where I’ve heard your name.’’
‘‘So, what’s Dr. Pratt discovered?’’
‘‘He’s confirmed that Alpha Vehicle originates from outside the solar system.’’
Pittman took the news soberly, nodding in a preoccupied manner. ‘‘So we’re definitely talking aliens.’’
‘‘I’m glad to say that this particular fact has been established.’’
Something happened to Pittman. An odd smile came to his face. His chest expanded, and he looked positively elated. ‘‘So this is historical.’’
‘‘Yes.’’ And was glad the colonel recognized the fact.
‘‘And you and I . . .’’
Cam got his drift immediately, that they were in the middle of it all. ‘‘Yes.’’ Pittman’s giddiness unsettled Cam. ‘‘Which is why it’s so crucial we don’t make any mistakes in how we proceed.’’
Pittman’s elation vanished and he got back to business. ‘‘So . . . has your friend . . . Dr. Pratt . . . has he figured out exactly where Alpha Vehicle comes from?’’
Cam nodded. ‘‘By using the Greenhow System, as well as the NGST, he’s been successful in identifying a series of entity-created transit points, and he’s tracked these back a good long ways. He’s determined that Alpha Vehicle not only comes from a different solar system, but that it comes from a different galaxy as well, one so far away we haven’t even named it yet. It’s got a catalogue number only, NGC4945. It’s twelve million light-years away. Normal observation of NGC4945 captures light that is twelve million years old. Observation through the transit points captures light that is generated today. Dr. Pratt has determined, based on past observation, the age difference between the normally observed light from NGC4945 and the transit-point light.’’
‘‘And it amounts to twelve million years?’’
‘‘Correct. In other words, the light that reaches us through the transit points is a sample of light leaving NGC4945 . . . well . . . right now. Viewed another way, the light coming through the transit points doesn’t take twelve million years to reach us. It reaches us instantaneously. Which means Alpha Vehicle traveled twelve million light-years instantaneously.Which is why I believe the sentients behind Alpha Vehicle are stupendously advanced, and why I believe we have to proceed cautiously.’’
The colonel’s lips pursed. ‘‘So, when you were inside this thing . . . you say in your report it tried talking to you.’’
Cam thought about his experience inside Alpha Vehicle. ‘‘It showed me the universe, but it also showed me my own life, in microcosm.’’
Pittman’s stare hardened. ‘‘I don’t see any of those specifics in your report. Why?’’
‘‘It was personal.’’ This part of his contact with Alpha Vehicle still flummoxed Cam, and he didn’t know what to make of it.
‘‘Dr. Conrad, if, as you say, we have to be careful about how we proceed—’’
‘‘It primarily showed me the death of my parents.’’
This was one of the things that was making him nervous about Alpha Vehicle. Why would it select— and indeed, how could it select—the single most painful event in his life, and make him relive it like a speeded-up film?
‘‘In other words, it made you suffer.’’
He paused. He felt the anguish of his parents’ death as a block in his throat. ‘‘I suffered, but my suffering was incidental to what Alpha Vehicle was trying to do.’’
‘‘And what was it trying to do?’’
‘‘If I had to guess, I would say it was trying to know who and what I was.’’
‘‘In other words, it was probing.’’
‘‘Not in the military sense. It was curious. It wasn’t threatening. It welcomed me. I’m just as mystified as you are by the whole thing, but if you want to know the truth, I believe Alpha Vehicle intrinsically represents a benign force. Even a positive one. Don’t ask me how I know this. I can hardly begin to understand it myself. Call it a gut feeling.’’
Pittman frowned. ‘‘Doctor, we have to at least consider the possibility that Alpha Vehicle might be hostile. The Pentagon pays and trains people like me to dream up worst-case scenarios.’’
‘‘I don’t think this is a worst-case scenario, Colonel Pittman.’’
Pittman paused, then tapped the table a few times. ‘‘Do you think Alpha Vehicle has possibly influenced the way you think?’’
His eyes narrowed. It was true, sometimes he questioned the need he seemed to have to protect Alpha Vehicle, but he honestly didn’t think the entity had in any way brainwashed him. ‘‘No.’’ And immediately he couldn’t help wondering if that particular answer was too cut-and-dry.
‘‘You were inside it. For two and a half hours, according to Dr. Weeks’s report. Even though your own subjective experience calculated the absence in minutes. If this thing’s so advanced . . . if it can outthink us a million to one, maybe it’s made you one of its spies. You can see why I might be suspicious of everything you say, Dr. Conrad. Maybe it’s fooled you. Maybe you’re not even you anymore. Maybe you’re it.’’
He gained a new respect for Pittman, for he had certainly run this Descartes-style conundrum by himself a number of times: I think, therefore I’m it. But he was not yet willing to deny the continued existence of his own personality. ‘‘All I’ve got is my own subjective experience to go on, but I don’t feel any different. And by the way, I have no idea why the thing seems to have chosen me.’’
‘‘Did it show you anything else, either about yourself or about what it plans to do?’’
Cam looked away. ‘‘No.’’
Pittman sighed. ‘‘You’re lying.’’
‘‘I’m not lying.’’
‘‘Dr. Tennant, you’re taking over this project. Dr. Conrad’s been compromised.’’
‘‘All right, all right,’’ said Cam. Then, in a softer voice: ‘‘It showed me Lesha.’’
On the other side of the tower, Lesha straightened.
‘‘Lesha?’’ said Pittman. ‘‘Dr. Weeks?’’
‘‘Yes.’’
‘‘Why would it show you Dr. Weeks?’’
He frowned. ‘‘I really don’t think this is pertinent to our investigation.’’
‘‘Dr. Conrad . . .’’
He hesitated, then said, ‘‘It showed
me Lesha because it turns out . . .’’
He told them, and sure, it was embarrassing, but in the greater context of what was going on, it was a small thing, a human thing, an attraction he wasn’t ashamed of but which was nonetheless still awkward under the circumstances.
After a few moments, Mark Fuller broke the tension by saying he didn’t think Lesha was half-bad-looking either; and Lesha laughed, and didn’t seem embarrassed, and even seemed somewhat encouraged, because hadn’t she had that longing in her eyes the night they had gone to their separate hotel rooms in Los Angeles? And of course they were all professionals, and they quickly digested the new information, and drew useful conclusions. Specifically, that Alpha Vehicle could probe the human mind. Pittman shook his head, even as a chaotic discussion ensued. Cam lost his focus. Pittman shifted in an agitated manner.
When the discussion finally settled down, the colonel stared at Cam. ‘‘Dr. Conrad, for the time being, continue to head the research effort. If you feel things aren’t entirely right, or if others observe in you a change, or an unusual tendency to defend Alpha Vehicle—and that’s not to say you can’t advocate for an unbiased scientific study—but if it becomes apparent to other team members that Alpha Vehicle has in fact manipulated you, I’m going to ask you to step down. Dr. Tennant will take your place. In the meantime, all efforts will focus on why, after a journey of twelve million light-years, Alpha Vehicle has come to our system in the first place. Why, out of all the billions of moons in the Milky Way, did it choose ours, and what is it planning to do now that it’s here? That should be your primary thrust, Dr. Conrad, and any extraneous scientific findings should be secondary.’’
6
The next day, Alpha Vehicle started moving west at a rate of 13.7 kilometers per hour, remaining two to three meters above the ground.
Cam and his team followed in Rover 1.
Rover 2 trailed a short distance behind.
Lesha sat beside him. She gave him a glance. He remembered last evening. The talk they had had. Of the Los Angeles thing. And her admission that she had come to the Moon simply because she couldn’t stand the thought of him being so far away. The rover hit a particularly deep pothole and lurched to the side. Their shoulders touched. But touched in a different way. The tuning of things had changed between them. The possibility of a new intimacy, though not yet realized, had at last surfaced.