Boundary (Field Book 3)

by Simon Winstanley

  ‘Of course!’ he found himself thinking.

  This was a test.

  There was no reason to suppose that communication should have to be audible. The purest form of communication was mathematical. He just needed to initiate a coding system and, after receiving a response, iterate towards a primer.

  He reached out and pulled the nearest polyhedron closer. The tactile sensation was slightly muted, as though his fingertips were not actually making full contact with the surfaces, but he found he could still manipulate the three-dimensional pieces.

  The twelve polyhedra appeared to be fashioned in three different colour frequencies, so he tried arranging them from lowest wavelength to highest.

  He looked around to see if his actions had been observed, but it appeared that they hadn’t. During the arrangement process he noticed that if a polyhedron suddenly came into contact with another, then a sound was emitted. He concluded that sound may still therefore be a contributing factor to any communication method.

  He tried calling out again, this time explaining his actions. His voice still appeared garbled to him, but it was possible that the sound had a meaning beyond his own understanding.

  As he was finishing his explanation, he thought he heard structured sound coming from far away. He stopped and listened intently, desperate to collect any available data, but the sound had stopped. It was a response, certainly, but nothing had changed within the immediate surroundings.

  He studied the polyhedra again. He knew he must be close to a solution but it was possible that a higher degree of complexity was required. Perhaps one involving wavelength and structure.

  Beginning with the colour red, he placed four shapes in increasing order of volume: Tetrahedron, Cube, Cuboid, Sphere. He then laid out a second row in green, following exactly the same pattern. Finally, he did the same for blue, placing the blue sphere in the bottom right corner of his four-by-three matrix.

  This appeared to produce a response.

  The disc underneath him vibrated slightly and, a moment later, another stronger vibration arrived, followed by another. He saw movement to his left.

  A being, whose height he couldn’t begin to estimate, strode into view and came to a halt on the opposite side of the disc, looking at him and his carefully arranged matrix.

  He suddenly realised that he knew the being very well. The reason for the massive environment suddenly made sense; the space wasn’t large, he was just very small. The space around him was his parents’ living room and the figure towering above him was his mother. She looked at the arrangement of coloured wooden blocks in front of him.

  “Oh! Well done, Dou-” she suddenly stopped.

  Her expression dropped from a smile into one of mild confusion as she noticed the meticulous arrangement of shapes.

  Douglas realised that he was experiencing an early life event, but it was one that he had no memory of. From his apparent age, he thought, it was possible that this event had not been recorded in his long-term memory.

  He’d heard people talk of their lives flashing before them in the moments before escaping death. An uncomfortable thought presented itself for his review: was it possible he was still in the process of dying as the Boundary continued to collapse?

  He dismissed this thought quickly: he had no long-term memory of this event, so it could not be flashing before him.

  The other alternative was that he had succeeded in entering the Boundary. In which case, it was entirely possible that he was visiting an event from his own time-line.

  Or intruding upon it.

  His mind scrambled to evaluate the possible ramifications of being an intruder in his own past. The consequences could be disastrous. Or the consequences could already have happened.

  His mind revolted against the thought and he felt the room vibrate around him; its dimensions fluctuating wildly. His perspective shifted suddenly to see the living room from above and he watched as his mother quickly walked, backwards, towards the front door of their house, leaving baby Douglas sitting on the living room’s circular rug. He felt a discontinuity and suddenly he saw his father stood at the front door, talking with two men in identical grey suits. There was another jarring discontinuity, but his high viewpoint remained.

  Framed within the perfect circle of the rug, he now saw baby Douglas and his parents happily playing with the coloured wooden blocks. He could see the love in his parents’ eyes; their baby was the perfect summation of their hopes for an unwritten future.

  The happy family, contained within a circle, reminded him of a flick-book he’d once sketched; it had encapsulated his own hopes of finding a way for his family to be together, away from the demands of the world. The end result of those sketches was right here: existing as a perfect moment from within his own personal history, and accessible though the Boundary he’d created.

  His mind turned towards the creation of that flick-book; it had been in the summer of 1966. Almost in reaction, the dimensions of the scene in front of him collapsed and folded in on themselves, pinching to a singular point and racing away. He felt as if he were falling through multiple, impossibly intertwined, structures. Then a new environment untwisted into place.

  He could now see himself as a young boy working on the actual creation of that flick-book; carefully drawn stick-figures inside a pencil-drawn circle.

  His mother was busily getting ready for the morning drive to school. She looked older than a moment ago, but still in her youth; a stark contrast to the much older, worry-lined woman that Douglas was recalling now. He found himself mentally projecting his memory of her back onto this younger version of his mother. In doing so, he became aware that his very thoughts were having a physical effect on the woman in front of him.

  She stumbled dizzily and dropped her car keys.

  “Whoa,” she reacted, “get a grip, Dizzy-Lizzy!”

  Douglas recoiled in horror at his ineptitude; here, thought had consequence. Douglas could see that his younger self had been distracted by the noise of the keys dropping, smiling at his mother before continuing work on his flick-book.

  Douglas found his perspective suddenly shift to look directly at the pages that were still in the process of being drawn.

  He knew this event.

  It existed in his mind as a blurred childhood memory. But even as he watched, he felt the event being re-etched into his mind; a pin sharp duplicate of his actions, precisely overlaying his hazier memory.

  Douglas could see that within the animation, one of the stick figures had thrown the ball into the boundary of the bubble, causing a gap to form. However, before the boy could complete the next drawing, his mother called out.

  “It’s time!”

  She would never know the prophetic nature of her simple statement; her words were only intended to usher her son to the car.

  The boy placed his pencil on the table and followed his mother out of the house, leaving the final page open and incomplete. The final drawing was a circle, broken in one place by a smaller dot.

  The symbol resonated with Douglas. Here was the image that had, several decades later, inspired the concept of the Eversion point of the Field. A geometric form so intrinsically linked with the Boundary that this could not be coincidence.

  The surrounding dimensions now began to resonate in sympathy with his disordered thoughts. Had he merely witnessed the unfolding of events, or had his presence here caused the very creation of the familiar symbol?

  He felt the environment collapse around him, pinching to another singular point and accelerating away. But the sensation was different this time. He had the distinct feeling that he’d been purposefully pulled away.

  POWERS OF TEN

  DAY10 : 05NOV2046

  The table at the mid-point of the meeting room was circular. The theory was that every voice at the table had equal weighting; a geometric representation of democracy. However, like most rooms within the Node, the architecture surrounding the table was that of an arc; the viewpoint
of each individual would always differ.

  Colonel Beck looked around at the others. If the world outside had truly ended, then upon completion of the Node’s journey these people would be the founders of a new era.

  The door opened at the far end of the room and Scott Dexter hurried in, holding the door open for Kate Walker. She appeared to be leaning more heavily on her crutch than usual. Recently, her physical health seemed to have taken a downturn. According to Dr. Smith, Kate was refusing treatment, citing the importance of preserving available medical resources. He wasn’t sure if she was putting on a brave face or if she was somehow punishing herself for the death of her father. Beck himself had lost his only daughter before his posting to Öskjuvatn Lake; he knew grief affected people in different ways.

  Once everyone was comfortably seated, he stood to address the other nine members of the Node’s Council.

  “Good to see you up and about again, Kate,” he began.

  There were unanimous comments of agreement from all around the table, something Kate tried to wave away.

  “It was a really dumb fall,” she replied, “I guess the next time I want to walk down three… er, three…”

  From her mid-air finger movements, he could see she was searching for the words, but they were eluding her.

  “The steps,” he interrupted to save her embarrassment, “weren’t properly surface-finished. Something that’s now been fixed.”

  Kate nodded and shuffled in her seat slightly, avoiding the eyes of the others around the table.

  “Firstly,” he said, turning to address the others, “I’d like to welcome our civilian liaison appointment, Miss Cassidy Briars.”

  He gestured to the pink-haired woman on the far side of the table and everyone turned to politely exchange smiles.

  “She’s here at Kate’s recommendation,” he continued, “Cassidy found the DRB video post-processor unit, down in Sub-4 Alpha. Without it, we wouldn’t have been able to decode Douglas Walker’s message. Cassidy, thank you and welcome.”

  Cassidy blushed and replied in Kate’s direction.

  “I want to thank you for the opportunity, Miss Walker.”

  “It seemed fitting,” Kate replied, “a way of honouring his memory.”

  “Here, here,” agreed Alfred Barnes, initiating a round of similar sentiments.

  “So,” said Colonel Beck, turning to Marshall Redings, “perhaps we should begin?”

  Marshall gave a report on the status of the Chronomagnetic Field and its new stable operating configuration. Occasionally, Trevor Pike also added details he found worthy of note which turned the conversation towards the failure of Gail Armstrong’s Biomag.

  “I’m just glad you both were there,” Gail acknowledged both Trevor and Roy, “I hope no-one else has to go through it.”

  “Colonel,” Caroline Smith gave a small cough, “I’d like to recommend that, as a precaution, we re-administer the Bergstrom isotope to everyone aboard. We have more than enough supplies.”

  “Probably a good idea,” he replied, “But isn’t the main issue the Biomag unit itself, Trevor?”

  “Well, the two things have got to work in tandem,” Trevor replied, “but I think it’s down to a faulty batch of capacitors that made it into one or more of the Biomags. Ideally we’d check out each unit.”

  “Could that be done at the same time as the isotope update?” Alfred suggested.

  “What are you thinking, Dr. Barnes?” said Trevor.

  “Well there could be an opportunity here to give everyone a general Field health check, and take a Node census at the same time. Even my own arrival aboard the Node wasn’t registered. Given my concerns about… er, aggressive agencies, wouldn’t it be prudent to check who actually made it aboard during the final minutes before our departure?”

  Colonel Beck knew that by ‘aggressive agencies’ Alfred was trying to avoid using the words ‘Exordi Nova’. There was merit in his suggestion though; a full Node census would help.

  “I’d be happy to help, Dr. Barnes,” Cassidy volunteered, “I pretty much know everyone and could help with getting them registered.”

  “OK that’s great,” Colonel Beck nodded, “Caroline, is the infirmary big enough, or do we need to set up something larger?”

  “Well, I don’t know if we’ll get the same reactions,” she frowned, “but the first time around everyone ran a fever…”

  There were general noises of consent at this point as each of them remembered their own experiences.

  “… so I think it would be prudent,” she gave a small nod in Alfred’s direction, “to divide everyone into manageable batches, so we don’t have everyone affected simultaneously. If we do that, then the infirmary should be fine.”

  Colonel Beck nodded and turned to Trevor.

  “Could you set up a Biomag inspection and repair unit outside the infirmary?”

  “Sure,” he replied, “We just need to crack open the Biomags and verify the capacitor serial -”

  “Crack them open?” Kate’s voice cut across the discussion.

  Colonel Beck turned to see that Kate was holding her father’s Biomag tightly. The resonator crystal in Kate’s original Biomag had been smashed during her rush to get into the Node, so her father had given her his own Biomag in order to save her life. The notion of cracking open the very device that was anchoring her within the Field, was obviously abhorrent to her.

  “It’s OK,” Gail replied, “Trevor just means, open up the two halves of the case, to access the circuitry.”

  “Yep,” agreed Trevor, “Sorry, didn’t mean to alarm.”

  Kate seemed lost in private thought, but Colonel Beck pushed the discussions onward.

  “Gail,” he turned to their astronomer, “It’s been ten days for us, but over thirty years for the world outside, how’s it looking?”

  “Too early to tell,” Gail replied, “We’re so far north here that we can’t directly observe what happened in the plane of equator. The lunar ring is the only indicator that we can observe. That still rises and sets as an arc of rock, low over the horizon. From what I can tell the destruction was total, but we can’t tell what percentage of Siva reached Earth. Not that it would matter greatly, even twenty percent would have been catastrophic.”

  He saw her consult a second page of notes, but then remain quiet.

  “Anything else?” he prompted her.

  “Like I said, it’s early days. It may only be temporary, I need to take more readings, but Earth’s obliquity seems to have altered.”

  Cassidy beat him to the question, “What the hell’s an obliquity? Sorry, I mean I don’t understand.”

  Gail hesitated then decided on an approach.

  “You’ve seen model globes before, how they spin on an axis?” she began, “Well, they’re always mounted at an angle, right? The axis isn’t straight up and down, it leans over a little. That angle of tilt is Earth’s obliquity. Among other things, it contributes to variations in sunlight and weather patterns.”

  “And it’s changed?” asked Colonel Beck.

  “Early days,” Gail replied, “It may just be a wobble, but it’s also possible that, without the mass of a single Moon, Earth’s now lacking a spin stabiliser. It’s not a problem for us right now, but in ten thousand years or so… I don’t know. Without historical records to compare it to, I have to wait for time to pass.”

  “Roy?” Colonel Beck turned to him, “Just before departure you were downloading the Webshot?”

  “Yeah,” Roy replied, “We were pulling down about a gigabit per second, but obviously we didn’t get everything.”

  Cassidy opened her mouth to speak but then appeared to change her mind. Roy quickly supplied her with the answer to her unasked question.

  “Webshot was like a snapshot of the Worldwide Web. Our equivalent of saving the books from a burning library. It contains important databases, encyclopedias, Archive’s classified files…”

  “Might be worth a look,” said Gail, “The
re has to be something in there about obliquity and precession.”

  “Sir,” said Roy, “As senior officer, you’ll need to unlock the downloaded files and authorise the use of Archive’s records.”

  Colonel Beck realised that this was the right moment. He’d been a caretaker for General Napier and now it was time to pass that responsibility into civilian hands. He looked over to Alfred Barnes, who appeared to be deep in thought about something else.

  “Actually, I have an announcement,” Colonel Beck stood to address them, “After I’ve declassified Archive’s files, I’m turning authority over to civilian control. Humanity’s next steps cannot be placed under military direction. Dr. Barnes has kindly agreed to act as temporary president, until such time as we can arrange a full election.”

  •

  Leaning heavily on her crutch, Kate presented her father’s Biomag to the door’s keypad and the lock to her quarters clicked open. Scott, who’d escorted her back from the meeting, stood awkwardly nearby; she could see that he was caught between wanting to help her and wanting to respect her independence.

  “Scott,” she coughed, “Thanks for seeing me… er, home. But I’ll be fine. Doctor… er, … Smith, she says I just need to, er…”

  She pointed at her ankle rather than use words.

  “Kate,” he began, “We’re all worried about you. Wouldn’t you be better off at the infirmary, where Caroline can keep an eye on you?”

  Kate shook her head.

  “I’d just be taking up a valuable, er, a valuable…” she clicked her fingers, “Damn it! Bed! I’d just be taking up a bed. I’ll be OK. I know you’re only a few doors away.”

  Scott studied her and then gave her a tight-lipped smile.

  “If you need anything…”

  “Then I know I can count on you, Scott.”

  She manoeuvred herself inside the room and eventually managed to turn to face him.

  “Thanks again,” she steadied herself, “Goodnight.”

  She closed the door and took a deep breath.

  When she was sure that his footsteps had receded, she stood upright, tossed the crutch onto her sofa and dashed to her wardrobe to retrieve her hidden laptop. Dropping the act that forming thought and speech was somehow difficult, she chastised herself.