‘Why?’
‘There’s a problem with the lock box.’
‘What?’
‘It’s locked. I didn’t anticipate that.’
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘To open it, you need to type in a code on a numeric keypad,’ Danyl explained.
‘So?’
‘Numeric. As in, numbers.’
‘I know what numeric means. What do you want me to do?’
‘You’re a mathematician,’ Danyl replied. ‘Can’t you do some mathematical stuff to figure out the code?’
Ann frowned. ‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know. Just come and look.’ He tugged on her arm. Ann allowed herself to be pulled through the window.
They lifted the bed and moved it to one side, revealing the box. It was made of steel and was the size of a hardback book. Ann knelt beside it. ‘I can’t tell you how to crack the code,’ she said. ‘You’ll have to do that by trial and error. But I can estimate how long that’ll take.’ She pressed a few numbers at random. The keypad made a soft beeping sound. She pressed the UNLOCK key. A red light flashed and a lower, harsher beeping sound rang out.
She pressed a few more numbers and hit UNLOCK again. A harsh beep, and the red light stayed on longer this time. She pressed some numbers on the keypad and it didn’t beep.
‘OK,’ Ann said. ‘It takes about one second to press each key. Let’s assume that this box has a four-digit PIN. It might be longer but let’s start there. That means there are ten thousand possible combinations. If each combination takes five seconds, then it’ll take just under fourteen hours to try them all. But there’s a problem. Each time you enter an incorrect sequence, that red light flashes and the keypad times out. With each subsequent incorrect sequence, the timeout period is exponentially longer. So to try all possible four-digit combinations would take about’—she paused for a second, calculating—‘one times ten to the seventeen seconds.’
‘How long is that?’
‘Long enough for our sun to have exhausted its fuel then expanded and enveloped the Earth.’
‘The giant will have woken up by then.’ Danyl stared at the keypad, thinking. ‘What if the code was just one number?’
‘A one-digit combination?’
‘Yeah.’
Ann shrugged. ‘Well, then the number of sequences is just one times ten.’ She looked at Danyl’s curious, expectant face and explained to him, ‘That equals ten. So twenty seconds to type them all in, plus the exponential time-outs add up to about 400 seconds. Six point six minutes. But—’
‘That’s more like it.’ Danyl knelt down and pressed 1 and then UNLOCK. He looked disappointed when the red light flicked on, but waited, hopeful and patient. When it went off after a few seconds he looked hopeful again. He pressed 2, then UNLOCK. The red light came on and he deflated.
‘Danyl.’ Ann’s voice was gentle. ‘The combination isn’t going to be one digit. We need another plan.’
He grimaced. She was right. He ran his hand around the edge of the box. It was bonded to the wooden floorboards with some sort of glue. Maybe they could saw through the floorboards, take the box and force it open back at Ann’s house? That would be faster than waiting for the sun to envelop the Earth.
He said, ‘You’re right,’ just as the red light went out again. He pressed 3 anyway. The red light came back on.
Ann’s phone rang. She took it from her pocket, glanced at the screen and said to Danyl in a worried voice, ‘It’s Sophus.’
Sophus and Steve were back at the archive, keeping a watch on the giant’s body. Their job was to phone and warn Ann and Danyl if the giant woke. Ann held the phone to Danyl. He took it and answered.
‘Hey, buddy.’ It was Steve. He sounded happy.
Danyl asked him, ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Do you have the drugs yet?’
‘No. We’ve hit a small problem, but we’re making progress.’ The red light went out. Danyl hit the number 4 and pressed UNLOCK. The red light went on again. ‘Why?’
‘Because the giant is moving.’
‘OK.’ Danyl rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘We need a few more minutes. Try and stall it.’
‘I’ll be honest here, buddy. By moving I mean he’s moved. He got up and left.’
‘What? When?’
‘Hard to tell. I wasn’t super-awake when it happened.’
‘You were sleeping?’
‘Of course not. I was power-napping.’
‘Where was Sophus?’
‘I sent him to buy soup. He’s back now though. He says hi.’
‘How long since you last saw the giant? How much time do I have before he gets here?’
‘I’d say you’ve got at least ten minutes,’ Steve said confidently. A key rattled in the giant’s front door. ‘Maybe five minutes,’ he conceded. ‘Absolute worst-case scenario.’
Danyl hung up.
Ann hissed, ‘Let’s go.’ Danyl started to stand but then the red light on the keypad blinked out. Danyl instinctively pressed number 5, and then UNLOCK. The light flashed green. The lock clicked. The box opened.
Ann whispered, ‘No way. Five? Their secret code was five?’
Danyl flipped open the lid, revealing a trove of pills and vials and sachets of powder.
The front door opened. The floor shook and the pills rattled in their cases as the giant entered the building.
‘Stay low,’ Danyl told Ann, shovelling drugs into his pocket. ‘Move fast. Now! Run!’
They ran. Around the bed. Towards the bathroom door. They passed the entrance to the lounge and a roar broke out. The giant had seen them.
Ann reached the bathroom first. She climbed up on the toilet and pulled herself through the window. Danyl was right behind her. He skidded a little on the broken glass but caught himself. He stepped on the toilet bowl, gripped the sides of the window, and hauled himself through head first. He was out! Free!
And then a mighty hand closed around his kicking leg and dragged him back inside. Ann reached for him. She gripped his hand for a second, and the giant tugged him back, and Danyl was gone.
49
A new ally
Steve did not drink coffee. Or tea. Or anything with caffeine in it. His mind functioned on the outer extremes of human thought and he refused to handicap it with drugs or stimulants. Especially not now, with half of the valley captured and drugged, and Gorgon on the verge of triumph.
That’s why Steve had had that power nap in the archive. Sleep was vital to cognition. It supported learning and positive energy and it cleared waste products from the brain. What was more important than that? Watching some giant sleep, or keeping Steve’s brain—their most precious strategic asset—in peak operating condition?
When Steve woke and saw that the giant was gone, he alerted Danyl as a courtesy, then ate some of the bagels Sophus had brought back from the soup place. Then he and Sophus strolled up Epuni Street to the giant’s house.
When they arrived they learned that Danyl had done something to enrage the creature. Which was typical. But Ann had calmed the savage beast, and now Ann was standing in the giant’s kitchen with it, drinking black coffee and explaining the Real City and Gorgon’s plan while the giant leaned against the bench holding a bucket of coffee in one hand and Danyl in the other. Suspended by his throat, Danyl was dangling and kicking and occasionally giving a feeble slap at the giant’s arm, but most of his attention was focused on gasping for breath.
‘So that’s what’s happened to your girlfriend,’ Ann was finishing up. ‘The Cartographers have drugged Joy and trapped her mind in the Real City. They’ve taken her body to Threshold.’
‘Threshold?’
‘It’s a vast abandoned housing project with a sinister past. It’s too well guarded for a direct assault. But we have a plan. Help us, and we can save Joy.’
The giant swished its coffee around in its mouth, thinking. Its massive brow furrowed like a stately building cracking in an earthqu
ake. Eventually it said, ‘What you’re talking about here is Platonism. The Real City is an abstract mathematical object but the DoorWay compound lets us perceive it directly, as if it were real.’ It scratched its armpit, still thinking. ‘And the act of perceiving the City changes it. Like the wave function collapse of a quantum superposition.’
‘Well, we don’t know the mechanism of the change,’ Ann replied. ‘But we think that’s the motive behind Gorgon’s plan. If enough people observe the Real City it will open up the pathway to the Spiral. This will happen tonight if we don’t stop her.’
‘All right,’ said the giant. He lowered Danyl to the floor, where he collapsed to his knees and panted like a dog. ‘Little thief,’ the giant warned him, ‘if you free my girlfriend then we will be even. If not …’ A silence, brief yet heavy with implied violence, filled the room. ‘Do you understand?’
Danyl nodded. The giant clapped its hands together. ‘Good, then.’ It turned to Ann. ‘What now?’
‘We need drugs. That’s why we’re here. To raid your girlfriend’s supply.’ She knelt beside Danyl and turned out his pockets, holding up vials and plastic tubes for the giant’s inspection. ‘We want a powerful stimulant and a powerful sedative.’
‘Sedatives are very popular around here. This one is good.’ The giant indicated a small vial filled with a milky liquid. And stimulants …’ He peered at their drug haul. ‘There’s this.’ He pointed at another vial filled with flakes of silver grit.
‘What is it?’
‘It’s called Ragnarok. Joy sells it to students during exam time and biker gangs during gang wars.’
‘Perfect.’
‘You’ll need to go easy on it, though. It has odd side effects, especially if combined with other drugs. And the dosages must be perfectly measured.’
Steve took the jar from Ann. He tossed it in the air, watching it glint in the light. ‘We can’t get each dosage exactly right,’ he said, ‘but too much Ragnarok never hurt anyone.’
Steve stood in Ann’s lounge, facing the window and watching the sun set behind the hills to the west.
Everyone else was asleep. Ann was in her bedroom. Danyl slept on a single bed in her guest room. Sophus dozed on the couch in the lounge. The giant was sprawled out in the hall.
The next phase of their plan would begin when the sun finally slipped behind the depthless hills and the valley was steeped in darkness. Then Steve could slip through the streets and over the fence into Threshold. If he succeeded, the rest of his allies could wake in a few hours and join in the final assault. If he failed …
The sun fell from sight and the unnatural red colour drained from the clouds.
It was time. Almost. Steve had one last little job to do. He crossed to the kitchen and searched the cutlery drawer until he found a butter knife. He made his way down the hall, stepping over the sprawled-out body of the slumbering giant. Outside the locked door with the flickering lights beneath it, he paused. He pushed against the door and slipped the blade of the knife into the crack. Ann might have been a brilliant philosopher whose work gave glimpses into other realities and other worlds, but Steve was a psychologist and he knew that old-fashioned bolt locks in late-Victorian homes like these were laughably simple to open.
The knife caught against the bolt. Steve twisted it and the lock clicked open. He stepped through the door and closed it behind him.
The yellow lights came from a stack of computers. Eight black boxes were mounted in a rack fixed to the wall, emitting a low hum and a wash of noise from the fans. Adjacent to them was a small desk with a monitor and mouse and keyboard. The air in the room was very warm.
Steve twitched the mouse and the monitor flicked into life. It queried him for a user ID and password. He suspected that breaking into Ann’s secret computer would be a lot harder than breaking into her spare room, so he turned his attention to the tall wooden shelves in the corner.
These were filled with cardboard binders. Hundreds of them, each with an alphanumeric notation on the spine. Steve pulled one out and flipped through it. Graphs. Charts. Mathematical equations. Incomprehensible nonsense. He dropped it on the floor.
Stacked on top of the bookshelf were two cardboard boxes. He stood on tiptoes and tugged the closest one towards him. It was battered and stained and muddy. It didn’t weigh much. He pulled it off the shelf and set it aside, revealing the side of the second box which was labelled in black marker:
Te Aro Sheriff’s Secret Archive. Sheriff’s Eyes Only, partner.
50
Meant to be
Something woke Danyl. Sounds. A door closing. Footsteps. He sat up in bed and parted the curtains. The sun had set and the moon had not yet risen. The stars looked like fake jewels.
A shape darted between the pools of light from the streetlights. It ran across the road and slid across a car bonnet, then ran back across the road and slid across the bonnet of a second car.
It was Steve. Danyl frowned. Steve was supposed to have left just after sundown. Now it was—he checked the alarm clock on the bedside table—almost 9 pm. Why had he left so late?
The bedroom door creaked. A voice whispered, ‘Danyl?’ It was Ann. ‘Are you awake?’
‘Steve woke me.’
‘He’s late.’
‘I know.’
‘Can we trust him?’
Danyl thought about this. He said, ‘No.’ Then he thought about his old friend some more and added, ‘Definitely not. But if he fails it will be spectacular, and that might cover us while we make for Gorgon’s house. And having the giant on our side will help.’
Ann gestured at the end of Danyl’s bed. ‘Can I sit there?’
‘Sure.’ Danyl shifted and she sat beside him.
‘Things are very uncertain,’ she said. Her voice was low. She spoke quickly, nervously; she did not look directly at him. ‘If we fail tonight, the universe might end. If we succeed you will rescue Verity. Everything will change. Our future is a complex non-linear system. It cannot be determined. I hope you do not find me too forward in saying this.’
‘Not at all,’ said Danyl.
‘I must say what I want to say now, before things change, or cease to be.’ Now she looked up and gazed into his eyes and said, ‘Danyl. I have feelings for you.’
‘Feelings?’
She nodded seriously. ‘Strong feelings. Romantic feelings. I know these feelings do not make sense. You have many undesirable qualities. Poverty. Psychological instability. Slightly lower than average intelligence. But I don’t care.’ Her eyes shone. ‘Although my feelings cannot be calculated logically, they are real. I can feel the feelings. I know them to be true. Do you also experience them phenomenologically for me?’ She did not wait for Danyl to answer. Instead she shifted across the narrow reach of moonlit bed and kissed him. The kiss was inexpert but enthusiastic. Danyl responded and took her into his arms and then they fell back on the bed together.
It had been a long time since Danyl had been touched by someone who wasn’t trying to hurt him. It felt nice. But did that mean he had feelings for Ann? He didn’t know. His brain seemed indifferent to what was happening. Go ahead, it told him. Have sex. Or don’t. Do you think I care? Danyl checked in with his lust, usually a powerful and indiscriminate lobbyist in these matters, but it was hesitant. You’ve been dosing me with antidepressants for six months, it warned him. Things are still shaky. I can’t promise anything.
Did Danyl like Ann? He didn’t know. All his thoughts of late had been of Verity. Finding Verity. Revenging himself on Verity. Rescuing Verity. Defeating Verity. Maybe his heart was like an airlock and his feelings for Verity needed to be drained so they could admit strong tender romantic feelings for someone else. He continued to kiss Ann and simultaneously purge himself of Verity, but instead of ridding himself of feelings for his ex-girlfriend the purging process stirred them up, and his mind was flooded with visions of her. Verity shifting furniture into their new house. Verity walking along a sunlit path. Verity talking
about her art. Verity leaving him, vanishing into the depths of Te Aro. Verity.
Somewhere in this deluge of memories, he’d stopped kissing Ann and now she pulled back from him. ‘So.’ Her voice was flat, cold. ‘I have my answer. My feelings are real for me, but not for you. No.’ She held up her hand. ‘Do not apologise. Your heart is with your ex-girlfriend. I understand. She is worldly. Sophisticated. Elusive. She treated you cruelly, and your heart wants what it cannot have. Maybe,’ she added with a bitter smile, ‘if I were mysterious and cruel and you could not have me, then you would want me.’ She was trying not to cry. She stood. ‘I’ll leave you alone now.’
Danyl said, ‘Ann—’
‘Don’t.’ She held up her hand again. ‘There is nothing to say.’ Her voice cracked at the end of the sentence, and she turned and hurried from the room.
Danyl sat up. He pressed his palms into his eyes. He groaned. What was he supposed to do? Go after her, he supposed. Say something about friendship and respect. He felt awful. Ann was a brilliant, honourable person. She’d never steal his book, never turn on him for incomprehensible reasons. Why didn’t he care for her? What was wrong with him?
He glanced at the clock. They were almost out of time. They needed to get into position for the next phase of the plan. He needed to talk to Ann now. Apologise. Try to make her feel better about him rejecting her. It would be a shame if the universe were destroyed just because she couldn’t control her feelings.
He got up and entered the hall. It was dark. Ann had returned to her bedroom at the far end. He could hear her pacing around in there. The quality of light coming into the hall changed as she moved.
He approached her room, dreading every second of the upcoming conversation. He picked his way over the massive limbs of the giant. The creature’s chest rose and fell, and Danyl felt the air pressure in the hall fluctuate in time with its deep, gentle breaths. They were lucky to have won this creature to their cause. That was Ann’s doing, Danyl reminded himself.
Mysterious Mysteries of the Aro Valley Page 26