World Walker 2: The Unmaking Engine

by Ian W. Sainsbury

  “Brother?” she said, not trusting herself at that point to attempt a full sentence with a subject, object and verb.

  Seb nodded.

  “Right,” she said. Another deep breath.

  “Not homicidal maniac?” she said.

  “It was never him, Mee. The tumor created a parasitic personality with no sense of right or wrong. He’s been a passenger in his own mind for most of his life.”

  “Brother,” said Mee again. “You have a brother.”

  Mee’s eyes opened wider.

  “The tumor!” she said. “You both—he—the tumor. You both had brain tumors.”

  Seb smiled. “Must run in the family,” he said.

  “What are you going to do?” she said. “I mean, now you have a family. Well, when I say family, I mean a mass-murdering brother who kidnapped me, cut off my finger and ordered you killed? You going to go on picnics together? Get drunk and talk about sport?”

  “Mee,” said Seb.

  “Yeah, I know. Brain tumor did it. Blah, blah, blah.”

  Seb raised an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry,” said Mee. “I’ll get used to the idea. And look, seriously, it’s amazing. You have a family now. How does it feel?”

  “I can’t think about it yet,” said Seb. “I will. Just not yet.”

  He stopped talking. Mee looked at him.

  “There’s something else. What is it?” she said.

  He sighed. “Seb2. He’s gone. It’s just me again.”

  Mee put her arm around his waist.

  “That’s good, isn’t it? He was you, after all. Nothing has really changed, has it?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t decided if I’ve gained something or lost everything.”

  “What?”

  Seb looked at her. His expression was unreadable.

  “I don’t know,” he said, finally. “Just ignore me. I’m tired. Been a busy day. Not just Mason.”

  “Rozzers?” she said.

  “Yes. I’ve saved the world once, since I last saw you. Now, I have to make sure it stays saved.”

  She looked into his eyes. He didn’t look tired. He looked distant, disengaged, almost blank. She shivered. And then she asked a question she wasn’t sure she wanted answered, since Seb would never lie to her.

  “Are we going to be ok?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The mood was getting darker, so Mee did what she always did, even though she felt like a coward for doing it: she made light of the situation. Turned it into a joke.

  “Spoken like no superhero ever,” she said. “You really need to work on your patter, Walkyboy.”

  “Walkyboy?” said Seb, his face finally creasing into something resembling a smile.

  “Hey, you can’t think of your own super name, someone has to do it for you.”

  “What was wrong with the World Walker?”

  “Boring.”

  There was a pause while neither of them spoke, then Mee leaned forward and put her arms around him.

  “Sock it to ‘em,” she whispered, before licking his ear, stepping back and giving him her trademark grin. “Now, bugger off.”

  Seb Walked.

  Mee looked up at the distant stars, feeling powerless and small. The tide gradually receded, dragging grains of sand away from the beach as it went. Eventually, the wind dried the salt tears on her cheeks, leaving her skin rough and sore.

  Chapter 46

  Tibet

  Seb sat in silence. He was thinking. His thoughts followed five separate strands. Simultaneously. Which didn’t seem unnatural. Not having Seb2 didn’t seem unnatural, either. The fact that it didn’t seem unnatural seemed unnatural in itself, but Seb couldn’t spare the time to unravel that particular riddle.

  He thought about humanity. Homo sapiens, at the vanguard of evolution, the tool users, the thinkers—therefore, the Manna users. A species still fighting itself, still struggling to do more good than harm. Also, a species capable of love, selflessness, sacrifice. A species deserving a future.

  He thought about the aliens orbiting above. In the eyes of the Rozzers, humanity was a failed experiment. The aliens had put the petri dish under the microscope, taken a look and decided to start again. There was no malice in their actions, they were scientists. A failed experiment was just one step closer to a successful experiment.

  He thought about Manna. Internationally, Manna users only made up a tiny fraction of the population. No properly researched figures were available, but—roughly speaking—Users estimated that for every 5,000 people, only one had any ability. And the odds that the one person in 5000 would discover their Manna ability were low. Perhaps as low as two out of every ten. Therefore, worldwide, there were fewer than 300,000 Mana users. In a country the size of America, about 12,000 Manna users were regular visiting Thin Places.

  He thought about the Unmaking Engine. The way it had been designed to use the water cycle. There was no possibility of the device failing once it had been deployed. Even in the driest areas of the planet—where rain seldom fell—the human inhabitants needed to drink. And, over time, the Earth’s entire water supply would be contaminated by the Engine’s payload. No one could avoid being infected.

  He thought about H’wan. A sentient ship made up of a swarm of nanotech, closer in its structure to a termite mound than to a human, yet showing a personality instantly recognizable as individual, relatable. An observer, seemingly unmoved by the imminent demise of an entire species. And yet, death itself surely had a different meaning to a fragment of a greater whole such as H’wan. And the Rozzers, with their store of DNA, never faced the final annihilation that death meant for humans.

  When Seb finally stood, it was nearly dark outside. He walked forward to the ledge at the front of the cave. The location he had chosen was 19,000 feet above sea level in the Himalayas. Labuche Kang was, reputedly, an unclimbable mountain, so Seb could be reasonably certain he wouldn’t be disturbed.

  The wind made a high-pitched keening sound as it whipped between crevasses and ice fissures in the thin air of the mountain. In the blue-tinged twilight, Seb could easily have imagined he was the only living being on the planet. He looked out across the wilderness for a few minutes. He had made his decision.

  “H’wan,” he said.

  ***

  An hour later, the Gyeuk and the T’hn’uuth stood together on the ledge. It was fully dark now, the sky a riot of stars.

  “They won’t be happy about it,” said the ship. “Interference on this scale is unprecedented. What if they won’t do it?”

  “If they refuse,” said Seb, “I won’t let them leave.”

  H’wan considered the implications of that threat. The T’hn’uuth possessed power the Gyeuk could not explain. Which, as its/their knowledge was beyond any fleshbound species, was virtually impossible. And ever so slightly humiliating. But there it was. It would surely be in everyone’s best interests not to test that power. H’wan decided to pursue the path of diplomacy. Albeit with some caveats.

  “You realize,” said the ship, “that another species may supersede humanity on this world?”

  Seb said nothing. H’wan pressed its point.

  “Probably an ocean dweller,” it said. “Humans are forced to live on only twenty-nine percent of your planet. There are creatures in the deep water who will surely develop the level of intelligence necessary to use Manna.”

  H’wan looked at Seb for a response, but didn’t get one.

  “When that happens, humanity will have to hope that the new masters of Earth are less aggressive and destructive than themselves. If such an outcome proves to be the case, humans will have to accept their new position as subordinates, inferiors. Do you suppose that will be a smooth process?”

  Finally, Seb spoke.

  “Smooth? No. Inevitable? Perhaps. Maybe that’s been part of our problem as a species. It might do us good to give up the illusion that we’re in charge.”

  Seb handed H’wan a sm
all dark object.

  “It’s unlikely we’ll meet again, H’wan. Safe travels.”

  H’wan turned its dark, swirling, smoky body toward the T’hn’uuth. This really was an historic encounter. It hoped it might encounter another Gyeuk ship on its journey back. This experience definitely gave it bragging rights.

  “Safe travels, T’hn’uuth.”

  ***

  The International Space Station was no longer in synchronous orbit with the ship, so saw nothing when the second Engine was launched, dropping rapidly, the wide end of the teardrop glowing with intense heat as it pushed through the atmosphere.

  NASA tracked it as before. The similarity in size and location to the meteorite detected the previous day raised some eyebrows, but as it once again seemed to break into smaller parts before crashing into the deepest part of the Atlantic, no one was willing to sign off on the significant dollar investment it would take to investigate further.

  Other than a few fishermen, only one person saw the brief fiery glow in the heavens.

  The same observer was the only witness to the change of shape, as the teardrop opened up into a bowl and slowed on its final approach.

  Perching on rocks surrounding the tiny beach at Nightingale, hundreds of indignant birds eyed the figure who had disturbed them for the second time in twenty-four hours. They squawked and flapped their wings at the intruder, ignoring the small object out at sea, which had now separated itself from the bowl above and was hurtling toward the water.

  At that distance, the splash was barely audible. The Engine dived to two hundred feet below. There, it exploded, thrusting the nanotechnology inside it outward and upward to the surface.

  H’wan turned away from Earth and began the long journey to the Rozzers’ home.

  Seb knew they’d be back eventually. He wondered what they’d find.

  On the surface of the Atlantic, the ancient life-sustaining process began as the morning sun warmed the ocean. Water evaporated and rose through the atmosphere, condensed into droplets that formed clouds and moved with the wind.

  The Engine, this time, delivered a payload of Seb’s design.

  Seb Varden, T’hn’uuth, the World Walker, watched the white clouds moving toward the land, somewhere becoming rain.

  Chapter 47

  Innisfarne

  Six weeks later

  A bell signaling the start of evening meditation chimed in the distance as Mee and Kate walked along the rocky west shore of Innisfarne. The clouds above them were heavy and dark, bruised purple-black, but those nearer the setting sun were a wispy cotton candy. The sun itself was a boiling red-orange ball sinking behind the sea.

  “Dad always used to say that the sun was kept in a big iron pot on the other side of the world,” said Mee. “Apparently, it was Australia’s job to polish it while we were asleep, then push it back into the sky for us. Mum used to roll her eyes at him, but I believed it. Why not? It was perfectly logical to a five year-old.”

  “Your dad sounds a bit like my brother,” said Kate. “He told me the tooth fairy was using our teeth to build a monster who would come and chew us up. For years, I used to bury my baby teeth in the yard.”

  “That’s terrible!” said Mee, laughing.

  Kate led the way to a bench under one of the island’s ancient yew trees. They sat without speaking for a few minutes. Silence was such an integral part of life on Innisfarne that no one ever rushed to break it. Mee had told Kate about the attempt to kidnap her, the death of Westlake and Walt. She had decided it was simplest just to tell her Mason was dead. The Order could spread the news. There was no need for anyone else to know he was Seb’s brother. She hadn’t told her about the aliens, either. Mee wasn’t completely comfortable keeping secrets from Kate, but what was the point? The world was safe again. She had only told Kate that Seb had been through an emotional and physical battle from which he was struggling to recover. Which was the biggest lie of all. Whatever was going on with Seb was something else entirely.

  “Has he spoken about it at all yet?” said Kate.

  Seb had appeared on the island over a month ago, joining the community occasionally, but mostly keeping to himself, spending long hours walking. With Mee, he had been kind and gentle, but there was a distance between them she was half-afraid to address. Sometimes, he’d look at her and it was as if he wasn’t seeing her at all.

  Until the previous night, he hadn’t spoken about what had happened with the aliens threatening the planet, other than to say they had gone. She was still reeling from the news about Mason. His brother? After he’d told her what had happened in New York, he’d barely managed to string together a complete sentence. After weeks had passed and he showed no inclination to talk about what had happened with the Unmaking Engine, Mee had eventually decided enough was enough, had stopped pussyfooting around and had asked him outright.

  Seb’s explanation had been matter-of-fact, and to a large extent, incomprehensible, even to Mee, who had a reasonable grasp of science.

  He told her he had considered a couple of alternatives, but—in order to convince the Rozzers that humanity would cease to be a threat to their galactic neighbors—human Manna use had to stop permanently. The nanotech he had built into the Engine was designed to tweak the DNA of just one interrupted gene of the twenty-three chromosome pairs in all humans. Everyone would be changed, but none of them would know anything about it. Not at first.

  Seb’s intervention would only become apparent as the next generation was born. The first generation with no Manna ability whatsoever. And then those few Users who’d assumed they could continue passing on their knowledge to their offspring would be in for a nasty surprise.

  The longevity of Manna users, some whom lived well into their second century, meant that his plan would take time to work. But inevitably, it would work. Within the span of a few human lifetimes, all Users would be gone. And the future of Earth would be changed forever.

  “Yeah, he’s spoken about it,” she said to Kate. “He saved me, went after the bad guys. Just like superheroes are supposed to.”

  “You don’t sound completely overjoyed about it,” said Kate.

  “Yeah, well, it’s not the world I’m worried about,” said Mee. “It’s Seb. He’s changed.”

  They hadn’t had sex since he’d returned. They hadn’t talked about it yet. They were sharing a bed, but—most nights—Mee would wake up in the early hours and see Seb standing by the window, looking blankly ahead. There were times when he almost seemed his old self, but Mee could tell he was making an effort to keep his attention focused on her.

  “It’s like he’s just out of reach,” said Mee, as Kate put an arm around her shoulders.

  “What are you going to do?” said Kate.

  “If he won’t respond to me, I’m going to have to try something else.”

  They walked back toward the main house.

  ***

  It felt like a dream at first. Seb knew he was in bed, lying next to Mee. It must be a dream. But somehow, he knew it wasn’t. He was there.

  His eyes were open, but he could see very little at first. He was underwater, drifting deeper and deeper with every passing second. The dark blue tinge to the water was gradually disappearing, becoming absolute blackness.

  For a few minutes, the only sensation was the sensation of warm water on Seb’s skin; the gradual darkening around him the only indication he was still moving. Still diving.

  At some point—it might have been minutes, or hours later—he became aware of light below him. There was a pale blueness waiting somewhere in the depths. As he got closer, his eyes adjusted and the gloom slowly lifted. He could see huge shapes in the dimness, some far away, others disconcertingly close. There was no sound at all, and—when he turned his head from side to side to try to catch a glimpse of what he was sensing—he could see nothing. Yet, he knew they were there. There was a strong feeling of curiosity, playfulness, intelligence. Seb was unafraid.

  His progress downward
slowed and, eventually came to a stop, although Seb was still floating, his upper body lower than his legs. He realized he wasn’t breathing, hadn’t been breathing during the dive. That was why the silence had seemed so absolute: he didn’t even have the sound of his own breath in his head.

  As he hovered in the blue stillness, Seb wondered which ocean he was in. There was no way of knowing.

  More time passed, more shapes came close, none lingering long enough for him to see them properly.

  Seb looked down at his own body. He couldn’t see it. Bemused, he brought his hands in front of his face. They weren’t there. It was an unutterably strange feeling, but still, Seb felt no fear.

  Three shapes appeared in the middle distance, drifting closer. As they got closer, they gradually became clearer. They were constantly changing shape, sometimes almost imperceptibly, other times in a blur of speed. All three were rust-colored, like floating clouds of blood. They looked a lot like pictures of distant nebulae Seb had seen once. He remembered now—it was an exhibition on a gallery, with images captured by the Hubble telescope printed on enormous canvases. The nebulae, vast clouds of plasma, gases and dust, were incredibly beautiful.

  “Seb.”

  As the clouds came closer, swirling hypnotically, Seb remembered what he’d read about nebulae. Within their extraordinarily beautiful depths, stars were created, and also died. They were stellar nurseries, and stellar graveyards.

  “Seb.”

  Seb felt himself move toward the three clouds. As he did so, he began to question his initial impression of being underwater. He had arbitrarily assigned ‘up’ and ‘down’ and assumed he was diving. Now he began to wonder if, in fact, he was in water at all.

  Seb accelerated toward the nearest cloud.

  “Seb! Please!”

  He opened his eyes and was here and here for a brief, confusing moment. Then he saw Mee’s face as she shook him by the shoulders, shouting his name.

  “Mee?” he said, quietly, as she sat down beside him, holding his hand tightly. She was crying. The tears were rolling down her face when she curled up and put her head in his lap. He hesitated, then reached up and stroked her hair. She was still crying when she finally fell asleep.