The Eidolon

by Libby McGugan

  “I’m sorry to call you so early, it’s just...” I glance at the alarm clock. Six forty-two. Could be worse.

  “No, that’s okay. What’s up?”

  “It’s the dreams, Robert.”

  “What?”

  “They’re getting worse. I can’t sleep. I haven’t slept properly for days.”

  I rub my fingers across my forehead. “Well maybe it’s just because we were talking about it. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

  “Have you had any more?”

  The memory of Sarah walking away, and the feeling I got at the edge of the forest... “Well...”

  “You have, haven’t you?”

  “Look, Cora. It’ll go. They’re just dreams, that’s all. Everyone gets weird dreams sometimes. Don’t worry about it.”

  “You think so? How come we’re both getting them, then?”

  “I think you got them because I talked about it.” I pick up the glass of water on the bedside table. Must have had a few sensible neurons still firing last night before I poured whisky on them and they fizzled out.

  “So,” she says, “in your dreams, is she waiting for you at a forest, beside a cemetery? Or does she take you to where she’s tied to a tree?”

  The glass of water falls from my hand.

  “How did you know that?” I whisper.

  “Because I had the same dream.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “What did you say your address was again?”

  “Eh, four-four-six Rue de la Croix.”

  “I think we need to talk face to face. I’ll see if I can get a flight.”

  “What? Wait, no!” I’m on my feet, pacing. “Eh... it’s just that I’ve got a lot of work on over the next few days.”

  “You’ve always got a lot of work on, Robert. This is important.”

  “Cora, this really isn’t a good time. I do want to see you, I really do, but how about we leave it for a few days?”

  “Please, Robert, I don’t know if I can take much more of this. Something’s wrong – I can feel it. I’ll keep out of your way and I’ll sleep on the couch, but I really need your help with this.”

  “Cora, this isn’t a good idea.”

  “Just for a couple of days.”

  I let out a long sigh. “Alright.”

  WHEN I GET to the docks at Versoix, I’m irritated, hungover and uptight. Partly it’s Cora’s insistence, or my inability to say ‘no’, but mostly it’s the dream. Who the hell has the same dream as someone else? It would be pushing it to say ‘coincidence’ with one dream, but two?

  My dad’s loading the rods and a few supplies onto a small white rowing boat. I’m going fishing with my dad. It sounds like it should be a normal thing to do, but I’m so far removed from normal that it just seems absurd. Only when we row out away from the docks and the bustle of the small town fades does my mind begin to settle. I even begin to enjoy it. Overhead, the gulls are calling and the clouds are ripples of white and grey low in the sky. The lake is a mirror of them. We let the boat drift and cast off, side by side.

  “Have you done much fishing?” he asks.

  “I used to, when I was younger. There was a guy, Michael Casimir, who lived in the same village as us. He used to take me out. Sometimes the Crinan Canal, sometimes Lochgilphead.”

  “Were you lucky?”

  “I usually caught a few, and sometimes we’d make a fire and cook them on the beach. It tasted great, fresh from the water.” A gull dives into the lake ahead of us, disrupting the stillness. The ripples glide out from its epicentre and the boat rocks a little. “It was never about the fishing, really. What I enjoyed most about those trips was that we got to talk about physics.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I think he’s the reason I got into all this in the first place.” I steal a glance and see him frowning. “The first time I heard about black holes, I was eating flakes of white coley from tinfoil on a rock. I stopped chewing when he told me that the event horizon was the line beyond which our understanding of physics breaks down. I’ll never forget it. I was hooked on the idea that it was out there, waiting to be figured out. My coley was cold by the time I got round to finishing it.”

  “Sounds like you owe Mr Casimir a great deal.”

  “I do. He died last week.”

  “I’m sorry. You must miss him.”

  “Yeah. He was just like a... I do miss him.”

  “Were he and your mother...?”

  The thought makes me laugh. “God, no. He was a lot older – eighty-two when he died. He was just a good friend, to both of us. Kind of a grandfather.”

  “Oh.”

  We stare out in silence for a while. “There was never anyone else,” I say. “It was always you.”

  He sighs and I don’t know whether it’s what he wanted to hear or not.

  “What about you?” I ask.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Is there anyone else? Do you have a family?”

  He lowers his gaze. “No. It was always her, and you.”

  It’s odd to hear him say it. I still feel some bitterness that he could have done things differently, but I don’t want to spoil this. I’ve been waiting for this day my whole life. “It must have been lonely.”

  “More than I could tell you.” He straightens up, shaking his head. “They have these family events they run at CERN, you know; barbeques, hillwalks, picnics, that kind of thing. I used to go at the start, but it just got too painful.”

  We turn back to the view. Sunlight catches the tree line at the other side of the lake, vibrant green against the backdrop of the shadowy mountains. The reflection, in the stillness of the water, is another world like this one, only not quite.

  “Do you think anyone suspects what we’re about to do?” I ask.

  “In CERN? No. Why, do you?”

  “I don’t know. There’s a guy who I’ve seen a few times – the first time I went into ATLAS, and then he was there in the cemetery after we met. Dark-haired, walks with a limp, and his face is drooped on one side, like he’s had a stroke or something.”

  He frowns. “I don’t know anyone who fits that description. And I’ve been here long enough to pick out the new faces.”

  “Do you think Amos is tailing me?”

  “Could be. But it’s not really his style. We should keep a low profile.”

  “What happens when all this is over? Will you go back?”

  “I dream about it, every single night. But I don’t know. There are so many uncertainties. Until it’s done, my plan extends only as far as leaving CERN, if I’m not escorted off the premises.”

  “Do you think they’ll link it to us?”

  “That depends on how well you’ve done your job.”

  “Well, that depends on you getting me into the Computer Centre.”

  “Ed Petreli is on nightshift in the Operator’s Room for the next couple of days,” he says. “I’ll be able to get him out of there.”

  “How will you do it?”

  “There’s a store in the basement where we keep some of our old data. The daystaff don’t start till eight, but you can get in overnight, as long as you have a pass and you log out what you’re taking. I always have trouble retrieving data and I’ve known Ed for a long time. He’ll come down and help me, but not for long. How much time do you need?”

  “Not long. Five minutes to upload the worm.”

  “What about the security cameras?”

  “ORB has that covered.”

  He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a black security fob, handing it to me. “Tonight. We’ll do this tonight.” Before he lets go, our eyes meet and I get a heady rush of realisation: this is real; we’re doing it.

  “Six am. It’ll be getting to the end of Ed’s shift and his mind will be on other things. Afterwards, go home. Call me from there.”

  “You could have done all this yourself. I don’t understand why Amos needed me.”

  He looks away. �
��I’m not a programmer.”

  “They didn’t need a programmer for the idea.”

  “Maybe he couldn’t take that risk,” he says, shrugging.

  We sit in silence for a while, watching the sunlight on the water.

  “How do you face your colleagues every day?” I say “I’ve only known these people for a few days, but doesn’t it eat at you, what we’re about to do to them?”

  “It used to. I’ve passed on information for years, something I’m not proud of. No one knew anything about it. It never sat well with me, but it was easier than the alternative. Now that I’ve had a chance to meet you, there’s no question that I’m doing the right thing.”

  I NEVER ASKED him what he meant by that at the time. Only later did it strike me as an odd thing to say. We stayed on the lake until dusk, going over the details of the plan again. He caught a pike and I caught something you’d find in a bowl in a pet shop. Both of them went back into the water. We weren’t there for the fishing.

  WHEN I GET back to the apartment, I email Lambert and give him the timings. I set my phone on vibrate and I go over the map of the Computer Centre, rehearsing the way in, swiping the fob on the security panel to the left of the main entrance, the short walk along the corridor to the toilets, third door on the left, where I’ll wait until I get the text alert from my dad. When it comes, Ed will be on his way, and once I hear his footsteps walking past, the coast will be clear. The security panel is to the right of the door – I just need to swipe the fob and I’m in. Then it’s up to me.

  I DON’T SLEEP. Well, I get maybe an hour or so, but at least Sarah stays out of my head. It’s too full of everything else. At two am I get up. Guilt is shaking its head and sneering at me. How could you do be doing this? After everything you’ve worked for, they’ve worked for? I feel for the memory stick carrying Kali, which hangs from the cord round my neck.

  I stand at the window and look down at the street below. A couple are walking home, arms round each other. A few teenagers are shouting as they straggle along the middle of the road, bursting with cocky invincibility, ready for anything life dares to throw at them.

  You’ll never be one hundred per cent certain. Another voice, cold and quiet, silences the guilt: Obligation. Think of what will happen if you don’t. All of those people... everyone. My fingers close round Kali and squeeze. You don’t have a choice.

  I PARK IN the services area and walk to the Computer Centre. It’s a hazy dawn and my breath mists in the cool air. The place is quiet. Shifts change at eight and I don’t meet anyone. My dad must already be in there. As I reach the entrance, my heart is thundering in my chest. I swipe the fob and the door clicks open. No one in the corridor. Above me the security camera blinks a red eye beside its black, blank face. Mr Y, you’d better have got this right. I make my way to the third door on the left and push it open. It squeaks on its hinges, making me wince. No one in here. I stand with my back to the door, listening to the drip, drip, drip of a leaking tap, and the sound of my breathing, and wait.

  The phone in my pocket vibrates. I press my ear to the door, listening. Beyond the tribal drum of my pulse, I hear footsteps. I step back, hoping he doesn’t decide to go for a piss first. The footsteps fade away and there’s the sound of a door closing. I give it a minute, then open the door and step out into the corridor.

  The entrance to the Operator’s Room is twenty metres away on the right. I can see the security panel to the right of the door and reach for the fob, but stop suddenly. A door on the left is opening – Shit. I try the door nearest me but it’s locked, I’m half way down the corridor and there’s nowhere to go. I turn and walk back the way I came, trying to look casual.

  “Can I help you?”

  I turn. Helena fucking Stanford. “I was just here to see if I could arrange a look round.”

  “At six-fifteen in the morning? How did you get in?”

  “They gave me a pass when I got here – I’m attached to ATLAS, but I asked if I could see what’s going on in the Computer Centre.” I snort. “I know it looks keen, but with the engineering checks happening in ATLAS just now, there’s not a lot to do and, well, I couldn’t sleep.”

  She’s looking at me in a cold appraising way. Does she suspect something? No, I’m being paranoid. That’s the look she gives everyone. Just relax, you’re doing fine.

  “That is keen,” she says. “Well, I’d love to show you round, but I’m just on my way home. I’ve still got a lot to go over before Monday. Maybe some other time.”

  “Sure. That would be good.”

  She nods and walks away then stops. “You know,” she says, turning back, “I spoke to my ex-husband last night. He said he doesn’t know you.”

  “Yeah, like I said, I only just started there recently – not had much of a chance to meet people.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “Tony usually knows all the new starts.”

  “Well, I keep myself to myself.” I try to make it sound light-hearted but she doesn’t smile. She turns slowly and walks away.

  I walk in the opposite direction, considering whether I should double back once she’s clear. My phone vibrates again, the warning text that Ed’s on his way back. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I dart into the toilets and wait till he passes, then head for the exit.

  WHEN I GET back to the apartment, I’m royally fucked off. Of all the bloody people to bump into. I call my dad. “No go.”

  “What?”

  “Helena caught me in the corridor.”

  “Oh, shit. Did she see you go into the ops room?”

  “No.”

  “Well, that’s something.” He sighs. “I’ll need to create another opportunity, tonight. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Okay.”

  “And Robert?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Get some sleep.”

  When I log on to the notebook, Lambert’s email is already waiting for me.

  From: llambert@ltp.com

  To: rstrong@ltp.com

  Sent: 14th May 06.25

  Subject: re

  That went well.

  I reply:

  Fuck you, Lambert. Have you any idea how difficult all this is?

  I take a few deep breaths and press erase. Then start again:

  Regrouping tonight. Will send confirmation. I need proof that I was transferred in from Romfield. Get me on their staff role. What’s the update on your admin access?

  He responds immediately:

  Staff role no problem.

  Re access – still no joy. May have to admit defeat on this one, but will keep you posted.

  Good luck.

  I close it down and try to sleep.

  SLEEP’S NOT HAPPENING. I try to read, but I can’t concentrate. I watch some TV, I surf the net. Finally, worn out, I give in. It feels like I’m just on the descent when the phone goes. I scramble about until I find it in my jeans pocket, hanging over the back of the chair, but I’ve missed the call by the time I get to it.

  I listen to the voicemail. “Hey, Robert! Rene here. We are off to climb at Leaz, it’s an escarpment overlooking the Rhone, then we are going to Charlie’s Bar later. If you wanna come, give me a call!”

  I don’t even consider it. I can’t face another bonding session, not now. I turn the phone to silent, put it back in my coat pocket and try to go back to sleep.

  It doesn’t work.

  Thanks Rene. Your timing sucks. I get up.

  I make myself a late lunch, but hardly eat any of it, then, restless, get dressed and take a walk into town. The streets are busy. Saturday shoppers, Saturday tourists. I should feel like a tourist. Instead I feel like a criminal. It spoils the ambience.

  Geneva is a stylish place. Lots of beautiful people, well dressed, well groomed, slim. In the breaks between buildings I can see the fountain, Jet d’Eau it’s called. I remember reading somewhere that it’s large enough that you can see it from anywhere in the city. It was once an escape valve for the dam, but now it’s a tourist attraction.
The wind spreads it sideways, forming a curtain of white spray. There are lots of small cafés on this street, with menus written on blackboards on the walls outside. I stop to read one of them, trying to figure out what food words I recognise from O-Level French. Anything to take my mind off what’s coming tonight.

  Raised voices come from inside – a couple arguing in English. “Why are you doing this?” he says.

  I glance in through the window to my right. A block of sunlight illuminates half of the room. The woman has her back to me – slim, dark-haired, wiping a cloth vigorously over the surface of a table. “After what they did to me, cleaning tables gives me some sense of normality. I just want my life back.” She slams the salt and pepper shakers down.

  “Look, I know how you feel, but...” He’s standing in the shadows and I can’t see his face.

  “You know how I feel?”

  “I was in the same place myself once, Aiyana.”

  Why are we intrigued by other people’s strife? I’m not reading the menu anymore; I’m eavesdropping.

  She moves to another table, scrubbing its surface with a brutality that suggests it’s done her a great personal wrong, and as she turns I recognise her blue eyes. It’s the woman from the other day, the woman who stopped me getting mowed down by the Lamborghini. I could say thanks. Or maybe get her phone number.

  In the middle of an argument? And what about Cora? This isn’t a good time.

  What if there isn’t another time, though?

  “You can’t change things, Aiyana,” says the man as my eyes dart back to the blackboard. “What did you think would happen?”

  “Think? Think? Why would I think? I was thirty-three years old – I wasn’t ready!”

  “Look,” he says, his voice low and patient, “give it some time. You might see things differently in a while.”