by W D County
A third realization came to him: neither player was limited to the pieces on the board. The knowledge made him giddy; this gave him an advantage that Barry, locked in the vault, lacked. He kept his face from showing emotion. Optimal strategy required keeping true secrets from your enemy while pretending to let slip hints about false secrets.
Colonel Hauser and National Security Advisor Tombs were pieces he could use and keep secret, providing a suitable threat diverted Barry’s attention. An obvious solution came to mind. One piece, the lowly pawn Miles, seemed immune to Barry’s manipulations. Yet pawns could be deadly in their slow march across the board. A path to victory took shape in his mind, a path of subterfuge and traps within traps.
The interplay of ideas, beliefs, actions, and realities formed a pattern familiar to the Awareness. The sole anomaly was the reference to Miles. The unseen entity added an unpredictable element to the unfolding events. The Awareness pondered this and moved on.
***
Sonja dreamt of working in her old physics lab at MIT. The familiar surroundings and equipment should have bolstered her confidence, but the institute was under siege by government soldiers. Faculty, administrators, and students stood guard outside the room, armed with little more than makeshift clubs and slingshots.
On the center table a miniature hypercube glittered in many colors as it rotated inside a magnetic confinement field. Interactions between the tesseract and magnetic fields were almost inexplicable. “Normal” behavior for a quantum wave function (which holds an array of possible outcomes) is to “collapse” into a single outcome the instant it is observed. Repeated tests would produce a distribution of outcomes that followed a bell curve. Hypercube interactions didn’t behave that way. The outcome always became what she wanted it to be.
Did people unconsciously follow a similar pattern, having a wide range of possible futures which suddenly collapse into a single reality when observed by an outsider? If the tesseract were that outside observer, did it guide our future? What a ridiculous idea! And yet...
What is your intent?
In an empty corner of the room, suspended a few feet above the floor, was the prototype permeability machine. The government wanted that machine. They were willing to destroy MIT to get it. She had to prevent the device from falling into selfish, arrogant hands.
Barry Fletcher entered the lab and said, “We need to talk.” The photojournalist wore a gray silk suit the same shade as his skin.
“About?” She didn’t know who Barry worked for. Nobody did. He was an evangelist of sorts, so religion probably figured into this. Did he worship the tesseract like an idol? Did he consider himself to be the voice of the tesseract? Its protector, perhaps?
“The tesseract, of course, and your invention.” He smiled. “Think of me as a Devil’s Advocate, someone to challenge your plans and reveal any weak spots.”
“I don’t have any plans.”
“Don’t be dense. The military knows you built a prototype. They’re coming for it.”
She breathed a heavy sigh. “I know.”
“They’ll take your precious device and your notes and your blueprints.” He cocked his head toward the document box stuffed with her papers.
Why bother trying to hide her plans? She heard gunshots and screams. Time was running out. “I’ll email the plans to a colleague in India. He’ll make copies and distribute them to scientists all over the world. The government won’t be able to suppress the discovery.”
“They will strip you of everything you own. Tear apart your house and lab, brick by brick. They will imprison you, prevent you from contacting anyone, even an attorney. You will disappear, because if you’re not helping them, you are their enemy. Then they will do the same to every scientist you ever contacted.”
“They wouldn’t dare.” But she knew they would. Only scientists could be trusted with fundamental knowledge, because scientists valued knowledge for its own sake, not as a tool to gain power and wealth. Could the same be said of generals? Politicians? Business moguls?
She longed to flee and take the prototype with her. Contacts in the scientific community would shelter her. Together, working in secret, they would bring about a genuine utopia. Matter permeability was related to mass, inertia, electric fields, nuclear forces; it tied everything together in a theory of everything. It promised to usher in a renaissance of science, shattering old paradigms and building new ones as humanity’s knowledge advanced in quantum leaps. She envisioned a world where war ceased as have and have-not nations reached an egalitarian system, perhaps with portals enabling instant teleportation between worlds. Famine and draughts became a thing of the past. Truth was praised and scientists held in high regard.
“A beautiful, noble dream,” Barry said. “Too bad your device is not yet capable of teleportation.”
Unfortunately true. She had to stay behind to destroy the machine. The sacrifice was worth it. “Everyone will know my name. Discoverer of the unified theory of the universe! The one who unlocked the secrets of creation itself.”
Barry grimaced. “Don’t overstep the boundary between the human and the divine.” His smile returned. “Follow me and I will protect you, your knowledge, your invention, and your dream of a more perfect future.”
Sonja felt a thrill of hope.
The Protected One had become proficient at entering dreams and gaining insight to each dreamer’s motivations and thereby influencing behavior. These intrusions did not appear to bother the dreamer. The Awareness moved on.
***
Nathan dreamt of practicing his act with Barry at a Vegas resort. Lights glittered on a stage built from a collection of interlocking cubes that rose, fell, and swirled like waves on a chunky ocean of colored blocks. It made Nathan seasick. “I don’t like this stage. Let’s have it replaced.”
“The stage is there to serve us,” Barry said.
The former Illustrated Man had a point. Ever since Barry’s body turned gray, the ability to manifest paranormal abilities occurred most easily on the colored hyper-stage. The ease came with a sense of creepiness. The colored cubes seemed to have a mind of their own.
What is your intent?
Nathan peeked around the curtain. An hour to go before show time and already most of the sixteen thousand–plus seats were occupied. The popularity of their act arose from their joint demonstrations of telepathy, telekinesis, intangibility, levitation, and other powers. He chafed at sharing the limelight.
“What verse should we open with tonight?” Barry asked.
“People want to be entertained, not preached at. Your message will trickle into their brains while they’re laughing and applauding.”
“I am the good shepherd. I know my own sheep and they know me.”
Nathan sighed. He’d grown weary of his partner’s penchant for Bible quotes. The holier-than-thou attitude stank to high heaven, although Barry’s superior abilities couldn’t be denied. “How about ‘The poor is disliked even by his neighbor, but the rich have many friends.’ Proverbs 14:20.”
Barry frowned, and for a moment Nathan worried that he’d gone a bit too far. But Barry merely waved a warning finger. “No, I think we’ll go with Exodus 19:5. ‘Now if you will obey me and keep my covenant, you will be my own special treasure from among all the peoples on earth; for all the earth belongs to me.’”
Nathan flashed a smile. The sooner Barry taught him how to acquire the remaining paranormal abilities, the sooner he could end the sham of a partnership. Until then, he would pretend to swallow the evangelical message and shield Barry from those seeking to use him for their own purposes. Fortunately, Barry’s notion of becoming the next messiah allowed Nathan to steer Barry’s thoughts toward the ultimate self-sacrifice. Inevitably, Nathan would become the prophet and speaker for the dear departed Barry, and heir to all the paranormal powers.
Perhaps he could prepare the way by manipulating key people. After all, the ability to read minds gave him an enormous leverage. That showgirl, for
instance. Sexy, quirky Zita. How easily she’d fallen under his spell. So would everyone else. Like that big-time promoter with lots of connections, Gordon. Fame and fortune, here I come.
The Awareness considered the dream in the context of portents for real-world outcomes. Whether by the Protected One or one of the disciples, subjugation of this world seemed unavoidable. The Awareness moved on.
***
Laura dreamt of her office. The office lacked both color and cheer as if the taint had absorbed both. Even her patient, Barry, was gray. The sole exception was the frame of a photograph hanging on the wall. Its tiny colored blocks glittered and shifted as if alive while John waited just beyond.
She forced her attention back to the patient, who sat in a chair facing her chair. No one used couches anymore, and desks created a counterproductive sense of separation. Separation. She craved the exact opposite.
“Barry, before we continue, I need to know if you are a danger to yourself or to others.”
His teeth gleamed bright against the backdrop of his gray face. “I’m a boon, not a threat.”
“You claim you can... perform miracles.” She cared about one particular miracle. One she almost believed was possible, though she dared not verbalize her thought.
He leaned forward to cover her hand with his. “Bring back the dead? I can reunite you with John. I can deliver him from a place where he mourns his separation from you.”
Did John pine for her the way she did for him? Her eyes sought the still comfort of the photograph. Tears blurred her vision, multiplying and expanding the sparkling colors. The frame—the taint—seemed almost alive. Did God dwell inside a rainbow?
What is your intent?
Barry had to be befriended, protected, and kept conscious in order to open the rainbow door between worlds. Only he had the power to resurrect John, in the flesh, immune to doubters and Pavlok shocks. She tried to withdraw her hand. It would not move.
“My power has not yet reached its zenith. A permanent reunion is not yet possible.”
“I’ll feed the taint.” The words escaped her mouth like convicts from a prison, having tunneled under the concrete walls and barbed-wire fences of the conscious mind.
“There are those who oppose such offerings,” Barry said.
“Gordon, Miles, and everyone else can go fuck themselves.” She gasped as the words escaped. A far corner of her mind sounded an alarm. The distant, walled-off partition understood the psychology of death and dying. It had counseled grieving parents, children, and spouses. It patrolled the boundary between reality and fantasy and warned now of the threat to sanity. Laura ignored the alarm. Some things were more important than sanity.
The expected outcome tumbled toward certainty. The Awareness moved on.
***
Tom dreamt of doing hospital rounds, a task he hadn’t performed in years. The patient in room 666 suffered from an unknown disease that produced a bizarre morphing of the skin into colored cubes that twisted and turned as if possessing lives of their own. They didn’t, of course. CAT scans and biopsies showed no sign of parasites.
The prognosis wasn’t good. High temperature, labored breathing, and sensitivity to light indicated the gravity of the patient’s condition. Details about the patient remained ambiguous. Gender, age, height, and weight were indeterminate and irrelevant, as the disease stole many external markers of humanity. Complicating the matter was the patient’s inability to communicate. The foreign sounds and gestures carried no decipherable meaning. The ID band on the patient’s wrist provided only a name: Gaia.
Barry, an unorthodox doctor with a reputation for performing amazing cures, had been called in for a consultation. He leaned over the patient now and studied vital signs.
Tom cleared his throat. “Can you cure this?”
“Bring me a Bible and a cross,” Barry answered. “I can only heal those who profess belief in the one true God.”
A wave of outrage swept over Doc, submerging optimism and empathy beneath a flood of cold, dark anger. The sanctimonious bastard would rather let a person die than heal someone of a different faith. This perverted prophet knew nothing of real Christianity.
The patient made a sound and looked at Tom with dark unblinking eyes filled with deep questions and terrible purpose. But Tom couldn’t fathom the questions or the purpose.
What is your intent?
No, he thought. I won’t let him bribe you into becoming one of his converts. Better to die free than live in slavery or sell your soul for a few more years.
He immediately turned away in shame. Never before had his sense of fairness jeopardized a patient’s chance for recovery. Barry had a gift, a miraculous gift for healing.
He called out, “Nurse, get a Bible and a cross from the chaplain.”
Barry asked for a scalpel, not to use on the patient but for slicing into his own arm. Tom watched intently as the procedure progressed. The healing came from the blood, not from the ritual surrounding it.
If Barry’s healing power worked on his own body, there could be an endless supply of healing blood to those in need. Barry might not like it, but surely the good of the many outweighed the desire of the one. While Barry concentrated on a closing prayer, Tom filled a syringe with a fast-acting paralytic. He crept behind the false prophet.
Thoughts of harm befalling the Protected One disturbed the Awareness, but the quantum wave of this reality held many possible outcomes and many hours remained before the wave would collapse into a single outcome. Intervention was not yet required. The Awareness moved on.
***
The mind of Zita Ferrari normally operated with speed and agility beyond the capability of other minds. This prevented insinuation by the Awareness in previous encounters. At the moment, however, an overlay of active post-hypnotic commands diminished her mental ability. The mental tampering also prevented dreams, but dreams weren’t the only pathway to the mind.
The Awareness explored other avenues through her subconscious, gaining awareness of Zita’s intentions and desires. Her motivation remained to gain understanding of the taint, but the present sluggishness of her mind made that goal unattainable. Furthermore, the latent commands created a massive subconscious conflict which curtailed insights and intuitive leaps.
Removing these limitations would be easy, but Zita had not asked for this to be done, and her previous dreams indicated fear of the Awareness. Nevertheless, her desire for understanding outweighed the desire for safety, and accessing that level of knowledge required physical contact. The Awareness moved on, leaving a bit of itself entwined in an inobtrusive area to await her conscious acceptance.
Chapter 33
The cold floor pressed against my cheek. I clawed my way back to wakefulness, fighting an overwhelming desire to remain asleep. The incessant throbbing of my skull helped. Using the toilet for leverage, I got to my knees, then my feet. The room swayed as fragments of thoughts assembled in random order. I shook my head to clear it. Big mistake. Imagine being inside Big Ben as it tolls the hour. When the reverberations stopped, my thoughts more or less formed ranks and snapped to attention. She tried to kill me. I stepped gingerly out of the bathroom to confront my would-be assassin.
Zita lay sprawled on my bed, face up, naked and asleep. The wrist shackled to the headboard put torsion on her upper body, enough to keep her right breast high and prominent. Flawless skin, toned muscles, and impish face exerted a powerful attraction. The woman who tried to kill me was drop dead gorgeous.
I picked up the syringe and vial from the floor. The label read “Codeine.” I remembered the jab and the sting all too clearly. The alarm clock read 0610. I’d been out roughly four hours.
Why did you do it, Zita? I needed to interrogate her but not while standing in my boxers. I dressed quietly and tried to come up with intelligent questions. Leaving her naked would give me a psychological advantage, but looking at her made it hard to think, so I covered her with a blanket. The serenity on her face reminded me of S
leeping Beauty, an image I shoved away. My role was interrogator, not Prince Charming. Instead of kissing her, I called her name. Her eyes fluttered open.
“Miles?” She smiled for maybe half a second before her brow furrowed. “What are you doing here?” She started to turn and the handcuff stopped her short. She stared at the unwelcome metal bracelet for a few seconds and then turned her gaze on me. Her voice rose in pitch and volume. “Miles, what’s going on?” Her face held a mix of puzzlement, anxiety, and irritation. “Get these things off of me.” She scooted into a sitting position.
“Not yet.”
Her irritation shot to anger faster than the proverbial speeding bullet. “Let me go!” She jerked violently on the cuffs.
I leaned forward, getting in her face and trying to look intimidating. “Why did—”
She took a swing at me. I jumped back, avoiding the blow. The room spun, but I kept my feet and felt a rush of fresh anger. “Bitch!”
“How did you get into my room? Gordon revoked your override authority.”
I held up the syringe. “You tried to kill me.”
Her eyes locked on it. Her face turned pale. In a low, wavering voice she said, “Don’t do this, Miles. It’s the taint. It’s controlling you.” Her head turned one way and then another, probably looking for help. There wouldn’t be any.
“Where’s Shere Khan? What did you do with him?”
“Who the fuck is Shere Khan?”
My puzzlement seemed mirrored by Zita’s face. “Wait... this is your room. How did you get me here? Drugs? I can’t remember.”
“Hey, you came to my room, lady.”
She shook her head. “No I didn’t.”