by Tara Basi
Chapter Twenty-Eight – The Orb Event
The summit of the Orb poked above the silhouette of the city like the abandoned egg of some gigantic alien. The sun had set and the sky was clear. Stars twinkled in the night sky. Almost as many as the lights in London’s towers. The skyscrapers might be lit up, but Zip guessed there was nobody home. Inner London was empty, save for the Pilgrims surrounding the invisible Cuboid. The Ungodly and the Pilgrims who weren’t heading for Hyde Park had been evacuated to the God War bunkers under the Great Wall. Right now, Ungodly and Pilgrim alike were counting down the minutes to the Event.
The full glory of the Orb only came into view when the jump-jet passed over the guard of towers and started its final approach across the open space of Hyde Park. Zip couldn’t deny that the Orb was a profoundly beautiful object. Ironic then that it had been the catalyst for so much misery and death.
The park below had been transformed into a chessboard of black squares edged with brightly lit paths. At each corner of a square was a circle of light where the Pilgrim service areas were located. Industries were taking good care of the Pilgrims, or Bunny was making them. The regular shapes below looked quite beautiful, like an enormous piece by Burgoyne Diller. Beyond the Orb, a silver line of stationary, brightly illuminated Wave platforms was dotted with millions of moving spots of many hues. It looked like a river of silver carrying an uncountable number of luminescent fish spawn. Each tiny egg was a Pilgrim that had made it through the tunnel.
The jump-jet flew directly ahead towards the invisible wall of the Cuboid. Fifty metres out, the jet slowed to a gentle forward hover. An open space just appeared, hanging in mid-air, as though the Orb had sprouted a letterbox. It was an eerie sight. A murmur bubbled up from the park like the flapping of millions of tiny wings, easily overpowering the noise of the jump-jet’s stealth engines. Zip looked down. There was nothing to see, only the black squares edged in white gold with corners of circular brightness. The sound grew louder and clearer. Zip realised it was coming from the vast horde of Pilgrims camped in the park. The appearance of an unexpected blemish on the face of the Orb was unsettling the crowd. They might believe the Event had started. Someone in Industries reacted quickly and put out a Headgear message to explain the blemish. The murmur subsided. The jet turned sideways and slid into the hangar, which shut behind it. Zip could hear a loud cheer coming from outside. The blemish must have disappeared. It worried Zip. If so small a thing could create such a reaction, how might the crowd, the world, react to a dramatic Event? She wondered if it wouldn’t be for the best if the Orb just disappeared and left humanity alone again in the universe.
Zip jumped down from the jet to find a mirrored AI waiting for her. It was impossible to tell if it was Mathew or Bunny. This one wasn’t harnessed.
“Professor Simmons and Mathew are waiting for you.”
Zip decided it had to be Bunny. The machine turned away and she followed. They entered a lift and rode up towards the Cuboid roof in silence. When they left the lift, Bunny led her along a narrow, dusty corridor towards a massive metal door.
“Brace yourself,” Bunny said, and then slowly swung open the double-height door, which was at least a metre thick. As the opening widened, a blast of air nearly knocked her off her feet. “There’s a pressure difference. It’ll quickly pass,” Bunny explained. It stepped through the door and beckoned Zip to follow.
She found herself in a large airlock bounded by a second identical door. Bunny approached the second door and slowly swung it open. The machine stopped before Zip could see what lay beyond.
“You might find the view a little overwhelming. Be prepared,” Bunny said, and then resumed pulling the door back.
When she stepped through, she had to immediately lean against the wall for support and take a few deep breaths before stepping forward. The small place they occupied must have been very near the top of the Cuboid inner wall. She was looking out across the top of the Orb. The view was like nothing she’d ever seen. It seemed so close. The sight was deeply disturbing. This near to the Orb, there was no escaping its utter inscrutability and indifference to her presence. And it was so obviously alien. Nothing about it was remotely human. She’d spent her whole life surrounded by images of the Orb. This was different: she wasn’t seeing it second hand. The opening, where she was standing, left her feeling naked. There was no glass, no barriers. Nothing between her and it. If she wanted to, she could sprint to the edge and try leaping across the gap that separated her from the alien artefact, and maybe touch it, before falling to her death on the floor of the Cuboid. Some part of her wanted to try. She remembered her nightmare from the Richard Dawkins Hospital, the awe she’d felt riding the Wave around the Orb. It was like that now, and it frightened her. It wasn’t a god, but at this moment, standing where Zip was standing, it felt like it could be.
“Unbelievable, isn’t it,” said one of the mechanical bodies.
“Quattro?” Zip whispered.
“Petula, actually. This was always meant to be my body after I was reanimated. Though I could never have imagined how terrible the circumstances would be. I’m deeply sorry about Quattro.”
Zip started to get angry, if only for Peter. The bitch had taken her body, Quattro’s body. The anger didn’t last long. She remembered Pip. Zip had taken her body, after she was murdered by Industries. Petula had only done the same.
“Peter might not understand,” said Zip. “He’s convinced you killed Kiki.”
“Yes. Mathew was angry, too,” Petula said, indicating the third AI in the room. “He wanted to kill me. I never intended to reanimate Mathew, you know. I thought I was bringing back the mind of a great philosopher and anthropologist. He was prepared for it; he wanted to use the experience to forge a lasting peace with the AIs. Meeting them halfway, so to speak. It was a rebel AI faction that switched the Records. Mathew is reconciled with Petula. Maybe Peter will too, in time. It was all done for the right reasons.”
An ice cube slid down her back as Zip realised she was the only human in this place. All the machines were behaving exactly as AI machines usually did. They were stone still and impossible to read. It was easier to silently indicate her agreement, even though she had her doubts about everything Petula was telling her. She didn’t want to argue with an AI when all she had to say would be about being human.
“Time’s short,” Petula said. “Check with Peter on how the Tramp is doing and if he’ll be ready to speak. Best you don’t mention me,” Petula said.
Zip looked over to Mathew. “Is that you, Mathew? Are you alright?”
“Petula has explained everything. Bunny has supplied all the data. I’m content. I want to witness the Event.”
“Fine, good. I’ll call Peter and see how the Tramp is doing.” Zip turned away. “Peter, are Alice and the girls alright?”
“Perfectly. They seem quite at home in the cellar. I’m enjoying having them around, more than I would have thought.”
“That’s wonderful to hear, Peter. And the Tramp? Is the prophet going to be ready?”
“Ask him yourself. Remember, you still look like Kiki.”
After a momentary darkness, Zip found herself back in the dull meeting room. The Tramp was pacing, and Peter was sitting.
“Tramp, there’s only minutes to go. Are you ready? Do you know what you’ll say?” said Zip.
The Tramp stopped his pacing and looked at her. His eyes were clear, and he was calm. “Do you know what’s going to happen?”
“No. No one does,” Zip said.
“Then how am I supposed to know how I’ll react? I’ll say what seems right and that might be nothing at all. Do you understand?”
“Yes. Thank you. Good luck.” Who was the good luck for? Zip wondered. It wasn’t just for the Tramp. It felt like she was saying it to the whole world.
“You heard?” Zip said to Petula.
“He’s a very wise man.”
“What about the message? Can you tell me now what the Orb is
saying?”
“After the countdown. And then everyone has to know. Before Industries and the Church get control back, and that’ll be soon.”
Her Headgear was counting down the last minutes. Petula was standing right on the edge of the opening, staring at the Orb with her empty eyes. Bunny stood a little further back and to one side, motionless and emotionless, which made Zip wonder. How would the AIs react to a significant Orb Event? Until Creep, she had assumed the AIs were the ultimate Ungodly. Perhaps some of the machines might react as passionately as any Pilgrim.
Mathew had retreated into the shadows at the rear of the space. Zip drew some comfort from Petula’s stillness. If the message contained an explicit threat, surely, she wouldn’t be standing where she was.
“You’re thinking too much,” said Mathew. He must have been observing her ever-changing expression as the clock counted down. “You can’t prepare for the unexpected.”
Zip smiled. He was right. She had one last call to make. “Q, are you OK?”
“Snug as a bug down here. Hooked up to Bremer’s boosted gear-specs so we got a good view of everything. Where are you?”
There was no point worrying Q. “I’m safe. Is Bremer OK? Does he know where Bella is?”
There was a short pause before Bremer said, “Bella’s in the park. Sorry.”
A part of her was relieved; she didn’t have the time to call Bella. How could she ever tell Bella that Pip had been murdered by Orb Industries just so Zip could have her body? Maybe there was more to it than that, but it didn’t make any difference. She’d caused that poor girl’s death.
Zip sighed, “You look after yourself, Bremer. Q, see you soon. Love you.” She didn’t wait for a reply; the tears would have started, and she needed to stay calm and focused on what was coming. Zip edged cautiously along the wall till she was only a metre from the edge of the opening that overlooked the Orb.
Mathew stayed back, barely visible in the darkness around the great metal airlock door. Gingerly, Zip leant forward and looked down at the snow-white Cuboid floor, a kilometre below. The Event was less than a minute away, though nothing about the Orb suggested that any change was imminent. Its appearance hadn’t changed in a single detail in forty-two years. And they’d tried to change it. In the beginning, it had been bombarded with radiation and high-powered lasers. Later, the assaults became more kinetic. It was attacked with ferocious tools, shaped charges, thermite, corrosives and more. Nothing marked, let alone penetrated, the skin of the Orb. It was as it had always been, an immutable ball of perfect summer blue. From her position, Zip’s eyeline was a little higher than the summit of the Orb, and she was far enough back to take in its entire width. If anything changed, anything significant, she should see it. If not, her Headgear could access live images from any part of the Cuboid.
She counted down the last ten seconds.
There was no blinding flash. Nothing happened.
Zip let out a long breath. She was a little disappointed. If Petula was wrong about the Event, then she was probably wrong about the message. It wasn’t communicating at all.
“Nothing’s happened,” Zip said.
“Your eyes can’t see it yet. I can. It’s accelerating exponentially. Look to the Orb’s crest,” Petula answered.
Zip looked hard. There was nothing. Was Petula delusional? Zip called up a Headgear view, looking directly down at the top of the Orb from the roof of the Cuboid, and zoomed in.
Still nothing. Then something. There was a tiny black mark on the very top of the Orb. Before she could react, a blackness filled her vision. Zip disconnected from the Headgear view and stared wide-eyed. From the Orb’s summit, a black wave, like crude oil, was pouring over the Orb’s surface. Zip reassessed what she was seeing. It wasn’t a liquid; it was more like a waterfall of tiny, black squares rippling over the Orb’s surface and at an ever-increasing rate. And the only sound was her rapid breathing.
She clamped her hand to her mouth. The Orb was being eaten away by the little black shapes. The Orb was dissolving.
“Jesus and the Tramp, what’s happening?” Zip whispered. She wanted to scream her question, but the absolute silence of the Event made her hesitate. No one answered her.
The blackness raced past the waist of the Orb, seemingly dissolving everything as it went. Zip leaned over and looked down. She expected to see the white floor of the Cuboid turned black by the deluge of little squares, but what she could see of the floor was still white. The black squares hadn’t fallen randomly; they were being captured inside an invisible vessel and filling it up. Zip was enthralled and terrified at the same time. She didn’t understand what was happening. As the invisible container rapidly filled with the remains of the Orb, its shape became obvious. The whole Event had taken less than thirty seconds. And in that time, everything had changed. It was as if a butterfly had turned into a caterpillar and climbed back into its ugly cocoon. The beautiful blue Orb had become a matt black cube, and it was floating inside the Cuboid exactly where the Orb had been.
Zip’s legs gave way. She felt dizzy. Slowly, she slid down the wall to rest on her haunches. What had she witnessed? What did it mean? Zip called out to Petula, who had her back to Zip. “Does the message explain this?”
“Yes. I think so,” Petula answered, still facing towards where the Orb had been.
Zip was getting ever more frustrated with Petula’s cryptic utterances. “Bloody tell me! Tell me now! What’s it saying?”
“The message and my interpretation have been broadcast to everyone. You should have it.”
Zip’s Headgear pinged an urgent broadcast alert. “Damn you! Tell me to my face.”
Petula’s head pivoted on her neck. Her body didn’t move. She stared at Zip, looking more like a machine than ever. Her grotesque posture reminded Zip of the AI Mutiny robots. Petula frightened her.
“Shapes and People,” Petula said.
“That’s not a message. What the hell does it even mean?” Zip shouted, becoming more and more agitated as the magnitude of the Event sunk in. How were the Church or Industries going to react? What would the Pilgrims in the park and on the Waves do?
“It’s a title, for a work of art.”
“The Orb, that black monstrosity, is a work of art? Are you crazy?”
“Oh no, the Shape is just a catalyst. I believe we, the People, and our reaction to the Shape, we are the work of art.”
“That’s insane. A bloody god makes more sense than that. Whose art is it?”
“Aliens.”
“It’s obscene. Why would they do this? All the horror it’s caused.”
“An artist in London once killed nine thousand butterflies for an installation.”
“We’re not butterflies, damn you!”
“Getting angry doesn’t change anything. I’m only the messenger. And, to them, we might be less than butterflies. It’s time for the Tramp. About now people will be starting to panic.”
If everybody felt like Zip did, they’d be confused, angry and looking for someone to blame. Maybe Petula was right: the Tramp might provide a calming voice. She called Peter.
Peter was laughing loudly when he answered; it took a minute before he could speak.
“What’s so funny, Peter?”
“Everything, I would say. Petula must be right; it does all fit, doesn’t it? We’re such stupid, volatile beasts. Even now, I still want to kill that bitch.”
Zip groaned. This wasn’t what she’d expected, hoped for, from the Event, from the message. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the Orb’s obscenity reminded her of something. How could it? Then, like tripping on broken paving, she remembered. The first time she’d met Peter. That was it. In her office, he had been staring at her old-style monitor, obviously surprised to see something so ancient on her wall. And she had said, “The monitor’s a work of art, if you’re wondering. The stuff it highlights is somehow related to the observer. Smile, Peter, you’re part of the performance.” Exactly what the Orb was d
oing to the whole of mankind, with terrible consequences.
Maybe the Tramp would find something positive to say. “Is the Tramp ready?”
“He’s eager to speak. I’ll put him on broadcast, and Bunny has arranged for his face to appear on the surface of the Cuboid.”
Zip switched to a Headgear feed that was looking at the Cuboid from the park side. It was a shocking sight. The crowd were on their feet and roaring in anger and confusion at the awful image of the enormous black cube hanging above the trees. She’d never denied that the Orb was an exquisite object. Its replacement was ugly, industrial and, most of all, totally incomprehensible.
The chaotic noise was growing in volume. It was coming from every direction, from the park and the Waves. Abruptly, it ceased and silence fell. The face of the Tramp had replaced the view of the ugly cube. The Tramp looked out over the park and seemed to study the assembled Pilgrims. Then he spoke.
“A god? You thought it was a god? See what your god has done. It mocks you. All of mankind is humiliated. ‘What now?’ you scream. I’ll tell you what now. I’ll tell you what you must do. I’ll tell you how to save yourself. I’ve come back from the dead to warn you.”
The Tramp paused, and the pause turned into a tight-lipped silence. A few in the nervous crowd shouted something that Zip couldn’t hear. Their call was taken up by others until a million voices were screaming the same thing. “Tell us.”
The Tramp let the sound build. And when it seemed the crowd could shout no louder, the Tramp raised his hand in front of his face and every Pilgrim fell silent. “I’ll tell you what you must do. And you must do what I tell you, I order, I beg you. I call upon you to listen to what I tell you and to act. Now, immediately, this very minute. Will you do as I command?”
Zip’s relief at seeing the Tramp appear was turning to dread. This wasn’t what she’d expected. The Revelation was a sublime discussion of the human condition with all its intricacies. The Tramp they’d resurrected had abandoned all subtlety; he was whipping up the crowd like a demagogue, feeding on their irrational fears. It wasn’t the man Zip thought she knew.