Daniel had done his fiscal duty, flying commercial to Texas and Chicago. This time, it was worth a phone call to Janine to arrange the military flight. The flight was direct to KSC. No fighting the hordes of tourists at Orlando International, no requests for autographs from the famous scientist, and easier on his frazzled nerves. With Jan joining him, it might even have made financial sense. Janine made it happen; she always did.
Forty minutes later, the pair had their visitor’s badges and followed signs guiding them down a long hallway at the Neil Armstrong Operations and Checkout Building. Daniel spotted a familiar face coming from the opposite direction. They both ran the last few steps.
“Marie.” Daniel held out both arms and hugged her tight.
“Great to see you again, Daniel,” Marie said.
She hadn’t changed a bit, even after her well-publicized off-world experience. She still wore the same black glasses she probably didn’t need. A clean, fresh look with a wholesome face, short dark hair, with an offset part that pushed most of it to one side. With her impressive list of accomplishments, Daniel had already learned not to judge her by youthful looks. Now, she’d added interstellar katanaut to her resume.
Daniel felt like a proud older brother. “I know you’re busy. Thanks for helping us out.”
Marie returned a warm smile and held Daniel’s arms as she talked. “Zin said he’d be delighted to help, but that’s typical Zin.”
Daniel hadn’t heard the diminutive before, but it made sense. “I’m really looking forward to meeting him. It is a him?”
“Oh, yes. He’s humanoid by design. Male, but oddly adaptable. Maybe he’s got a female voice in there somewhere.”
Daniel spent a moment examining his onetime partner. Maybe she had changed. Not physically, but she projected a greater maturity that he hadn’t sensed before. The baby face had grown up. It shouldn’t be surprising; this woman had just spent two days on another planet.
Jan shook Marie’s hand. “The very famous katanaut, Ms. Marie Kendrick. I watched you on TV. Intensely exciting.”
Marie nodded in acknowledgment. “I was honored to be included on the team and thrilled to stand on another planet.”
“But glad to be home?” Jan asked.
“Of course,” Marie said.
They caught up as they walked to the O&C clean room. Marie provided a firsthand summary of her adventure to Ixtlub, but a few of her descriptions were cut short. She was withholding, no doubt, but perhaps some of the mission was classified. Daniel didn’t press her.
Marie stopped walking and turned to Daniel. “I heard about Nala. So sad.” She put a hand on Jan’s arm. “I know she was your colleague. Such an incredible talent.”
“Thank you,” Jan said. “A terrible tragedy, personally, and a great loss for science. It’s the main reason we’re here. We don’t want this to happen again.”
Marie nodded. “I hope Zin can help. He said he would try, but it might be complicated.” She looked up at Daniel, who remained silent. The only words he had left would wait until he could speak with Core. It seemed a simple task for the android to arrange the connection. He certainly had the technology.
The three continued silently down the corridor until they reached a door with a guard stationed at a desk outside. “Zin should already be here.” Marie showed her ID, and the guard checked Daniel and Jan’s badges.
As they opened the door, they nearly bumped into a fast-moving figure coming the other way.
“Pardon me, so sorry,” Zin said. “I was coming to look for you, Marie, but I see you’ve found Dr. Rice and Dr. Spiegel.”
The spindly android turned to Jan. “Goede dag Dokter Spiegel, hoe gaat het met u?” Jan was Dutch, and the android was said to be an accomplished linguist in most if not all Earth languages, but Daniel was still surprised at the impromptu performance.
“Dank u, Aastazin,” Jan replied. “But I’m sure we can all speak English.”
“Of course,” Zin said. “Please call me Zin, everyone does.” He extended a metal hand to Daniel. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Dr. Rice.”
“For me, too,” Daniel said. He took Zin’s slender hand, cold, with fewer digits than normal. His flat eyes jumped around on his face, and his almost normal mouth was turned up into a natural, if overdone, smile. “I’ve heard much about you, and something about the mission to Ixtlub.”
“It went well, I think.” Zin looked at Marie. “Though I’m sure Marie has more that she can tell you.”
“She just did,” Daniel said. “The Dancers sound fascinating.”
“Yes, they’re a delightful species,” Zin said. “I do enjoy my visits there. What did you think of the Workers?” Marie looked down at the floor.
“I guess I didn’t hear about them.” Daniel glanced at Marie. “I gather they’re… different?”
“Quite so,” said Zin. “Rougher. Most humans might say cruder, but also quite intelligent.”
Daniel turned to Marie who still watched the floor. “You seem—”
“Yes, they were fascinating too,” she said. “But to be honest, one day with the Workers was enough.” Marie had the expression of a mom who had just cleaned up after a sick child, or dog… or both. “Let’s just say the experience was a little creepy.”
“So, you—” Daniel started, but Marie cut him off again.
“Best not to dig too deep, Daniel.” Marie seemed adamant that she wasn’t going down that path.
Zin tactfully changed the subject. “Come into the clean room and let’s discuss how to best meet your needs.”
They entered the cavernous space, their footsteps echoing in the empty chamber. The white oval portal still dominated the center of the room, looking just as futuristic as it had on television. Four chairs on pedestals were arranged between the portal and a large control station.
“So you can take us to Core through the portal?” Daniel asked. A trip had already been implied but not confirmed. Daniel decided to cut through the polite quality that seemed to come naturally to Zin and make this conversation as direct as possible.
“Can I? Yes,” Zin answered. “But that’s not the real question.”
“Is there an issue?” Daniel asked.
Zin motioned to the empty chairs. “Would you like to sit?”
Daniel shook his head no. “What’s the issue, Zin?” he repeated.
Zin paused. Whether androids needed time to think before speaking or whether Zin was mimicking human patterns was an open question. “Dr. Rice, as the primary spokesperson for humanity, you more than anyone recognize that there are protocols to follow for any conversation. Your request to meet with Core is impromptu.” He held up a hand. “Not out of line, by any means. Just unexpected, which requires some additional analysis.”
“This meeting is important. Are we going or not?” Keep it direct.
Zin’s eyes flitted between the three humans. “Potentially. Please understand that Core has duties—”
“Core is too busy to see us?”
“No, it’s not that.” Zin lowered his head and lifted his eyes. “It’s the concept of eschewal. An uncommon word I believe in English, but it’s the closest approximation.”
“Eschew? To avoid or bypass?”
“Eschew. To deliberately avoid,” Zin added. “Eschewal is quite an important concept when it comes to probabilities.”
“Explain,” Daniel commanded.
“I probably shouldn’t… but since you are a rather special person, Dr. Rice.” He gave a humanlike shrug. “I’ll do the best I can. It probably won’t surprise you to learn that Core serves multiple purposes but some of its duties are beyond what most humans can imagine. Stellar stabilization and gravitational leveling for galactic homogeneity, for example. A complex subject. But one of its most critical functions is temporal probability analysis and guidance. It would take some time to cover the details but let me just say that even events as insignificant as your request can figure into the analysis.”
>
The explanation wasn’t adequate, but it didn’t appear that Zin was going to do more than throw out complex terms. Get past the gatekeeper.
“We need to speak with Core. Our request is quite simple,” Daniel said.
“But the implications are not. If I say too much I could risk biasing your side of the conversation, should a conversation with Core occur.”
The back-and-forth was almost as difficult as speaking with Core. Zin was simply more polite about it. “How can we make it occur?” Daniel asked with determination.
“Sorry, I can see you may be frustrated and I do sympathize. So, let me say this much.” Zin looked at Marie and spoke slowly. “It could help if Marie attends with you.”
Daniel glanced at Marie, but her surprised expression made it clear she had no prior knowledge of Zin’s suggestion. “Marie attending will give us the conversation we need?”
“Yes, I believe it will,” Zin said. “Marie has proven to be quite valuable.” He turned to Marie who looked a little red-faced. “I hope I’m not embarrassing you.”
“No, it’s fine,” Marie said. “I’m happy to go. Whatever I can do to help.”
“Then it’s settled,” Daniel said. “Marie’s coming too.” He turned to Zin. “Let’s do this.”
The android scurried around to the opposite side of the control desk and activated several pieces of unknown equipment. He froze in place and closed his eyes for a moment. He seemed to be thinking.
His eyes opened. “I’ve just made the arrangements. You’ll be using the Antechamber.”
“And where, exactly, is this Antechamber?” Jan asked.
“Nearly four thousand light-years away,” Zin responded. “Inside Core.”
“Inside? Really?” Jan shrugged. “Is that even safe?”
“You can remain right here, if you wish, Dr. Spiegel.”
Marie interrupted before Jan could say anything. “Really, Jan, the transfer procedure is safe and I’m sure the Antechamber has been designed for our use.”
Zin nodded.
“I think she’s challenging us over-forty types,” Daniel said to Jan. “Take a deep breath. I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Zin’s eyes flitted laterally between the two men until Jan finally nodded in agreement.
“Then I’ll send you on your way,” Zin said. “I’ll remain here and control your return. Touch the Reset button on the transfer station arm when you’re ready, and I’ll get the message.”
He pointed to the chairs and each of them picked one. They began to buckle the seat harnesses until Zin waved a hand and explained that the straps were purely for show. Katanauts tightly strapped to their seats looked good for the cameras, but as a safety procedure it was unnecessary.
As the hoods descended in unison over their heads, Daniel could feel his body reacting. Higher blood pressure, adrenaline and faster breathing. He couldn’t help it. Things were happening fast, and no amount of rational explanation or self-induced tranquility mattered when the clock was counting down to zero. Daniel had spoken with Core many times, but always from a location at Fermilab and using a two-way radio. Though Zin might imagine that a trip across thousands of light-years was routine, for any human it was nothing less than magic.
Daniel peered under the edge of the hood and watched Marie, calm and experienced, reclined in her chair as if she were at the beach. She caught his eye and just smiled. Yes, Marie had definitely changed.
A bright yellow light flashed, and Daniel disappeared from reality.
22 Core
As the hood retracted, Daniel lifted his head from the chair and stared incredulously at the scene before him. Marie sat next to him. Regardless of how experienced she was with transfers, her expression of amazement made it clear she was just as surprised at their destination.
They were in a bar filled with people sitting and standing all around. The blended noise of many conversations mixed with the clink of glasses and the squeaking sounds of rotating overhead fans. A bartender stood behind a row of beer taps, cleaning a glass. Two men sat on barstools in front of him, pints of beer in their hands. All around, tables were filled with groups of people leaning close to each other and engaged in private conversations.
In the middle of this very ordinary scene, the stark-white transfer chairs perched on pedestals and the oval portal behind them were dramatically out of place. No one in the room seemed to notice that three interdimensional travelers had suddenly intruded into their after-work party.
Daniel hopped down and stepped off the platform to a dusty barroom floor. Marie did the same, her mouth wide open. “Did we take a wrong turn somewhere?” she asked.
The unexpected scene appeared normal, yet something was amiss. “It’s fake,” Daniel said. “A simulation of some kind.” The barroom sounds were accurate, but the motion wasn’t complete. Each human figure rocked back and forth, but their general position never changed. The bartender never finished cleaning the glass. The two men never brought the beer to their lips.
Daniel walked over to one of the tables, where several women sat together, each holding a glass of wine. He leaned in close. Their facial features were detailed, their eyes glistened, their mouths moved, and their heads jostled, but the conversation was unintelligible—just white noise. Daniel pushed a finger against one woman’s head. He half-expected it to pass through an elaborate projection and was surprised by the feel of something solid. Cool and soft but definitely not a human head. The figure remained in a bouncy kind of motion, unfazed by his touch.
“They’re like mannequins,” he said. Marie joined him at the table. Jan remained in his transfer chair.
Marie waved a hand up and down between the conversing women. The chatting figures maintained the same repetitive motion. “Very weird. And kind of creepy.”
Daniel looked around the room. Hung on the nearest wall were several neon beer signs. The far wall was less distinct, fuzzy, as though the details were unimportant. “I think I know this place.” He swiveled around examining the layout. “Yeah, I’m sure of it. This is a bar in Aurora, Illinois, that Nala and I used to frequent. We sat right over there.” He pointed to a booth in the corner, where a brown-skinned woman sat alone.
“Oh, no. It can’t be.” Daniel’s nerves prickled at the thought—and the sight—of Nala. He squeezed past tables and humanlike figures with Marie following close behind. They stopped at the edge of the booth.
Her features were less distinct, but the hair, the smile, the arm casually hung over the back of the seat made the source of the forgery clear. It was a mental image of Nala, a view of her that he’d seen many times before at this very bar and stored away somewhere in the recesses of his mind.
Daniel sat next to the figure of Nala and looked deeply into her eyes. They blinked normally, and her lips moved slightly as if she were talking to herself. She was more than a mannequin, but still a distant approximation of a flesh-and-blood human. His heart sank as he wondered about the fate of the real Nala.
“Manipulative SOB,” Daniel said under his breath. He tightened his lips in anger, jumped up and started back toward the incongruous transfer chairs at the center of the bar.
Daniel yelled. “Core! Where are you?”
The din of a hundred conversations died down. The clinks of glasses faded away and a deep voice reverberated through the room, seeming to come from everywhere all at once.
“I am here.”
Daniel stepped up to the platform where the transfer chairs stood in a row. He waved his arms. “What is all this bullshit?”
“It disturbs you?” The voice was unlike their previous radio conversations. The cellolike vibration was still there, but stronger and with a deeper resonance.
Marie stepped onto the transfer platform, staying close to Daniel. The anger couldn’t be hidden from his voice, nor did he want to hide it. “You pulled this from my memory.”
“Yes.” The vibration in Core’s voice made it sound more like yezh. “To make you comfortable.”
&
nbsp; Comfortable, my ass.
A blank room would have been comfortable. A seashore would have been comfortable. Daniel pointed to the booth. “That counterfeit sitting over there is a reproduction of a dear friend of mine. A woman killed in pursuit of scientific knowledge. A woman who faced dangers that you could have warned us about.” Daniel trembled with anger. He’d never reacted this way to Core and was uncertain what might happen next.
“You prefer reality.” It was a statement, not a question, but Daniel answered anyway.
“Yes. Reality. Honesty. Candor. Stop trying to shade things or distort reality for your benefit or because you think we can’t handle it. Just give it to us, unvarnished.”
“As you request. Reality.” Core’s voice faded away. As it did, the dark colors of the barroom lightened, becoming brighter and whiter. The people at tables, the booth where Nala sat, the bartender and his customers all softened into shapes of white that glowed like shiny plastic.
A new scene opened up, as if a stage curtain had parted and backstage was suddenly visible. A vast grid of parallel beams curved gently into the distance. The gray beams were both horizontal and vertical, like lines of latitude and longitude on an enormous globe. Between each beam, globs of an oozing white substance hung, forming thin sheets and vertical columns that dripped and flowed in slow motion.
The plasticlike material dripped from a beam overhead, creating dozens of stalactites that gave the appearance of a limestone cavern. Each stalactite thinned to a fine-tipped point as it inched downward. Some of the slow-motion drips had already reached the beam below, creating a thin vertical column with elegant hyperbolic curves between connection points at the top and bottom.
The grid of beams continued indefinitely in each direction, fading into darkness. It was like looking into the reflection of opposing mirrors. The platform that supported the transfer chairs spanned the horizontal distance from one beam to another. As drips continued from above, a solid sheet of white began to form around the platform.
The Quantum Series Box Set Page 45