Were there more in the mini-fridge? Doubtful. It was a small unit, but it might be worth a second look. She located the smashed refrigerator and pried open its bent door. Inside were three bottles of water, unopened.
“What the hell?” Her heart pounded like she’d seen a ghost. The bottles completely filled the small space. “I took those bottles out, I know I did. I opened one for Thomas and set the other two by his side.”
Yet here they were, full of water, unopened. She closed the door and reopened it. It wasn’t a mirage; the bottles were still there. She removed one and left the other two inside. Not trusting her senses, she set off down the path she’d cleared through the debris.
The pool I saw earlier had better still be there.
It wasn’t far, and she found it again without trouble, just beyond the debris field. It was now darker, but still contained rippling water, even if it produced no sound. She removed her mask, bent down and put her lips to the water. She sucked and was surprised to find that her mouth filled. It tasted of chemicals, but it was water.
Bottles that randomly rearrange themselves… but with the pool, at least I won’t die of thirst.
Maybe she’d never taken the bottles from the fridge. Maybe it had been a hallucination or false memory. Lack of oxygen? The explanation seemed farfetched, but she couldn’t think of anything better. Just as difficult to explain was how a bubbling pool of water was available to her.
You’re a scientist. Examine the evidence.
The floor had shapes, air and water. It must be the 3-D world but flattened, as was always the case when any 3-D object was viewed from 4-D space. She was in a 4-D bubble, she theorized, that rested on a 3-D surface just like a soap bubble on the surface of a mirror. It explained the feeling of vertigo every time she stood up. Down was not down. It was ana or kata. The real down was in some other direction.
That explained the floor. But what was beyond the sizzling wall of death? The void? The word was no more than a physicist’s placeholder for the concept of nothing. Not nothing—as in empty space—but really nothing. As in, not even empty space itself. In the void, not only were there no quarks, no bosons, no particles of any kind, there weren’t even any dimensions. Zero dimensions, like a singularity. It made sense. Sort of.
She summarized out loud. “I’m in a 4-D bubble projecting into a dimensionless void that was created by the momentum of a 3-D implosion.” It was a working theory.
She looked up at the light hovering at some unknown distance away. She’d originally labeled it a singularity. Was it? Maybe it was more like a knot, tying off 4-D space. Analogies helped. Finding a relation to something known helps to crystalize the unknown.
An inflated balloon, held underwater, would rapidly deflate if its pinched-off nozzle were suddenly opened to the air above the water’s surface. If it were a large enough balloon, it might even collapse fast enough to turn the balloon inside out and, with a bit of rubbery momentum, reinflate in the opposite direction above the water. Substitute concepts: the water is our normal 3-D world, the balloon is 4-D space, and the air above the water is the void. The analogy was conceptually neat, but it came with a few huge assumptions—such as whether the void even existed.
How does nothing exist? It seemed more of a problem of definitions. True nothingness is not something; it’s not anything. It’s the absence of everything. But to give it an attribute implies that it’s something, and something can’t be nothing. Circular reasoning always made her head hurt.
But sometimes it helped. With all the science bouncing around in her head, a key property of quantum systems popped into her consciousness.
Eigenstates. Superposition. She’d just been arguing with Jan about it—when? Yesterday?
Orbiting any atom, an electron’s position exists as a probability wave, known as superposition, until the moment someone makes a measurement. Only then does the wave collapse to a specific position, an eigenstate. It’s one of quantum mechanics’ most perplexing but very real effects. Many theorists make sense of it by saying that eigenstates are relative to the observer. Two scientists can find the same electron occupying two different positions simultaneously, yet both measurements are equally valid. Only in the quantum world can something exist in two states without logical contradiction. It’s like finding your car parked on the left side of your garage, then closing and reopening the door, and the car is now on the right side.
The water bottles. They’re in a state of superposition.
Two eigenstates. Two histories. Two entirely different locations. It was crazy, but it made perfect sense in the quantum world. A quantum bottle of water could be both empty and full, opened and sealed, and these contradictory states were equally valid.
The thought that a macro-sized object might behave like an electron was terrifying. Even if it explained the spooky phenomenon, it meant she couldn’t trust her own senses.
She looked down at the pool of water. Still there, at least. Better than the capricious water bottles. She stepped in it, watching the ripples her shoes created. Three-dimensional space, no doubt. Within reach but impossibly distant.
She jumped. Her shoes splashed in the water, but the hard surface resisted penetration. “Okay, only a sliver of me exists within that space,” she said with authority. “The bottom of my feet, the tips of my fingers. I can intersect with the three-dimensional world, but just barely.” She talked herself into this revelation. It was the only logical explanation that fit the data.
Without overthinking things, she walked on, directly away from the light, her only point of reference. The shapes on the floor changed subtly, with fewer patches. It looked like asphalt, but mixed with dirt. She kept on walking, dragging her breathing hose behind her while scanning in all directions for anything unusual. The light behind never dimmed.
After several minutes, the shapes at her feet changed, with distinct lines, circles, squares and much more detail. There was motion too, all around. A confusing scene, but with nearly recognizable shapes. A doglike shape went by, followed by what looked like a person holding its leash. Both figures were compressed, with a strange mashup of views from multiple directions, but there was no doubt of their reality.
The floor was home. The 3-D world. Theory confirmed.
“Hey,” she yelled. The person-shape didn’t stop. She ran after it. “Hey, can you hear me? Help!” There was no reaction from either the person or the dog. Nala stopped and watched the shapes as they receded into the distance.
There was more motion to her right. More people, or at least people-like shapes. They were flattened and distorted, and she could see not just their skin and clothes, but also their bones and organs.
“Hey,” she yelled again. There was no response and no sound from the moving scene below her.
Like walking on the surface of a television. Or a Picasso painting.
She jumped up into the air, her feet slamming down onto the scene in motion. The misshapen people went about their business, no different than if they were images in a movie.
They can’t hear me, but I can drink the water and breathe the air.
She removed her makeshift mask and dropped to the floor. She pressed her lips to its surface and yelled. “Hey, can you hear me? I need help!”
Lying on the surface, she was too close to the images to make them out. She put the mask back on and got on her knees for a better view. Unfortunately, there was still no change. Her voice seemed not to penetrate the barrier, as if a thick sheet of glass separated her from the strange flattened world below.
A one-way path, from them to me.
One of the darker rectangles looked like a counter as seen from the ceiling, with moving people on both sides. At the end of the counter were stacks of food… possibly bagels and muffins. She crawled over and touched the surface. One of the bagel shapes moved, only slightly, but noticeably.
She touched again, pinching her fingers over the television-like image. The shape moved further. Pressing harder, s
he could feel its surface, wiggle it, even lift it slightly like getting a fingernail under a flake of dried-out paint. She used both hands, pushing the shape between her fingers.
Suddenly, it lifted free as if it were a sticker in a children’s activity book. She pulled the flat object into her world and held it up. To her surprise and delight, it wasn’t flat at all. Between her fingers, she held a normal three-dimensional bagel.
“Holy crap! That’s amazing!”
She lifted her mask and bit into it—a bagel as real as any. “Food!”
It was more than a food source, and more than a way to stay alive. She had demonstrated an ability to interact with what was surely the three-dimensional world below her feet.
“I am a goddess!” she yelled. “A four-dimensional goddess, in fact.” She pointed to the flattened people-shapes below her. “With my warthog-god face, I stand above all of you who live in the ordinary world. You can’t even see me, but I’m right next to you.”
Nala pulled off the mask, lowered herself closer to the fresh air and ate the bagel, satisfying the hunger that had been building. She leaned toward one of the people standing behind the counter. “Sorry about the theft. I’ll pay for it when I get out of here.”
The revelation hit her immediately. “Wait a second. I know where I am.” She examined the counter closely, the register where one person stood, multiple stacks of white circles next to her. “I know this place. Corner of Kirk and Butterfield. This is Aurora; my house is just down the street.” Nala laughed. Home was much closer than she thought, even if it was on the other side of the mirror.
“Better still,” she said with a mischievous smile, “I think I know how to get out of here.” She reached to the counter and put one index finger on each end of what looked like a marking pen. With some wiggling and pressure, she managed to lift the flat pen from the page. “Behold,” she said. “My goddess powers are unlimited!”
Nala uncapped the now-three-dimensional felt-tip marking pen, leaned close to the counter and started writing on the stack of white circles.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The man in the business suit stepped to the front of the line. It was only Julia’s second day at the coffee shop, but she had the patter down already. “Good morning, what can I get started for you?”
“Grande two-pump mocha with almond milk, no whip.”
Julia pulled a paper cup off the stack and reached to the counter. She stopped, looking left and right. “Dang, I had it right here. Now where did that pen go?”
24 Messages
Marie leaned against the wall of an empty conference room at the Kennedy Space Center O&C building. Daniel and Jan stood silently a few feet away. A table with chairs occupied the center, but no one seemed to be interested in sitting. Both men had their eyes fixed on her.
She took a deep breath, looked up at the ceiling and pushed her hair back with both hands. There was so much to explain. Daniel wasn’t one of the NASA bosses; he was a lot closer to a friend. Some of the more difficult parts were bound to come out.
“The best way to deal with whatever is bothering you is to share,” Daniel said.
Marie snorted a laugh. “You sound like a shrink.”
“Core says you comprehend. Comprehend what?”
“Yeah. My gift, as they say.”
“Something the Dancers gave you?”
“Yeah.”
“Is it classified?”
Marie shifted on her feet. “No, not classified, just not yet announced. But I can talk about it. The thing is pretty amazing, actually.”
Daniel lowered his head and confronted the issue. She knew he would. “You’re reluctant to talk about it, Marie. Why?”
Marie stood quietly, twisting a lock of hair behind her neck. “I… think that it gets worse when I talk about it… or even think about it.” The statement might not be accurate, but that was the way it felt. The creepy-crawlies waited just under the surface. She quickly banished the thought lest it manifest into something worse.
Daniel nodded. “Kind of a problem for the rest of us who would like to help you out, huh?”
Marie shook her head vigorously. “You can’t help me, I already know that.”
“How?” Daniel looked serious. He wasn’t going to let this drop.
“It’s a headband with electronics that nobody understands yet. But when I wear it… I can visualize most of the forces of the natural world with amazing detail… including… my own brain.”
“You see your brain working?”
Marie dropped her head. Her feet shuffled uncontrollably. “Yes. Brain activity. Processing of complexity. It’s hard to describe.”
“Sounds amazing,” Daniel said. “But something about it doesn’t feel right?”
She shook her head, looked up and clasped both hands under her chin, her eyes staring straight ahead. “I’m sorry, Daniel. Sometimes it… uh… it scares me.” She did her best, but it was hard to hide emotions from Daniel. They knew each other too well.
Daniel nodded sympathetically. “Whatever guidance Core thinks you can provide is clearly coming with a personal cost.” He moved closer and bent down until she lifted her watery eyes to his. “I think we need a change of scenery. What do you say we get out of here?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The three filled a quiet booth near the back of a restaurant in Cocoa Beach. Jan studied his phone, leaving the conversation to Daniel and Marie, but he looked up from time to time. There was no doubt of his interest.
Marie popped another piece of calamari into her mouth. “Thanks, Daniel, I needed a bit of normalcy.” A glass of wine and the casual setting had changed an interrogation into more of a personal support group. Daniel was a master at putting people at ease, and Marie appreciated his efforts. It was time to open up, and she did.
“With the headband activated, forces become colors, information becomes a pattern. It’s all really complicated, but somehow simple. No one showed me how, but I can understand what it displays to me.” She shook her head in wonder. “I don’t know how to describe it. It’s really wild.”
Daniel sipped on a beer. “She comprehends. That’s what Core said. It sounds like you do.”
Marie put her fork down. “Well, maybe. It depends. When I’m wearing it, everything is crystal clear. Really complex stuff, too. I don’t even question how I know it all, I just do. But right now—without the headband—comprehension seems really remote, like I’m forgetting something I should have remembered.”
She explained several of the physical data layers as best she could and how she’d been able to interpret the Workers’ language and emotion. She even explained the weird ability to glance forward in time. Daniel listened intently, but Jan mostly kept to his phone.
“I could see some beneficial use at Fermilab,” Daniel said. “Maybe that’s the guidance Core was talking about.”
“I’d be happy to help in whatever way I can,” Marie said. “Right now the headband is locked away in a NASA examination room. Some of the engineers are looking at it, but I could speak with Ibarra.”
“Maybe later,” Daniel said. “This thing is alien and it doesn’t sound like it’s under control just yet.” He gazed at her with sympathetic eyes.
His statement was true enough. She still hadn’t talked about her collapse next to the tortured Worker, the hallucination and the fear that had come with it. Daniel wasn’t pressing the subject, which was fine by Marie. Even with the headband off, the awful feeling was still there.
They talked about alien science for another twenty minutes until Daniel thankfully changed the subject. This was, after all, a support group for distressed ex-katanauts.
“Two off-planet trips within a single week,” he said. “You deserve some relaxation time. Are you heading back to Washington anytime soon, or do you have continuing duties here in Florida?”
“Florida for a few more days. When Zin leaves, I’ll go home. You know, I think it’s fascinating that Core confirme
d the rumor that’s been circulating around KSC.”
“What rumor?”
“That Zin is quantum-entangled with Core.”
“You think they communicate with each other that way?”
“I don’t know, but Core seemed to know all about me and what happened on Ixtlub, so they must share an intellect in some way.”
Jan held up a hand to interrupt their conversation. He stared at his phone, while an agitated finger scrolled its display. “Sorry, but I’m getting some important messages.” He touched the screen. “One from Jae-ho Park, another from our head of security. Both say the same thing.”
Jan looked up from the phone. “They’ve found written notes. They’re appearing on people’s desks at Fermilab, and other places too.” Jan’s face turned pale and he fumbled the words.
“They… they think the notes are from Nala.”
25 Partners
With an unsteady hand, Marie set the glass of wine down, almost spilling it. Nala was alive? Jan seemed convinced of it, and Daniel acted like he believed him. Marie wasn’t about to throw cold water on the idea, but it seemed farfetched.
Daniel tapped repeatedly on his phone as he spoke to Jan. “I can get you to Fermilab hours faster than you could get there yourself.” Jan was visibly shaken, his eyes glassy and his pale skin devoid of any color.
“Nala is alive,” Jan whispered. He looked like he might faint at any minute.
Marie reached for Jan’s arm. “Did they say why they think it’s Nala?”
“Her handwriting,” he said, recovering slightly. “Her choice of words. Dr. Park knows her well. He says the notes are from Nala, no question.”
“But how is that even possible?” she asked.
Jan rubbed the side of his face. “The collapse to a singularity. It might have… except…” He seemed to be grasping for an understanding that wasn’t quite within reach. “Nala was experimenting. Studying the parameters for quantum space as it collapsed. She’d found instabilities not predicted by theory, and neither of us could figure it out. But… if that light floating in the middle of Fermilab really is a singularity, theoretically there could be something on the other side. An aberration of space, but within the void.”
The Quantum Series Box Set Page 47