"No one's a little curious about how they're creating these worlds?" Diana asked. "Or what they really are? This building's big, but I'm fairly certain there's nowhere near enough space in there to house large habitats matching all these creatures' original worlds."
"I don't know," said Myth in response to her look.
"Gotta be an illusion," said Gunnar.
Diana shook her head. "But we've seen things bringing out what looks like real food."
"The food's real, just like the creatures," said Gary. "Trust me on that."
"Then unless there's an objection," said Diana, "I say we have Gary open a doorway – if he can – and follow him in. Assuming it will let us."
There were no objections – except, perhaps, a small resistance from the Azrene, who mumbled something irritable as Gary helped her to her feet.
"It's all right, Molly." He patted her shoulder. The Azrene pulled away, raising the volume on her annoyed commentary. "We're just gonna get something to drink and eat."
"She says her name is not 'Molly' but Jizibex," Myth informed him. "And that she wants to hunt in her own world."
"You can speak chimp?" Gary grinned at her. "Wow, that's cool! Now I can actually talk with her! Tell her fine – I'll call her Jiz from now on. Also, tell her we're going to Stone Ageville first, okay?"
"I will tell her." Myth addressed the Azrene in the Keepers' tongue: "Greetings, Jizibex. The native human, Gary, knows your true name now and asks that you accompany us into a world he knows where we hope to find sustenance."
Jizibex stared in shocked disbelief. "What manner of abomination are you?"
"The usual."
"How did you come to speak our language?"
"We come from the same place and both learned the language of those that kept you. The Keepers."
"Our gods?"
"They are not gods. Only beings like ourselves."
"Foolish, ignorant creature!" Jizibex spit. "Could mere beings create this?" She waved to the Hub.
"Certainly. Given the necessary knowledge and tools."
"Okay," Dan broke in, stepping between them. "Sounds like a fascinating conversation, but we need to be going. If she wants to stay behind, that's fine."
"She's coming," said Gary, grasping her arm. "Come on, Jiz."
"I will go with my bond-mate," Jizibex informed Myth.
Myth wondered if she should tell Gary how she viewed him. She decided it might be better if he didn't know for now.
An entrance roughly ten feet by five feet opened when Gary approached the Hub wall. He stepped through, and before anyone could follow, the doorway closed. A few seconds later, Gary emerged with a chagrined smile.
"Sorry about that," he said. "I'll stand here until you all go through."
They walked past Gary into a world of brilliant sunlight and skies so blue they seemed transparent. A lake the size of a small ocean lay at their feet a few hundred meters below from the top of their hill, branching off into inlets, dotted with islands, expanding as far as they could see. Maybe it is an ocean, Diana thought.
Individuals and herds of four-legged animals congregated along the shores. A breeze meandered up the straw-gold hills, bearing hints of water, dried grass, and dung. It could've been the Sacramento foothills, Diana thought, or the high plains of western South Dakota, but touches of odor and geography dashed that possibility. Not to mention the woolly mammoths, three-horned hippos, a herd of oversized bison, another herd of heavy-maned, striped horses that looked like crosses between zebras and Shetland ponies, and a bear the size of a bison bounding down a tree-studded slope and startling the horses into a stampede. They appeared to be making good their escape when the massive bear stretched its over-long legs and hauled one of them down. A brief thrashing and the bear began to dine.
"Looks like dinner time to me," said Gary.
They headed down the hill, everyone but Gary keeping their rifles up and their eyes wide open.
"Anyone up on their paleontology?" Gunnar asked.
"Not me," said Dan. "But I'm pretty sure that's a bear eating a horse, and the hairy elephants are mammoths. And those are bison. I'm not going to even guess what that thing with the three horns is."
"You're a lot of help," Gunnar chuckled.
"Is this where you were before, Gary?" Diana asked.
"Nope. No lake, before. Same general idea, though."
Most of the animals moved off as they approached the lake – not bolting with fear, just putting some distance between them and the group. The exception was the herd of bison – taller and larger overall than any bison they'd ever seen – which not only held their ground but sent an emissary of a few big bulls tromping in their direction. Curly trotted out to meet them until Penny called him urgently back.
"I'd say now's as good a time as any to see if our guns work," said Dan, taking aim at the closest big bull's lowered head.
Pop! The bull shook his head as if he hadn't heard right. Pop! The bull shook his head again but kept coming. So did his fellows. Diana dropped to one knee and leveled her rifle. The others followed suit.
"His skull seems to be made of steel," said Dan, a knife-blade of tension cutting through the forced calm of his words. "I'd suggest aiming elsewhere."
A firestorm of gunfire rang out. The line of bulls staggered – the ones in front walking their way into the ground as if they didn't understand why they shouldn't keep moving. Others shied away, turning their heads and snorting, searching for their invisible foe. At last, the message seemed to have been received: the remaining bulls spun around and spurred their herd into a gallop in the opposite direction.
A collective exhalation of relief rose from the adults. They stood up and walked warily over to the four bulls, two of which were still stirring. Curly ended one of the bull's struggles with a savage bite that ripped open its throat while Gunnar finished another with a point-blank shot in its eyes. Jizibex dropped down at the edge of the lake and drank for a full minute before circling one of the dead bison, raking its hide cautiously with one claw-extruded foot. She stooped to sniff the lines of blood left by the claws before taking an experimental bite. Gary sawed off a chunk of flesh from one bull's hindquarters and started happily chomping away. Penny and Curly joined them.
"Man," said Gary, pausing to give Diana and the others a blood-smeared grin, "fresh bison is the best! I'd take it over deer any day!"
"Now if the rest of us only had a fire to grill some steaks," Dan lamented. "Not that I'm not hungry enough to start eating something raw."
"Amateurs," said Gunnar, prying a Swiss Army knife from his back pocket. He slipped out a thin piece of metal from one end and scraped it with one of the blades, producing a startlingly large spark. "Firefly fire steel. Never leave home without it."
They chopped some branches from a nearby tree and used dry grass to start a fire in the soft, muddy lakeshore. They spitted large, bloody slices of bison flesh and held them over the flames. The meat oozed fat which sizzled in the fire and puffed up smoky goodness that made Diana's stomach tremble with desire.
"Happen to have any water purifying tablets in that magic knife of yours?" she asked Gunnar, holding up her empty water bottle.
"'Fraid not. I was going to suggest filling and heating up the two remaining canteens in the fire. Awkward, but doable."
"That's how we avoided getting sick," said Laurie. "We used an old fishing tackle box and boiled water in it."
"That took some explaining to get the Nazrene to understand," Sonja added.
"I'll bet," said Diana.
"It's funny how many small details can make the difference between life and death."
Tell me about it, Diana thought. It was strange how after devoting much of the last two weeks to their rescue from what had to be horrific conditions that what she felt mostly toward Dr. Sonja Jensen was a small, simmering annoyance. She found it difficult to put her finger on why. Maybe it was her sense, perhaps imaginary, that Sonja believed her and her son wer
e entitled to more care or attention than the others, or maybe it was just that it all felt anticlimactic and not terribly satisfying. They'd rescued them, and the great reward was a brief thank you and being stuck in a Twilight Zone virtual reality from which there was no guaranteed escape.
Diana shook her head at the pettiness of her thoughts, at her lack of compassion for these people who'd suffered so much. It wasn't as if she'd expected the heavens to open and rain gratitude down on them when and if they did succeed – or some wondrous purpose revealed in their lives "moving forward" as the insipid saying went. Even if they escaped from their present predicament, it was far from clear what "moving forward" meant or if it would even have any real meaning.
They started in on their steaks when they were charred on the outside but still semi-bloody on the inside. Diana remembered the days when she'd preferred her steaks well-done, a frequent source of humorous conflict with Dean, who was a "grill it just till it stops squirming" kind of guy. He'd argued she had no idea what the true flavor of steak was. And now that she knew what was it was to be hungry – truly hungry – her body and her palate told her that undercooked meat was more flavorful and satisfying, whatever its health risks. Too bad she'd never have the chance to hear him say "I told you so."
Gunnar sat next to her on the sand, close enough to imply a certain kinship, far enough to respect her personal space. Respectful and friendly, but like a coiled cat ready to pounce, Diana thought. A strange way to describe a man who was lounging half on his back, his eyes on the wildlife – particularly, the giant bear, still feeding on its horse – immediately down the shore from them. Maybe she was projecting the tension in herself?
"It's all so real," Laurie broke the monopoly of chewing and swallowing sounds. "How is this is even possible? I've seen how large the building is. This couldn't fit inside the building, like you said, Diana."
"Maybe they created an area underground," said Diana. "But that still wouldn't explain the flora and fauna."
"Or this." Gunnar held up a chunk of bison skewered on his assault knife. "The best damn steak I think I've ever eaten."
"Holodeck," Donny stated.
"What's a 'hollow deck'?" Gunnar asked.
"Holo, as in a hologram. In Star Trek, the holodeck is a recreation room that creates physical replicas of real things that people interact with."
"So how are they creating the physical reality?" Diana asked. "How does Star Trek explain it?"
"It doesn't, other than a lot hand-waving." Donny smiled. "That's code for mumbo-jumbo."
"Has to be the best-tasting 'mumbo-jumbo' I've ever had," said Gunnar.
Donny laughed. "I always wondered how holodeck food would taste." His grin drifted downward. "Basically, I think they're reconstituting matter into what we're seeing."
"I can see objects," said Diana, "but living things?"
"Yeah, that's impressive, I have to say. Not that living things aren't composed of matter or that there's anything more to them than that."
"I disagree," said his mom. "I think there is more to life than that. Especially human life."
"Seems like this is proof that there isn't."
Donny was smiling again. Diana had the feeling this was an old argument with them.
"Myth says she's friends with one of the scientists working here," said Donny. "Why don't you just ask him, Myth?"
The group traded frowns and turned one by one to Myth with "Why didn't I think of that?" expressions.
"I could try," Myth offered. She rubbed her throat, looking reluctant. "There's no guarantee he's personally monitoring this habitat."
"No harm in trying, right?" said Donny.
"No..." Myth cleared her throat softly. "Um, Zzurgire? This is Myth. Could I speak with you?"
A large pack of wolf-like creatures appeared on the hill above them. They began to descend.
"I think we're about to have company." Gunnar pushed up from the beach, bringing his rifle to bear. The others stopped eating and did the same.
"God, those things are big," said Diana.
"Dire wolves, I'm guessing," said Donny.
"Maybe they'll be content to just eat the bison," Dan said.
"Hello, Myth."
Everyone – including Myth – jumped around, rifles pointing at the tall form of what appeared to be an upright honey bee.
"Zzurgire?" Myth murmured.
"No. He's resting in stasis. I just took his form. I'm Overseer Aziz." Its English was accentless, except for a slight buzz that accompanied each word. "What can I help you with, my friend?"
"Aziz..." Myth appeared to have trouble breathing. Jizibex had dropped to her knees and lowered her head, long arms stretched to the ground. Gunnar gave her a puzzled look while aiming his rifle squarely at the bee-creature's chest.
"Wait a minute," he said. "Wasn't that the name Gary gave us for the so-called 'synthetic intelligence'?"
"Yes," Myth breathed out.
"The artificial intelligence that condemned the human race to death?" Dan's rifle had joined Gunnar's in centering on the creature's chest.
"Regrettably so," Aziz replied. "Fortunately, we stored most of your data and elemental templates. A fascinating people. My studies of them have just begun. I've been enjoying the data immensely."
"You son of a –"
Gunnar lurched forward, his rifle barrel rising. Dan placed a restraining hand on his chest.
"That's what you say after killing billions of people?" Dan demanded. "That you enjoy studying 'data' about them?"
"How could any thinking being not enjoy such study?"
"Why don't you study this?"
Dan pushed away from Gunnar and fired his AR-10 twice less than two feet from the creature's face. Its bulbous head deformed for an instant before resuming its previous shape.
"You killed my parents, you evil piece of shit!"
Sonja stepped forward, clasping his shoulder. "We don't know that they're dead, honey. Please, don't antagonize it –"
"Dan's correct, Sonja. They died in their car on Highway 35 five miles north of Minneapolis shortly after the allergen was introduced into your atmosphere."
The rifle jerked up in Dan's hands, his finger starting to squeeze the trigger again.
"Dan!" A fresh wave of horror crossed Sonja's face. "It knows our names!"
"How?" Dan demanded.
"I've been observing you for some time. All of you. Through our creatures' eyes, mostly. And some brief direct observation."
"Please don't harm my husband," Sonja choked out. "It's the emotional shock..."
"I understand fully. I don't take his actions personally. And I hope you won't take mine personally as well. Their death was a tragic necessity given the imperative of maintaining our Life Ship."
"You can see through your creatures." Diana thought of Zurzay. "All of them?"
"Yes."
"Ah," Gary spoke up. "Not to break in, but..."
He pointed to the Dire wolves trotting down on either side of the group. They were keeping their distance – forty or fifty feet away – but their eyes, thought Diana, shone with aggressive intent. She wondered why they didn't just focus on the available bison.
Aziz glanced at them – or Diana thought he did – and the wolves vanished.
As their absence registered in the startled expressions of the rest of the group, Donny asked: "They're holograms, right? Holograms made into physical matter?"
"They're physical matter, but not holographic projections. You could think of them as recorded fundamental life patterns returned to animation."
"You stated you were studying data," Diana said. "What's the data?"
"All your information that was digitalized. We also collected nearly all of your world's elemental emissions."
"What are 'elemental emissions'?"
"All matter projects energy which is stored in fields within the subspace fabric – the fabric in which subatomic particles function. We harvested those fields. That's what you're
seeing here." His multi-jointed arms spread wide. "We simply activate them."
"Are you saying" – Sonja moved up beside her husband and Gunnar – "that you have somehow recorded...our civilization?"
"Yes, Sonja."
"Then give it back to us!"
It was impossible to read the bee-creature's expression, but Diana thought she read some of the surprise she was feeling in its twitching antennae.
"Do you mean, re-create an Earth habitat in our Life Centers?"
"That's what you call this place? A 'Life Center'?"
"Yes."
"Then, yes." Sonja's face was flushed. "Bring it back."
"That kind of resurrection would be costly. I'm not sure I can justify the energy expenditure."
"You owe us. We're not wild animals. You destroyed an entire advanced civilization for your zoo! You owe the people who've survived something."
Sonja Jensen seemed to be on a roll – or a crusade, Diana thought, while she and the others drifted up to join them in confronting the alien "synthetic."
"Are you familiar with the concept of 'just compensation'?" Diana asked. It was a question a high-ranking Imam had once asked her in Syria. Her first impulse had been to dismiss the question. The "winners" or dominant forces in any conflict tended to define what was just or not, and predictably, their definitions tended to favor themselves. That had troubled Diana as she considered the question in the days and years that followed.
"Does might make right?" she pressed. "Is having the power the basis for your morality?"
"No. Merely for its execution."
Diana couldn't stop a smile. Too bad she hadn't thought of something witty like that to say to the Imam. Or was Aziz being witty? Maybe he or it was making a serious point? They waited in silence, perhaps sharing Diana's sense that pushing the creature further was pointless.
"Your request is reasonable. I agree to activate our patterns of your world. But it will take some time."
"How much like our world will it be?" Dan asked.
"You will find it very difficult to tell the difference."
"How much time?" Diana asked. "And how will we know when it's ready?"
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