Communion of Dreams, page 28
Seth just shook his head. “Nothing. This is just a new . . . experience . . . for me.”
“Well, the question is, can you rise above your fear and investigate the artifact directly?” asked Navarr.
“I . . . believe so, Commander. I shall try, anyway.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” said Jackie. “I don’t want you ruining our chance to understand this technology. This use of gel is generations beyond what we know how to do.”
“I agree,” said Jon. “Let’s take this slow and easy. We have a lot to sort out with what we currently know. There’ll be time for Seth to do further investigation from the inside, later.”
Jon looked around, the others all seemed to agree. “OK then, let’s go over what we know: The gel is connected somehow to the artifact; the artifact is detectable using the AG field; there are other artifacts out there, how many we do not yet know; and what they are doing, other than masking the gel, we do not know.”
“Seth, you’re certain that the artifact is somehow manipulating the gel?” asked Jackie.
“Yes. Even from here I can detect the resonance-field effect.”
“Resonance field,” said Robert Gish, almost to himself. Then louder, “My god . . . ”
“What?”
“The intersection of the AG field and the artifact’s resonance-field, as Seth calls it. It’s more like an interference pattern, the result of two fields interacting. I should have seen it before.”
“So?”
“So, what if the two fields are actually very similar in their properties, at some fundamental level. That is usually what is required for such a pattern to emerge. Like the difficulty you get with radio reception, due to interference of another radio station or signal. But you don’t get a similar interference pattern with a field of an entirely different character, as radio waves don’t interact with light.”
Jon shrugged. “I don’t see where it makes any difference.”
“It makes a huge difference. It tells us something fundamental about the nature of the artifact: that it is using some application of Hawking’s Conundrum, or an analog to it.”
“OK, so we got the theory right,” said Theo Crane. “That’s a nice confirmation of what we already know about the gel and projected energy matrices.”
“It’s more than that,” said Gish. “You can think of the AG field as a bubble of defined spacial harmonics. Evidently, the artifact is doing something similar. Where the membranes of those two bubbles come into contact, it creates that detectable pattern.”
“A bubble? What does it matter how you think about it, as either a field or a bubble?” asked Don Bradsen.
“The model of a bubble is illustrative for one important reason: it divides one area of space from another,” replied Gish. “Now, imagine that you could use that to hide something from detection, or to shield it. That may be how the artifact, or artifacts, are hiding the gel from others.”
“Fat lot of good it has done in hiding the gel from us,” said Jackie. “We found it, didn’t we? One of the reasons we came to Titan so early was to figure out what the odd energy reflection of the moon was all about. That lead directly to the discovery of the gel.”
“Yes, exactly. But Seth says that the artifacts are hiding the gel.” He looked straight at Seth. “Correct?”
Seth nodded.
“So,” said Gish, “we can conclude that the intent is to hide the gel from others. Perhaps the ‘bubble’ the artifacts create isn’t just localized to Titan, but extends much further.”
Jon shook his head. “I still don’t see where it really makes that much difference to us.”
“Perhaps not to us. We’re inside the bubble. But to the crew of the Hawking, it made a very big difference. They got on the other side of the bubble.”
There was a moment, a heartbeat, as the implications of this sank in. And then the universe changed. “Sweet Jesus . . . ”
* * *
Jon closed his eyes and waited while the airlock cycled, feeling tired in spite of the adrenaline rush of the last discussion. He knew he needed sleep, and soon. But he wanted to talk with Sidwell. And the sooner, the better.
The airlock doors opened, and he stepped into the dome. Sidwell was sitting in his favorite chair, seemingly asleep, but once Jon popped off his helmet and started to peel off his environment suit, he heard the old man say, “Busy day.”
“Yeah.” He hung his suit up, went over to the couch across from the prospector and sat. He looked at Sidwell, who now looked at least as awake and alert as he was.
The old man picked up his pipe, stuck the stem in his mouth, but didn’t bother lighting it. He looked at Jon. “Told ya it was th’ gel what mattered.”
Jon nodded. “Evidently so. More than we realized.”
“Ah, don’ be too hard on yerself. People been sayin’ for a hunnert years that if’n there was other civilizations out there, we’d’ve heard ‘em by now. How was you t’ know that we’ve been hidden away?”
“Yeah, I suppose.” Jon shook his head. “It’s funny. With finding the artifact, we knew there had to be aliens out there, at least at some point in the past. But this . . . this somehow makes it more real.”
Darnell sucked on his pipe and said, “Yeah, death has a way of doin’ that. I remember a line from an ol’ song: ‘It sharpens yer perspective when yer back’s agains’ th’ wall.’”
“You write that?”
The old man chuckled. “Hell no. That was around b’fore my time. It was written b’fore th’ flu, even b’fore th’ Terror War.”
“Tell me about it.”
Sidwell looked at him, eyes narrowed, uncertain. “What’s t’ tell? Y’know wha’ happened. It all started t’ go wrong wit’ after th’ turn o’ th’ century. 9-11. Th’ Terror War. Jerusalem. At last, th’ flu.”
“But you tried to do something about it, didn’t you?” Jon held out a hand, where even now he could see a faint blue glow. “You tried to do something with this, didn’t you?”
Sidwell looked at the hand for a long time. Then he looked down at his own. Moved it, flexing fingers, turning it over. He looked up at Jon, eyes now sharp and bright. “We . . . we tried. For a while, it even worked. Everyone was sick, or ‘fraid of gettin’ sick. People by th’ thousands were dyin’ from th’ flu in th’ streets, struck down so fast that they couldn' make it from their office t’ home. Th’ hospitals were overrun immediately, n’ all th’ medicines that th’ doctors had could do nothin’.”
“You were in one of the cults, weren’t you?”
Darnell now focused on some distant past. “Yeah. I belonged t’ one o’ the cults.”
Gently, almost in a whisper, Jon asked, “You didn't just belong, did you, Darnell?”
There was a long pause. Finally the old man nodded, spoke softly, “They called her a false prophet.”
“Who?”
“They called her a false prophet, said she was preyin’ on th’ hope of desperate people ‘n desperate times. Said she was feedin’ ‘em nothin’ but lies. But it wasn’ lies. Wha’ she was doin’ was like openin’ a doorway, a doorway that carried light, ‘n hope, ‘n healing.”
“Who, Darnell? Who was she?”
The old man blinked, focused on Jon. “My sister, Megan. Somehow, she found th’ courage t’ step up, t’ look past th’ things that they’d always taught her about science ‘n medicine, t’ trust a small blue-white light that she could feel grow under her skin whenever she came close t’ someone with th’ flu. That light would seep out ‘n into ‘em, givin’ ‘em strength ‘n th’ ability t’ fight th’ virus.
“That was hope. That was real. Some of us were able t’ learn t’ find th’ light ourselves, ‘n she showed us how t’ allow it t’ grow, t’ become strong enough t’ reach out ‘n heal th’ others.
"We spread th’ word of th’ healing light as far ‘n as fast as we could. Within a matter of weeks we had healers teachin’ others all around th’ country, savin’ tens of thousands from th’ fire-flu. We weren’ th’ only group t’ spring up. It happen’ all over th’ world, a dozen different varieties, a dozen different leaders. There wasn’t a chance t’ coordinate our efforts, or t’ do more’n make basic contact wit’ th’ other cults . . . we were all too busy usin’ th’ ability we had, savin’ as many as we could. For a couple o’ weeks, it looked like we were goin’ t’ win, t’ save more’n th’ flu could claim.
"But then th’ light went out. Like someone closin’ a door. Just one morning ‘bout three, it was gone. It hit me hard enough, like I had lost my vision, ‘n was blind again th’ way I’d been b’fore. But it crushed her. Completely. And th’ pleas of th’ dyin’ soon came t’ haunt her, ‘cause try as she might, she no longer had any light t’ give ‘em, no hope.”
He shook his head. “Then it got ugly. We was naive. We made no preparations, no defense. Th’ people who had come t’ us seekin’ th’ healing now turned on us, in their fright ‘n desperation. Them that said she was lyin’, that she was a false prophet, egged ‘em on. Th’ pogrom started. Almost all our healers were kill’d in jus’ a few days, ‘n even many of th’ people who had been healed. As if it wasn' enough that th’ flu was killin’ off millions . . . those what had escaped it once were now considered a threat t’ th’ others, ‘n hunted. Even t’ be suspected of havin’ been healed was a death sentence at th’ hand of th’ mob.” Now tears were flowing readily down his cheeks, disappearing into his scruffy white beard. But not tears of loss . . . tears of anger, a bitterness that was so deep that it had driven him to be as alone as he could, as far from other men as possible.
There was silence, nothing but the hum of the air processor.
“So . . . so that’s why you hid out . . . ”
Darnell’s face hardened. “Wouldn’ you? Wouldn’ you just get th’ hell out, ‘n stay away? What good are people, anyway?”
“So what changed? You didn’t have to tell us about the artifact.”
"I thought ‘bout that. Almos’ didn’. I didn’ see th’ light when I first came across it. But I could feel th’ itch at th’ back of my scalp, the tinglin’ across my palms ‘n th’ tips of my fingers. Just like b’fore, when th’ healing was startin’ t’ build. I can feel it now.”
He looked down at his hand again, flexed it. And Jon saw the first faint glimmer of the blue light there.
“So, I sat wit’ it for a few days, tryin’ t’ make sense of it. Tryin’ t’ understand.”
Jon looked down at his own hands, now glowing steadily, the light moving like a slow blur in Jon's vision, almost like an after image, or something that wasn't completely tied to the physical definition of his skin and bone. “What did you finally come to understand?”
“That if th’ light had come back, then maybe we needed it.”
* * *
Jon woke inside the dream.
“Hello, Jon.”
He was disoriented for a moment, thought he was back at Darnell’s dome. Just as the night before, the old man was sitting in his favorite chair, unlit pipe at hand. Then he looked again, looked deeper, and saw that while it seemed to be the real Sidwell he had left just a few hours before, this Sidwell had the eyes of the younger man, clear, unlined by age.
“Welcome back.”
There, beside the prospector, was the artifact, hovering above the floor, the burl of gel suspended below it. “How’d that get here?”
Darnell reached over and patted the burl. It sounded like someone slapping a lump of wet clay. “I brought it here, of course. Thought it might be handy to have.”
“Did you . . . ” Jon paused. “Did you make it?”
“Oh no. Not hardly. The gel has been around for eons.”
Jon pointed at the artifact. “What about that?”
“Ah, that’s a good point. No, didn’t make that, either. It’s just along for the ride, so to speak.”
“But why?”
“Good question. Don’t rightly know. Though I think your friend Gish has some ideas on that.”
“No, I meant why did you bring it here?”
The old man smiled. “Like I said, thought it might be handy to have. If a room’s dark, you might as well turn on a light.”
Then Jon realized that the dome was lit not from the overhead LED panels, but from the blue-white light coming from the burl. “So you’re saying that the gel allows you to see?”
“Bingo. You’re getting better at this. And a good thing, too.”
“Because they’re going to ‘need me’.”
“Right.”
“But need me for what?”
“We all fight the battles we must. I’ve faced my demons, now it’s time for you to face yours.”
“Um, can’t you be a little more specific?”
“No need. You’ll recognize the moment when it comes upon you. Cherish it, for in such moments we are defined.”
* * *
There was a loud tapping at the door. He heard a muffled voice call, “Jon? Mr. Thompson?”
Jon shook his head, pulled himself out of bed and went to the door. Opening it, he found Alexandra Byrne there.
“Hi! Uh, sorry, but your expert Seth asked me to stop by and wake you. He said it was important.”
Jon glanced over at his comm gear sitting in a pile on the table beside his bed. “Yeah, thanks. Without the implants, it’s harder for him to get my attention.”
“No problem, I was in the area, which is why Seth asked me.” She looked at Jon. “I hear you, uh, actually went and touched it again last night.”
Jon rubbed his eyes, and stepped over to the comm rig, started to pick it up and put it on. “Not exactly. It was the gel. That seems to be the crucial component.”
“Ah. But still, you did it. And I hear that there’s like dozens of those artifacts.”
Pulling on the fingerless mesh gloves, Jon looked at her. “Weren’t you there?”
“No, there isn’t a lot for a bio-chemist to do down there. And the artifact gives me the creeps, to be honest.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean about that.” Setting the wire earpiece in place, then switching on the pc, Seth suddenly appeared in front of Jon.
“Sorry to disturb you, but there’s a matter that needs your attention.”
Jon nodded. He looked back to Byrne. “Well, thanks again.”
“Sure.” She nodded as she slipped out the door.
“Now, Seth, what’s up?”
“Dr. Gish would like your attendance at the ASA control facility, as soon as possible.”
“More news?”
“He believes that he has found evidence to validate his theory.”
“OK. Tell him I’ll be there as soon as I can wake up a little.”
* * *
Jon walked into the two-story bay that served as the ASA operations control. There, in the center conference area, Gish sat at the large table, Soukup and a couple of others with him. “Good. I’ve been waiting for your arrival to discuss this.”
“Sorry,” said Jon. He took a seat.
With a touch to the back of his hand, Gish brought up the image of the Hawking that they had seen the day before. The ship appeared to hang there in the center of the table, point defense lasers still flashing. “The ship has continued to send us telemetry on all the systems. Nothing really has changed since yesterday, though they are now receiving our return laser communications. The S-series expert is still nonfunctional, though the rest of the ship systems seem to be operating normally.”
“Da, this we know,” said Soukup. “We have been over all reports, looking for reason. Plenty of data, but no answer.”
Gish nodded. He looked worn, and Jon guessed that he had been up working all night. “I agree. There’s really nothing there. Except the problems that the radio system encountered, and that is just a jumble of radio signals so thick that it’s almost impossible to sort it all out. But that’s the hint.”
“You mean with the ‘bubble theory’ you mentioned last night,” said Jon.
“Correct.” Gish pulled absently at his beard. “As I said then, the Hawking got on the other side of whatever kind of field or effect the artifacts are creating down on Titan. And on that basis I had the message sent to the Hawking experts to cease attempting to use radio transmission for communication with us, to just record all that they were receiving and pass it along.”
“You’ve found something?” asked Jon.
“If you mean have I deciphered something, the answer is no.” Gish’s eyes sharpened. “I suspect that it will take us many years to make sense of all the data we have received in just the last day. However, what is noteworthy is that we’re receiving none of these transmissions here, or elsewhere in system. And the ASA certainly should be detecting these signals.”
“So something is blocking them out,” said one of the engineers.
“Clearly. So I started searching, using the ASA to see if I could detect the limits of this effect, the same way that we were able to detect the threshold of the ‘bubble’ down on Titan, with Sidwell’s AG system on.”
“But for that you’d need to have an AG system out there, right?”
Gish pointed at the image of the hovering ship. “We do.”
“But I thought that with the Hawking’s expert Stepan off-line you couldn’t use the drive.”
Gregor nodded. “True. But do not have to use drive. Just have to turn on field, not project it. Other experts can do.”
“And?”
Gish smiled. “And I detected the field. It’s there. And so are other artifacts, as I guessed.”
“So you’ve found them?”
“Well, at least some. Enough to suspect that there must be many, many more.”
“So you’re certain that this isn’t just however many are below on Titan.”
“Certain. Until we have a better survey, all I can do is just give a very rough guess as to the number. But given how far out these others are located, and the fact that they must form some kind of bubble all around our system, that number has to be in the millions.”
