Communion of Dreams, page 31
“Right.”
“Don’t stay with him too long, OK? He needs rest more than anything.”
“Got it.”
Jon walked out of her office and into the infirmary. As he passed Ling’s bed, he saw that she was still asleep, probably from whatever treatment Tops had given her. He went around the curtain and saw Gish sitting upright, though eyes closed. Thinking at first that perhaps Gish had dozed off, he hesitated.
“It’s all right, Jon, I’m awake,” said the scientist, still not opening his eyes.
“Tops says . . . ”
“Probably that I’m acting a little strange. It’s true. I came to a little while ago, but my head has been spinning. Not with any sense of vertigo, but with ideas. Like some kind of wild holographic sculpture of equations, moving and changing, solving themselves and giving rise to new ones, flowing, growing, gleaming from within. It’s easier for me to keep my eyes closed, so I can follow all that they’re doing, I hope you don’t mind.” All of this came pouring from the small man at a pace so quick that Jon almost missed some of it. He continued, “I’m going to have to discuss with Duc whether this is how he perceives his artwork before translating it into a form that the rest of us can see. For me it is like for the first time having direct, conscious access to my subconscious. You know that the human brain is capable of truly phenomenal computational power, but it usually happens below the threshold of awareness. I feel like right now, for this time, I can witness the full glory of the mind at work. No matter. I wanted to see you because I have come to realize what was bothering me before.”
“Oh?”
Gish didn’t pause at all, just kept plowing ahead. “It’s a massively intuitive bit of work, because I don’t have anywhere near enough data points to really establish even a supposition, let alone a theory I could share with anyone else. But it’s enough for me to be able to see it. The imperfections in the bubble that I had been wondering about have a majestic sort of dance to them, and occasionally they will come together in a configuration so as to allow something special to occur. Let’s call it a type of leakage in the blockade of some of the signals coming into our system.”
“But there’s never been anything like that detected before. Such a massive amount of radio traffic would have gotten our attention.”
“Ah. True. But this isn’t radio transmission that I’m talking about. That has a nearly perfect level of coverage, no matter the configuration of the artifacts throughout the system. They have us very neatly boxed in, in that regard. No, this is something else. It must be that the artifacts are also doing something else, something that is only hinted at in the data shadow I had detected before. I’m still not sure what it is, but I can tell you this: the most recent alignment occurred shortly after the turn of the century. Exactly when the fire-flu appeared, as a matter of fact. I’m sure there are other occasions, though following the thread back will be difficult. I’ll let you know.”
* * *
“He’ll be OK. I think that it’s just a reaction to the augmentation drugs I gave him to help rouse him out of the concussion.”
“You gave him auggies?”
“In low dosages they can be helpful with this kind of brain injury. It just helps to boost the brain’s neurotransmitters slightly, to help with natural healing, things like rewiring around damaged cells. It’s sort of the obverse of the induced coma I have Ling in, so her body concentrates on healing that broken bone.”
“Oh, OK. I was just a little surprised, that’s all.”
She shrugged. “Well, to be honest, this isn’t a typical side-effect.”
“Gish is anything but typical.” Jon looked at her, nodding. “He’s lucid, right? What he’s saying isn’t just some kind of delusion?”
Tops took a deep breath, shook her head. “I don’t think so. He seems to be making sense, but I can’t really tell. Probably best to just let it run its course, let him return to a normal, grounded state, then ask him about it. In the meantime, I wouldn’t do anything rash based on his judgment.”
“Got it,” agreed Jon.
* * *
Jon looked around the nearly empty restaurant. Tops had insisted that Gish be allowed to sleep some, so he had decided to slip out for a late lunch. He sat back in his booth, relaxing, letting his meal settle. He wished he had a card game or something, but his temp cyber rig wasn’t configured to his personal preferences yet. He closed his eyes, and tried to just let the tension he could feel in his face fade away. Then the neck and shoulders, down into the arms, the hands, just letting it all unwind and relax.
“Hello.”
He opened his eyes, expecting to see someone nearby. There was no one.
“Not there.”
Now he recognized the voice as the dreamtime Sidwell, and he closed his eyes and focused his attention.
“That’s better,” said the figure, now standing beside him.
They were standing on the lip of the pit that held the artifact. Though there was no one else in the dome, it almost felt like this was real, not the misty wisps of a trance.
“It’s different,” said Jon.
“Yes. You’re more . . . aware.”
“Why?”
“Convergence.”
“What?”
The young/old man kicked some sand over the edge of the pit. Jon watched it fall unnaturally slowly, though he could feel the normal gravity of Sidwell’s generator. “Things are coming together.”
He turned and looked the old/young man in the eye. The man returned his gaze, held it. Jon asked, “Did you create the virus?”
“No. In neither case.”
“Who did?”
He shrugged. “Someone else.”
“But the virus was what you meant when you said that my time was coming.”
“Partly.” He looked down into the pit. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“The artifact?”
“The gel.” He nodded toward Seth’s container. “Good thing that your expert is here. Unexpected, but good.”
“But what . . . ” Jon was interrupted by another voice, calling him from far away.
The dreamtime Sidwell vanished, as did the artifact, the pit, the dome. He opened his eyes and found himself still sitting in the restaurant booth, the face of Jackie Gates floating in front of him. “Jon?”
“Oh, Jackie . . . sorry. Must’ve drifted off there. What’s up?”
There was a flatness to her voice and her face, a hard edge set to her jaw. “All done on this end.”
He sighed. At least that was one thing they wouldn’t have to worry about. “Thanks.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, time to go see if Gish is awake again, and how Chu Ling is doing.”
* * *
“The mild synesthesia is really quite interesting. I can see how some people get wrapped up in this.” Gish was sitting up in bed, gently stroking the thin blanket pulled up to his waist. His attention was almost completely fixated on this motion. “This texture has overtones of the rustle of tall weeds in a hot summer wind. Fascinating.”
“You feeling better?”
The hand motion stopped, and Gish turned the full force of his attention on Jon. He felt like Gish was examining every scrap and fiber of his body and soul with that look. “Yes. But now I have a question for you, a missing piece of the puzzle: is there something that you have been withholding from me?”
“In regards to what?”
Gish laughed, a deep, honest chortle. “Well said. We all have our secrets. You are entitled to yours.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Just then Tops came into the room, went over to Gish’s side. “How’re you doing?”
He breathed deeply, relished it. “Most excellent. I’m glad that you decreased the dosage. Before, all I could do was to close my eyes and allow my mind to race. Now, I don’t feel quite so rushed, can enjoy all these delightful sensations.”
“Well, we’ll continue to cut back for the next few hours, so enjoy it while you can.”
“I shall, I shall.” He gestured to Jon. “I was just discussing secrets with Jon here. And I think that you know one of his.”
She raised an eyebrow, said nothing.
“Perhaps you should turn on your little security device, Jon.”
“Sure.” Jon switched it on.
Gish grimaced. “Now, doctor, I was talking about the secret about the artifact. And the virus.”
Tops looked from Gish to Jon. “Well, yes. I hadn’t told you yet, but it looks like you’re not susceptible to Diabolus.”
“Really?” Jon thought for a moment. “Why? How?”
“Whatever happened in your contact with the artifact had some lingering effect, it seems. Not only did it clear up your extant medical issues, it left you with some kind of immunity. I thought it curious that Navarr had the virus in his system, but you didn’t. So, I added some of the isolated virus to your blood sample, and it died instantly.”
Gish was watching Jon very closely, scanning his face. “The artifact did more than that, didn’t it, Jon? I can see there’s something else there, something that you haven’t told even our fair doctor.”
Jon felt a surge, a tingle, like goose pimples, as the realization hit him. Without a thought he looked down at his hands, and could see a pale blue light.
“What is it Jon? What do you see?”
“I . . . well . . . I think that I can heal injuries. It’s like contact with the artifact has left a sort of healing energy in me.”
“Ah,” said Gish. Then he closed his eyes to concentrate.
Tops’ reaction was entirely different. “You never said anything about this.”
“Well, there’s only been a couple of cases when I thought something happened. I wasn’t sure. But in talking with Sidwell, it seems that something similar happened to him. Before. Back during the first flu pandemic.”
“Oh my God. He was in one of the cults, wasn’t he?”
Gish was nodding. He opened his eyes and said, “Yes, that would be right. I should have seen it before.”
“Seen what?”
“The alignment last time. It didn’t cause the fire-flu. It opened the doorway that allowed the brief period of healing.”
Chapter 18
“So you’re saying that this alignment of the artifacts . . . ” Tops was saying.
“Somehow creates a leakage in the bubble that surrounds us, allowing this healing phenomenon.”
“But there’s something else going on. Perhaps I was being too hasty in considering this to be just a four-dimensional problem.”
“Sorry? You lost me there,” said Jon.
Gish ignored him, his attention turning in on itself. “Yes. Clearly there’s a proximity effect. Perhaps anyone who touches the artifact becomes somehow connected to the outer surface of the bubble.”
“Wait, you mean that the artifact is some kind of doorway to another dimension?”
Gish looked at Jon, annoyed. “What? Doorway? No, just that the surface of the isolation field may not conform to our simple space-time geometry.”
Tops cut in, “More importantly, if this particular alignment does allow for healing, how long will that last? Long enough for us to use it here to cure Diabolus?”
“Don’t know. I thought I understood the field being created, but if it is a higher dimension effect . . .”
“I can care less if you understand it or not, just tell me if we can use it,” said Tops. “The cults lasted for a few weeks during the start of the fire-flu outbreak. If we have that much time, we can beat this virus here on the station.”
“Well, no, I don’t think so. The alignment isn’t the same as it was before; it changes with every configuration. This time it won’t last beyond a few more days.”
“OK, but tell me this: how long has the current configuration been in place?” asked Tops.
“The alignment fell into place just a couple of days before we left Earth.”
“But wasn’t that about the same time that Sidwell discovered the artifact?”
“No,” said Jon. “He only told Susan about it then. He had known about it for about ten days before ever saying anything. Why?”
Tops chewed her lip. “I dunno. I thought that since he had been involved with one of the healing cults the last time, maybe there was something to his finding the artifact when the alignment fell into place this time.”
“That would make a certain amount of sense,” said Jon. He looked at Gish. “You said that the artifacts are blocking this healing energy, the same way they seem to be filtering out this huge amount of radio traffic. Think that they’re connected?”
“Perhaps.” Gish’s eyes narrowed. “As I said earlier, the blockade of radio waves is so close to perfect as to not matter. But let’s look at root causes: perhaps the blockage of radio communications and the healing energy are related.”
“Why?”
“To isolate us, hide the larger universe from us. Radio from outside would certainly have tipped us off. So would have this healing energy.”
“So you’re saying our access to the healing energy has been cut off as some kind of punishment?” asked Tops. “Why?”
“Perhaps so that we just kill ourselves off,” answered Gish, quietly.
“The appearance of Diabolus is a pretty good example of that,” agreed Jon. He took a deep breath. “Looks like you’d better stay busy with Chu Ling.”
“Yeah.”
“And I need to chat with Jackie and Duc. We may have only a few days, but maybe the three of us can make a difference.”
* * *
“So you think that we can . . . we can heal people?” Jackie was incredulous.
“I think that it’s a possibility, that’s all. I had an odd moment with Sidwell, and he claims to have been one of the members of the cults back during the time of the fire-flu.”
She looked at him as though she thought he was clearly nuts. “So, on the word of that ancient geezer, you’re going to try and save us all from the flu.”
“No, I said that it might be a possibility that the three of us who have been in contact with the artifact might be able to do some good. And there may be something to it. After all, the three of us are clean of the virus.”
“Why not just take people down there and have them touch the thing? Just skip the middleman?”
Jon took a deep breath. “It may come to that, but you know what it did to you, me and Duc. If we can avoid that, and still do something about the virus, isn’t it worth the effort?”
She looked skeptical. “Well, perhaps.”
“OK, let’s see if you can sense the same thing that I have. It seems to be the starting point.”
“What is?”
“Just look down at my hands here, tell me what you see.”
Jackie peered down into Jon’s upturned palms, past the dense weave of the palmkey, at the skin below. After a moment, she shook her head. “Sorry.”
Jon looked, and could see the pale blue light building, though yet faint. “Try again.”
Again she looked, this time reaching out with one hand to pull back the fabric of the glove. She made a slight jerk when she touched Jon’s hand, and she looked up into his eyes. “Well, I just felt something. But I still don’t see anything.”
To Jon’s eyes, the light had pooled there in his palms, flooding out the image of the palmkey, clearer than ever. “Well, perhaps it takes a little time. I guess it did with me.”
She took a deep breath. “But we don’t have much time, do we?”
“No.”
“Jon, have you actually tried to heal anyone who has the flu yet?”
“No,” he admitted. “I thought I should talk with you and Duc first, see if you guys had any ideas about it. I just feel like we should do everything we can, even if it seems a little crazy.”
She considered him for a moment, looking down again at his hands, now hanging at his sides. Holding up her own palms, she tried to give him a supportive smile. “Then I guess that I should start working on this.”
He nodded in agreement. “Would you be willing to talk with Sidwell? He might be able to help.”
“Yeah.”
“OK, thanks.”
* * *
The room was slightly darker than normal. “Duc, you here?”
A voice from the corner. “Yeah. Come on in.”
Jon stepped fully into the room, let the door close behind him. His eyes adjusted to the subdued lighting and he could see Duc sitting comfortably in a chair. “Little dark, isn’t it?”
“A little. I’m still adjusting.”
“Oh?”
“Tops says that my senses are all a little haywire, after contact with the artifact. I was used to having my jacked-up rig feed my brain so much more information. Seems that now everything has to find a new equilibrium.”
“Well, maybe that’ll help.” Jon crossed the room, sat on the couch beside Duc’s chair. He leaned over slightly, looked into Duc’s eyes. There was something unusual there. “You sure you’re OK?”
Duc paused before answering. “Do you know you have a . . . shining . . . about you?”
“Yeah, though I think I see it a little differently than you do. That’s what I’ve come to discuss.”
He reached into his pocket, took out the jamming device. Placing it on the table, he turned it on. Jon held up his hands, concentrated and let the light emerge. “Notice anything?”
Duc watched, his head turning slightly side to side. “Yes, like the artifact. There’s a ghost image there. I can see it.”
Jon looked down again at his hand, saw the light pooled there, almost had the sensation that it was about to overflow and spill onto the floor of the room. Again he concentrated, felt something well up inside of him, and the light took on a deeper hue, became more intense. “Now what do you see?”
Duc’s eyes had started to squint. “There’s something . . . I can’t make it out . . . but it’s getting stronger, more defined. Like water bubbling up, becoming more than smoke . . . ”
