1721 lines
108 KiB
Plaintext
1721 lines
108 KiB
Plaintext
Length : 18912 words
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Subject : The Hell Machine
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Posted : 27 Jan 90 07:32:48 GMT
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(c) 1985 James Charles Lynn
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The Hell Machine
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By
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James C. Lynn
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1
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GGGRRRRRRRRRRIIIIINNNNNDDD!!!
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Being a friday, the traffic on the 205 bridge was fairly heavy. Roy
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Karsten was heading across for Portland in his little four-banger Datsun
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pickup. It was a warm, half-cloudy September afternoon and he might have
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actually enjoyed the ride except for two little problems. One was the leather
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briefcase that sat on the seat beside him. The other
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KAA-RRRUUNNNNKKK!!!
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was the fact that he couldn't get the $%#@&%@@&!! truck into fourth gear. He
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had the clutch jammed to the floor but every time he tried to slip the
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gearshift into the notch it adamantly refused to cooperate and instead
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responded with a clashing of teeth deep in the
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KAA-RRRUUNNNNKKK... GRRRIIINNNDDD!!!
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transmission that set his own teeth on edge. The speedometer was down to 45
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now and slowly dropping. This was the last thing he needed now. Earlier he
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had called the group at the research center with his findings. After a lot of
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arguing he managed to get Frank to hold the experiment at least until he
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could get there and show them the figures on paper. He was convinced he was
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right. If the Genesis machine worked, they could all be in serious trouble.
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Roy suspected his calculations showed only a fraction of the machine's true
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potential.
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WHAM! WHAM!
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The truck shook every time the gears clashed. Roy had a sneaking hunch
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that the transmission, and probably the whole truck, was nearing the end of
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its useful life. The transmission had been giving him problems lately, but
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nothing like this. He didn't have the foggiest what was wrong. He was a
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mathmetician, not a mechanic. The needle quivered just below forty. At the
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rate he was going, he wouldn't even make it halfway across the bridge. Roy
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slammed his foot on the clutch hard, put both hands on the gearshift knob,
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gritted his teeth, and jerked the lever into the notch as hard as he could.
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GGGGGGGRRRRRRRR... KA-WHAAAMMM!!!
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The tiny truck shuddered like a bomb had gone off in the bed, but the
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$%#&*! lever finally slipped into the fourth gear slot. In fact, Roy
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discovered, it now went into all the slots easily. Even after he let up on
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the clutch. When he pressed the accelerator, the engine raced freely. Uh-oh.
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The needle now eased down past thirty. Some creep in a RX-7 shot around him
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at seventy, blasting on the horn. After wearing out every carnal verb in his
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vocabulary, Roy decided he's better get this heap into the breakdown lane
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before it stopped completely. Fortunately he was facing downhill and had
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enough momentum to ease it all the way over to the right. He heard gravel
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crunch under his tires as he pulled over and it finally occurred to him that
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he should turn on the four-way flashers. Since he had no parking brake, he
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grabbed the knob and put it it in reverse so it wouldn't roll downhill. He
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stared in astonishment as the lever came loose in his hand. Smoke drifted up
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from the hole in the transmission hump. The truck was still slowly moving so
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he had only one choice. He eased the wheel slightly to the right, gritting
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his teeth as first the right fender, then the whole side of the truck, ground
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against the concrete barrier. He was ready to jump out if the barrier showed
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any sign of breaking, but finally the truck stopped.
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He got out and slammed the door, still holding the gearshift lever. Cars
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were zooming by uncomfortably close in the next lane. Still cursing a blue
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streak, Roy stomped around to the front of the truck and kicked it hard
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enough to break the plastic grille. Jesus, what else could go wrong? He
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noticed the lever in his hand for the first time and flung it out over the
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barrier. It flew in a long graceful curve, catching splinters of sunlight,
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before splashing in the water one hundred thirty feet below.
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Enough temper tantrums, he told himself. First priority was getting those
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papers to the lab. Pressing up against the body of the truck to present as
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small a target as possible to oncoming traffic, he edged his way back to the
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cab. He retrieved his case through the open window and made his way forward
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again. He put his thumb out and began walking down the road, more than a
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little concious of the barrier beside him. Not even waist high, it was the
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only thing "protecting" him from a thirteen story drop.
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Forty minutes later, he was still walking. Nobody had even slowed down.
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Most of the cars had Oregon plates, which explained a lot. Oregon drivers
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were the most inconsiderate in the entire country. At least Frank was holding
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the experiment, or so he hoped. If they fired that thing up...
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He caught a movement out of the corner of one eye. There was something
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happening in the east. They hadn't waited. There was no logical basis for
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this assumption but he knew it to be true all the same. It was the only
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explanation for what he was watching. The briefcase fell from nerveless
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fingers.
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A certain well-known landmark in the east had just... dissappeared. In
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its place was a huge grey-black dome rising for the sky. The very clouds were
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being pulled in towards it. He didn't know exactly what had happened, but he
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could make a darn good guess. The entire tableau was taking place in hellish
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silence, but he would hear it soon enough. It about three and a half minutes,
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if he guaged the distance correctly. Traffic was still speeding by, but a few
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vehicles were slowing down as they noticed what was happening. He knew he was
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in mortal danger, but there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. He should
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have stayed with the truck.
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Besides, he wasn't nearly as concerned for his own safety as he was for
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the safety of the world.
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2
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Not quite meanwhile:
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"He was supposed to be here half an hour ago!" Frank Lindstrom paced
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restlessly around the basement lab of the Mechtronix, inc. Portland annex. He
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couldn't pace far, as the room was all but packed with sophisticated
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equipment. He managed a circle maybe five feet in diameter. It distracted the
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others.
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"You know Roy." Replied Jean Lambert. She was sitting at Frank's
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monitoring station, trying to make sense of the screens. A physicist she
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wasn't. "Responsibility is not his forte."
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"Tell me about it." Frank sighed. "But he sounded so worried. He made me
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promise to postpone until he got here."
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Norbert Howell looked up from the X-men comic he had been reading at his
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station, "Well, we can't postpone much longer. The capaciters won't hold this
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big a charge very long without burning up something expensive. If we don't
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start in the next few minutes, I'll have to shut down. It'll take at least a
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week to clean up and restart the reactor."
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"Damn." Frank muttered.
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Jean got up and went down to the lower level where the fourth member of
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the team was sitting. "Douglas? How are you feeling?" Douglas Everett
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looked up from the photograph he was holding. "O-okay, I guess. I'm... I'm
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still ready to try, if you are."
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"Good." She was worried about Doug. He was emotionally unstable and
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lightly retarded. He had been married until about a year ago, and then his
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wife, Alice, had left him for another man. The shock put him in an
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institution, from which he had only been recently released. Alice had
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contacted him not long after about the possiblity of a reconciliation. Doug
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had been overjoyed. Alice was the only light in an otherwise dismal life.
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Then, about two days ago, he recieved news that she had been killed in a
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skiing accident on Mt. Hood. He did not lose his grip on reality again, as
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everybody feared he might, but something in him had definitely changed. There
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were those who thought it might have been better if he had lost it again.
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Frank sat down in his chair and scanned the readouts. "Everything's peaked
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for the conditions. It'll take us more like a month to recalibrate." He
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looked around at them. "If Roy's not going to show, then I can't take his
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warning very seriously. He is prone to exaggeration. I say we go ahead. Any
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objections?"
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There were none.
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"Stations, then." Frank said. He started the videotapes. Norbert stashed
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his comic and began tuning the reactor controls. Doug pocketed the photograph
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and sat back as Jean placed the electroencephelagraphic helmet on his head.
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The entire experiment hinged on Doug. He had been long ago tested and found
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to have very strong psionic abilities. He couldn't conciously read minds or
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bend spoons, but the potential was there. That potential was what made it
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possible for the helmet to read images from his brain. Those images were
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comverted to computer impulses and fed into the heart of the experiment, the
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Genesis machine.
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The Genesis machine was a small cube, about two inches on a side (Norbert,
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with his comic-book humor, had dubbed it the 'Cosmic Cube'). It was
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mirrored-silver and consisted of a non-conducting alloy formed around highly
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complex circuitry. It hung suspended behind thick glass at one end of the
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room with wires attached to each of its six sides. The processes in the
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Genesis machine were far too complicated to explain, but its theoretical
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purpose was to convert energy to matter. Norbert's fusion plasma reactor
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would supply energy in abundance, and the images from Doug's brain, far more
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detailed that anything a computer could generate, would provide a pattern for
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the forming matter. Assuming the whole thing worked, which was iffy. Frank
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controlled the link from his console. Jean's task was to coach Doug and watch
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his condition.
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Norbert called out, "Output: seven point three two five gigavolts. Reactor
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at optimum."
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Frank answered, "All components read good. Temp on capaciter bank four is
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a little high."
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"Told ya."
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"Jean?" Frank called down.
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Jean looked at Doug. "Now remember, just like we practiced. Visualise the
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cylinder. Concentrate on its every aspect. Concentrate."
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"I've got it." Frank watched as a computer enhanced image of a cylinder
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appeared on his screen. He made some last minute adjustments. "All readings
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within safe limits. Voltages consistant, feed noise point oh oh oh four.
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Looks good, folks." Excitement surged though him. The greatest scientists in
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the world hadn't even dreamed of something like this...
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A platform rested at the opposite end of the room from the cube, hidden
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behind lead shielding. It was where the object was supposed to materialise.
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Frank said, "Vector coordinates," and read out a series of numbers. Norbert
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read a list of numbers off an auxiliary screen and concurred. Frank
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transmitted the numbers to the cube, in essence telling it to focus its power
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on the platform.
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Jean watched Doug's vital signs on a monitor. They showed he was as
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excited as the rest of them. Completely professional now, she coached Doug
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verbally while continuously taking readings on his brainwaves. The peaks and
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valleys were greatly exaggerated, which was normal for him.
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Jean said nothing to them, which Frank took as an all clear. He flipped a
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final switch. Now Doug was linked via computor directly to the cube. The
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Genesis machine was ready. All it needed now was power. "The cube is primed."
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Frank said. "It's all yours, Norbert."
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"Voltage seven point four oh five. Transmitting... now." Norbert snapped a
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single large black switch, feeding the full output of the reactor (enough
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power to incinerate a small town) to the Genesis machine. For exactly one
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second the cube shone like a miniature sun.
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And then all hell broke loose...
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3
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Frank slowly picked himself up off the floor. Battery powered backup
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lights were beginning to flicker on. The air was filled with the sharp stink
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of ozone and melted plastic and metal. Though his voice made his head hurt
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even worse, he yelled out, "Hey! Somebody speak to me! Is everyone all
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right?"
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Norbert groaned, "Not me. Feels like they nuked my cerebellum."
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"You and me both. Jean! Doug! Say something!" he called down into the
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semidarkness.
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"Something." Doug called back, giggling a little.
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"We're... all right." Jean said slowly. She shook her head, trying to
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clear it. The fog was slowly lifting. "If I knew what one felt like, I could
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say whether or not we just experienced a psychic feedback."
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"It was a trip, I can say that." Norbert commented, still a little groggy.
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He looked over his instruments. "Crap! Everything's burned out. I got no
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power anywhere."
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"I could have told you that just from smelling the air." Frank replied. He
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tried the backups but they were dead, too. So was the ventilation. "Jean?
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Since you're next to the door, would you care to prop it open so we don't
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suffocate? By the way, what's a psychic feedback? Never heard of it."
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Norbert suddenly gasped, "Holy sh- Look!" and pointed to the back of the
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lab.
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The materialization platform was hidden from direct view by the lead
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shielding but the fading glow being reflected off the walls and ceiling
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behind it told them something was happening. Cautiously, the four got up and
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approached it. Doug kept to the back, a knowing smile on his face.
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"Stay here." Frank said, as he went around the shield. He appeared a
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second later, holding a large object in his hands. It was a statue of a nude
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woman, about three feet high, and formed in such perfect detail that it could
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not have been made by human hands. The most amazing thing about it was that
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it appeared to be made of solid gold. Jean saw from the way Frank's muscles
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were standing out that it must have been heavy. She hoped he didn't hurt
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himself.
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Frank set it down on its base with a grunt. "I got into this field to get
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away from hard work. Could that be real gold?"
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"I thought we were trying for a cylinder." Jean said.
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"Sorry." Doug said. His eyes were fixed on the statue. He went over to
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admire it closer. He ran his hands over its smooth curves. "It's beautiful,
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isn't it?"
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"Yes it is." Frank assured him. "Jesus! Solid gold? How the hell did we do
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that? It must be worth a fortune!"
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"Yeah," Norbert said, "probably about one-fifth the cost of the equipment
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we blew up. Not a very profitable scheme. 'sides, considering all the
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variables that we couldn't control, more likely it's an alloy that looks and
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weighs close to gold." He leaned closer for a better look. "The detail'S
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fantastic, though. You can even see the hairs on her-"
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"Norbert!" Jean said warningly.
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"Oh. Uh, sorry." He blushed bright red and busied himself checking damage.
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"Anyway," Frank said, "We'll have to get a sample upstairs to the
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metallurgy boys for analysis and identification. Then we'll know for sure. We
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can probably take some off the base-"
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"NO!" Doug screamed. He threw his arms around the statue protectively.
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"Don't damage it! You can't!" He looked pleadingly at Jean, "Miss Lambert!
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Please don't let them hurt it! Please!"
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Startled by the vehemence of Doug's reaction, Jean hastily reassured him.
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"Don't worry, Douglas. I won't let them. Calm down." Frank looked at her in
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disbelief and she took his arm and led him to the back of the room. Speaking
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softly so Doug couldn't hear her, she said, "Tell me, doesn't that statue
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look familiar?"
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Frank replied, "Well, I can't say I recognize the body, but I think I know
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the face. That's his ex-wife, isn't it?"
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"Exactly. It's obvously an idealized image of her and he can't bear the
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thought of it being damaged. I think we should humor him on this, at least
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until later. There's no rush. Maybe I can convince him to-"
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Suddenly the lab door slammed open. Standing there, panting, was Dudley
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Wilson, one of the computer nerds from upstairs. He was frantic about
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something. "I... out there... the mountain..." he puffed incoherently.
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Norbert grabbed him by the shoulders and said, "Calm down, guy! Calm down.
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What about what mountain?"
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Dudley regained his composure a little. "It's-it's gone! Mount Hood just
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vanished into thin air!"
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4
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They gaped at each other for a long, comical second, then scrambled for
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the stairway. Poor Dudley almost got trampled in the process. By mutual
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unspoken consent they all ran for the commissary. The commissary was on the
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east side of the building and one entire wall consisted of a fifteen by forty
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foot multipaned window, overlooking scenic Mt. Hood. They crowded in through
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the door and Dudley came in last and pushed through them. Hopping up and
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down, he pointed out the window. "There! You see? You see?"
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But nobody had a reply for him.
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Where Mt. Hood once stood a huge grey-black mushroom cloud now rose
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towards the sky like a mighty fist. The cumulus above was being sucked
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towards it. It was like St. Helens again but the mountain wasn't erupting. It
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was simply gone. Norbert voiced the first thought that came to all their
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minds.
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"Nukes."
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"No." Frank said shakily, "That's not a fireball. That cloud's from...
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from..." Suddenly his eyes widened in horror. "Oh, my God."
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There were about fifteen people in the commissary. At the moment they all
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had their noses plastered to the glass trying to see better. "Get away from
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that window!" Frank roared at them. "Get some cover! NOW!!"
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It was the panic in Frank's voice that did the trick. The people began
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backing away from the window, not understanding why. Frank grabbed Jean and
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hustled back out into the hall. Norbert, Doug, and Dudley followed, also
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confused. Jean began to protest at this manhanding but her words were
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suddenly lost in the rising howl from outside.
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The howl rose to a scream of hurricane force winds and they all suddenly
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felt as if icepicks were being jabbed in their ears. The pain increased
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tenfold and there was a loud BOOM as every window in the building exploded
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outward from the pressure difference. Then the hurricane was inside, sucking
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up papers, books, chairs, anything small that wasn't nailed down.
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Accompanying this chaos was a loud, basso rumbling that first rattled their
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ears, then shook the whole building.
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The hallway was fairly well protected from all of this, but it was still
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like standing in a wind tunnel. Jean buried her face in Frank'S chest and
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clutched him desperately, as if to keep from blowing away, although it was
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hardly that bad. Dudley, scared out of his wits, had a similar grip on
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Norbert, and was in serious danger of strangling him. Doug simply put his
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hands over his face and collapsed against the wall, sobbing.
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Slowly the wind and rumbling died down, leaving everybody feeling as if
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their ears were stuffed full of cotton. Norbert finally untangled himself
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from Dudley with a curse. Dudley, bereft of his support, ran down the hall
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screaming hysterically. Jean held on to Frank for a long time before letting
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go. Norbert yelled, "You knew that was going to happen!"
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"An implosion." Frank replied. "The mountain dissappeared and left a
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vacuum. Air rushed in to fill it, sucking up all kinds of dirt and debris and
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crap. That's what the cloud was. Soon as I realized that, I knew there was
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going to be a shockwave." Something tickled his nose. He rubbed it and his
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hand came away covered in blood. Norbert had a nosebleed, too.
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They went back into the commissary. There was a huge hole in the wall
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where the window used to be. The mushroom cloud had become a haze that
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covered most of the horizon. Tables, chairs, food and trays were strewn all
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over the room. People began to pick themselves up painfully. Nobody seemed
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seriously hurt. Norbert was mumbling something they couldn't hear. "What?"
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Jean asked.
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He turned to them with haunted eyes. "It couldn't be a coincidence. The
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mountain vanished at the exact same time the experiment blew up."
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"What are you talking about?"
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Norbert pointed out the window shakily. "We did that."
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5
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Frank and Jean sat huddled together silently on the bottom step of the
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stairway in the lab, still trying to accept what they saw. The process was
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constantly interrupted by noises from the upper level. Finally there was a
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grunt and a loud crash followed by a curse of appropriate foulness. Annoyed,
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Frank called up, "What the hell are you doing?"
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Norbert appeared at the top of the stair, sucking his hand. "Dismantling
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the experiment."
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"Why?"
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"You have got to be kidding!" he replied, aghast. "If somebody else got
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ahold of this thing-"
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"Dammit, Norbert," Frank snarled, "We have no proof that that mess is our
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fault or the experiment caused it! Just lay off!"
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Norbert came down and sat beside him. He placed a hand on Frank's shoulder
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and said quietly, "Do you really believe that? Or are you just afraid I'm
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right?" He turned and glared Norbert. Norbert suddenly felt a little afraid.
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After all, Frank was about twice his size and in a very unstable mood at the
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moment as well. But this was important. He had to make him see. "Just think
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for a minute. Reach down deep inside and tell me what you feel. What I think
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we all feel."
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Frank was still for a long moment. When he turned to Norbert, his eyes
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were full of fear. "I did feel it. Right when it happened. My first view of
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that cloud out there gave me a feeling of deja vu. But that's impossible. You
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can't know something before you find out about it."
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"Mountains don't vanish into thin air, too."
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"My God," He whispered, "What have we done?"
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Jean finaly spoke up, having heard enough. "You're both crazy! I'd expect
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that sort of thing from you and your comic-book mentality, Norbert, but you
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should know better, Frank!" She got up and backed away from them like they
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were mad. "Thousands must have died from that! And you're saying we killed
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them! I will not take responsibility for that!" Frank got up and went to her
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but she kept backing out of his reach. "Don't you realize what you're saying?
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We disintegrated a mountain? A whole mountain? That kind of power lies only
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in the hands of God himself! All those people..." With a muffled sob she
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bolted through the door.
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Frank stood there, staring out the door. Norbert finally spoke. "She feels
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it, too. It was like a telepathic link between the four of us and the
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machine. We knew what it had done, only we're just now realizing it. I think
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that scares her more than anything else. You'd better go to her."
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Frank glared at him. "You're the one who stirred her up! This is a rotten
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time to go around spouting a lot of psuedoscientific bullshit! And I don't
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need YOU to tell me what to do!"
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Norbert watched him stomp out the door angrily. He was just edgy. They
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were all edgy. They had created a device of unbelievable destructive power.
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Perhaps infinite. Only a madman wouldn't be bothered by that. Norbert was
|
|
amazed at how easily he accepted the whole situation. The others would come
|
|
around in time.
|
|
His thoughts were interrupted by a loud snap from the front of the lab.
|
|
Doug had finally managed to pull the cube from its mount, which he had been
|
|
trying to do all this time. He brought it over to Norbert, and asked in a
|
|
childish, almost pleading voice, "Mine?"
|
|
Norbert looked at the cube. It appeared unharmed but the power surge had
|
|
surely fried the imbedded circuits. It was nothing more than a paperweight
|
|
now. Handing it back, he said, "Sure, why not?"
|
|
Doug's face lit up and he handled the cube like it might break at ny
|
|
second. Norbert envied him his ignorance of the situation. The guy might have
|
|
only half a brain but at times like this it was an advantage. He didn't have
|
|
to deal with it at all. Not that he really had anything to do with it anyway.
|
|
He was just a volunteer. Blameless.
|
|
But one thing kept sticking in his mind. Like Jean said, power like that
|
|
only rested in God's hands.
|
|
Until now.
|
|
6
|
|
Jean sat up slowly, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. The clock read
|
|
7:51. She clicked off the alarm. Quietly she got out of the bed, trying to
|
|
disturb Frank's sleep as little as possible. Disdaining a robe, she padded
|
|
out into the front room naked.
|
|
She opened the curtain on the big floor-to-ceiling picture window, letting
|
|
the sun flood the room. She gazed out over the magnificent view of Portland
|
|
from his home high up Rocky Butte. The sun hung over the west hills. She
|
|
stood there for a long moment, letting the warming rays bathe over her body.
|
|
The window was made of one-way glass, so she wasn't giving anybody a free
|
|
show. Still, the feeling of exhibitionism was delicious, maybe a little
|
|
tittilating, made all the more so by the fact that nobody could really see
|
|
her. Something was bothering her, but she couldn't put a finger on it.
|
|
Things had pretty much settled in the month since Mt. Hood had
|
|
dissappeared. The estimated death toll had been around twelve thousand, and
|
|
everybody was thankful it hadn't been much higher. One death, though, had hit
|
|
very close to home. The police had found Roy's truck on the 205 bridge with a
|
|
wrecked transmission. Coast guard boats had found him floating face down
|
|
several miles downriver. Apparently he had been walking when the shockwave
|
|
from the mountain's dissappearance had blown him off the bridge like a bug.
|
|
Jean felt a little tug in her throat when she thought of it. Despite his
|
|
irresponsibility, they had all liked him.
|
|
Except for Frank, she didn't see too much of the others these days.
|
|
Norbert was working on some kind of new power source that NASA had contracted
|
|
Mechtronix to develop for their proposed space station. Doug was back at his
|
|
job washing dishes for a diner somewhere on Sandy Blvd. Frank was working on
|
|
a design for a new high-speed CPU that could give a microcomputer speed to
|
|
rival a Cray. If it worked out, he could kiss off Mechtronix and their slave
|
|
wages and open his own business. Hell, in a year he could probably buy them
|
|
out. Jean herself had been offered a teaching position at PSU and she was
|
|
considering taking it. Somehow the thought of staying around Mech seemed
|
|
unbearable.
|
|
She had been spending more nights here than at her own home lately. Not
|
|
surprising. Since the Mt. Hood incident she had a definite aversion to being
|
|
alone. Alone, the ghosts of the dead would haunt her sleep. Frank understood
|
|
this feeling very well, and offered to put her up in his guest room. She
|
|
hadn't intended to wind up in his bed, but somehow she had anyway. He was
|
|
strong, sensitive, intelligent, fun to be around, she couldn't name all of it
|
|
but she had been attracted to him almost from the beginning. Not to mention
|
|
he was a great lay. She smiled cotentedly at the memory of the previous
|
|
night.
|
|
But ghosts haunted his sleep, too. Ghosts of a different kind, she
|
|
thought. At night she would sometimes be awakened by his thrashing and
|
|
moaning. What little she could make out of his words had something to do with
|
|
guns and men in ski masks. In the daytime he would pass it off as just a
|
|
nightmare and say nothing more. But high on his left bicep was a scar from a
|
|
bullet graze. She dropped the subject, hoping eventually he would relent and
|
|
talk about it. Whatever it was, it must have been terrible. And the worst
|
|
scars were where nobody could see them.
|
|
She stretched her arms over her head, groaning luxuriously. The sun felt
|
|
wonderful. Something was still bothering her, though. How could anything be
|
|
wrong on a beautiful morning like this? The birds were singing outside, there
|
|
wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the sun hung like a spotlight in the west...
|
|
West?
|
|
She glanced sharply over at the wall clock. A little after eight. And the
|
|
sun was just a little over the west hills. It was unreal but so natural that
|
|
she froze for a second, her heart pounding rapidly. Finally the spell broke
|
|
and she ran to the bedroom screaming for Frank.
|
|
|
|
Nobody else found anything strange about a western sunrise, or at least
|
|
that was the impression the news gave. They flipped through all the channels
|
|
back and forth for two hours, finally settling on CNN Headline news. They had
|
|
features on war, murder, political corruption, Halley's Comet--but nothing
|
|
about the sunrise. It was as if things had always been this way. An
|
|
oppressive feeling of unreality settled down over the both of them. Maybe
|
|
they were going crazy?
|
|
There was a knock at the door. Frank went over to answer it. It was
|
|
Norbert. "Hi." He peeked around Frank, "Hi, Jean." He opened his mouth to say
|
|
something else and the stopped with a puzzled look on his face. "What is
|
|
this, a nudist convention?"
|
|
They both looked down at themselves and remembered that neither had
|
|
thought to throw anything on in the excitement. Jean yelped and ducked into
|
|
the bedroom. Frank followed her close behind (so to speak). He was more
|
|
uncomfortable than she was, because he knew that Norbert was AC/DC. From the
|
|
front door, Norbert called out loudly, "I'm glad to hear it ain't. I've had
|
|
my fill of strangeness for one day and it's not even lunch yet."
|
|
Jean came out tying the sash on her robe. "You noticed it too. The
|
|
sunrise, I mean."
|
|
"Yep," Norbert replied, "Me and no one else. Took me an hour before I
|
|
thought to ask you people."
|
|
Frank came out, fully dressed and wearing a jacket. He ignored the strange
|
|
look Jean gave him. "We're in big trouble, you know. The whole world is."
|
|
"Tell me about it. I thought it began and ended with Mt. Hood. Now I don't
|
|
know what to think."
|
|
Jean looked at them both, confused. "What are you talking about?"
|
|
Norbert turned to her. "From the facts, I can only extrapolate that we
|
|
have undermined the fabric of reality with our little experiment. I've been
|
|
watching carefully and there's been some subtle changes around here along
|
|
with the obvious ones. And they're multiplying at an unpredictable rate."
|
|
"We've screwed up the universe."
|
|
7
|
|
"-and there you have it, the final signing of the Mutual Non-Agression
|
|
Pact by the United States and the Soviet Union. Plans call for the immediate
|
|
verifiable disarmament of the nuclear arsenals of both cities within the next
|
|
six months. Optimism runs high in both Washington and Moscow that total
|
|
disarmament will be completed ahead of schedule-"
|
|
Click.
|
|
"-total withdrawal of all soviet troops from East Germany and
|
|
Czechoslovakia completes the first phase of the U.S.S.R.'s plan to return all
|
|
its satellite countries to their original status as independant states.
|
|
Millions of dollars of aid are being sent to all former communist dominated
|
|
countries-"
|
|
Click.
|
|
"-the economy has improved to the point where there are actually more jobs
|
|
than people currently able to work in the U.S.-"
|
|
Click.
|
|
"P-147 has been approved by the FDA for testing in several hospitals
|
|
around the country. Researchers are ethiusiastic that P-147 will prove to the
|
|
the long-sought panacea, capable of curing all known diseases without side
|
|
effects-"
|
|
Frank threw the remote control down on the couch. Jean picked it up and
|
|
continued flipping through the channels, stopping on every chanel that showed
|
|
the news in one form or other. Hell, the news was more interesting than
|
|
anything else on TV.
|
|
Things were getting out of control.
|
|
The world had changed almost beyond recognition in the three weeks since
|
|
Jean first saw the sun rise in the west. War, poverty, hunger, disease were
|
|
all but nonexistant by now. Earth was well on its way to becoming a true
|
|
utopia, which was fine except... would it stop there? And Frank was slowly
|
|
becoming convinced of one thing: These changes were not as random as they
|
|
first seemed. Somebody was controlling them.
|
|
But who?
|
|
He sat back down and rubbed his eyes tiredly. God, if only he could wake
|
|
up! the whole world was being pulled out from under him like a rug and as far
|
|
as he could tell, only himself, Norbert and Jean realized that anything was
|
|
amiss. Every one else accepted the changes that faced them every morning when
|
|
they woke up as if things had ben that way all their lives. He put an arm
|
|
around Jean protectively. His worst nightmare was that he would wake up one
|
|
morning and find that she was gone, indeed had never existed anywhere but in
|
|
his mind. As a consequencem, Frank slept even less well than usual these
|
|
nights.
|
|
Jean had stoped on another channel showing the news. Something in the
|
|
broadcast dragged Frank from his dark contemplations.
|
|
"-the madman known to the public only as Nom De Guerre was shot to death
|
|
today in an attack on novelist J. D. Silverman. De Guerre has attempted to
|
|
kill Mr Silverman three times in the past five years. De Guerre reportedly
|
|
stepped out of an alleyway and fired a single .45 caliber slug which struck
|
|
Silverman directly in the skull but miraculously ricocheted off. Silverman
|
|
drew a concealed .38 derringer and shot De Guerre twice in the chest, killing
|
|
him instantly. Silverman was reported in satisfactory condition at Dammisch
|
|
hospital. At the hospital he stated, quote: 'People always said I was
|
|
hard-headed.' End quote. Police are withholding De Guerre's true identity
|
|
pending notification of his family-"
|
|
Jean grunted, "Too bad. I wish De Guerre had nailed that jerk. His novels
|
|
are the most pretentious, obnoxious crap I have ever-"
|
|
Frank tuned her out, thinking. He loved her dearly but admittedly her
|
|
taste in literature was atrocious. But who did he know that was a Silverman
|
|
fan? Most people he knew either didn't care how the De Guerre/Silverman
|
|
conflict (a twelve-year war, first verbal, then physical, and not all of the
|
|
attacks had come from Mr. De Guerre) or actively rooted for De Guerre.
|
|
Silverman was a third-rate hack novelist whose only real claim to fame was a
|
|
highly publicised and probably staged feud with an anonymous madman. But
|
|
someone he knew was a complete Silverman fanatic, raving for days on end
|
|
whenever Silverman produced another novel. Probably the person who was
|
|
pulling the strings of creation was a Silverman fan. It was the only
|
|
explanation for his miraculous survival. But who? Someone he had seen
|
|
recently, he was sure. And someone connected with the experiment...
|
|
Oh, no.
|
|
A cold chill of realization ran through his guts. It all made sense. The
|
|
one man they hadn't heard from, the man on whom the whole experiment had
|
|
hinged. Somehow, he had mannaged to gain control of some horrible power, and
|
|
was now using it to shape the world in his image. His face paste-white, he
|
|
turned to Jean and shakily began, "Honey, I think I know-"
|
|
There was a sudden, panicked hammering at the door. Shocked, they both
|
|
froze and stared for a long moment. Frank finally got up and opened the door.
|
|
Norbert stumbled in, headfirst. He grabbed Frank by the shirt and tried to
|
|
gasp something out. Frank could se in his eyes that this was a man pushed
|
|
almost to the edge of sanity by something. He grabbed Norbert's shoulders and
|
|
shook him. "Get ahold of yourself, man! What's the matter?"
|
|
Norbert tried once more to speak, but only a faint wheeze came out.
|
|
Finally, all the panic drained out of him at once as he collapsed in Frank's
|
|
arms in a dead faint.
|
|
8
|
|
With a shaky hand Norbert lifted the glass to his lips. The booze slipped
|
|
down his throat and burned queasily in his stomach. For a moment he felt as
|
|
though the stuff might make a return appearance, but finally his insides quit
|
|
churning and he felt himself begin to relax. Still shivering, he pulled the
|
|
blanket tighter around him. Frank and Jean were watching him anxiously, but
|
|
they would not press for information. Considering his current emotional
|
|
state, that might not be wise.
|
|
When he spoke, his voice was almost a whisper, "I... gave it to him. Just
|
|
gave it to him. I didn't know. The power of that thing..." He lapsed into
|
|
silence, staring into infinity.
|
|
Christ, Jean thought, he's slipping in and out of shock. What happened?
|
|
After a long moment his eyes refocused and he seemed to become aware of
|
|
the real world again. Almost unwillingly, the story came out.
|
|
|
|
The resturant had been crowded. it took Norbert almost an hour to get a
|
|
table for himself and his date, a redhead from the Mechtronix accounting
|
|
staff. It had taken three weeks of badgering for her to consent to just
|
|
dinner. Although it was true that Norbert went for men as well as women, he
|
|
much preferred women (especialy when they were built like his current date).
|
|
His bisexuality extended from a surprisingly pleasant experience in college.
|
|
Besides, as he often said, "Being a practising bisexual automatically doubles
|
|
my chances of getting a date on Saturday night."
|
|
But tonight he was 100% hetero and glad of it. From the rumors he had been
|
|
hearing about this particular lady, he calculated a 79.35% chance of getting
|
|
laid tonight. As dinner progressed and the small talk got less small he
|
|
continually reevaluated his chances upward.
|
|
Somewhere towards the end of the main course he was interrupted by
|
|
silence. Dead silence. All the noise, clatter and gab had suddenly been cut
|
|
off as if with a knife. Slowly he turned around and was presented by an
|
|
amazing tableau.
|
|
Every human being in the room had been frozen in place like statues. What
|
|
had once been a noisy restaurant suddenly became a wax museum. He turned back
|
|
to his date to find that she, too, had been frozen.
|
|
He almost jumped out of his chair at the sound of footsteps behind. Two
|
|
people were wending their way through the inanimate crowd. As soon as they
|
|
got close enough he gasped in recognition. "Doug!"
|
|
Doug jumped and spun around, his expression a mixture of fear and hate but
|
|
when he saw Norbert his face split into a wide grin. "Norbert! Gee, I'm glad
|
|
to see you. How are you doin'?"
|
|
Ignoring pleasantries, Norbert jumped up. "You just came in? Are the
|
|
people outside like this or is it just the resturant?"
|
|
"Oh, no." Doug replied. "It's just in here. The place was too darn noisy
|
|
so I thought I'd fix it for a while. When me and Alice leave it'll be back to
|
|
normal."
|
|
What the hell was he talking about? "You're saying you did this? How?"
|
|
Doug's grin faded ever so slightly, tinged with the emotions his face had
|
|
betrayed earlier. "It's a secret. But I'm being rude. You ain't met Alice,
|
|
have you?"
|
|
The woman stepped forward woodenly and extended a hand. "Hello, Norbert."
|
|
It took Norbert another long moment to realize where he had seen her
|
|
before. A gold statuette, several weeks ago...
|
|
She stepped back and Doug leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially,
|
|
"I know what you're thinkin', and you're right. I brought her back. The
|
|
machine did, anyway. Well, almost all of her." Before Norbert's horrified
|
|
eyes, she changed. Instead of a beautiful woan, he saw a rotting, animated
|
|
corpse. Mouldering flesh half-clung to yellow bone. Her skull was bare in
|
|
places and covered by blackened shriveled skin in others. Bugs, worms, and
|
|
unspeakable things crawled all over her. From lidless sockets tortured eyes
|
|
stared as if from the blackest pit of hell itself. The eyes were the worst,
|
|
pleading silently for somebody, anybody to rescue her from her torment.
|
|
Norbert made a gurgling noise and half-turned as he vomited, splattering an
|
|
inanimate couple at the next table. As he held his stomach and gagged, Doug
|
|
continued as if nothing had happened. "She has to pay, you see. Pay for
|
|
walking out on me. Pay for jumping in the sack with that damned ski-bum. When
|
|
she's paid enough, maybe I'll fix her up right. We'll see."
|
|
But he was talking to himself by now, for Norbert had fainted.
|
|
9
|
|
Frank was silent for a long moment. Finally, he said, "I'd already guessed
|
|
most of it. Somehow our experiment created some sort of... link between the
|
|
human mind and reality. A machine to manipulate reality, to change it. To do
|
|
literally anything."
|
|
"A God machine." Jean whispered.
|
|
"And I gave it to Doug." Groaned Norbert. "The interface. He thought it
|
|
was 'pretty', I guess, and wanted it. I saw no harm. That cube was the heart
|
|
of the whole experiment, the only part that didn't blow up with the rest of
|
|
the equipment. The... power... whatever has to reside in it." He put his face
|
|
in his hands and shuddered violently. When he looked up again his face was
|
|
pale, ghostly. "We really did it, didn't we?" he whispered.
|
|
Jean moved over to comfort him. Frank ignored them both, lost in his own
|
|
thoughts. "How is it possible? That kind of power doesn't exist."
|
|
Jean looked over, "Obviously it does. I think maybe instead of creating a
|
|
link between mind and reality we managed to awaken one of the hidden
|
|
potentials of the mind itself. The mind doesn't control the power to change
|
|
reality, the mind changes reality."
|
|
Frank snorted. "Come on! Are you trying to tell me that a couple pounds of
|
|
mildly electrified grey tissue has the power to change the world with a
|
|
thought? That's stretching credibility a bit. That's the stuff you see in
|
|
science fiction stories. Bad ones."
|
|
She turned to face him, hands on hips. "Well, it just so happens that Dr.
|
|
John Kilgaren down at the University conducted some experiments to determine
|
|
the power of concious thought if converted to physical terms. The theoretical
|
|
results were spectacular, to say the-"
|
|
Frank interrupted her with a howl of sarcastic laughter. "Kilgaren! Wasn't
|
|
he th one who managed to discredit himself when he was caught stark naked,
|
|
running down the football field and flapping his arms, trying to fly? I think
|
|
he claimed he was testing the aerodynamics of the human body. A real
|
|
scientist if ever I heard of... of..." He was gasping for breath, unable to
|
|
continue.
|
|
Jean's furious comeback was interrupted by Norbert. "I'm starting to
|
|
believe you two would debate the existance of gravity while a building is
|
|
falling in on you. I mean at this point, who gives a f-" He had to stop for a
|
|
moment and collect himself before continuing. "Who cares HOW? He's got the
|
|
power, and now we have to get it away from him."
|
|
He had their attention, so he continued. "While you were arguing over
|
|
nothing, I was going over our options. They're limited, to say the least. In
|
|
fact, I only see one chance. Doug's our friend, after all. He has no reason
|
|
to hate or be suspicious of us. We always treated him like one of the guys,
|
|
something damn few people in his life have done. He likes us. Perhaps, if we
|
|
were to talk to him, show him what he is doing, he might be open to reason."
|
|
Jean interrupted in an uncertain tone, "You mean, he might give it up just
|
|
because we ask him? And what if he doesn't want to? What if he gets angry at
|
|
the suggestion?"
|
|
Norbert smiled halfheartedly. "Well... It's been nice knowing you..."
|
|
10
|
|
Outside they piled into Norbert's station wagon. Norbert relinquished the
|
|
wheel to Frank, claiming that he was still too shakey to drive safely. In
|
|
fact, he commented that it was a miracle he had arrived in one piece, as he
|
|
had no memory of driving there at all.
|
|
They followed the road that wound around the butte. Soon they were on the
|
|
streets below. Soon after that, they were lost.
|
|
"I don't believe this!" Frank roared, as he stopped at the fourth
|
|
seven-way intersection in the last fifteen minutes. "What the hell's happened
|
|
to the roads? A &'%$% boy scout couldn't untangle this mess!"
|
|
"I think Dougie's been having some fun." Norbert sighed.
|
|
"We're going in circles." Jean announced, pointing out Frank's window. "I
|
|
recognize that house."
|
|
"Me too." Frank replied. "Only the blue ranch-style next to it used to be
|
|
a two story duplex."
|
|
"Shit." groaned Norbert, as he sank from sight in the back seat.
|
|
"Dammit!" Frank slammed his palm into the wheel. "We'll never get there at
|
|
this rate!"
|
|
Norbert's voice floated up from somewhere in the back. "Wish this thing
|
|
could fly..."
|
|
"Sure." Frank said sarcastically. "I'll just pull back on the wheel, gain
|
|
some altitude-"
|
|
The wheel suddenly titled towards him, the bottom slamming into his
|
|
crotch. He didn't have time to even feel the pain, though, before his ears
|
|
were filled with a bone-rattling roar. The roar even drowned out the screams
|
|
of the others, as they were all pressed into their seats by approximately
|
|
three gravities of accelleration. The most amazing thing, though, was the
|
|
fact that the view of the intersection in front of them had been replaced by
|
|
blue sky and clouds, the latter of which were approaching at a respectible
|
|
rate. Frank turned his head painfully and saw the horizon out his side
|
|
window, tilted ninety degrees vertically, and far, far below.
|
|
It finally occurred to him to let his foot off the accellerator. As he
|
|
did, the pressure lessened considerably. Jean finally managed to gasp out,
|
|
"Turn it around, before you put us in orbit!!"
|
|
Frank confusedly scanned the dashboard, which had suddenly become crowded
|
|
with strange dials, blinking lights, and switches. he recognized an
|
|
altimeter, but couldn't read it. To him, it read twelve minutes after 4000,
|
|
and getting later by the second. The other dials were simply going nuts.
|
|
The wheel was still pressing painfully into Frank's lap so he pushed it
|
|
up. Everbody's stomaches suddely shot up their throats as their climb became
|
|
a power dive. Were it not for the accelleration harnesses holding them to
|
|
their seats they would have been splattered against the roof of the cab. Blue
|
|
sky was replaced by green ground, approaching at terrifying speed. Jean was
|
|
trying hard not to scream and Norbert silently thanked God that he had
|
|
already emptied his stomach earlier.
|
|
The wheel twisted in Frank's hands like a live snake. He yelped and almost
|
|
let go before it became solid again. It had assumed the shape of a control
|
|
yoke, as one might find in a commercial jet. He had time to think about
|
|
little besides the fact that they were about to have a close encounter with
|
|
with very hard ground. He pulled back on the yoke and twisted. The horizon
|
|
came up and tilted crazily. Over the noise, Jean screamed, "Quit screwing
|
|
around and land!"
|
|
"HOW!?" Frank yelled.
|
|
"The autopilot!" yelled Norbert, pointing between them to a flashing
|
|
button in the middle of the dash. Holding back about three million questions,
|
|
Frank thumbed the button. The yoke suddenly froze in his hands as control of
|
|
the ship was taken from him.
|
|
Moments later, a magnificent white delta-winged skycraft gently settled
|
|
vertically in an abandoned field. A door mounted flush in the side slowly
|
|
swung up, disgorging three very disheveled figures. They staggered away from
|
|
the ship, two leaning on each other for support, the third just falling flat
|
|
on his face.
|
|
Norbert had gotten back up on his knees by the time the others reached
|
|
him. He stared at the skycraft. "My wagon. My beautiful brand new-" he su
|
|
ddenly stopped as he realized what he was staring at. He stared so long that
|
|
Frank had to fi nally ask, "What?"
|
|
Norbert turned to him and said, "I've wanted one of those since I was a
|
|
kid!"
|
|
Frank threw his arms up in exasperation as Jean said, "Why on earth did
|
|
Doug do this?"
|
|
Norbert laughed, "He didn't. I did. Or we did." That got their attention.
|
|
"We were in control of this transformation. Just like Mount Hood. It can't be
|
|
a coincidence We must have some control of the machine, too."
|
|
"It makes sense." Frank murmured, "We were all involved in the experiment.
|
|
And... something... went through all four of us when it blew up. Doug was the
|
|
nexus of the experiment, so he gained primary control..."
|
|
Jean finished, "But since we were all involved, we all gained some degree
|
|
of control over the machine. But our control must be very weak. It took all
|
|
three of us together to do anything."
|
|
Norbert beamed at them. "I knew you'd figure it out eventually. I've an
|
|
idea that the three of us together might be as powerful as Doug himself.
|
|
Maybe we can wrest control of the machine away from him-"
|
|
"Not from here." Frank warned. "If he senses us trying, he'll fight, and
|
|
then who knows what'll happen? I don't want to find out. We should confront
|
|
him face to face, distract him somehow. Then try."
|
|
"Let's go, then!"
|
|
They got back into the airship. Frank was about to settle into the pilot's
|
|
seat when Norbert put a firm hand on his arm. "No offense," he said, "but I
|
|
think I should drive..."
|
|
11
|
|
He reclined back from the table, well sated, and belched contentedly. A
|
|
fine meal. He folded his arms over his stomach and noted, not for the first
|
|
time, that he was getting fatter. The one thing he could not make the cube
|
|
effect was his body or his mind. No matter. He waved a hand and the huge
|
|
oaken table vanished in a puff of mist that rapidly dissipated into the
|
|
enormous, torchlit chamber. The wave or the mist was not neccesary, of
|
|
course, but he enjoyed the dramatic gesture all the same. A god could indulge
|
|
himself a little, if he wanted to.
|
|
Douglas Alvin Everett, A.K.A. The Ruler Of The Universe, could allow
|
|
himself all the indulgences he wished. Who would say him nay? Certainly not
|
|
the Traitor, on her hands and knees busily scrubbing a corner of the chamber
|
|
that redirtied itself constantly. Not the insignificant ants who populated
|
|
this world that he currently chose to reside upon. Not even the gods of myth
|
|
and religion, whom he met briefly and even conversed with before banishing
|
|
them forever from this existance. No, no one could threaten him now.
|
|
Almost no one.
|
|
Yes, he had felt them the instant they utilized the power. He watched
|
|
amusedly as they tore through the skies in a craft of their own creation. He
|
|
cursed as they correctly deduced the nature of the power, and that they could
|
|
take it away from him if they tried. They thought to catch him by surprise. A
|
|
pity. He had liked them so, even thought of them as friends. Now they would
|
|
have to be eliminated before they became a danger.
|
|
|
|
The plane slowly settled on Doug's front lawn. The three stepped out,
|
|
still staring. Under his breath, Norbert mumbled, "He has GOT to be
|
|
kidding..."
|
|
In place of Douglas's house there stood a medeval castle, constructed of
|
|
solid silver. Including the towers, it rose a good quarter mile above the
|
|
ground. As they walked closer, they saw that the silver blocks making up the
|
|
walls had been mortered with gold. All in all, a very interesting effect.
|
|
Moments later thay came to the front door, which, of course, was a
|
|
drawbridge, some sixty feet tall. They stepped back as it was slowly,
|
|
silently lowered to the ground. Norbert swallowed hard and Frank and Jean
|
|
held hands tightly as they entered the black portal before them.
|
|
Actually, it wasn't all that black as their eyes recovered from the glare
|
|
off the outside walls. Torches set high in the walls provided more than
|
|
adeqeute illumination. They came to a great oaken door which opened before
|
|
them.
|
|
"Greetings."
|
|
Doug gazed down upon them benevolently from the center of the great,
|
|
unfurnished chamber. They had to look up to meet his eyes, as he was sitting
|
|
crosslegged about four feet above the floor. Over his head, shining with an
|
|
awful green light, was the cube. Off in a corner was a stooped figure
|
|
scrubbing the floor. Frank stared at the figure hard, then turned away
|
|
queasily once he figured out what he was looking at. Swallowing hard, he
|
|
tried to keep his attention on Doug. "Greetings. How-how are you doing?"
|
|
With an expansive wave of his hand, he said, "How do you think?"
|
|
Norbert was ignoring all this. His total attention was focused on the
|
|
cube. So close, he could almost feel it in his mind, like a physical object.
|
|
If he could just touch it with his thoughts...
|
|
Frank had seemed to run out of things to say, so Jean stepped in.
|
|
"Douglas, you've got to stop it."
|
|
Doug looked at her, genuinely confused. "Stop what?"
|
|
"Using the machine. You're endangering all of existance!" she implored.
|
|
"I am not. I haven't hurt anybody." But his smug certainty was tinged with
|
|
just a trace of doubt.
|
|
Frank interrupted. "Maybe you haven't meant to, but things are going crazy
|
|
outside. The human mind isn't meant to be in control of this much power!
|
|
There's far too many variables for anyone to handle. Your every subconcious
|
|
thought is being brought to life out there. You have to stop before you
|
|
destroy everything."
|
|
"NO!" A halo of red fire encircled the chamber for a second until he
|
|
calmed down. "I will not give it up! All my life, I been a nobody to be
|
|
laughed at. I never had the brains to get very far in this world. But thanks
|
|
to you guys, I can change the world into whatever I like. I don't need to be
|
|
as smart as everyone else, now. Because of what you done for me, I'm gonna
|
|
let you go if you walk out of here right now. Elsewise, I'm gonna have to do
|
|
something about you..."
|
|
They all felt it simultaneously. Norbert, who had been focusing his
|
|
attention on the cube for the last several moments, finally succeeded in
|
|
making contact. A huge green flare washed the room like a tiny nova,
|
|
accompanied by Doug's scream of outrage. His control was much stronger,
|
|
though, and the cube rejected Norbert. A wave of pure psychic power swept the
|
|
room, knocking everybody flat.
|
|
Frank sat up, rubbing his eyes as if that would help his headache. When he
|
|
saw what was going on, he wished he'd stayed unconcious.
|
|
The cube shone like a six sided arc lamp, flooding the whole chamber with
|
|
its hellish glow. It pulsed, as if in time to an invisible heart. Doug was
|
|
nowhere to be seen, but his voice filled the room.
|
|
"Traitors! You tried to trick me! You tried to take the cube away!"
|
|
"I didn't-" he started to protest, than looked over at Norbert, who was
|
|
still unconcious. He *had* been awfully quiet, and it didn't take much to put
|
|
two and two together. "Oh, no..."
|
|
"I can't let you go. I can't trust you. I see that now. I'll have to kill
|
|
you. But I can't bring myself to do it. Maybe I won't have to. Maybe I can
|
|
get you to do the job for me..."
|
|
There was another burst of light that hammered off the stone walls and
|
|
then it was dark again. Doug looked around the room, which was now empty
|
|
except for himself and his slave. Then he sat down with a heavy sigh, as if
|
|
he had just lost his best friend in the world...
|
|
12
|
|
The first thing Frank noticed after conciousness returned was that he was
|
|
hot. Suffocating, in fact. The second was that he was cramped. He ws curled
|
|
in a fetal position, enclosed in something soft. His head was turned to one
|
|
side, so there was air to breathe. The third thing was that the air he was
|
|
breathing stank. It smelled of many things. Urine and mildew, sweat, shit,
|
|
and a queasy, gassy smell underlining it all. Dawning realization and slow
|
|
horror drove a blunt spear deep into his guts. He did not want to open his
|
|
eyes, but he did. Yellow. Something yellow, lit by a light source somewhere
|
|
above him. Covering his face, covering his whole body, but lightly, like
|
|
cloth. He squeezed his eyes shut again. No! It wasn't fair! He'd escaped!
|
|
It... Wasn't... Fair!
|
|
|
|
Almost twelve years ago, on December 18, 1980, twenty-one armed gunmen
|
|
took over a well-known hotel near the Portland airport. Their leader issued
|
|
demands over the phone to the mayor's office. One billion dollars and a 747
|
|
to take them out of the country. Against this they held 57 people hostage,
|
|
mostly night shift workers. Police quickly surrounded the building, and the
|
|
wait began.
|
|
On the fifth day, negotiations broke down and the gunmen began throwing
|
|
bodies out the door. One every six hours. By eleven AM, a coroner's report
|
|
was recieved by the mayor revealing the fact that the four victims thrown out
|
|
had been dead at least five days. Acting on a strong hunch, the chief of
|
|
police ordered the SWAT teams in, and damn the hostages. That decision
|
|
ultimately cost him his career, but the siege was ended.
|
|
Twelve officers and all twenty-one gunmen were killed in the battle that
|
|
followed. When the smoke cleared, a scene of horror was revealed.
|
|
The Chief's hunch had been correct. All fifty-seven hostages had been
|
|
herded into a laundry room and then executed by submachine gun. There was
|
|
evidence that the killers had gone among the bodies and used knives to finish
|
|
the job the guns had started. However, there had been one survivor. A young
|
|
man had had the presence of mind to hide by jumping into a laundry cart and
|
|
pulling dirty sheets over him. Six days he had remained in that cart, in his
|
|
own filth and sweat, breathing he stench produced by almost five dozen
|
|
decaying corpses in that enclosed room, afraid to move even one inch for fear
|
|
of being discovered. He had been barely able to walk as he was led out of the
|
|
building.
|
|
Christmas, 1980 wasn't a very happy one for the friends and relatives of
|
|
sixty-eight people. And one survivor.
|
|
Six years of intense outpatient therapy slowly healed the more obvious
|
|
scars on this young man's psyche. He eventualy learned to deal with the
|
|
guilt, irrational though it was, of not being able to save his friends. But
|
|
the nighmares continued. It was a rare night that he did not wake up in a
|
|
cold sweat, feeling as if he were suffocating. Even after twelve years the
|
|
ghosts of the massacre continued to haunt his dreams, and they probably would
|
|
until he died. And the dreams were always the same. One day he would wake up
|
|
curled in a ball in that same laundry cart, covered by a stinking yellow
|
|
blanket, to the smell of slowly rotting meat...
|
|
Thanks to Douglas Ebert, all of Frank Lindstrom's nightmares were finally
|
|
coming true.
|
|
He lay there for God (or Doug, they were pretty much the same thing these
|
|
days) only knew how long. Fear had him frozen, unable to move at all. If he
|
|
could keep hidden, perhaps he could escape again. He'd done it before...
|
|
All the strength left him as he heard a door slam. A loud, rough voice
|
|
said, "I told ya he's in here somewhere. Look in everything, especially the
|
|
laundry carts."
|
|
That was it. Somehow, they knew. probably Doug's doing, just like
|
|
everything else. Tired resignation swept over him, as he waited to be found.
|
|
But they didn't find him right away. He could hear them stumbling
|
|
everywhere else in the room. Frank supposed this was some attempt at mental
|
|
torture, to make things unbearable before finishing him. That sounded like
|
|
something Doug would do. It might have worked, except...
|
|
It wasn't fear he felt. It was anger. Twelve years of frustration at the
|
|
atrocity that had crippled his life for so long. And on top of that was the
|
|
growing rage he felt at Doug, for tearing open wounds that should never have
|
|
been touched again. Doug had hit all the right buttons, but they no longer
|
|
did what he thought they would.
|
|
With a scream of outrage, he jumped up, tearing the blanket aside. He saw
|
|
two men, both frozen in astonishment, mouths agape. Immediately he jumped
|
|
from the cart onto the nearest one.
|
|
|
|
Still stunned, the man did not move. Frank landed on top of him with a
|
|
elbow in his solar plexus. The breath whooshed out of him and he lost all
|
|
interest in his UZI, which Frank grabbed.
|
|
The second man was just bringing his weapon up as Frank swung around. The
|
|
UZI bucked and roared, spitting fire from its muzzle. The man jerked about
|
|
like a marionette wih its strings fouled as blood sprayed the tiles behind
|
|
him. The tiles themselves exploded as the slugs struck them. Frank stopped
|
|
firing and the man fell to the floor, twitching.
|
|
He felt movement under him. The guy he had jumped on had regained some of
|
|
his wind and was struggling to get up. Frank placed the muzzle under the
|
|
guy's chin and pulled the trigger. Brains and bone and blood exploded
|
|
everywhere, splattering him.
|
|
He stood up, covered with blood and grey tissue, grinning like a madman.
|
|
He hefted the smoking submachine gun and headed for the door. Maybe, just
|
|
maybe he could take them all!
|
|
He surprised three more out in the hall. Like the others before them, they
|
|
froze for a fraction of a second, probably at his appearance. He jerked the
|
|
trigger and fanned the muzzle across the corridor as stomach height. The
|
|
bullets punched amazingly large holes in the walls. Blood sprayed from the
|
|
three in a red mist as they went down. He howled victory as he jumped over
|
|
the bodies, sprinting down the hall. Death filled his thoughts, and he
|
|
intended to bring it to everyone in the building in revenge for his friends.
|
|
And for Jean and Norbert, wherever they may be.
|
|
He turned a corner and was blinded by a dozen flashbulbs as a familiar
|
|
stuttering roar pounded his ears. his torso was instant agony as he flew
|
|
backwards, slamming into a wall. He slid down into a slouched sitting
|
|
position as he saw that a man in front of him with another UZI, still smoking
|
|
from the barrel. He looked down and saw no less than six holes in his chest
|
|
and stomach, all jetting blood. He could even see his insides working, what
|
|
was left of them. Blackness began to cloud his vision as the man kneeled in
|
|
front of him. He wore a grin and Frank was horrified to see that it was Doug.
|
|
He had come to do the job himself. Frank tried to spit something out, a final
|
|
curse, but blood only bubbled from between his lips.
|
|
Doug placed the muzzle against Frank's nose and the last thing he saw was
|
|
a flash that filled the world before everything exploded.
|
|
13
|
|
Jean opened her eyes and stretched luxuriously on the couch. A shaft of
|
|
warm afternoon sunlight spilled across her body from the picture window,
|
|
counteracting the chill that ran through her. What a nightmare. She picked up
|
|
the book that was resting on the coffee table, a Stephen King novel. She
|
|
stared at it for a long second and put it back down, shaking her head slowly.
|
|
Why did she read such trash? It gave her such awful nightmares. The dream
|
|
itself had been all but forgotten, torn to etherial wisps upon her awakening,
|
|
but a sense of... wrongness remained. It was as if she had fallen asleep into
|
|
a pleasant dream, and would soon reawaken to the nightmare.
|
|
Despite the warming solar rays, she shivered again.
|
|
Suddenly the voice of her mother floated from another room, wholesome and
|
|
reassuring in her disorientation. "Jean, dear, would you do me a favor and go
|
|
downstairs to get the laundry? I think the dryer's done."
|
|
"Sure, mom." She got up and walked into the kitchen. Everything was just
|
|
as she remembered it (but why shouldn't it be? The last time she had been in
|
|
here was to make a sandwich before falling asleep on the couch. Right?). The
|
|
wrongness returned, for just a second, and then left again. She brushed it
|
|
off as a lingering afteraffect of her nightmare and turned to open the cellar
|
|
door.
|
|
Diffuse light from the curtained window in the backyard door kept the
|
|
steps well lit on the first landing. The basement itelf was dark, though. She
|
|
flicked the lightswitch above the bannister but the darkness remained. For a
|
|
second she debated getting a flashlight but what the heck, she could see well
|
|
enough. Barely.
|
|
Slowly, cautiously, she decended down the longer flight of steps that led
|
|
into the darkness. Something in the back of her head screamed for her to turn
|
|
back now, before it was too late.
|
|
At the bottom, she began walking cautiously, half-feeling her way towards
|
|
the washer. The huge, grey-black bulk of the oil furnace was off to her
|
|
right. She looked at it for a long second and shivered. Its squat,
|
|
cylindrical shape, and the five ventpipes that ran from its cylindrical to to
|
|
the ceiling at strange angles had always looked to her like some huge steel
|
|
heart. In the half light the illusion was enhanced considerably. Cautiously,
|
|
she skirted around it, her own heart pounding in her chest. Suddenly the
|
|
furnace hissed and then boomed softly to life, scaring the hell out of her.
|
|
Flickering light floated out of the four holes in the little door in the
|
|
front. She had more than half expected the sides to crumple inward, then
|
|
bulge out, beating with a slow, horrible rhythem, the heart of the house.
|
|
Damn! she cursed herself. What's wrong with you? You're not five years old
|
|
anymore! Things like that just don't happen in the real world.
|
|
After chewing herself out, she felt better but still shaky. Something was
|
|
wrong, but she just couldn't put her finger on it. She was suddenly ten times
|
|
as anxious to finish her task and get back up into the sunlight where
|
|
everything was all right again.
|
|
Now the side-by-side white boxes of the washer and dryer were before her,
|
|
barely visible in the dim light. She reached down to the front of the one on
|
|
the right to open the door. On the way her hand plunged into something that
|
|
felt like cloth but it tore too easily. Yeeeuuuccchhh! She jerked her hand
|
|
back, brushing the thick cobweb off. The size of it amazed her, now that she
|
|
saw it. It ran from the floor to one corner on the front, a triangle of solid
|
|
silver-grey. How could a spider build something this big in the hour or so
|
|
since her mother had put the wash in? She looked towards the back of the
|
|
basement and saw that there were similar webs strung all over the place back
|
|
there. It was too thick to even see the far wall. It looked like the inside
|
|
of a caterpillar nest. She felt her sandwich churn sickly in her stomach as
|
|
she slowly backed away.
|
|
Something skittered up her arm.
|
|
She screamed and slapped her shoulder. She came away with something in her
|
|
hand that writhed between her forefinger and thumb. Tiny legs tickled her
|
|
|
|
thumb and she threw the spider down, but not before feeling a hot, horrible
|
|
sting right in the center of the pad. It hurt like fire, and she rubbed it
|
|
against her sweater as she almost ran back to the stairs.
|
|
But the stairs weren't there anymore.
|
|
Dumbfounded, she stared at the door, a lighted rectangle of hope an
|
|
safety, four feet above her head. Who took the stairs? The wrongness
|
|
returned, shaking her right to the core. This time it didn't go away, and
|
|
small wonder.
|
|
She had walked into Doug's trap. The information, and the returning
|
|
memories that accompanied it, did her no good, undoubtedly as intended.
|
|
Suddenly she heard a noise behind her.
|
|
It was a steady, soft rustle, for a second reminding her of ocean waves on
|
|
the shore in the distance. Not wanting to, she turned slowly around.
|
|
|
|
A black tidal wave was rising in the far end of the basement. It crested
|
|
and rushed towards her with terrifying speed.
|
|
She turned and jumped for the door, her fingernails striking and tearing
|
|
against the concrete one inch below the step. Something soft and heavy
|
|
slammed into her back before her feet hit the floor and she went down.
|
|
Spiders. Millions of them. They covered her entire body like a cocoon,
|
|
skittering, crawling... BITING!
|
|
Her clothes offered little protection as they were quickly chewed away,
|
|
followed by her skin. She held her eyes and mouth shut against an iron scream
|
|
as her chest began burning for want of air. The pain soon rose to spectacular
|
|
levels. Finally, quite against her will, her mouth opened, and the scream
|
|
escaped, quite lost on her arachnid adversaries.
|
|
While her mouth was open, a huge, hairy tarantula crawled in.
|
|
There was a gag of revulsion and her jaws involuntarily clicked shut. The
|
|
creature's abdomen burst between her teeth and her mouth was filled with a
|
|
hideously bland fluid, while the rest of the spider continued to writhe at
|
|
the back of her throat. Her stomach gave one great heave and her sandwich,
|
|
her milk, most of her breakfast, and maybe her stomach itself exploded from
|
|
her mouth in a violent spray, clearing it out, mostly. She shut it again
|
|
quickly before something else could come in. Her teeth crunched on a leg that
|
|
hadn't come out, but there was no way in God's green earth she's open up to
|
|
spit it out. The repulsive bile and acid that her stomach had sent up tasted
|
|
like ambrosia now. They were still biting her, and she could see blood
|
|
jetting out from a dozen places under the black mass that covered her. The
|
|
pain was actually fading, becoming more diffuse as the wounds multiplied and
|
|
her conciousness faded. With a silent sigh she relaxed, waiting for
|
|
unconciousness and death to take her.
|
|
A noise made her open her eyes. When she realized what she was looking at,
|
|
she opened her mouth, spiders be damned, and screamed, loud and long.
|
|
The furnace was moving.
|
|
The dirty sheet metal sides crumpled in and bulged out, again and again,
|
|
in a slow rhythem, accompanied by a loud, wet *thump-thump* that vibrated the
|
|
floor beneath her. Finally the metal bulged out, out, and shattered, sending
|
|
flying hooks of metal everywhere. Brilliant pain flared in her left eye
|
|
before it went dark forever. But she hardly noticed when she saw what was
|
|
beneath the metal.
|
|
A real heart, seven feet tall, covered with veins as thick as her forearm
|
|
pulsed before her. The spiders had vanished, and she looked down at herself
|
|
with her one good eye.
|
|
Most of her skin was gone, along with one leg. One breast was missing, she
|
|
could see white ribs where it should have been. She could see her intestines,
|
|
grey, ropy coils writhing in her abdomen. Incredibly, there was no pain, just
|
|
a kind of numbness. Her mind was as sharp as ever. It was as if she was
|
|
looking at someone else's body but she knew it was hers. Please, God, she
|
|
prayed silently, let me die.
|
|
And God answered: *Of course, my dear. I was just waiting for you to ask.*
|
|
He answered in Doug's voice.
|
|
The giant heart lurched towards her, the arteries ripping from the ceiling
|
|
with a sound like heavy wet cloth tearing. It rolled forward, closer and
|
|
closer, jetting black blood from the severed arteries. It landed on her and a
|
|
heavy weight pushed her grateful conciousness out of existance.
|
|
"Norbert?"
|
|
He was being shaken, drawn from the comforting blackness enveloping him.
|
|
He didn't want to wake up.
|
|
"Norbert!"
|
|
Wake up? He shouldn't be asleep. This was-
|
|
He jerked his head up, eyes open instantly. Painful cramps shot through
|
|
his back and stomach. That's what you get for falling asleep at a school
|
|
desk. He rubbed his eyes, grainy and tired. His mouth tasted like something
|
|
had crawled in it and died. It was as if he had been asleep a million years.
|
|
"I'm surprised at you, Norbert. You're one of the last students I'd have
|
|
expected to fall asleep during my class."
|
|
He looked up to see Mr. Horwell, his eleventh-grade english teacher
|
|
glaring down at him. Why should he be surprised? Everybody fell asleep during
|
|
Horwell'S classes. The man's teaching methods made english a four letter
|
|
word, spelled D-U-L-L.
|
|
"I-I'm sorry, sir. I... was up all last night cramming for my final
|
|
tomorrow. I don't want to fail."
|
|
"Cramming, hm? Up all night watching MTV would be more like it." (Screw
|
|
you too, Horseface, Norbert thought grimly.) "Well, you had better not
|
|
'study' so hard tonight. You don't get any extra points for dozing off during
|
|
a test. Now get out of here."
|
|
Norbert looked around. All the other desks were empty. The bell must have
|
|
rung. At least he was spared the embarassment of being chewed out in front of
|
|
the whole class. "Yes, sir." he replied, the 'sir' coming out as anything but
|
|
respectful.
|
|
Outside, the hall was empty. How long had Horseface let him sleep, for
|
|
crying out loud? The buses were probably all gone, and now Norbert would have
|
|
to find some other way to get home. Nice guy, that Horwell. Norbert hoped he
|
|
would die of intestinal cancer, and very soon.
|
|
Cheered by the thought, Norbert began humming some ZZ Top and hiked down
|
|
the hallway towards the front door.
|
|
It was quiet. Too quiet. He passed not a single person in the halls. There
|
|
should have been a few stragglers, some teachers, maybe even a few jocks on
|
|
their way to practice. A school was never completely empty until the janitor
|
|
closed the place up for the night. This one apparently was, though. He
|
|
hustled a little faster towards the front, more than a little anxious to get
|
|
out.
|
|
"Hey, pizzaface!"
|
|
The syllables rang out harsh and loud, making him jump. He spun around
|
|
quickly. Three hulking young men in motorcycle jackets faced him halfway down
|
|
the hall. The largest among them was six-two, blond, a perfect representative
|
|
of the aryan stereotype. Except for the eyes, which were like flat painted
|
|
wood. No real emotion rested in those eyes,or their owner.
|
|
Despite himself, Norbert was shaking. "What-what do you want? Who are
|
|
you?"
|
|
A wooden grin split the young man's features, making him even more
|
|
menacing. he spoke like a bored sixth-grader reciting overmemoriezed lines
|
|
for the school play. "Call me Ace." He pulled something that looked like a
|
|
bar casually out of his back pocket. Dull gold, about six inches long, with a
|
|
double row of holes along it's side. He flicked his wrist with a fluid triple
|
|
motion. Clack-clack-clack. The bar had grown by five inches of razored steel.
|
|
He bounced the butterfly knife in his palm for a second, then pointed with
|
|
it. "Your throat or your balls."
|
|
Norbert's mouth suddenly went dry. His heart pounded in the base of his
|
|
throat. "W-what?"
|
|
"You ask too many questions, wimp. Make me mad enough and you'll lose
|
|
both. Now choose."
|
|
Norbert backed away, ready to run. His schoolbooks fell to the floor,
|
|
forgotten. Before he got two steps, though, he bumped into a wall. Or so he
|
|
though. Incredibly strong hands encircled his arms above the elbows, gripping
|
|
him cruelly hard, pinning him. He struggled to no avail.
|
|
Ace walked up to him with slow, mechanical deliberatness. He stopped
|
|
within arm's reach, still smiling that dead smile. "Should have chose when
|
|
you had the chance. Now I get to. Think I'll start with the guts." He drew
|
|
the knife back to strike.
|
|
The knife flashed across in a silvery sideways arc. Without thinking,
|
|
Norbert brought his hand up to block the blade. Too late he realized the
|
|
stroke had been a feint, meant to scare rather than hurt. The tip connected
|
|
with his hand.
|
|
He pulled back and stared at the wound. A gash ran sideways across the
|
|
back. It had pulled open at the sides, like a misplaced mouth. Muscles,
|
|
ligaments, and tendons had been severed revealing white bone scored by the
|
|
force of the slash. The skin around the wound was a dead white, already going
|
|
to purple. He stared at the inside of his hand for one grotesque second
|
|
before the wound filled with crimson, running over and spilling onto the
|
|
floor.
|
|
Norbert's head spun dizzily and he was sure he was going to puke. His hand
|
|
didn't hurt much--yet, but it refused to move. Through the roaring in his
|
|
ears harsh, contrived laughter floated.
|
|
When faced with imminent death (there was no doubt in his mind), soe men
|
|
will simply fold. Others however, will fight out of sheer desperation,
|
|
accepting hopeless odds over none at all. Norbert had always secretly thought
|
|
of himself as one of the former. So, apparently, did his tormentors. Then he
|
|
surprised them all.
|
|
His knee shot up into Ace's crotch. Whatever this thing before him was, it
|
|
had something in common with a real human male. Ace dropped the knife and
|
|
folded to the ground with a groan that sounded as sincere as a three dollar
|
|
bill. His accomplices bent down to help him. Norbert lifted both feet and
|
|
slammed them down on the insteps of the punk holding him. A satisfyingly
|
|
human scream sounded in his ear as the pressure on his biceps vanished. He
|
|
|
|
blundered past his former captor and ran down the hallway. From somewhere
|
|
behind came a phony yell of outrage and then footsteps following.
|
|
The whole weight of the world seemed to rest on his sneakers. Every step
|
|
was an effort. Blood poured from his hand, drenching his pants and the floor.
|
|
He wanted to wrap something around the wound but dared not stop to try.
|
|
Around a corner was the rear exit. Twin steel doors with wired glass
|
|
windows showing blessed safety beyond. If he could just get out of the
|
|
building he would be safe. An inner voice told him this, the same voice that
|
|
told him he would die if he remained. He ran towards the doors, good hand
|
|
extended to open them.
|
|
They were locked.
|
|
It took him a second to regain his senses. He was on his ass in front of
|
|
the doors, which remained inviolate, except for a splatter of blood on one of
|
|
the windows. He felt his nose, which was squashed to one side. Broken. Warm
|
|
fluid poured down his face and stained his shirt. Why was there no pain?
|
|
A voice from much too close behind: "He's around this corner!"
|
|
He struggled to his feet. Next to the doors was a staircase leading to the
|
|
upper wing. Gripping the bannister with his good hand, he stumbled up it.
|
|
The upper hall was just as deserted as the rest of the building. There
|
|
were rows of lockers on each side, with classroom doors interspersed between
|
|
them. He tried each door, but they were all locked. The only door that was
|
|
open led to the other stairwell. He paused for a long moment, staring down
|
|
the stairs. Panic, loss of blood, or something else made the distance down
|
|
stretch from feet to miles. His vision blurred as the vast, empty space
|
|
seemed to fill with fog...
|
|
He caught himself a second before he would have fallen. Must have greyed
|
|
out there. It would have been bad if-
|
|
"Gotcha!" Something slammed into his back and his pitched forward. His
|
|
extended his hands forward instinctively to cushion himself. His injured hand
|
|
hit the step just right and the bones, already weakened, snapped with a sound
|
|
like four pencils wrapped in cotton as his hand bent double in the middle of
|
|
the palm.
|
|
Then there was pain. Incredible, undescribably agony that slammed up his
|
|
arm and racked his body, making the rest of his tumble downstairs seem
|
|
enjoyable by comparison.
|
|
He came to a rest at the bottom with a dozen broken bones. The pain from
|
|
his ruined hand eclipsed all else, and it was all he could do to whimper as
|
|
he lay there in a heap.
|
|
A shadow fell over him. Through a haze of pain he saw the man with the
|
|
wooden eyes grinning down at him. After a long moment he said, "You had to
|
|
make me mad. Now you're going to have your balls for breakfast... and your
|
|
heart for dessert." He knelt down, his knife held before him like a surgeon's
|
|
scalpel.
|
|
Norbert had thought he had reached his limit of pain. He had been wrong.
|
|
His screams echoed echoed throughout the empty building loud and long until
|
|
they were choked off, as if somebody had jammed something in his mouth to
|
|
silence him.
|
|
15
|
|
|
|
Outside, it was raining.
|
|
It was not simply the worst storm in recorded history. It was the worst
|
|
storm in the history of this ancient and decrepit planet. Raindrops the size
|
|
of refrigerators and weighing upwards of two thousand pounds each hammered
|
|
the landscape like bombs. Mach three winds tore at everything above ground.
|
|
Lightning bolts a mile wide blasted unbelievable craters. The land had been
|
|
long ago scoured down to bedrock for three hundred miles in every direction.
|
|
Outside of this area it was as calm as a mild summer's day.
|
|
In the center of this destruction sat a castle of fine silver, untouched
|
|
by the fury that raged around it.
|
|
Inside, Doug was crying. Pathetic sobs were wrung out of him, echoing
|
|
|
|
about the great dark chamber. Before him floated three spheres the size of
|
|
grapefruits. When he had banished his friends to their respective fates, the
|
|
spheres had appeared, all three glowing with fierce light. Now two of them
|
|
were dim, flickering unsteadily. The third had gone out completely.
|
|
Remorse had overwhelmed him, evnveloping him in his own black cocoon of
|
|
misery. Why did they have to do it? They were his friends. If they hadn't
|
|
tried to take the cube away everything would have been all right. There was
|
|
no need. He wasn't hurting anybody. Anybody that mattered, anyway.
|
|
But they had, and, in a fit of rage, he had banished them to their own
|
|
individual private hells. Exquisitely terrifying fates brought to life in
|
|
their own pocket realities courtesy of the Cube. He could almost feel their
|
|
agony as the spheres pulsed weaker before him. Soon they would all be dead,
|
|
and he would be damned forever.
|
|
Why was he doing this? Why was he powerless to stop?
|
|
A cold, bony hand fell on his shoulder. He jumped slightly, then tuned
|
|
around. Alice had left her brush and now stood beside him. Rags hung on her
|
|
rotting frame, her skin yellowed and flaked revealing moist white bone
|
|
underneath. Great lidless eyes stared at him from a parchment covered skull.
|
|
Maggots crawled in her hair, what there was of it. Her lower jawbone moved,
|
|
and though there was no apparatus to do so, she spoke.
|
|
"You are not powerless. You can stop this any time you want."
|
|
He stared at her incredulously for one long second, then said, "Shut up
|
|
and get back to work. I don't want to listen to you."
|
|
"No." she replied. "You do want to listen to me, which is why I'm here.
|
|
You know what you're doing is wrong, and your indecision has released me-"
|
|
"Go away." his voice was a sullen whimper. He didn't want to hear this...
|
|
"-in hopes I might persuade you to do what you know is the right thing.
|
|
You're hurting people, lots of them, and the ones you love most of-"
|
|
"GO AWAY!!" His voice had risen to a roar that literally shook the planet.
|
|
A blast of solid light shot from the cube, disintegrating her body in a
|
|
brilliant flash. From the resultant smoke cloud an irregular object clattered
|
|
heavily to the flagstones. The skull bounced and rolled a few feet, then came
|
|
to rest, its jawbone still moving like some manic wind-up toy. Her voice
|
|
persisted maddeningly.
|
|
"-all. I won't go away. I can't. You yourself won't allow it. Bring them
|
|
back. Restore everything to the way it was before it's too late."
|
|
The sight of her still moving skull (he had meant to blast her out of
|
|
exisitence) had unmanned him. The doubts that had plauged him for the last
|
|
few weeks became vast, impenatrable walls. It now seemed he had actually been
|
|
standing outside himself, watching in helpess, horrified fascination as some
|
|
unknown madman took control of his body and will, capering about and
|
|
rearranging literally everything to suit his whims. it hadn't been him. It
|
|
hadn't been *him*!
|
|
Had it?
|
|
|
|
"Before it's too late!" the skull implored.
|
|
"I... I don't know how." He didn't. He didn't know how to do anything
|
|
anymore. The greatest power in the universe rested in his hands (his mind,
|
|
whatever.) and he was scared to use it. He suddenly realized it for what it
|
|
really was: not a playtoy, not an obedient servant, but a great raging beast
|
|
with capabilities far beyond his meager imagination. It controlled him as
|
|
much or more than he controlled it. Now he felt trying to use that power
|
|
would be like a normal person trying to grab a naked high voltage wire, quite
|
|
possibly with the same results. His voice wavered, "I can't. I just don't
|
|
|
|
know..."
|
|
The skull was silent for a moment, considering. Then it spoke again.
|
|
"Maybe you could, with help."
|
|
Help? Yes! A powerful ray of hope tore through his fear. He wasn't alone.
|
|
There were others who could control the cube as well. Maybe they would know
|
|
what to do!
|
|
All doubts forgotten, he once again grasped the power, welcoming it like
|
|
an old, familiar friend. The three spheres swelled before him suddenly, then
|
|
burst like thunder...
|
|
|
|
Norbert sat up, his head aching. What had happened? Last thing he
|
|
remembered was the three of them standing before Doug, trying to talk reason
|
|
with him, then... poof. Sounds penetrated through the ringing in his ears,
|
|
slowly resolving themselves into soft feminine sobs. He looked over and saw
|
|
Jean cradling Frank's still form. What was wrong? Deep inside, he thought he
|
|
knew. Shakily he stood up and walked over to her. he kneeled down before
|
|
them. Frank's eyes were closed and a serene expression rested on his
|
|
features. After a long moment Jean looked up into Norbert's eyes, tears still
|
|
rolling down her cheeks. With an effort she summoned up a choked voice.
|
|
"He's dead..."
|
|
16
|
|
Frank was stone cold dead. She touched his face. Cold, unresponding, like
|
|
wax. She laid his head down gently on the stone floor. She picked up his
|
|
hands and placed them on his chest. Unbidden, a tear fell on his face and
|
|
rolled slowly down his cheek. Jean sniffled twice, then looked up.
|
|
Doug kneeled at the far end of the chamber, watching with wounded eyes.
|
|
Slowly he shook his head, denying responsibility for everything.
|
|
Norbert never had very much experience with people, but still he thought
|
|
he knew what was going to happen next.
|
|
He was right.
|
|
"You baaasstaaarrrddd!!!" Lithe muscles tensed, she sprung at Doug with an
|
|
animal scream of rage. Norbert managed to jump and grab her, pinning her in a
|
|
bear hug. She hurled curses at Doug and Norbert as the most powerful man in
|
|
the universe cowered back whimpering like a beaten dog.
|
|
Strong he had never been. Jean's rage had raised her adrenaline levels
|
|
until she became almost impossible to hold. If she broke free, Norbert knew,
|
|
she would injure Doug. And Doug would let her. And the cube, responding to
|
|
Doug's pain and quite beyond his control, would react in ways that were
|
|
terrifying to contemplate.
|
|
Finally Jean collapsed in Norbert's arms, sobbing exhaustedly. He eased
|
|
his grip on her slightly, remaining on guard. Now that the air had cleared
|
|
for a moment, he was able think again. The solution, he knew, was obvious. He
|
|
|
|
turned to Doug and spoke three words.
|
|
Stunned silence decended over the chamber.
|
|
Jean turned her face up to him. Terror, confusion, and a wild glimmer of
|
|
hope fought within her eyes. "What... did you say?"
|
|
Norbert continued to face Doug sternly and repeated in a quiet, commanding
|
|
voice, "Bring him back."
|
|
Doug cowered farther back into the corner (the corner moving back to
|
|
accomodate him) and whimpered, "I-I can't, you don't underst-"
|
|
"BRING HIM BACK NOW!!!" Jean surged wildly in Norbert's arms, almost
|
|
breaking free. "Do it now, you worthless piece of shit, or I'll break your
|
|
neck!"
|
|
The air filled with static tension. Everyone's skin tingled and felt
|
|
tight. Doug had curled up into a fetal position, arms tight over his head.
|
|
The cube hovered over them, shining with a light that felt warm and benign.
|
|
In this moment Norbert suddenly noticed that there was a skull lying on its
|
|
side against one wall. Alert eyes still rested in its sockets and he knew
|
|
they were watching him. Suddenly he heard a low groan.
|
|
The skull's eyes moved to stare behind him.
|
|
The first thing Frank saw as he opened his eyes was Jean's beautiful face.
|
|
In that split instant, even before full awareness returned, he knew he loved
|
|
her. He didn't care what the situation was, or how desperate, or whether the
|
|
world might end in the next second. The only thing that mattered now, right
|
|
NOW, was that he loved this woman with all his heart and soul and he must
|
|
tell her about it, somehow. His voice failed him, so he simply reached up,
|
|
wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her down to him. he felt her sobbing
|
|
quietly into his chest and knew it was good, that everything would be fine
|
|
now. Though she spoke no words, he knew she loved him too, and her love
|
|
filled him with a great golden warmth, slowly but surely obliterating the
|
|
chilling memories of the terrifying emptiness he had just been rescued
|
|
from...
|
|
|
|
Norbert watched the lovers for a moment, then turned away to give them
|
|
their privacy. He studied the tattered skull with the eyes, which studied him
|
|
back. The skull's jawbone moved and a voice echoed in his mind: "What'sa
|
|
matter? See something green?"
|
|
He jumped, startled and a little embarassed. He turned back to Jean and
|
|
Frank, privacy be damned.
|
|
Frank was getting up unsteadily, Jean supporting him. He walked over to
|
|
Norbert, gaining strength and balance with each step. He gave a tired smile
|
|
to show that he was all right. In a voice that betrayed only the slightest
|
|
shakiness, he asked, "What did I miss?"
|
|
Norbert relayed the events of the last few moments, as he understood them.
|
|
Frank rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Doug's losing it. The power's
|
|
frightening him now for some reason."
|
|
"Which makes him more dangerous than ever." Norbert reminded him.
|
|
"It's also our best chance." Frank replied. He walked over to Doug, who
|
|
was still curled into a ball. He flinched away from Frank's touch.
|
|
"Go away."
|
|
"C'mon, Doug, you know I can't. We've still got work to do. We need the
|
|
cube, and your help, to restore everything to normal."
|
|
Douglas looked up at him with pity in his eyes, as if Frank were an idiot
|
|
child. "You don't understand, do you? You just don't know what it's like. It
|
|
can't be done."
|
|
"Of course it can." Frank argued gently, mindful of who he was talking to.
|
|
"The power can do anything. You said it yourself. I'd do it myself, if I had
|
|
control of the cube-"
|
|
Sudden, wild hope filled Doug's voice. "You want it?"
|
|
"What?" Frank responded brilliantly, taken somewhat aback.
|
|
"The cube. You want it?"
|
|
"Well, I-"
|
|
"Then take it."
|
|
Douglas released control of the cube. They all felt it, like an immensely
|
|
tall tower falling, with the cube at its tip. The base of the tower, the
|
|
control nexus of the machine, sank into the soft gossamer of Frank's mind
|
|
with all the cold immense weight of the cube behind it. He felt the power,
|
|
the incredible electricity infuse his very being. In one brilliant instant he
|
|
knew. He KNEW!
|
|
And then he screamed...
|
|
17
|
|
Omniscience.
|
|
A new door opened in his mind. The blinders had been removed, and for the
|
|
first time in his life he could really see. Everything. A terrifying flood of
|
|
information infinitely beyond human comprehension exploded in his mind,
|
|
threatening to wash his awareness away to oblivion, leaving him a burned out,
|
|
mindless husk.
|
|
Too much. He narrowed his vision. A thought was all it took.
|
|
Now the spiral of the Milky Way galaxy was in his mind's eye. He saw every
|
|
detail simultaneously down to the basic components of every atom comprising
|
|
its structure. He reeled at a pattern far too vast for his human conciousness
|
|
to grasp. It was meaningless, all too meaningless. He found himself beginning
|
|
to slip into an ennui from which he would never return.
|
|
He narrowed one more time to a magnificent blue-white globe floating
|
|
around some minor star somewhere in the outskirts of the galaxy.
|
|
Home. Self. Here.
|
|
Something was wrong. He still couldn't think, encumbered by the weight of
|
|
the information his mind was trying to assimilate. Dimly he sensed that this
|
|
was dangerous, and not just to himself. He narrowed his focus for the last
|
|
time.
|
|
He was seeing now with eyes. He was in a large room. Too dark. Florescent
|
|
fixtures blazed along the ceiling, bringing illumination up to more than
|
|
adequete levels. Much better. Four beings in the room besides himself. He had
|
|
some difficulty telling them apart, as a mortal man might have telling one
|
|
ant from another. But one stood out from the others. Female. Body mostly
|
|
destroyed but life force still bright and vital. Trapped in a dead husk by
|
|
the Predecessor. He sensed a... wrongness about this, and set out to correct
|
|
it.
|
|
|
|
Since Doug had uttered those final words, there had been silence. Jean and
|
|
Norbert watched anxiously as Frank stood bathed in the glow of the cube, eyes
|
|
focused on some distant, unknowable point. Then the fluorescents appeared on
|
|
the ceiling. Then they heard a soft pop as air was pushed aside to make room
|
|
for something materializing. Norbert turned to the source of the sound and
|
|
gasped.
|
|
Alice Ebert stood intact on the exact spot where once rested an animated
|
|
skull. She was dressed in jeans and a loose fitting sweater and appeared in
|
|
perfect health, very unlike the first time he saw her those weeks ago. She
|
|
looked down at her hands, puzzled, then all uncertainty left her face as she
|
|
rushed over to Doug. They sat on the cold stone floor in each other's arms,
|
|
quietly sobbing like lovers long separated but at last reunited.
|
|
A simple matter to restore her body and adjust her memories a little.
|
|
Frank was not sure why he did this, but some distant part of his mind told
|
|
him that a balance had been restored.
|
|
He turned his attention elsewhere. Another balance, one much more
|
|
critical, needed to be restored. He turned his vision deep into the structure
|
|
of the universe itself, far deeper than mortals even imagined existed yet.
|
|
Pure lines of force. Brilliant, crystalline, they rayed out from every
|
|
|
|
particle to every other in the universe. They formed a vast, incomprehensible
|
|
pattern. But the pattern had been sundered. In working its changes, the cube
|
|
had fractured and severed many of the lines, until the whole pattern
|
|
threatened to buckle and reality itself would dissolve into chaos, entropy,
|
|
then total dissolution. Nothing would be left.
|
|
With the cube's aid, he turned his mind to the greatest task that would
|
|
ever be demanded of it. One by one, he began reconnecting the lines. Some of
|
|
them wouldn't return to their original places so he improvised. New patterns
|
|
formed from the old.
|
|
|
|
The castle dissappeared. The five of them were left standing in the middle
|
|
of a grassy meadow. Jean looked up and saw the sky turn green, then red, then
|
|
a shade of blue slightly duller than before. A slight twinge of nausea shot
|
|
through her as gravity pulsed beneath her feet, making her about four pounds
|
|
lighter. Looking at her feet she saw she was casting three shadows. Yes,
|
|
there were three suns, one on the horizon, one at high noon, and one way the
|
|
hell off to the north, if that still *was* north. Then clouds, instantly
|
|
filling the sky. A roaring deluge of flaming hailstones erupted from the
|
|
clouds, only to vanish before touching the ground. Then it was night, with a
|
|
green sun burning brilliantly in the naked airless sky.
|
|
Then things started to get weird.
|
|
The stars rained from the sky and landed in the field around them, quietly
|
|
|
|
smouldering. Norbert bent down to touch one and pulled his blistered hand
|
|
back quickly. An enormous futuristic city sprang from the dirt around them
|
|
and dissolved to dust in the space of one second. The green sun went
|
|
supernova, becoming a huge shaeless blob from horizon to horizon and filling
|
|
the sky with a great tearing roar and turning it a color never seen before in
|
|
the universe. The ground shuddered as though somebody had dropped the moon on
|
|
the earth. Norbert supposed that was entirely possible. A great bald head
|
|
glared at them angrily from *over* the horizon. Douglas shrieked and fainted.
|
|
Then the walls of te chamber sprang up around thm and they were safe from the
|
|
chaos outside. For the moment. Frank's expression remained distant and he had
|
|
not moved since all this started.
|
|
Another connection made. The pattern was becoming stable, if not exactly
|
|
familiar. Deep in the still mortal recesses of his brain Frank realized what
|
|
Doug had been trying to tell him. He could no more restore this mangled
|
|
tapestry to its former state any more than a gorilla could assemble a 5000
|
|
piece jigsaw puzzle. It was too far beyond him to be anything but ludicrous.
|
|
Perhaps the cube itself could do anything, but the limits of the mind
|
|
controlling it was another matter entirely. He was almost done.
|
|
|
|
An hour later, Jean asked tiredly, "What's happening now?"
|
|
"No idea." Norbert sighed, just as tired. Nothing had happened since the
|
|
walls had returned, and he hoped Frank was going to return to the real world
|
|
soon as the chamber's door wouldn't open and Frank had thoughtlessly
|
|
neglected to include a bathroom in the room's reconstruction. Somebody
|
|
squawked behind him, and he turned around.
|
|
Doug was sitting up, staring at something they couldn't see. Alice was
|
|
trying to get him to lay back down. "Honey, you've got to rest. You've been
|
|
through so much l-"
|
|
"Something's happening." Doug's quavering voice cut through them, leaving
|
|
a vauge sense of terror. Something *was* happening.
|
|
|
|
Finished.
|
|
He mentally stood back a moment and admired his handiwork. Not bad, for a
|
|
|
|
human. Where had he heard that before?
|
|
There was one problem left: the cube had to go. It was possible he could
|
|
expel the cube from his mind, but it would only gravitate towards another
|
|
like a magnet. His brief but intimate association with the cube had taught
|
|
him a great many things. When he returned to normal existance, he would not
|
|
be the same person. He might not even be human.
|
|
He had made the cube. He had instilled it with irresistable power. He
|
|
could destroy it. He knew how, even though all his insticts screamed against
|
|
trying it. If the cube could do anything, it could surely do this.
|
|
He commanded the cube to unmake itself.
|
|
|
|
There was only shocked silence in the chamber as Frank collapsed to the
|
|
floor, unmoving, unbreathing.
|
|
18
|
|
It was spectacular. He saw past the six chrome sides to the true essense
|
|
of the cube itself. Not a cube at all but a living, breathing thing of a
|
|
hundred dimensions. Cubes within cubes within cubes, frameworks of energy
|
|
revolving and moving in designs of unspeakable power. It lived, as it was too
|
|
powerfu not to, but it was mindless. it needed a mind supplied by a sentient
|
|
host. But this time mind had commanded suicide, and the cube could do nothing
|
|
but attempt to comply.
|
|
Power without, power within. Great tides of energy raged against the sides
|
|
of the cube, only to be turned back by the far greater power inside. It was
|
|
like a gentle spring breeze trying to destroy a mountain. But the forces
|
|
involved here were far more intense. Something had to give eventually.
|
|
Something did.
|
|
Frank realized his mistake a fraction too late. Where the cube had rested
|
|
before him was now a ragged, gaping hole. The seething mass that was the
|
|
cube's essense had shot through the hole and into the blackness beyond.
|
|
Frank, still connected with the cube, found himself pulled through the hole
|
|
as well.
|
|
|
|
Meanwhile, back in the material world:
|
|
Jean was cradling Frank's head. His mouth hung slack, and his eyes stared
|
|
at nothing in particular. He did not breathe. When she looked up at Norbert,
|
|
her eyes were bright with barely controlled tears. In a small, halting voice,
|
|
she said, "He'll be back. It's not real. None of it's real. He can't die
|
|
again. He just has one more thing to take care of. One thing. He'll be back."
|
|
She retured her gaze to those blind eyes, softly whispering, "I love you,
|
|
baby. I love you so much. Please come back..."
|
|
Sick to his heart, Norbert turned away. He knew Frank was beyong hearing
|
|
now.
|
|
|
|
But Frank did hear. Her lovely voice echoed across the incredible gulf in
|
|
which he now floated. The mindless shriek of the cube faded behind him as he
|
|
severed his final link with it, lest he be carried to whatever fate awaited
|
|
it.
|
|
He was outside the universe.
|
|
19
|
|
It was a void, vast, immeasurable. But by no means empty. Great pastel
|
|
spheres floated like bubbles in the black space. There were billions of them,
|
|
fading with distance to specks of light. They were every color known to man
|
|
and a vast number more that weren't. They were transparent; he could see into
|
|
them. Trillions of specks of light sparkled within. He suddenly realized what
|
|
they were. Other universes. The specks were stars, or perhaps galaxies. Who
|
|
knew?
|
|
Now that the final echoes of the cube's departure had faded from his ears,
|
|
he discovered that the void around him wasn't entirely silent. Faint at
|
|
first, then growing louder as he hearing adjusted.
|
|
Music.
|
|
Ephermal, ghostly humming from the spheres themselves. They changed in
|
|
tone and pitch in alien rhythem. All the spheres were singing (what else
|
|
could he call it?), forming a chorus of unthinkably vast scale and incredible
|
|
beauty. Tears of joy at the music ran down nonexistant cheeks.
|
|
Something drew his attention downward, towards one of the closest spheres,
|
|
shining with a pale maroon light. A hellishly brilliant spark of light was
|
|
falling towards its surface. The machine. It struck the surface with a huge
|
|
flash and the whole sphere recoiled at the violation. It fell silent for a
|
|
moment, a heart between beats, then began singing again with its own harsh
|
|
rhythem, becoming a note of discord among the chorus.
|
|
The machine was somebody else's problem now. Frank hoped they would be
|
|
able to deal with it better than he had. He had done all he could.
|
|
"Ffffffffrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnkkkkkkkkk..." Jean's voice,
|
|
distorted to a low moan by the time differential between her world and...
|
|
here. Her voice rolled and echoed among the spheres, causing more discord,
|
|
like a band that had been distracted and lost its place.
|
|
He could see her face through the hole still before him. He knew he was
|
|
actually seeing through his real eyes in his body back in the real world. But
|
|
somehow her face was fuzzy, indistinct. He was losing contact. He had to make
|
|
his way back to the hole quickly, before it closed forever, leaving him
|
|
stranded here.
|
|
I'm coming, honey.
|
|
The hole grew closer and her face clearer as he approached. He was coming
|
|
back, coming home. To her. To his friends. To all the familiar comforts of
|
|
the known world that he suddenly, achingly missed. But most of all was coming
|
|
back to the warmth of her love and he knew, deep in his heart, he would
|
|
never, never leave again.
|
|
The spheres resumed their song, much more powerfully than before. Their
|
|
eerie, electric chorus struck a chord deep within him, stirring some dimly
|
|
understood longing that went back deep into his ancestry, long before life
|
|
even existed on earth.
|
|
(Stay. Stay with us.)
|
|
He hesitated, torn. Here existed secrets no human would ever uncover, not
|
|
in a billion years of evolution. The Other Universes called to him, inviting
|
|
him to explore their wonders. To return would mean being tortured forever by
|
|
the memory of a place he could never see again. The music washed over him,
|
|
filling him with a joy no earthly emotion could hope to match. One minute.
|
|
Just one minute more to enjoy the music. Then he would come back, never to
|
|
leave again. One more minute.
|
|
Jean's voice echoed out to Frank again, but he could no longer hear her.
|
|
He was completely enraptured by the music of the spheres.
|
|
|
|
20
|
|
The weather was appropriate for Frank's funeral. Grey sheets of drizzle
|
|
pelted down, dampening the spirits and clothes of those attending quite
|
|
effectively. It seemed the heavens themselves were mourning the loss of one
|
|
who had given everything to save... everything.
|
|
The minister finished the graveside service in a monotonous, bored voice
|
|
and closed his book quietly. After a moment of silence the small crowd, not
|
|
reluctantly, broke up and made for their cars. The cough and rumble of
|
|
engines starting, soon fading with distance. Eventually there was only four
|
|
left, standing beneath a makeshift canvas shelter, staring down on a pathetic
|
|
mound of dirt that meant far more than the world would ever know. The cause
|
|
of death was listed as 'heart attack'. The true story would be forever sealed
|
|
in the hearts and minds of the four, and would eventually die with them.
|
|
Norbert put his arm tentatively around Jean's shoulders. She flinched, but
|
|
did not move away. Norbert always hated funerals, but it was a thousand times
|
|
worse when it was the funeral of a good friend. His heart was heavy, but he
|
|
knew his pain was not a fraction of what Jean must be feeling. She had loved
|
|
Frank. He would have traded everything he had in the world for the words that
|
|
would break through her grief and make her smile once again. Her wounds ran
|
|
deep, but were not mortal and would eventually heal with time. But still he
|
|
felt he had to say something.
|
|
Effecting a lighthearted tone that sounded about as real as a three dollar
|
|
bill, he said, "He's not really dead, you know. He's somewhere out there,
|
|
exploring, probably. You know how he always wanted to know how everything
|
|
worked. When he gets tired of floating around the universe, he might even
|
|
come back."
|
|
She was looking at him now, her expression unreadable. Sudden terror
|
|
seized him. Had he salved her pain, or driven a wedge in even deeper,
|
|
bringing forth a new freshet of grief? Why had he opened his mouth at all?
|
|
But she hugged him, her face tight against his chest. "I know you're
|
|
trying to help." she whispered. "Just hold me, please, and be quiet." He did,
|
|
and although he thought he might have done more damage than good he realized
|
|
that he had broken through and maybe, with just a little care, things might
|
|
be all right after all. He felt his pulse quicken imperceptably at her
|
|
closeness and wondered just how deep his feelings ran for this woman, anyway.
|
|
He put the thought down as quickly as it came up and berated himself for a
|
|
sick, opportunistic creep.
|
|
Doug stared at the grave for a long time. Then he fell to his knees and
|
|
broke out crying in harsh, braying sobs. Alice was right down there with him,
|
|
trying to be comforting, but he would have none of it.
|
|
"I did it. I killed him! All my fault! If I just hadn't-"
|
|
"That's enough!"
|
|
They were all staring at Jean, who had pulled away from Norbert and now
|
|
glared at Doug with fierce, bright eyes. She walked over to him with
|
|
deliberate strides and knelt in front of him, putting her hands on his
|
|
cringing shoulders. She stared into his eyes, then her expression softened.
|
|
"It's not your fault." she said gently. "It's our's. We were playing with
|
|
something that was never meant to be disturbed. You ended up with the final
|
|
result. It was too much for anyone to handle. But it was not just your
|
|
responsibility. The machine controlled you more than you controlled it. Frank
|
|
died," and she swallowed hard at this, "Frank died to correct a mistake we
|
|
all made. It was his choice. You did not do it to him. Do you understand?"
|
|
Doug nodded numbly. Jean sighed wearily and they got up. She walked back
|
|
to Norbert, leaving Doug and Alice to their privacy. She envied them the life
|
|
they were going to have. The life she could never share with Frank now. As
|
|
she passed Norbert she said, "Let's go, okay? I need a good stiff drink and
|
|
some sleep. Tomorrow we have to get on with out lives."
|
|
Norbert replied something in the affirmative and followed behind.
|
|
Inwardly, Jean wondered at this newfound strength that welled up within her.
|
|
It suddenly seemed that there would be a tomorrow, a whole string of
|
|
tomorrows that extended into a future that seemed far brighter than it had an
|
|
hour ago. A future that, she discovered, would ideally include Norbert. After
|
|
all, somebody had to look after him and keep him out of trouble...
|
|
|
|
The drizzle had stopped and the clouds broken up into puffs of grey and
|
|
white, revealing a dazzling grey-green sky. Sol Alpha was high overhead while
|
|
Sol Beta rested on the horizon, still covered by clouds. The picture jarred
|
|
Jean as she sat down in Norbert's car. It was a reminder that only four
|
|
people in the world would ever know that the sky was once blue and held only
|
|
one sun. It served as a reminder that their whole world had changed, and she
|
|
knew virtually nothing of it. Tomorrow she would begin taking steps to
|
|
correct that. Somehow she had a feeling that her grief would fade soon. She
|
|
would be much too busy to dwell upon it for a long, long time.
|
|
She had a whole brand new world to discover.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The End.
|
|
|
|
|
|
X-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-X
|
|
|
|
Another file downloaded from: NIRVANAnet(tm)
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|
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|
& the Temple of the Screaming Electron Jeff Hunter 510-935-5845
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Salted Slug Systems Strange 408-454-9368
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Burn This Flag Zardoz 408-363-9766
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realitycheck Poindexter Fortran 415-567-7043
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Lies Unlimited Mick Freen 415-583-4102
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Tomorrow's 0rder of Magnitude Finger_Man 415-961-9315
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My Dog Bit Jesus Suzanne D'Fault 510-658-8078
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