Genesis (3 page)

It was a dark and stormy night;

*Mary loved spring storms. She loved the
lightning, and she especially loved the thunder. It was a perfect night. She
would time it with a thunder-clap, and her neighbors would never know a thing. Not
that they would even care, they had their own problems to deal with, but Mary
was considerate of others, and would continue being so until the very end.

Up until recently, Mary had considered
herself one of the lucky ones. She was smart, had her duct tape and plastic
sheeting long before the Emergency Broadcast Service announced that there was
some sort of biological terrorist attack happening. While her neighbors wasted
precious time running off to the store to find what was needed, she had managed
to seal herself completely from the outside world. Many of her neighbors never
came back. Those that did came back empty handed.

She had considered herself lucky.

Until the fever.

It was just the flu, she kept telling
herself, nothing to worry about. But now she was worried. This morning she
coughed up blood. She was infected, and she knew it. She wondered how long she
had left. It didn’t help that almost every video clip she had seen on the Internet
was different. Which made sense, since every person’s immune system would fight
differently. But every clip always ended the same way, and so far she had
lasted longer than most, but there was no sense putting it off any longer.

Mary picked up the revolver from the
bedside table. A Smith and Wesson 357. It had been her father’s service
revolver, and she had had it ever since his funeral. He was buried in uniform,
and Mary had slipped it from his holster and put it in her purse in the final
moments before the coffin lid was closed. She thought her father would consider
it a waste to be buried with his weapon, and so she had asked her stepmother
for it, but she had said no.

Mary had never stolen anything before in
her life, but she felt justified. Even though her father was a cop, she knew he
would have been proud of her for stealing it.

Mary stared at the gun in her hand.

You should have come up with something
better…All those years of college and this is your solution? At the very least,
build some sort of Rube Goldberg device to pull the trigger. Have some self-respect
for Christ sake.

“Shut the fuck up.” She said aloud to the
voice inside her head.

It was her own voice, and it was nitpicking
as always. She shrugged it off, then poured herself another shot of tequila.

In one swift motion Mary drank the shot
then tossed the empty shot glass across the room and into the empty fireplace. It
shattered into a hundred little pieces upon impact.

“Mazel tov!” she giggled.

The sound of the breaking glass triggered a
thought.

She froze completely, afraid for a moment
that if she made any movement the thought might slip from her mind and
disappear forever.

A convex regular polychoron in an eight
cell octachoron hypercube.

“Son of a bitch!” she screamed at the top
of her lungs.

In the Petrie polygon format she was used
to working with, it would not be obvious, but as a wire-framed orthographic
projection, it all made sense.

Shit.

Mary put the gun down.

She had to tell Dr. Cooper.

Killing herself would have to wait.

If Dr. Cooper was still alive, she needed
to make the effort to tell him. It was his life’s work after all. Maybe they
would celebrate and then wait for end together.

Or maybe Dr. Cooper could just do it for
her.

Dr. Cooper had never really liked to
socialize outside of work, but he did always say that she could drop by
anytime, and since the phones had been dead for some time, that was her only
option.

Mary looked out the window of her
apartment. The streets were clear, and had been for some time. No movement at
all. Everyone was either locked inside hiding or long gone, having made a
scramble to ‘safer ground,’ whatever or wherever that may be.

By car, she could make it there in thirty
minutes, maybe a little less depending on traffic. She laughed out loud for the
first time in a week. Traffic won’t be a problem. The stores had been empty for
a few days, and so were all the gas stations. No one ventured out anymore, and
especially not after dark. Mary tried to decide if she needed anything, looking
back at the gun sitting on the table.

No, she didn’t need anything.

She was prepared to die, and if she
encountered something on the way to Dr. Coopers, then so be it. She tore the
plastic off her front door and headed down to the parking lot. With every step
she took, she inhaled deeply. No biological weapon detected, but then again,
she was smart enough to know that the human nose was not considered to be a
particularly acute instrument. The dominant scent in the air tonight was one of
her favorite smells of all, petrichor.

Petrichor
,
or the scent of rain falling on dry earth, is caused by a couple of chemical
compounds in the soil, one of them known as geosmin. Geosmin is produced by
several types of bacteria and algae, and is kicked up when the rain disturbs the
soil. As weak as the human nose may be, it can detect geosmin in the air at
levels of just ten parts per trillion, something that Mary knew as a scientist,
and something Mary knew that meant geosmin played a very important role in the
evolutionary process of humans. The theory she liked was that the ability to
detect this one chemical element on such a low level was perhaps some sort of
genetic survival trait since it was easy to imagine a tribe of early humans
trudging their way across a vast swath of territory in some arid region looking
for water. Bactrian camels in the Gobi desert, which are able to detect water
for up to fifty miles, are actually smelling geosmin carried by the wind from
the oases.

She could use a Bactrian camel tonight, she
thought to herself as she tuned the ignition on and the low fuel light came on;
at least it would get her most of the way. Mary had started to back out of her
parking spot when she saw them in the rearview mirror. Two boys stood near the
dumpster, trying to hide themselves from the light of her taillights.

The taller of the two boys sheepishly waved
after realizing he had been seen. Mary wondered if there were infected.

Did it really matter at this point?

The boys just stood there, staring at Mary
and her car, bathed in the warm red glow of the taillights. Mary stared into
the mirror and then…could it possibly be?

Mary put the car in park.

It had to be the fever. Tommy would be
eighteen now, not a young boy. The fever had to be causing her to imagine things.

What she was seeing was impossible.

Then she remembered her entire reason for
being in the car in the first place. That was impossible too; a convex regular
polychoron in an eight cell octachoron hypercube in dynamic mutation.

Maybe not impossible. Highly improbable
perhaps, but it was technically possible.

Mary got out of her car and walked with
purpose to the boys. The smaller boy quickly hid behind the taller one. Could
it be? Mary couldn’t be certain until she got closer.

It wasn’t the fever.

The older boy sheepishly smiled.

“Hi, Mom.”

The rain fell in torrents, except at
occasional
intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind that swept up the
mountainside, rattling along the tree-tops, and fiercely agitating the scant
flame of the small brass ship’s lantern that struggled against the darkness.

*Christopher used his free hand to shield
the top of the lamp’s glass chimney from the wind and rain as he moved forward
carrying the lantern towards the entrance of the mineshaft. The rocks were wet,
and it was a treacherous endeavor, not made any easier by the fact he could not
use his hands to help him. Christopher had been to the mine many times, but
never alone. He had always come with his grandfather, but not tonight. Tonight
it was all up to him.

Christopher made his way down into the
mineshaft and the flame from the lantern began to steady itself until it was no
longer in danger of being extinguished from the wind. He stopped and set the
lamp on a large rock, then knelt down and warmed his hands over the flame. He
was drenched to the bone, his wet shirt and jeans clinging to his youthful
frame. He was cold and should have worn a jacket, but the rain felt good after
such a long winter. As cold as it was, it was worth it; Christopher was smart
enough to know that he could die on the way back to the farm tonight, and he
loved the feel of rain on his skin. Any chance he could, especially now, he
would go out in the rain. Anytime could be the last time.

He picked up the lantern and started
walking deeper into the mine. The shaft was long, and it would take him some
time, one of the things he had little of, but his instructions from his grandfather
were clear. A flashlight would have been better suited for the task at hand,
but every time they visited the mine, his grandfather had always insisted that
no metals other than copper and zinc be allowed in. Brass, being an alloy made
of both copper and zinc, was also permissible. His grandfather had explained
why to him once when he was younger, something about the special
electromagnetic properties of the rare-earth minerals contained in the shaft
and surrounding veins, but the lecture had come the same day that he had
discovered the love of his young life, and Christopher had been daydreaming at
the time, and at many times since.

“Are you an honest man?” Christopher
whispered into the darkness, hearing his own words echo down the shaft. It was
a tradition he and his grandfather had started the first time they had explored
the mine. A simple question whispered into the darkness, followed by a pause to
await the echoed return. He had always been fascinated as a young child by the
stories his grandfather told him of Diogenes of Sinope, and even with
everything going on in the outside world, Christopher could not help thinking
of him while carrying his own lantern into the darkness.

Diogenes of Sinope was a Greek philosopher
and one of the founders of cynic philosophy. Diogenes believed that virtue was
better revealed in action than in theory, and he used his simple lifestyle and
behaviors as a way to criticize the social values and institutions of what he
saw as a corrupt society. Diogenes even once publicly mocked Alexander the
Great, something most people did not do back in those days, and he quickly
became notorious for his philosophical stunts. Most notably, Diogenes was known
for wandering around ancient Greece carrying a lantern in search of an honest
man, which he never found.

Christopher had no expectations of finding
anyone, honest or otherwise. The mine had been abandoned off and on over the
years, and the last real significant mining activity had occurred during the First
World War when it was mined for its high grade zinc to be used the war effort.
After the war, it had been closed up with a large pile of rocks and boulders at
the entrance, awaiting use at some point in the future when the price of zinc
would rise, thus justifying the expense of removing the material from such a
remote site. By the time the Second World War erupted, newer sources of zinc
had been discovered, and with cheaper extraction and delivery costs of the raw
materials to the factories, this zinc mine had been long forgotten. Forgotten
by everyone except his grandfather.

Christopher and his grandfather had spent
two summers removing rock and ruble by hand, carefully and discreetly, always
cautious of rockslides and always cautious to hide their progress and make it
look as if the old mine was still sealed up completely. Not that anyone ever
came to check. The mine was both remote and forgotten.

Christopher’s feet walked through a large
puddle of water. He had reached the halfway point. He took a piece of chalk out
of his pocket and scrawled something on the rock wall, then continued on his
way.

Following the mineral vein, the mine was
not straight, nor was it level. It made turns and dips, the largest dip long
ago having filled with water from some unseen spring. It was the freshest water
he had ever tasted, and it was always cold. The water was perfect treat on a
hot summer day after a long hike up the mountain to do help his grandfather
with his work inside the mine.

What exactly his grandfather was doing was
well beyond the grasp of Christopher. His grandfather wasn’t exactly the open
book sort of guy, and he kept a lot of secrets. Whenever he asked, he always
got the same reply.

“It’s need-to-know, and right now, you
don’t need to know. Besides, you can’t even begin to comprehend it.”

Initially, he argued with his grandfather,
who would simply retort with some mathematical theorem and then stare at the
floor of the mine and mumble under his breath for hours.

Fair enough. As long as someday he was
brought into the loop, he had thought. Typically, he would just bring a book to
read and would sit at the entrance of the mine, officially on guard duty, but
mostly just absorbed in whatever book he was reading at the moment. His
grandfather liked him to read non-fiction books, mostly field guides and plant
identification and survival manuals, but he was also ‘forced’ to read the
classics—something else he had fought at first, but then actually found himself
enjoying more and more with each novel he completed. He paused for a moment,
briefly sad that he could not remember the last time he actually sat down and
read a book. How times have changed.

The last dog-leg turn to the left. The end
of the shaft would be just up ahead. His instructions were simple. Leave the
lamp, with plenty of fuel, at the end of the shaft, and then return to the
rendezvous point. Simple enough.

The shaft ended abruptly, in a perfectly
vertical wall of deep black granite. Christopher could see the chalked
notations of various equations scrawled on the wall in his grandfather’s handwriting.
He smiled. On the ground, at the base of the wall, a pile of rocks formed a
small cairn. Each time his grandfather had come to the mine, he had carried
with him a rock or mineral of some sort that he had collected over his years of
travel and put it into the pile. This cairn some two thousand feet into the
center of the earth had rocks in it from all over the world. Feldspar, limestone,
talc, quartz, jasper, fluorite…rocks and minerals of every kind.

Christopher set the ship’s lantern down and
turned and walked back into the darkness. He would have no light on his return
journey, something he was prepared for. Allowing his eyes to adjust to the
darkness of the mine before going back outside would only help him. And he
needed every advantage he could get if he were going to make it back to the
farm alive.

They say time is relative, and for
Christopher, it certainly was. The walk back to the entrance of the mine was
the longest walk he had ever taken, even though it took no longer than the walk
a few minutes previous. Even though he knew with absolute fact that he was in a
secure area, being in the dark was something that not very many people chose to
do anymore these days, and for good reason.

But he had good reason.

The last time Christopher was alone in the
dark, he wet is pants from fear.

And that was last week.

No one knew about that incident, but
Christopher needed to prove once and for all, to himself, that he was ready for
the world he knew was coming. Ready for the trust that his friends and family
were going to be placing in him. Christopher fought back the fear as he made
his way forward. He could feel the anxiety building in his stomach, and the
pressure building in his bladder.

There was a bright flash of light ahead,
followed immediately by the sound of thunder that echoed down the mineshaft. That
bolt struck nearby, he thought to himself as he was momentarily blinded by the
flash, and he closed his eyes to give them time to adjust.

One Mississippi…two Mississippi…three
Mississippi.

He opened his eyes and made his way
forward, this time able to use both of his hands as he climbed up the rubble
pile at the entrance to the mine. He could feel the rain hitting his face as he
climbed up into the darkness. The wind was howling.

Christopher had been taught to always wait
a moment at the entrance to the mine to make sure it was clear and no one was
around before he made himself visible, but he was in a rush to get out of the
mine before his bladder exploded. His jeans were already wet, and he didn’t
need them drenched with urine, too.

He burst out of the mineshaft almost at
full sprint, internally celebrating his victory over his personal fear of the
dark. He found a spot that was slightly sheltered from the wind and rain and
paused, relieved to be out of the mineshaft. It was dark outside, but not like
the darkness inside the mountain. That was a different kind of dark.

On any other night, Christopher would have
heard the sounds of the approaching thing coming up from behind, but tonight,
the rain and the wind rattling the tree-tops helped to obscure the sound of the
approaching danger. The thing was almost upon him when Christopher glanced
backward. He hadn’t really heard anything, but a nagging feeling in his gut
made him turn his head at the exact moment the thing lunged for him.

If one thing happened before the other, it
was unobservable to the naked eye, and indeed if one had been watching, it
would have looked as if Christopher did the two things simultaneously: wet his
pants from fear, and began to run down the mountain at full speed. But
Christopher knew, and inside it made him feel even more ill-prepared for the
night than he already was.

At least the rain would wash away the
evidence.

In the dark they’re nice and slow…

He slowed to a swift walk as he repeated
his grandfather’s mantra in his head. As disappointed in himself as he was, he
was mature enough to understand it was actually quite remarkable that he was
out and about. Most kids his age were locked inside their homes with their
parents, trying to wrap themselves in plastic, and here he was, a sixteen-year-old
kid with nothing more than a machete, roaming around the countryside running
errands for his grandfather as if nothing had happened in the world at all.

His posture got a tad better, and a bit of
self-esteem returned the farther he got from the mineshaft.

Mission accomplished.

Besides, the rain would wash the urine from
his pants before he got home, and no one would be the wiser; and with that, the
torrential rain stopped as suddenly as it has started, and he could see the
stars again peeking through holes in the clouds for the first time that night.

It looked like it was just going to be one
of those days.