Seven Point Eight (59 page)

“Yes, it sounds really sadistic and masochistic,” he responded.

“Let’s make that the last,” I insisted. “Stick with what we know. There are plenty of worlds worth exploring in more depth.”

Paul considered my request.

“One more new world,” he persuaded, “and I swear no more after that. For me?”

He kissed me on the lips and reluctantly, I agreed.

So a week later, I sat in the machine, holding hands with Beth and Peter. ‘Good Vibrations’ gave us a send off, and I hoped for a more positive experience.

I swept up Beth and Peter’s consciousnesses, and we emerged in a dark and formidable world. The light quality seemed artificial, created by an odd luminous orb in the sky. It looked like a sun in some ways, but it emitted an eerie light that seemed manufactured. I saw a host of machines around it, although I couldn’t figure out what they were doing.

Looking over, I found Beth and Peter had taken a familiar form and they appeared to be bewildered by this world.

“Do you want to view the artificial star?” I asked them.

“Will we be safe up there?” Beth asked.

“Don’t worry, you’re with me. We need to give a good report on our return,” I replied.

I scooped them up, focusing my consciousness on the manufactured sun and within a moment, we floated close to one of the machines. A distraction tried to divert my attention when I realised entities piloted the machines, but I decided to focus on the activities at the artificial star first.

The machines penetrated the surface of the sun, a kind of silvery liquid that gave off the eerie iridescent light. Inside the sun, explosions erupted frequently, the sound waves of which were low and booming, reverberating across the deep grey sky. Peter had an idea what they might be doing.

“They could be mining it,” he said, although not a hundred percent certain.

For a split second, I pushed my consciousness inside it to take a look and found an amazing spectacle. At the centre, I saw a huge metallic globe with serpents of electricity running across it. It wasn’t solid metal, it was liquid like the element inside a thermometer and when I looked closely, I noticed it spun on itself like a tornado, or vortex. It began to swell and the electric serpents began to pulse faster and faster. It built up to an explosion and then it contracted again. I understood the process and returned to Beth and Peter, who were relieved to see me again.

“We thought you’d left us, got kidnapped or something,” Beth said.

“I just wanted to confirm what they’re doing,” I explained. “They’re not mining it, they’re feeding it, they’re operating the star.”

Peter looked fascinated.

“Such amazing technology!” he said with utter admiration in his voice. “What our governments would do to get their hands on this!”

A worrying thought flickered across my mind, but I quelled it so it didn’t spoil the visit.

“Let’s scout the rest of this world before the field powers down,” I suggested.

We turned away from the artificial sun to survey the mechanised world itself. Beneath us lay a world so completely artifice, it was stunningly beautiful as well as being so utterly alien and inorganic. We saw a vast plain of metal skyscrapers and towers, each swarming with machines. At the top of some of the towers, vast spindles projected outwards in a spiral and the machines landed and took off from the ends of these. Vast mechanical spiders crawled over the exterior of the buildings, but I couldn’t tell if they were the entities that lived here or some form of transport.

Meanwhile, at ground level, we saw signs of life. The street plan, for want of a better word, looked like the circuit boards that you might find if you took apart a radio, and small machines whizzed along the connecting lines between the different elements that stood proud.

However, something stood out in the distance, a huge elevator. It rose majestically from the ground and projected quite a distance upwards, terminating at some kind of station where machines parked and departed. The shaft of the elevator was thick, and contained about four separate lifts, or capsules.

“Let’s take a look,” I suggested, “see if we can find out what beings live here.”

Beth and Peter agreed, feeling more comfortable in this world now.

We moved towards the station and observed some small people moving from the machines to the lift capsules. They were pale skinned, like a whitish grey and about the size of a seven year old child. These beings wore no clothes, but had nothing to cover up because they had no discernable sexual organs. I indicated to Beth and Peter that we should follow, so I focused on two particular individuals and latched onto them.

The doors of the capsule sealed themselves shut, creating a seamless join and we found ourselves standing in the lift with the entities. We saw them more clearly now. They had huge black eyes, small slits for the nose and barely perceivable ears, which had a sharp tip. Their head was quite broad at the crown, and tapered to a point at the chin.

“They look like elves!” Beth exclaimed, in a whisper.

“Ugly ones too,” Peter added.

I thought for a moment they were aware of our presence, as one of the elves, for want of a better name, looked at us out of the corner of an eye. Neither of them turned their head so I assumed we hadn’t been detected. We watched as they interacted with a small console set into the wall of the lift capsule. A thick beam of whitish-blue light shot out of it and met a point on the entity’s forehead, between where its eyebrows should be. After a few moments, the light beam retracted, and the two entities looked at each other as if in silent communication.

Again, I thought one of them looked at us surreptitiously. At that point, I felt an intense pain in my head. I’d never known such agony and it consumed me totally, so I didn’t notice whether Beth and Peter were affected too. I felt my consciousness sink, as if I were collapsing to the floor and the headache got worse. Accompanying it, I heard an awful roaring sound building to a crescendo.

“Please stop,” I heard myself beg, not knowing whom to address..

I felt as if my head were about to explode and I couldn’t take it anymore. Hearing myself scream, I clutched my head, feeling the roaring, the pounding, and the pain threaten to destroy me mentally.

These elves were trying to kill me.

They sought to destroy my mind.

They wished to annihilate my soul.

As I reached breaking point, this world began to fade. The interior of the machine came into view, and I found myself holding my head in my hands. Paul must have noticed on the monitoring screen as he came rushing in, looking worried. I realised that Beth and Peter were staring at me, but for some reason, they felt no excruciating pain.

“Tahra!” Paul said, urgently.

Slowly, I removed my hands from my head. Despite how scared I felt, the pain no longer existed, although the memory of it did.
 
I looked at Paul and saw the concern in his eyes, but I didn’t want to worry him so I put on a brave smile.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes, I just met the machine elves,” I responded, “and they’re not very friendly.”

He didn’t understand what I meant although Beth did. She got up from her seat and put her arm around me.

“I think our guide here needs a stiff drink,” she said, leading me away.

We moved into the main farmhouse and when we entered the lounge, I discovered Max seated on the sofa, drinking coffee and reading a newspaper. He began to smile when he saw me, but when he noticed that Beth had her arm around me, his expression changed and he put his newspaper down, rising to his feet.

“Everything all right?” he enquired.

“She needs a few minutes,” Beth explained.

Max dismissed her with a little wave of his hand and we were both alone in the sitting room. Someone else tried to enter the room but Max insisted on my undivided attention for the next ten minutes. The room fell oddly quiet and he gazed at me with genuine concern, so I stood up straight, smiled politely and asked what he wanted to see me about.

He paused, then reached into his jacket and pulled out a letter.

“It was addressed to me,” he began, “but you need to read it.”

“Who’s it from?” I asked.

“Your parents,” he replied.

It suddenly dawned on me that I hadn’t written to them all year and I started to feel guilty, but when I read the letter, I realised I should have maintained contact.

“I failed to keep them updated too,” he apologised.

The contents of the letter were badly timed, asking why I hadn’t returned home because they believed I’d finished my course of study, and fulfilled the obligations of the agreement made between Max and my father. I held the letter, not knowing how to respond at first. I thought of how angry my father would be and without warning, I found myself standing before my parents.

“Why hasn’t Mr Richardson telephoned me?” I heard my father say, irately, “He will have received the letter by now!”

“He’s a busy man,” my mother remonstrated. “I’m sure he’ll contact you soon.”

“It is not right!” he complained. “I have a husband here, ready to marry her on return. If I don’t hear from Mr. Richardson in the next two days, we are flying out there!”

I jumped back into my body and found Max clicking his fingers in front of my face.

“Tahra!”

I focused on his face, noting the worried expression.

“You don’t look good,” he told me.

For some reason, tears began to roll down my cheeks. He reached out and wiped them away.

“You don’t have to go back,” he told her. “Just speak the words and I’ll sort this out.” Then he added, in a more subdued tone, “You’re my best asset, I don’t want to lose you.”

“Am I just a business asset to you?” I asked, although I don’t know why I said it.

He didn’t answer affirmative or contradict it, his face remained deadpan. Finally, he responded to my question.

“You don’t have to go back,” he repeated. “You’re too valuable.”

I gathered myself together and declared, “I don’t want to go back. I’m not my father’s little Persian princess any more, I’m my mother’s daughter, a free spirit; a free English spirit.”

Max smiled, and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, using it to wipe away from tears.

“I’ll have my lawyer draw up a legal and binding contract giving you indefinite stay in this country. Even though you were born here, you still need an income and a home to be independent of your family. Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” I said with certainty, “this is my home now.”

However, the tears didn’t stop. Now he stepped up his concern.