The War of Immensities (52 page)

“How am I?” she
asked.

“Don’t ask me.
This is my day off. I’m just a visitor.”

But Felicity
couldn’t help herself—Jami felt pressure on her wrist and a cool
hand on her cheek. “Give it to me straight, doc.”

“There’s only
two hours of visiting left. Nowhere near enough time to tell you
all of it.”

“That bad,
huh?”

“You did quite
a job on yourself, if that’s what you mean. But you do have some
bones that aren’t broken, and one or two organs that are still
working properly. You’ll live to regret your foolishness.”

“It wasn’t
foolish, Fee. It was fucking great.”

Plainly Doctor
Felicity knew how to ignore nonsense when she heard it. “The good
news is that everything that’s wrong with you will mend eventually.
Which makes you one of the luckiest people on the planet.”

She already
knew that. “What about the equipment?”

Felicity was
shaking her head in dismay. “Oh, I see. So your insanity is
completely incurable. Perhaps we shouldn’t bother with a million
dollars worth of medical science to make you well again. Maybe we
just ought to turn you over to some witch doctor and have him
sacrifice you to the volcano god and be done with it.”

Promising
idea... “Did the film come out?”

“It did. We’ve
got it here in the video—you can have a look when you’re able to
turn your head enough to see the television screen. You’ll also be
the last person on Earth to see it. It’s been shown on every news
program and everyone in the world sat in their lounge rooms and
said Wow! They also all said What a stupid person.”

So what was the
bad news? Maybe that it hurt her lips when she tried to smile. “It
was worth it, Fee. My God it was worth it. What about the
data?”

“Harley said
the data is fantastic.”

She remembered.
Bloody Harley. Asshole. “He was here...”

“Yes. He
haunted the place for three days until they assured him you would
be all right. He left when I arrived.”

“Bastard!”

“So he said.
Apparently, this was all his fault.” Felicity’s pout doubted
it.

“It was,” Jami
insisted, like a child who knew in advance that the adults would
not believe her.

Felicity
obviously caught the same metaphor. “Sooner or later, the student
must stop blaming the teacher for their shortcomings and take
responsibility for themselves.”

Bastards. They
were all in it together... “No, Fee. Really. He lied. He lied to
me. He lied to all of us. The bastard.”

Somehow
Felicity was able to shrug that off. “Okay, so he lied. Everyone
lies. Was that any reason to have yourself blown from Tanzania to
Malawi?”

“He lied about
the data, Fee. He rigged it so that everyone else would come to the
wrong conclusions.”

Incredibly,
Felicity was even patting her on the back of the hand. “You must
stop thinking about that for now, Jami. It’s making you too
excited. Your anger is registering on all the monitors.”

Indeed, it
brought the nurse with a worried look.

“But he...”

“Jami. Stop
thinking about this or they’ll have to tranquillise you again. I
mean it.”

She calmed. The
nurse stood, looking dubious and frowning as Felicity waved her
away. “It’ll be all right now. She’s calming.”

And Jami
finally felt something. Sensation at last. Something tickling her
on the cheek. Felicity reached with a tissue and wiped the tear
away. The nurse finally backed off.

“We can talk
about those sorts of things later, when you’re stronger. But put it
out of your mind for the moment, okay?”

“I
guess...”

“Have you seen
your flowers?”

There were
bright coloured blobs at the periphery of her vision. Felicity
walked around and moved them so she could see them more
clearly.

“Did you bring
them?”

“No. A lovely
little black man named Bono.”

She supposed
the dials must have gone berserk if the thrill that passed through
her system was any guide. “He came back for me!”

“Indeed he did.
He couldn’t stay but I spoke to him. He...”

Her memory was
filled with his huge toothy smile and shining black face. “He was
so worried about leaving me there.”

Felicity was
seated again and nodding. “He told me about it, Jami. His country
was blown to hell and he hadn’t slept for days but every chance he
went back and flew across the slopes and saw something yellow. It
was just your arm sticking out of the ashfall. He landed on a
thirty degree slope of hot ash halfway down the mountain and
dragged you into his helicopter and saw your camera and grabbed
that too. He thought you were dead, of course. He was so excited
when he learned you had survived.”

Her emotions
were really out of control in a way they had never been before, not
even over Glen. “My hero. Will he be coming back?”

“He, and his
helicopter, are still badly needed. It’s chaos out there. But yes,
he’ll be coming back. He found time to bring the flowers, didn’t
he?”

“Wonderful man.
I’ll marry him.”

“The planet is
full of wonderful people, Jami. It really is worth saving. And we
need you to help save it.”

It flooded back
again. “He lied to us, Felicity. I believed in that man so much and
he lied.”

“But we need
him too, Jami. Personally, I find it rather gratifying to discover
that Harley Thyssen is just another flawed human being like the
rest of us.”

“I never want
to see him again.”

“The readings
are going off the scale, Jami. Calm down. Stop thinking about
it.”

And the nurse
was there.

“Yes, I know,”
Felicity said to the authoritarian scowl and then, as she stood,
smiled down on Jami. “Put Harley out of your mind. Think about
Bono. And how he came back for you.”

Lorna Simmons
dumped her briefcase on the polished top of the mahogany table,
flipped it open, removed her cell phone, closed the case, and sat
leaning her elbows on it. Four men and six women sitting around the
table all watched her every move. She presumed she was wearing her
expectant expression. They were executives, producers, managers—it
didn’t matter who they were really and Lorna had not bothered to
learn any of their names properly. The big boss-cocky was named
Roy, and dangerous woman executive producer was named Katrina, and
the rest were generally lackeys and brown-tongues. All they were to
her were the people that called that shots at CNN.

“Okay, let me
tell you what we want?” Lorna smile blithely.

“By ‘we’, you
are referring to, who exactly?” Katrina asked, in case Lorna failed
to notice that she had an equal rival in the mini-power struggle to
follow immediately.

“The Unofficial
Project Earthshaker, for which I am merely the humble
spokesperson,” Lorna said with a coy bow and a nervous hand to her
throat.

“But who do you
speak for exactly?” Katrina persisted.

“The Project is
a collective. Media is my responsibility.”

“I see. I had
hoped you might be speaking for Harley Thyssen.”

“In part,
yes.”

“And I was
wondering why Professor Thyssen doesn’t speak for himself.”

“He doesn’t
because he has me to speak for him. And he is much too busy trying
to save the world to bother with television interviews. And he
isn’t pretty.”

“Why does he
feel he needs to be so defensive?”

It was war,
then. “Do your questions always inherently harbour their own
answers?”

“Ladies,
ladies, please...” Roy was saying placatingly.

But since both
sides believed they had won, the war was temporarily suspended.

Lorna had been
thinking a lot about Harley, and she had begun, amongst other
things, to wonder why he hid so resolutely behind her. Admittedly,
he was not the television celebrity type, but he seemed to handle
his words with care at all times and if so, why did he fear that he
might let the cat out of the bag when confronted with a
professional interviewer? And what particular cat was that, anyway?
The question was, as the likes of Katrina suspected, that if Harley
really did harbour secrets so terrible that he feared to speak
publicly, just in case such secrets slipped out? And if so, given
what was known, how much more terrible could those secrets be?

Lorna had
determined, some time ago, that she must use all of her powers to
seduce Harley Thyssen and see what could be learned on the pillow.
That little matter began to become extremely overdue.

“Okay, can we
begin?” Lorna asked, innocently.

“Please
do.”

“We wish to
prepare a documentary program to go to air on Sunday night, at
prime time, and be immediately available for syndication on all
networks right around the world within twenty-four hours.”

“Prime time
Sunday—in competition with the network movies, no doubt,” Katrina
savaged.

“No.
Beforehand. 7.30.”

“Against Sixty
Minutes. Are you kidding?”

“I think
Thirty-eight Minutes are about to get creamed, Katrina,” Lorna
smiled. “I believe that when you hear the content of the program,
there will be no problem with the timeslot demand.”

“Oh why not.
Are you sure you don’t want to go up against The Simpsons?”

Lorna stayed
calm, where Katrina was losing it completely. It was a joy to
watch. “The production will be hosted by myself and Andromeda
Starlight jointly, and will be provided to you as a package. The
intention is to explain to the world in general just exactly what
is going on, what we know about the Shastri Effect, dispel all the
myths and rumours and generally put the whole matter straight.”

“This is with a
view to—what?” Katrina demanded with a frown and a shake of her
head—as if someone had kicked her in it. But Roy stepped in
quietly—he was a blessed relief. “I presume we are looking at a
build-up to the Apocalypse...”

“Quite so,”
Lorna said. “Including details on what we can expect, and
when.”

“Won’t we look
rather silly if the dates are wrong?”

“That is
another of the issues. People do seem to keep worrying about how
they’ll cope after the end of the world.”

“Is that what
you’ll be talking about? The end of the world?” Roy gasped.

“Not entirely.
Just the facts on the Shastri Effect as they are known at this
stage.”

“Well I
hardly...” Katrina began.

But Lorna cut
her off sharply. “That’s just the build up, of course.”

“To the next
prediction?” Roy guessed.

“Exactly.”

“By which you
mean,” Katrina burst in, wounded but far from incapacitated.
“Professor Thyssen’s prediction, as opposed to the official
one.”

“I do
indeed.”

“But surely the
customary news release will be the more appropriate outlet,” Roy
was saying grimly.

“You haven’t
heard the prediction yet,” Lorna said.

“You mean you
know it?” Roy gasped.

“I know
Professor Thyssen’s preliminary guess. The confirmation will occur
before Sunday.”

“You mean you
intend to keep something like this secret until Sunday night?” Roy
said—he was beginning to sound as shrill as Katrina.

“The President
of the United States has known the preliminary guess for two months
and has seen no reason to make it public. However, the full
assessment of the data will take until the weekend, after which,
Sunday is the most appropriate release date.”

“If the release
is approved by the White House?” Katrina spluttered.

“Whether it is
or not.”

“But, for the
moment, we are going on the basis of the guess?” Roy worried.

“He’s been
right every time so far, remember?”

“But what is
this... this guess?” Katrina cried in outrage.

“Are you sure
you want to know?”

“Of course we
do!” Katrina hated it.

“Surely you
see, Miss Simmons,” Roy said with an edge to his voice. “That we
would need some idea in order to justify the prime time
demand.”

“Right now,
only the Professor, the President and myself know about it. I’m
happy to pass it on but think of the threat that a leak would be to
your exclusivity.”

“But we cannot
offer exclusivity unless you give us some idea.”

“And,” Katrina
had to add. “Obviously, that would affect the price of exclusive
rights...”

“It will be a
fixed price, whether exclusive or not.”

“I’m afraid we
cannot deal on that basis, Miss Simmons,” Katrina was sure.

But Lorna could
see she had them. Roy was regarding her now with grave concern. He
knew there would be a deal, that they would have no choice, and he
knew that Lorna would know that. Lorna was enjoying her moment of
supreme power.

“Just exactly
what sort of ballpark figure are we talking about here?” Roy asked
in that quieter, slightly embarrassed tone that people always
adopted when it came down to the bottom line.

“I should think
the largest sum of money ever paid by any network for any one-hour,
one-off program in the short but spectacular history of
television,” Lorna said blithely.

“Which is how
much?” Katrina demanded.

“I don’t know.
Check the records and you tell me.”

“I’m not
standing for any more of this,” Katrina said and she was standing
too. “It’s a con...”

“Exclusive
rights always are,” Lorna said quietly. “But, do bear in mind that
all such moneys will be poured directly into the project and
devoted entirely to the purpose of saving lives.”

“Oh my God, now
she’s the Salvation Army...”

“Project
Earthshaker, Katrina, is a non-profit organisation.”

“Miss Simmons,
you cannot...” but Katrina got no further.

“And we will
refund every penny if you’re disappointed.”