The War of Immensities (58 page)

“Maybe you
pilgrims aren’t the question. Maybe you’re the answer.”

“How do you
mean, answer?” Wagner asked. It was almost as if Thyssen had
compelled him to ask the question.

“I mean that,
either the sleepers and pilgrims are just a meaningless aberration
which means there’s nothing we can do and therefore no sense in
doing anything, or else there is some underlying purpose to them,
whereby we must explore the phenomenon and try and discover how it
works and what it is for.”

“Are you
suggesting some sort of divine purpose?” Chrissie Rice asked with
amused eyes.

“No,” Thyssen
said flatly. “I don’t think so, but I don’t know everything, and
I’m not prepared to ignore the possibility no matter how strongly I
disbelieve it. Which is why you are an essential function in the
project, Chrissie. It’s vital that you continue to explore down
those roads that my skepticism denies me.”

“Break out the
Holy Water,” Brian muttered from the background.

“I mean that no
line of thought should be disregarded, no matter how improbable I
or any of us think it to be. And you ought to know that better than
anyone, Brian Carrick, with your science fiction fantasies.”

Brian flattened
against the wall and raised protective hands. “Too true, great
white father, too true.”

Thyssen had
swivelled to face Brian and there he stayed, folding his arms
across his massive chest and continuing to stare Brian down. Brian
was, after all, a man who seemed to quit long before he gave up.
But Thyssen now spoke in his more general tone.

“You all may
have noticed, at the last event, that the focal point moved
somewhat, dragged as it were away from the northernmost extremities
of Canada across the ice cap to a point in Barents Sea, just above
North Cape in Norway. Not a lot of difference as far as the
pilgrims were concerned, but it was the presence of the new
pilgrims in Malawi that caused it. The addition of all those
Californians will drag it further south next time, to a point in
the Norwegian Sea, about halfway between Iceland and Scotland.
Still a pretty inhospitable spot, I agree.”

“Sure,”
Felicity Campbell said in subdued tones. “But since no one ever
makes it to the focal point anymore, why does that matter?”

Thyssen
dismissed it with a faint shrug. “It would make life a lot easier
for you all if you were at the focal point to begin with.”

“North Sea,”
Joe Solomon said with a shudder. “No thank you.”

“I agree,”
Thyssen said.

“But we can
move it somewhere more hospitable,” Thyssen went on. “All we have
to do, for instance, is move the Japanese pilgrims inside the
circle and, with a slight adjustment, we can drop it right on
Ireland. Very nice place, Ireland.”

“To be sure it
tis the luvliest of places,” Lorna beamed like a fine Colleen.

“And just
exactly how do you propose to move 16,000 Japanese pilgrims inside
the circle?” Brian asked with a vague air.

“I was hoping
you’d tell me...” Thyssen smiled at him.

“Actually, the
Japanese government will be glad to be rid of them,” Brian
shrugged. “It might be possible. Where do you want them to go?”

“Brazil, I
think, would be best.”

“Brazil?”

“Yes. With the
Japanese pilgrims repositioned, they could counterbalance the
Buryats, whom we cannot move, on a line which will bisect that
between the Californians and Andromeda’s Malawis, the intersection
being straight over Ireland. Now, we’ll need to work out the
precise location in Brazil that will have that effect but I suspect
it to be on the Matto Grasso, a sparsely inhabited region in the
south west of the country.”

“And what are
we to suppose the Brazilians will think when the Yellow Peril come
over the horizon?” Brian wondered.

“That’s the
sort of thing we’re here to solve,” Thyssen said lightly. “Joe, I
want you to obtain for us a nice big chunk of Brazil.”

“Sure,” Joe
said, a bemused smile on his lips but not in his eyes. “How big a
chunk?”

“Say, twice the
size of this base.”

“Ought to be a
cinch,” Joe said, and his eyes twinkled toward Brian as he said it.
“Lots of big Ranchos down that way, and for sure some of them are
going broke and on the market at a bargain price. Give us plenty of
room to move around.”

“I gather you
want all this done before the next linkage?” Felicity wondered, her
face going vague.

“If
possible.”

“With a leg in
the air,” Brian said flatly.

“Pushover,” Joe
confirmed, equally flatly.

After a
splendid dinner put together amid an unpromising cacophony of
giggles by Lorna, Chrissie and Felicity, they drank wine and told
each other exciting stories of their adventures in a broad room of
couches and coffee tables. More than once, they remarked upon their
closeness as a team, of their remarkable unity, of their deep
caring for each of the others. Even in crisis, the resentment of
Jami Shastri soon melted and the stiffness of Kevin Wagner
dissolved.

“I’ve worked
with a lot of teams,” Wagner said at one point. “I’ve never been
part of one as harmonious as this outfit.”

“I think you’d
find that if any of the other pilgrims were present, you would each
feel the same toward them,” Thyssen said to try and shatter the
mood.

“Certainly
that’s what I feel in the presence of my Italian pilgrims,”
Chrissie said thoughtfully.

“But you’re not
a pilgrim, Harley,” Andromeda pointed out. “Fee and Jami ain’t
either. But we got all them warm snugglies toward you too, no
matter how badly you fuck up.”

“Perhaps we
stand too closely in your aura,” Felicity said with a smile.

“And maybe
we’re just a bunch of folks who would have got along no matter what
happened,” Lorna supposed.

“No,” Jami put
in firmly. “It’s more than that. I really resent you for what you
did, Harley. I still do. But that doesn’t change my admiration for
you as a scientist. It just means I no longer think you’re
infallible.”

Joe Solomon
said. “I’ve always prided myself on my professional detachment from
people I’ve worked with. But that’s out of the question in this
case. Fuck it all, I—after thirty unblemished years of handling
other people’s money without the slightest temptation—and some of
my clients were very careless with their trusts and suchlike but I
never even contemplated taking advantage of them—and suddenly, I
misappropriate millions of dollars for you people, without even
thinking about it. I’m still waiting for the first twinge of
conscience. In normal circumstances, I dissolve with guilt when I
don’t have enough change to tip the taxi driver. This is something
truly strange.”

“You gotta face
it,” Lorna said. “We all love each other.”

“Yes. And with
absolute blind loyalty,” Felicity said. “It’s family stuff. We
might fight and squabble over everything, but no misdeed damages
the depth of feeling between us.”

“Or combat
units,” Wagner put in. “Guys that snarl at each other all day long
but would gladly die to protect each other any time. It is a
glimpse, I think, of that state of harmony that we will all know in
the future.”

“Or maybe it’s
just an excess of Bosons,” Brian Carrick said.

They all
groaned, but only because it had become a habit when he said
something like that. For at least two of them knew exactly what he
meant.

Andromeda
Starlight wasn’t one of them. “Don’t tell me, let me guess. Bosons
are some kind of kangaroos with an insatiable sexual appetite.”

“No. They’re
elementary particles. Quanta,” Brian said. “Right Harley?”

“Right Brian,”
Harley grinned. “But perhaps you might demonstrate your inestimable
skills by explaining the theory in a way everyone can
understand.”

“Oh, please
do,” Felicity sighed.

“Sure thing.
The elementary particles from which everything in the universe is
made, come in all sorts of weird shapes and forms, but the most
basic types are bosons and fermions.”

“Named after
blokes named Boson and Fermion, I bet,” Lorna chuckled.

“Satyendra Nath
Bose, and Enrico Fermi, who helped describe them,” Harley put in.
“Carry on, Brian.”

“Bosons are
hyperactive dudes, attracted to each other and are the basis of all
energy, such as heat and light and gravity. Fermions, mostly
electrons, are shy retiring types, avoid contact, forming the rigid
structures that everyone calls matter. Originally, everything was
bosons. The Big Bang was a godalmighty scattering of bosons, but
then the nasty old fermions began the task of converting the boson
energy into stodgy old matter. Entropy, the heat death of the
universe, is a final victory of fermions over bosons, right
Harley?”

“Not the way I
would have put it, but I have no argument.”

“Okay. So you
need both. Fermions provide substance, bosons movement and
ultimately life, since the firing neurones in your brain are
bosons, which means that thought and consciousness are bosons—the
same stuff that everything was made of before matter began to take
over. Our thoughts are the stuff that the universe is made of.”

“You mean we
made it all up?” Andromeda gasped.

“No. It made us
up. The universe thought itself into existence, and it thought us
into existence.”

“And now,” Joe
Solomon said. “It seems to be thinking us out of existence
again.”

“Would anyone
care to explain,” Chrissie said quietly but resoundingly. “The
difference between a thinking universe and God?”

“None,” Brian
said with a shrug. “Except you waste your time praying and leading
an unsinful life because the universe does not give a stuff about
us or any of its other creations. And anyway, it’s got enough
problems of its own.”

“What sort of
problems?” Chrissie wondered—not completely willing to let go of
that point.

“Like entropy,
for instance.”

“Heat death and
Hell sound like pretty much the same place to me.”

“They’re not.
At heat death, everything is utterly cold and nothing happens there
at all. And we’re all going there, no matter what.”

“I don’t know
about that,” Jami interrupted. “It’s never where we are going
that’s important. It’s the fact that we are on the way that
matters.”

“Yeah,” Wagner
said. “Humanity has always had an expansionist way about it, and
with no regard at all for the outcomes.”

“After all,”
Felicity said. “Whenever we go somewhere new, the first thing we do
is try and change it to suit ourselves.”

“And so here we
are, on a journey to the end of the universe,” Brian grinned. “And
when we get there, the first thing we’ve gonna do is try and stop
it from happening.”

One by one,
they faded away and drifted off to bed, until only the hardcore
drinkers remained, Lorna nodding off on the couch but hanging in,
Harley and Brian locked in increasingly speculative and incoherent
conversation.

On the couch,
Lorna Simmons stirred. “On the subject of all those ever-loving
bosons flying around the place, Brian, don’t you have a plane to
catch to Japan?”

“Up at
sparrow’s fart. No doubt about it. Better get some kip, right
away,” Brian stuttered. He started groping around for the door, but
then paused, looking back. “And you want all them 16,000 Japanese
in Brazil, mate. Just like that.”

“If it’s
possible, Brian.”

“She’ll be
right, mate. Don’t you worry about it.”

“I appreciate
your thoughts on these things, Brian,” Thyssen said quietly. “It
does give me things to think about.”

“Piss in the
other pocket. That one’s full.”

It took a
little time but finally he found his way out of the room.

Lorna uncurled
on the couch and braced herself. It was now or never, she knew.
Surely he must be drunk, even if he didn’t show it. Certainly, she
was properly primed. He turned his head and looked at her
quizzically—she searched his face for something faintly resembling
a leer but was unrewarded. If there was a demeanour to be observed,
it was that of a father looking upon a daughter. She needed to
change that fast. But it was Thyssen who spoke first.

“Lorna, I want
you to do something for me,” he said.

“Sure.
Anything,” she said with a shrug.

“It will be
very dangerous,” he said.

“Whatever,” she
shrugged again.

“The next event
will be in Java and I want you to be there. I want you to place
yourself right in the middle of the Zone.”

“Really?
Why?”

“Because
someone has to do it. A pilgrim. Someone I can be sure of. The
others all have important tasks to perform but since we’re now the
top news story, the media stuff can manage itself for the
moment.”

“Oh I get it.
It’s really me who is redundant.”

“No. This is
very important.”

“Why?”

“Because we
need data. We need to know what happens when a pilgrim gets a
double dose.”

Lorna thought
about it. In fact she couldn’t see what harm it might do, nor why
it mattered. But there was a severity in Harley’s tone that worried
her.

“Sure, fine,
what’s the problem?” she said blithely.

“It may kill
you. Also, depending on the relationship of the Zone and the
seismic activity, the earthquakes or volcanoes might get you. You
may be out there unconscious for some time—we just have no idea
what will happen to you. And we need to know.”

“So I just go
there and find a nice soft place to fall and wait for it to
happen.”

“It’ll be a
little more complicated than that. We’ll have your telemetry fully
wired.”

“So you’ll know
whether I’m dead or alive before I do.”

“If you must
put it like that.”