The Prophet of Queens Read online

  Stan said, “The event horizon isn’t a barrier, it’s an access point.”

  Ariel wasn’t breathing easy yet.

  Max took a longer drag, and sent a more substantial plume into the blackness.

  Again, nothing.

  The scent reached Ariel, and she grimaced. It called to mind revival meetings Mom and Phil used to drag her to on hot afternoons like this, under much larger tents. Ariel wondered what Mom would think of this diabolical apparition and the sorcery they were performing on it. Ariel couldn’t care less what Phil would think.

  Stan switched on a flashlight and joined Max. In the shade of the tent, the beam revealed contrails of smoke. But directed into the hole, beam and smoke were visible only to the point of the event horizon, nothing but clear darkness beyond.

  Stan moved opposite Max to angle the light across the width of the hole, saying, “Again.”

  Max launched more smoke, and it sailed through the beam to vanish, showing that external sources of light didn’t illuminate the void. Stan made that observation, and Tia took notes.

  For the next experiment, Max extended his hand to Ariel, wiggling his fingers. She felt like a magician’s assistant. Pouring a tiny amount of talcum powder into a spoon, she handed it to him, and he blew the contents into the hole. To no effect. He turned back to her for the next substance. Powdered zinc. Again, no reaction.

  They progressed through denser powders without apparent consequence, finally arriving at the last item. Rock salt. Larger than any material yet tested. Ariel poured from a box into a bowl, dispensing more than she intended. The crystals ranged in mass from dust to pea-sized.

  “I’ll try a single grain, first” Max assured the others. “A small one.”

  Using tweezers, he picked out a granule, displayed it to the camera, turned, and flicked it in the hole. It vanished without a sound. He graduated to larger specimens, flinging them in one-by-one, to no effect. Then using the spoon, he scooped up a small amount and tossed it in. Nothing.

  He shrugged, and playing to the camera, grinned and chucked in the entire bowlful.

  The others gasped, there was a brief pause, and suddenly the vortex erupted in bright blue flashes and loud bursts. Everyone shrieked and ducked for cover, tent filling with smoke.

  Fast as it occurred, it was over.

  Max coughed, “Everybody okay?”

  The others reported in, voices rattled. Ariel was stunned.

  Literally, her heart hummed as if defibrillated, nerves tingling, arm and neck hairs prickled. She saw Tia’s chopped hair bristled like a hedgehog.

  From somewhere in the fog, Stan cried, “What happened?”

  “I-I don’t know,” Max said, bravado knocked back.

  The men picked themselves up, grabbed the women and camera, and hustled out to the “safe” side of the Trapping Horizon.

  Looking back, they saw the vortex restored to its former state, regarding it with newfound respect as it completed its phases and dissolved.

  Chapter 40

  Sunday, October 7, 2:23 pm

  Talawanda

  They regrouped in the living room, still shaking. How close they’d come to losing their lives was anyone’s guess.

  “That was a stupid-ass thing you did,” Tia snapped at Max.

  He shrugged. “I was a bit hasty. I’ll stick to protocol next time.”

  As contrite as Ariel had ever seen him.

  Tia was not appeased. “There’ll be no next time till we know what the hell happened and how to avoid a recurrence.”

  “There could be a simple explanation,” Stan said. “Maybe the hole can only absorb so much at one time, and we supersaturated it.” He held up the video camera from the tent. “This may tell us. If the recording survived the blast.”

  He switched on the TV to connect the camera to it, and Ariel saw breaking news. The headline invoked groans from all:

  NY governor calls to suspend TPC collider tests

  Max snorted, “The sonofabitch was all smiles when TPC brought in construction jobs.”

  With the recession, even some progressive politicians had gone knee-jerk reactionary. And now it appeared another domino in the collider game was toppling. Ariel worried how much longer they had before their window on the universe closed for good.

  Stan plugged their camera into the TV, and fortunately the video seemed unaffected by the explosions. Appearing on screen was a high-def recording of the last run, crystal-sharp, vortex dark and sinister against the canvas backdrop. Stan fast-forwarded until just before the mishap, then continued at normal speed as everyone leaned in.

  Once again, Max hurled the rock salt into the hole. There was a brief pause, then the image bloomed white, and the audio blared bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang.

  Ariel saw no obvious explanation for the eruptions.

  Max said, “Run it again, slower. And move in tighter on the rim.”

  Stan re-cued and zoomed in on the inner right edge of the vortex where most of the explosions occurred. He repeated in slomo without audio, and Ariel watched a giant bowl swing into view discharging its contents. At this reduced speed, and with no sound, the blasts were no longer startling, if no more revealing.

  “Again,” Max directed. “Tighter and slower, still.”

  Stan took them in as close as resolution allowed, inner edge of the vortex forming a border on the right of the screen, the remainder of the picture black. Ariel was enthralled to see a few coarse rocks of salt magnified into little asteroids, tumbling lazily into view from the lower left foreground. They diminished in size as they approached the hole, disappearing into the void, trailed by a residue of powder that also vanished. But as was now apparent, a wisp of residue reached the rim, causing blue-white microbursts to flare. More and more, coalescing in a chain reaction that blinded the camera.

  “Aha!” Stan cried. “Salt dust. The rim is sensitive to matter.”

  Ariel shuddered to think what might have happened had Max brushed against it.

  Tia said, “I don’t get it. The tent was thick with tobacco smoke, that didn’t have any affect.”

  “Smoke particulates are much smaller than dust,” Stan said. “The rim must have a tolerance level for size. Or quantity. Or substance. But the hole itself isn’t a problem.”

  “Correct,” Max said. “It’s time we got a look from inside it.”

  Tia folded her arms across her chest. “Oh no, we don’t.”

  “We’ve shown the hole is permeable. What more do you want?”

  “Tossing stuff in isn’t the same as sticking a camera through. Jump in the air and touch a high voltage wire, nothing happens. Do it from the ground, you’re toast. Till we know better what we’re dealing with, no direct contact.”

  Seeing the others in agreement, Max folded his arms, too.

  Ariel thought she’d noticed something else in the video, asking Stan, “Can we see it again? And this time, can you concentrate on the hole alone? And slow the speed to a crawl.”

  Stan focused on the center of the aperture, ignoring the rim. Once more Ariel watched the fusillade of salt rocks enter screen left, disappearing into the void as the camera was blinded periodically by mini flashes.

  “Play it again, Stan,” she asked. “Even slower.”

  Stan obliged, and just prior to the point of the explosions, Ariel cried, “Stop!”

  The image froze on blackness, and she approached the TV pointing to the lower center of the screen, away from where the bursts were about to occur.

  “Once more,” she asked. “Everybody, watch this area.”

  The video repeated, and Ariel saw a crystal of salt appear in the darkness. As it tumbled, its facets picked up flashes of explosion. But it was moving away from the hole, growing in size slightly before exiting bottom screen.

  Max screwed up his face. “It’s heading the wrong way. Did the blast repel it?”

  “No,” Ariel said. “Watch close, it happens between the blasts.” She told Stan, “R
ewind a half second, zoom in far as you can, and advance frame-by-frame.”

  Stan did so, and the evidence was indisputable. The granule, larger and clearer now, could be seen departing the hole, moving toward the camera and off screen. And it wasn’t the only one. With the tighter focus, Ariel saw more granules careening away in various directions.

  Tia said, “I’ll be damned. Some rocks struck the event horizon and bounced off.”

  “Not the event horizon,” Ariel said. “The rocks disappear briefly before rebounding, and ricochet in different directions. Whatever they struck, it’s inside the hole.”

  Max looked stunned. “But only a few rocks. Why not all?”

  As the others continued to study the video, Tia excused herself to head back to the tent and look for rejected crystals. She returned shortly with tweezers and a baggie.

  Shaking the bag, she said, “Eleven, if Max didn’t spill any.”

  “Positive,” he said. “Same number we counted in the video.”

  Stan fetched a microscope, and they gathered at the coffee table to examine specimens. No signs of scorching or other adverse effects, rocks none the worse for their roundtrip to wherever.

  A stillness settled over them, and Stan said, “I can think of only one explanation. Our singularity has an obstruction inside. Something with an irregular shape that repels the rocks at odd angles. What we’ve got here is either an inter-dimensional aneurism, or a wormhole.”

  Inter-dimensional aneurism: a point in the membrane separating this universe from another where the membrane balloons, threatening to burst. Like the bulging of a weakened wall in a human artery. If so, the prospects for the team could not be more extreme. Should the singularity be an aneurism, to continue their tests risked rupturing it. And possible annihilation.

  On the other hand, if it proved a wormhole, the prospects were staggering. A wormhole was a portal to another place, universe or dimension. A door enabling objects to pass through. And in this case, apparently in both directions. But as Ariel could imagine, such a trip would likely be lethal for living beings. The journey could wreak havoc on a body’s cells and functions, not forgetting the dangers of whatever lay on the other side: heat, cold, radiation, the vacuum of space. Nor was human passage even possible in this instance. The hole was too small, the edge too volatile for so much as a child to safely squeeze through.

  Regardless, if they could prove the singularity a wormhole, their finding would be on the order of Columbus discovering the New World. New Worlds, perhaps.

  “It’s a wormhole,” Max said. “We’ve observed it from day one, nothing’s entered it but what we’ve thrown in. Whatever’s repelling the rock salt, it’s preexisting, it didn’t come from here.”

  Stan nodded, but Tia said, “The risks are too great to assume anything. We need more tests.”

  Ariel felt giddy. They were explorers on the threshold of a new frontier, and for someone so devoted to research, it was the most appealing dream imaginable.

  Max asked her, “What was it you said about giving people a star to reach for? Promising the moon?” He smiled at her with a warmth she hadn’t felt in ages. “Budget be damned, I say we go out tonight and celebrate.”

  Chapter 41

  Sunday, October 7, 11:52 pm

  Ithaca, New York

  Tia and her friends were in high spirits after a wonderful evening. Max had driven everyone to Ithaca for dinner, a real city for a change, leaving pressures and protesters behind. They’d stayed out too late, drank more and spent more than they should have, entirely worth it. It reminded Tia of how cohesive their little team could be when Max’s moods were stable. Precisely what they needed if they hoped to achieve their ambitious goals.

  Over supper, everyone had agreed to Tia’s stipulations that they continue their cautious, low-tech approach to prying secrets out of the vortex. And Max promised to rein in his impulses.

  Stan took the wheel heading home, despite Max’s slurred insistence he could drive. Tia sat in the back with Ariel, wind whistling through the taped-up rear window. A full moon gleamed above, and Tia dared hope they’d touch its surface yet.

  But she had a more grounded concern now. She’d seen the way Ariel and Max had been looking at each other tonight. Ever since Ariel dumped him, he’d been angling for an “in,” awaiting a chance to restore his wounded pride. Only a matter of time before he made his move, and given how it ended last time, it added a volatility neither Ariel nor the team could afford.

  The surest means to avoid catastrophe was to remove Ariel from Max’s clutches. But that wasn’t going to happen so long as they were held here by the enigma in the front yard. The answer was to get to the bottom of that hole fast, and move on before Ariel’s resistance wore out.

  Tia sighed, swearing under her breath. After all, she was responsible for Ariel and Max’s doomed affair. Eyes on the moon, she drifted back to the moment everything changed. To their first summer here, the day she woke before dawn and walked in on Ariel preparing to flee…

  The form Tia encountered in the shower that morning wasn’t human, but a white marble statue. Elegant, slim, limbs perfectly turned as if by a lathe. Champagne locks spilling over square shoulders, cascading to a slender waist. Aphrodite startled at her bath, frozen in embarrassment.

  Ariel hastened to cover herself, insufficient to hide the flush spreading across her like sunrise. The poor thing’s dazzling eyes were red and swollen—a singularly disturbing effect.

  Tia said softly, “You’re leaving. You found another place to live.”

  Ariel grabbed a robe off a hook, and slipped into it, blotting tears on a sleeve.

  “Another job,” she said. “A nuclear plant in Connecticut.”

  She dropped to the edge of the tub, head in hands, sobbing. Tia switched off the shower and sat beside her, arm around her heaving shoulders, snarling, “That bastard, Max.”

  Ariel shook her platinum hair. “Not just him. I get no respect at TPC, either. Nobody puts any stock in me or what I have to say. It’s pointless.”

  Tia took a long pause, then said, “If you don’t mind my saying, mi corazón, it’s not your ideas they’re reacting to. I’ve seen your work. It’s smart, well-reasoned. You’re a damned good analyst.”

  Ariel wiped her eyes, paying Tia a confused frown.

  With nothing to lose now, Tia forged on. “But the way you present yourself… You have to realize, Ariel, people, as a rule, are superficial about things like style and clothes.”

  Ariel’s frown deepened. “Wh-what do you mean?”

  Tia sighed. “Have you ever given any thought to changing how you dress?”

  The girl appeared taken aback. Tia gave her a squeeze, and said, “I don’t mean to be critical, but those long-sleeved blouses and full-length skirts. It’s summer, for chrissakes.”

  “But this is how I’ve always dressed.”

  “Were you born in the 1880s? I’m sorry, you look like you stepped off a Conestoga wagon.”

  Ariel blinked. Tia expected tears again, but the girl seemed more confused than hurt.

  “…And your hair. You have gorgeous hair, and to wad it up on top your head? Who around here wears their hair like that?”

  Now came the tears again. Ariel blubbered, “It’s not my clothes or hair, it’s me. It’s how I look. I’m a freak.”

  Tia felt a pang in her heart. “Who the hell put that in your head?”

  Ariel snorted and tried to rise. But Tia held her back, and Ariel sobbed, “You have eyes, you can see. My whole life people have made fun of my appearance.” Face fire red, she turned to Tia snapping, “Look at me.”

  Tia did. “To tell you the truth Ariel, I’ve never seen a woman more beautiful.” She meant it.

  Ariel scoffed bitterly. “The skin of a vampire! Eyes of Medusa!”

  “You have amazing features. All you need is a little fine-tuning. If I told you we can change how people react to you, that you can fit in, would you be willing to give things anothe
r shot?”

  “Change Max?”

  Tia wasn’t so sure, there. But knowing the guy’s shallowness, she offered, “I wouldn’t be surprised. If so, do you think you could be happy here at the farmhouse?”

  Ariel moaned, “You’ve no idea how happy I’ve been here. It would mean everything to me!”

  Tia had no idea because the girl had never before expressed those sentiments. And if, in fact, she’d been happy here despite Max, she had a pitifully low threshold. Just how miserable could her previous life have been?

  “Postpone leaving one more day,” Tia said. “Put yourself in my hands, and I’ll prove it to you.”

  “Wh-what will I have to do?”

  “Just trust me. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  The girl searched Tia’s face with those disorienting beacons, and Tia thought she saw a ray of hope. At length, Ariel inhaled and nodded, and Tia told her, “Good. But if we’re going to pull this off, I’ll need your full cooperation. And before we start, I want your solemn word on it.”

  Ariel reflected a moment, then gave another somber nod.

  Tia handed her a shower cap. “Now finish up, get dressed, and meet me in the kitchen.”

  A half hour later, Ariel appeared in the kitchen doorway looking nervous, hair piled atop her head again, wearing her customary long-sleeved blouse and ankle-length skirt. Tia was at the table surfing the web. Ariel angled for a look, but Tia averted the screen, telling her, “Wait till the guys leave for work.”

  “We’re not going in?”

  “Vacation day.”

  Ariel made oatmeal for all, she and Tia ate, and when sounds of the men stirring drifted to the kitchen, Ariel put down her spoon with trembling fingers.

  Tia placed her hand atop and told her, “Go back and lie down till they’re gone. Keep your thoughts on how much better things will be tomorrow.” She trusted she could deliver on that.

  Ariel went to her room and shut the door, and the men rolled in.