Phase Shift (16 page)

"There's a man waiting for you outside of
your office, Professor McBride," a worried Rosemary warns me as I
pass her office on the way to mine. Rosy's been department
secretary forever. She clucks after us like a mother hen, making
sure we get three squares a day, take regular breaks, and have
fresh coffee to keep those of us who drink it going. She hands me a
stack of envelopes.

I smile my thanks and flip through the
mail.

"He's wearing a purple robe." Her voice
sounds hollow to my ears. My blood grows cold. Goosebumps form on
my arms and the follicles at the base of my neck tighten. My tongue
seems like a sponge, swelling as it sops every drop of saliva from
my mouth.

"Molly," Rosy says, touching my elbow, "are
you okay?"

"Yeah," I manage. I peer around the door
jamb of Rosy's office. It's true—Reyes Prefect is sitting on the
creaky, slat bench outside my office, hem of his ankle-length,
mulberry tunic pooled around his feet, shoulder-length chestnut
hair bound loosely at the nape of his neck. His legs are crossed at
the knees. One foot ticks nervously. It's funny, really, when you
think about it—he appears just as nervous as me.

"Molly?" Rosy asks once more. "You should
sit down, honey, you're white as a ghost."

I feel numb. She’s right. I should sit down.
Instead, I shake my head and ask, "Is Palmer in his office?" It
comes out little more than a whisper so I clear my throat.

"He's lecturing." She looks down the hallway
toward Reyes and waves. He smiles and waves back.

"Is everything okay?" she asks.

"Can you try to reach him on his cell?" I
can't explain it, but I need Palmer here at this very moment,
though whether it's to share in the experience or protect me from
it, I haven't figured out yet.

"Dr. Richardson's left strict orders not to
be disturbed during—"

"Can you try him anyway?" I cut her off, and
curse myself for being rude. Rosy's more than just the secretary of
the department—she's a friend and sounding-board, the last person I
want to alienate around here. "Please?" I add, giving her my best
puppy-dog eyes.

Rosy speed-dials on speaker-phone. I hear
the recorded wireless operator as she confirms our suspicions about
Palmer's availability. "Shall I call security?" Rosy asks as she
severs the connection.

At this point, Reyes stands and begins his
approach. He walks with purpose, taking slow, deliberate steps. His
face wears a relaxed expression. When he's close enough to touch,
he smiles and nods, maintaining eye contact.

"No, it's okay." I force a smile and try to
look reassuring.

"Molly McBride Prefect," Reyes bellows. He
says my entire name as though it were a single word.

"Reyes," I say, almost a question.

"We must speak."

I hold my hand out, motioning him back down
the corridor toward my office. "Text him, please?" I beseech
Rosy.

"But his cell's off."

"He'll get it when he turns it back on. Tell
him it's regarding Gaia."

"Gaia?"

I spell it out for her. "He'll know what it
means."

Rosy shrugs and turns to her computer.

Reyes is the first to enter my office. He
stands in the middle of the floor awaiting direction. I motion for
him to sit in one of the two easy chairs opposite my desk, and then
sit beside him. The best approach is a pre-emptive strike, I
decide. I arrived on Gaia unannounced. I was trespassing. I
circumvented their security system. When I was questioned for my
transgressions, I eluded capture. Misdemeanours at best, I know. On
Earth that might earn me a slap on the wrist or two. But on Gaia
who knows? For all I know, Reyes Prefect is some kind of
trans-universe bounty hunter, come to bring me back to answer for
my crimes. I brace myself for the worst.

"Molly McBride Prefect," he says.

"Just Molly, okay?"

Reyes nods. "Please, what is this
place?"

"What? This place?" I ask, looking around
the room. "It's my office. I come here whenever I want some
privacy."

"We call them, 'chambers'. Thank you, but
no, I mean this building, this institution."

"It's the University. Like your prefecture,
I think."

He nods and grins. "Molly McBr...Molly, you
must return to Gaia with me."

"I don't understand," I say, trying to play
it cool.

"For Symposium."

"For what?"

"Symposium," he says, confused, as though he
can't believe I don't know what that is. He adds, "In your honour,"
which makes the situation about as clear as glass with one hell of
a wicked patina.

"I don't understand," I say, squirming a
little in my seat. No matter how I try, I can't get comfortable.
I'm sure symposium is Gaian for trial. "What's 'symposium'?" I
ask.

"Symposium is a formal gathering of all the
first and second prefects on the mass to discuss matters of
import."

"And you'd like me to attend?"

"As the guest of honour, yes."

I breathe a heavy sigh. Not fugitive at
large, but 'guest of honour'. How did I rate that? "I'm flattered,
Reyes," I tell him. "Of course I'll attend. Just let me know when
and I'll—"

"Today. Now."

I can't go now. I have papers to grade,
classes to teach, lectures to prepare..."Right now," I ask, more of
a statement than a question.

Reyes nods. "First and second prefects from
across the mass wait at this very moment for Symposium to
begin."

"I'm sorry, Reyes, I can't just drop
everything and go. I have papers to grade," I reason, "and...and
I'm meeting with students later this afternoon." The next thing I
say sounds even sillier coming out of my mouth than it does in my
head: "I can't just...leave the...planet without telling my husband
where I'm going."

Reyes simply grins. For him, there is no
debate. The choice is simple—Symposium awaits. "But you must. The
prefects. They wait for you."

I exaggerate a sigh which must sound like
resignation to Reyes for he says, "The matter is settled?" He nods
with finality before I can respond, rapping on the arm of his chair
with a fist like a gavel. From his pocket he unfolds a black
armband which sticks to itself with something that looks a lot like
Velcro. Affixed inside the armband is a silver disk roughly the
size of a quarter. He fastens it around my arm just above the
elbow.

I grab my suit jacket. Reyes touches the
modulator with a pen-sized wand through the material. No sooner has
he pocketed the wand than the effects of the shift take me by
surprise. First, the air begins to thicken and grow humid making
breathing as difficult as shovel-shining
¹
on a late day in July,
until it is like breathing through Jell-O and I feel as though I
must gulp it down to remain conscious. Black spots laced with
silver threads grow rapidly, clouding my vision. My only thought is
to watch I don't hit my head on the way down, when the air begins
to thin, the spots subside and I am on Gaia, in the same lecture
hall as before.

Reyes's hand rests on my shoulder. "It is
the effect of the shift," he tells me, "it will pass."

I take another deep breath and manage a
smile.

"Symposium awaits," he says. He stands by
the lecture hall door and waits for me to pass. I poke my head out
into the corridor to witness a bustle of activity. Students—Reyes
had referred to them as 'disciples', didn't he?—primarily those in
their teens and early twenties, both male and female, rush back and
forth across the passageway. Some carry books in their arms. Others
sling them over their shoulders in heavy satchels. Each of them
wears an unadorned tunic, identical, save for their colour.

As I watch, the older crowd thins and is
replaced by one much younger, children of maybe six or seven
through about ten. They wear the same tunics as the older students,
but in miniature. The group walks down the near empty corridor,
double file. I watch the children, focusing on each and every face
as it passes. One child in particular takes hold of my attention
over the others. The child is female, about six or eight at most,
hair the colour of coal hanging loose to a point midway down her
back. Her henna-coloured skin is flawless, with the exception of a
single scar, the shape of a crescent moon, half-way down on the
side of her neck.

I know this child. I have the distinct
feeling I've seen her before. Somewhere.

But how could I? This is only my second
junket to Gaia. The last time I was here, I saw no one save Reyes
and Avatar.

"Molly McBride?" Reyes says hoping to speed
my exit from the room. "The prefects?"

My eyes lock on the girl's for a moment. As
she walks by, her head turns, watching me as I'm watching her. My
lips purse together to form a thin, almost smile as if to say,
"Hi." She responds by breaking the gaze, facing forward once
more.

When the children pass, I follow them until
Reyes softly says my name to indicate we have arrived at
Symposium.

Reyes leads me to a large hall decorated in
fertile forest green. Oversized, rectangular tables covered with
spicy saffron cloths and accented with luscious aubergine woven
napkins dominate the room. People, mostly men, wearing tunics in a
variety of jewel-tones, fill each and every seat around each and
every table with only two exceptions. Two empty place-settings
remain near the centre of the table on the podium at the head of
the room.

We enter and the tide of a sea of heads
shifts in our direction. A tumultuous wave of whispers grows,
voices melding until almost deafening. I pray my seat is somewhere
at the back of the room, where I, too, can meld with the crowd, but
no luck. Just as I thought—the empty seats at the head table are
for Reyes and me. He leads me there, parading me in front of his
peers. Though I'm wearing my best pantsuit, I can't help feel
self-conscious, like some kind of freak show. I'm not dressed for
the occasion—I forgot my bathrobe at home.

We sit, and a multitude of prefects raise
one hand in front of their faces and slap at the knuckles on the
hand with the palm of the other. Applause, maybe?

The noise dies down somewhat and to my left,
a man stands. "Fellow prefects," he begins, voice reverberating
through the room. He speaks without the aid of a microphone. With
the acoustics here, he doesn't need one. "We have called Symposium
today to honour one person. A visitor." He nods at me and smiles
before turning back to face the room. "From another world."

The audience nods in agreement. Some smile.
Others say, "Here, here."

"But before we begin," the man continues,
"let us invoke the words of The Canon."

"Canon?" I whisper to Reyes.

"The words of sacred writ," he tells me. I
want to ask him more, but he holds a single finger to his lips,
closes his eyes and bows his head, and I understand.

"Brethren," the man says. "Enlightenment is
the key to all worth. Knowledge is absolute. We gather today to
exchange dogma, to rebuild old connections and to forge others
anew. Today, we pray for fruitful illumination, for unerring
elucidation, and for the speedy resolve of Mother Gaia's unrest.
Knowledge is truth; understanding divine."

The prefects mumble as they parrot the
phrase, "Knowledge is truth; understanding divine," in lieu of a
collective 'amen'. They raise their heads. Some of them clear their
throats.

"For generations now," the man continues as
he breaks the relative silence, "we have known of the existence of
this other world, this...Earth, though few have crossed the
boundary between our world and theirs. But today, one traveler has
journeyed across the gap. And it is in her honour in which we
gather. And it is in her honour in which we will audit and review,
scan and scrutinize, recapitulate, and quite possibly, revise our
current stance on relations between the two worlds.

"For in our guest, we have been given a
formidable opportunity. And in response to that opportunity, we
must revisit public policies, such as The Pact, in light of the
wisdom our guest will impart."

Wisdom? I have to impart wisdom? I don't
have to speak, do I? I look toward the man. He smiles subtly and
nods to his audience. The knuckle slapping resumes. He turns to me
and gives me the same nod and smile before returning to his
seat.

Gradually, the applause dies down and the
man at the end of the table to my right stands. "Thank you, Goren
Prefect," the man says.

Goren Prefect nods in his direction.

"I am Amish Prefect, no stranger to most
prefects. I have been selected for the honour of chairing this
evening's Symposium. My fellow Gaians, it feels extraordinary to be
here."

More knuckle slapping applause follows.
Amish Prefect (pronounced
Ay
-mish) continues to speak about
the tradition of Symposium and I listen for a while, intent on
learning as much as I can about this place, so I can give Palmer a
full report when I return.

Palmer. Now I've done it. I was okay until I
thought about him. Now I wish he were here. I ache for him. I can't
help but think of anything but him. Where he is right now, what
he's doing at this very minute; I miss him.

The applause resumes. I realize I've missed
most of Amish Prefect's speech pining for Palmer. Focus, Molly,
focus.

Amish introduces the next speaker and
Symposium continues.

The history of Gaia, I learn, is parallel to
that of Earth until about 100 or so B.C.E. which roughly
corresponds to the Greco-Roman period in history. History unfolded
similarly in antiquity on both planets: the Greek Empire was
swallowed up by the Roman. Whereas on Earth, the Roman Empire fell
sometime around 5 B.C.E., on Gaia, the era prevailed until the
middle ages, almost 1,000 years later. This is where the divergent
cultural evolution of the planets is most greatly felt. Gaia
continued on a path of literary and educational enlightenment,
whereas Earth continued on the path which brought us to where we
are today. On Gaia, cities evolved around educational institutions,
similar to university towns, only much larger. Called
"prefectures", the cities became cultural and civic centres,
providing the outskirts, the land between prefectures, with their
political and academic leaders. The areas between prefectures came
to be known as "The Infs", as people living there were responsible
for maintaining the infrastructure of both the prefecture proper,
the buildings housing the actual educational institution, as well
as the surrounding city, the prefecture in general. This symbiotic
relationship was one that had become institutionalized over the
millennia.