Just Plain Weird (15 page)

         
“What’s wrong?” Eliza asked.

         
“Well, if I’m right about the other stars, that means this is a view of the sky that you would be able to see from a point between Vega and the sun.”

         
“Well, what’s between Vega and the sun?”

         
“Nothing.”

         
“Nothing?”

         
“Nothing known-- oh, maybe an asteroid. And then this star here, the relatively bright one just up and to the left of center-- this star would have to be our sun, only it appears too bright-- the sun is a relatively dim star, you know. For it to appear so bright…”

         
…the place would have to be pretty close?”

         
“Yeah, probably not much more than a light year.”

         
We both stood in stunned silence for a moment. When I looked at her, her eyes were big and bright with wonder.

         
“It’s a ship, isn’t it?” she asked.

         
“Maybe,” I said, certainly not willing to jump to conclusions. After all, I still might be wrong about the position of the stars; I was pretty good at astronomy, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t still be mistaken.

         
“It would almost have to be,” Eliza went on. “If that’s true, then the artifact is-- what? A projection of that ship, a ship that is occupying two points in space at the same time.”

         
“I don’t know,” I said. “That’s sort of a stretch.”

         
“No, it makes perfect sense. What a wonderful way for somebody to observe life forms on another planet. Use your imagination, Travis. You have a ship well off in space, where life forms on the planet you’re studying could never detect it. Then you have a projection of that ship, which can be hidden underground or in hillsides or mountain sides or even underwater, where the beings inside the projection can observe intelligent life forms or wildlife or whatever, totally without disturbing anything.”

         
“Well. Yeah, if that’s what it all means. I could be wrong, you know-- actually, I probably am wrong.”

         
“You have a real problem with that, don’t you?” she asked, then, studying me in a way that I found very uncomfortable.

         
“What do you mean?”

         
“You have so little confidence in your ability to think,” she said.
 
“Did you ever think you might be selling yourself short?”

         
“Hey, it’s just the way I feel.”

         
“I think it’s the way you’ve been made to feel. You know, people don’t have to go around telling you you’re stupid for you to feel stupid. It can be much more subtle than that. It can be almost a kind of brainwashing. The truth is, I don’t think you’re dumb at all. It’s just that things have happened, and now you’re in a position where you don’t even give yourself a chance.”

         
I hardly wanted to talk about myself, let alone listen to somebody trying to figure out my personal problems.

         
“Can you change everything back,” I asked then, hoping the change would be accompanied by a change of subject.

         
Eliza moved behind the console, and deftly tapped some buttons. The view screen vanished, and suddenly we were no longer standing in the huge chamber, but in her cozy living room.

         
I walked over to the sofa and sat down.

         
When I looked up, Eliza was standing there, watching me with those bright green eyes that were so disarming.

         
“It’s a good theory, Travis,” she persisted, though I hardly wanted to discuss the artifact anymore. “I’ll run it past my father--see what he thinks.”

         
“Whatever,” I said. I was feeling very grumpy.

         
She studied me a long time, and then finally said, “All right, I give up. I can’t always guess. What’s bugging you?”

         
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, which was true enough.

         
“You’re not mad at me, are you?” she asked.

         
“No, no not at all.”

         
“Then what?”

         
I shrugged, unable to answer.

         
“Well, it must be something,” she insisted. She sat next to me on the sofa. “Is your headache coming back?”

         
I could have easily lied, said the headache had returned, and so dismiss the issue. But, actually, I found it difficult to be dishonest with her. “No,” I said. “Actually, I feel fine-- better than usual.”

         
“Well, it’s obvious something is bothering you,” she said, growing exasperated.

         
“Something is,” I admitted, “but, strange as it may sound, I can’t quite put my finger on it. Maybe--” I began.

         
“Maybe, what?”

         
“Maybe if you explained something to me-- what you expect from me.”

         
“Oh,” she said, “I see. Yeah, well… geez, I never thought about that. I think I was concerned with whether I could trust you and whether you would believe it all. I never once considered the possibility you may not trust me. Is that it, then-- you don’t trust me?”

         
“No, it’s not that. I mean, I trust you just fine. I think, maybe, I need you to tell me, why me? You certainly didn’t choose me because of my brains.”

         
“No. Although I think you’re much smarter than you realize, I didn’t pick you for your mind. I picked you because I thought you were capable of great loyalty.”

         
“What?--like a Saint Bernard or something?”

         
“No, not like a Saint Bernard,” she smirked.

         
“Then why?”

         
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe because you’re socially maladroit. Look, let’s face it: what am I? I’ve been locked up in this-- thing since I was a kid-- no normal activities, no friends, no contact with people. You think I’m not socially maladroit? Of course, I am-- and probably worse than you. But nothing could be done about that. My father had made his decision to hide the artifact from the world, and I can’t say that he was wrong. He should never have brought the doodad down to the university; that’s how it all started, you know. A few people found out about it, what it does, where he found it. A gossipy bunch, those eggheads can be, I’ll tell you. That’s how it started, all right.
 
There were too many questions he couldn’t answer without disclosing the existence of the artifact, and that he was dead set against. And he probably wasn’t wrong. Some of the technology on the artifact can be used to end world hunger. Some of it could be used to advance medical science. You think our injuries were cured by magic? Ohmigod, you were impaled by a piece of metal. Imagine what the artifact can do for people with diseases, incurable illnesses. But is that what it would be used for? Probably not. He was probably right; it would all be turned over to the military, for possible military uses. Doc always said when it comes down to a choice of building or destroying, it’s human nature to lean toward destroying…. Anyway, things are the way they are, and if you need to know what I expect of you, well, just imagine how much I could use a friend. Look at it that way for now, because no matter how complicated things seems, it all boils down to something that simple.”

         
While she’d spoken, she’d barely looked at me, and now she sat slouched down in the sofa as though sapped for energy or spirit.

         
“Maybe it is that simple,” I said. “But I think there’s something else you need, too.”

         
“Oh, and what would that be?” she asked, looking at me through the corner of her eye.

         
“You need to have fun,” I said.

         
“Oh, really? And what would your idea of fun be-- lifting weights? What am I supposed to do?-- bench press my way to bliss?”

         
“Well, your father still has one car left.”

         
“Uh… I don’t think so,” she said, laughing.

         
“Aw, come on,” I teased her. “You really are a good driver. You drove off only one cliff-- that’s not bad.”

         
She laughed that deep gurgly laugh of hers.

         
Just then Mr. Laughton walked into the room. He appeared amused when he looked at us, as though he hadn’t heard laughter in his house for a very long time.

         
“So,” he said. “Everything’s going all right?”

         
“Yeah, doc, fine,” Eliza told him. “Better than I’d planned, maybe.”

         
“You give Travis, here, the grand tour of the house?”

         
“Not the grand tour,” she said. “I don’t think he could handle the grand tour.”

         
“And?”

         
“And,” she said, “our new-found friend made a keen observation about the star field you found.”

         
“Really?” He seemed mildly interested. I stepped up to the sofa and looked down at us. “What would that be?”

         
“That the stars are not unfamiliar, just out of place.”

         
“Oh, that,” he said, with a dismissive wave on his hand.

         
“What do you mean ‘Oh, that’? You mean you knew that already?”

         
“Yeah.”

         
“Well, you never said anything to me about it,” Eliza said.

         
“I don’t tell you everything, you know,” he said.

         
That caught her by surprise. She started to say something, but stopped, her mouth slightly open. It was the first time I saw her speechless.

         
“Besides,” her father went on, “the implications of the placement of the stars are problematic.”

         
Eliza glanced at me, and I shrugged.

         
“What does that mean?” she asked then.

         
“The star field suggests that the artifact may actually be a space ship,” he said matter-of-factly. “That, I think, is just a bit much to swallow.”

         
“Well, isn’t that exciting?” she demanded.

         
“Sure, from a scientific point of view, it’s fascinating. But it also raises more troubling questions. If it is a ship, that ship must be just as abandoned as the artifact we found. It has to be adrift in space. So what happened to the people who built it? Are they coming back to reclaim it? If not, what if someone else finds it?”

         
“Oh, doc, you’re such a killjoy,” Eliza complained.
 
“You can take something exciting, something absolutely thrilling, and pour all the worries in the world on it.”