Parallel (3 page)

Falia took a chair beside Ryol and said, “It’s unlike you to request a personal meeting.”

“There is a prospective world I would like you to see.” Ryol pushed a tightly bound wisp of thoughts to the Madam Leader, recoiling instantly at the touch of her mother’s mind. Though accustomed to the pure size of her consciousness, contact had to be minimized for the sake of not getting lost inside the vast network of thoughts only Falia could navigate.

The Madam Leader had only opened a minuscule portion of her mind, but the contact left Ryol lightheaded with the sensation of floating through unfathomable depths. A shiver rippled through her body; her skin responded with goose bumps.

“An interesting world, indeed,” Falia said. “The similarities are astounding. Probability suggests this is an Ancestor Dimension. And yet, they remain markedly un-evolved.”

“Yes, Mother. My calculations suggest another 984 years before arriving at the basic technologies that will allow them to join the Alliance. Which is to say nothing about the required cultural adaptations.”

Falia nodded, but offered no other response.

Ryol shifted in her seat. With the sun fully descended, stars emerged on the horizon to take its place. She discontinued the thought pertaining to the sunset and redistributed her focus to the current conversation. “Mother, I have a request.”

Falia tilted her head, but none of the muscles on her face shifted. “Oh?”

“I’d like to initiate contact with this world. If their Universe is structured so similarly to ours, it is possible we may find Eitr.”

“And if we find Eitr, what then?” The Madam Leader rubbed her thumb in circles across her forefinger. “The Alliance is forbidden to enter trade agreements with a world so primitive.”

“An exception must be made. If the extinction of Lenora can be avoided, we must explore all alternatives.”

“And forsake the principles that have guided the Alliance for over two millennia? If we do, are we any different than the primitives who resort to violence?”

Ryol reflected. She had difficulty masking the feeling of disappointment this conversation awoke inside her. “What if I can prove this people is indeed ready to join the Alliance? Then we would be free to trade with them.”

“My daughter, your heart is in the right place, but you know how unlikely that probability is,” Falia said, her posture slackening.

“It’s not probable,” Ryol said, “but all things are possible.”

Falia smiled and placed a hand atop Ryol’s. The warmth transmitted through the touch spread into Ryol’s chest like a blossoming flower. “I see no harm in exploring the possibility. You are free to visit this world and apply the measures for acceptance into the Alliance. Be stringent, however. Do not let your desire to save Lenora cloud your judgment. You understand that more is at stake than the security of our own world.”

“Yes, Mother.” The corners of Ryol’s lips crept into a smile.

Falia’s pupils glowed orange beneath a veneer of white, reminding Ryol of the sunrise burning through the early morning mist. A black hole appeared in the corner of the room. It hovered inches above the ground.

Ryol rose, watching the sides of the hole expand until the gaping blackness stood tall and wide enough for Ryol to walk through.

“Before you go,” Falia said in a melodious tone that soothed Ryol’s nerves like warm liquid spreading through her insides. “If the presence of Eitr is discovered, it is of the utmost importance that the people of this world do not discover its capabilities prematurely. If they do, and they are not in fact prepared to join the Alliance, it could usher in the annihilation of all worlds.”

A chill slithered down Ryol’s spine. She shivered. With the fate of so many worlds hanging in the balance, she could afford no mistakes.

Ryol nodded to her mother and then stepped into the portal.

CHAPTER FIVE

Hari

“What in the name of all that’s holy is this?” Gerald paused for emphasis between each word. “I leave you alone for three hours and you destroy the lab.” He held up three fingers in case his words were unclear.

Only one word described Hari’s appearance: frazzled. Curly black locks had straightened to stand on end. His cheeks, blackened with soot, were glossy with exertion. Where he’d found soot was an unanswerable question.

“It’s not that bad,” Hari said, observing the carnage that had replaced the laboratory. For some reason, Hari did his best and (much to Gerald’s chagrin) dirtiest work in Gerald’s absence. It had something to do with cats being away and mice playing, but such thoughts were beyond Hari for the time being. He was one step closer to unlocking the Door. Nothing else mattered.

To Hari, since they had a device named the Key, logic dictated that what they were attempting to open should be called the Door. Gerald’s face assumed a puckered look whenever they discussed the topic. Gerald, ever the traditionalist, felt the apparatus on a whole deserved a more academic name. Something in Latin, perhaps.

“Come here. Take a look at the wiring.” Hari waved his older colleague over with a wide arm movement that appeared as if he was trying to waft some unseen smell towards his face. “Make sure I did this correctly.”

“One second.” Gerald maneuvered gingerly through the labyrinth of tools and parts now littering the floor. “Would it kill you to put these things back where you got them? We could fly a man to the moon with all the equipment you’ve left on the ground.”

Gerald’s words fell on deaf ears as Hari leaned over the device like a surgeon. It wasn’t until Gerald’s substantial shadow fell over the workstation that Hari looked up, wearing a look of elation.

Gerald, immune to such looks, frowned. Sliding his glasses up the broad slope of his nose, he gave a heavy grunt as he bent over the Key lying on the table with its insides exposed to the world. Hari hovered nearby, doing his best to watch quietly.

The excitement of being so near to completion radiated through his body, making it difficult to stand still. He channeled that energy by pacing. His sneakers squeaked with every step.

Gerald grabbed a tool with a thin metal proboscis and, ignoring Hari’s shallow breathing, carefully navigated the swarm of wires and circuitry.

“Well,” Gerald said, removing his glasses. “Whether it’ll do what you want it to, I haven’t a clue, but…”

“But?”

Gerald scratched his ear. “But, I don’t think it’ll blow up or anything tragic like that.”

“Excellent.” Hari appeared beside the table, reassembling the Key’s outer covering in a flash. “How about another test run?”

Gerald grunted as he maneuvered through the debris field, back to the relative safety of the couch.

Hari observed a striking resemblance between Gerald and a dancing walrus in that moment. He thought it best not to share that insight as he took the reassembled Key between his fingers.

The Key had grown substantially larger with the new adjustments. The weight, having increased disproportionately to the size, gave the whole apparatus many similarities to a brick. The device wouldn’t win any style awards, and that filled him with a twinge of regret.

That’s a problem for another day
, he decided, freeing that thought from his mind with a visible shake of the head.

Hari, rigid as petrified wood, held the Key in an outstretched arm. The weight of the device caused the underdeveloped muscles in his arm to squeal in protest. Consequently, years later, if anybody were to ask what Hari had been thinking the precise moment he fired the Key, and ripped a hole in the fabric of space and time, they would likely be surprised to find him making resolutions to spend more time in the gym.

The blue beam collided with the far wall in a brilliant display of light before collapsing back into the Key. Left in its wake there remained a vapor trail. The air where the light had struck shimmered like an invisible curtain.

Hari couldn’t be certain, but it seemed plausible the air on the other side of the room had become somewhat heavier than it had been moments before. Vapor trails, like those observed rising from asphalt on hot summer days, traced their spindly existences towards the high vaulted ceiling of the lab.

Any lingering thoughts of the gym Hari might have been having abruptly vanished when a woman stepped through the vapor. In an instant, years of scientific training faltered, leaving Hari’s mind to the whims of his Catholic upbringing. Without hesitation, he thought for sure he was witnessing an angel.

Gerald made an odd gurgling noise from his post at the door. Hari knew he wasn’t alone in his assumption of the divine.

Hari couldn’t tell definitively from across the room, but he was reasonably sure the woman stood taller than him. Lean and muscular with skin that bordered on porcelain, the angel remained fixed in place.

This is it
, Hari thought.
I’m either having a stroke, God is speaking to me, or this is an alien
. Of the three, the stroke was most probable, and yet, most undesirable.

Until doctors could convince him this was a hallucination brought on by a grand-mal seizure induced by staring at the blue light too long, Hari decided to operate under the assumption that this was, in fact, an alien.

Slowly he raised a hand and waved. He pushed air through his vocal cords in the hope they would make words of an intelligent sort.

They did not.

And so it was that mankind’s first word to an alien race was, “Gaeurgh?”

CHAPTER SIX

Ryol

The harsh light burned Ryol’s sensitive eyes. She restructured her mind to cope with the new stimuli. Ryol reduced her photosensitivity and the world dimmed. The searing pain behind her optic nerve ebbed. Then, she applied a portion of focus to restructuring parts of her chemical makeup to reduce the toxicity of the air.

From the analysis she’d done prior to arrival, she knew there would not be many changes in that regard. Lenora and this planet were similar in the amount of oxygen and carbon dioxide in the air. The main adjustment she made was to accommodate the higher levels of nitrogen now entering her body.

With that complete she directed the remainder of her attention towards language acquisition. Ryol had spent significant portions of energy studying what she’d seen of the planet during temporal viewing, but sound could not be transmitted through the viewer, and so she’d arrived without a clue as to this people’s language. Now, with eighty percent of her brain, and Aurora, now concentrated on communication, it wouldn’t take more than a few hours until she could speak with this new species.

The creature across from her lifted its arms and grunted. Ryol had made first contact with hundreds of alien worlds, and the odd noises some species made upon meeting no longer surprised her. She assumed the noise blurted by the creature was gibberish born out of his surprise, but not wanting to appear rude, or possibly hostile, Ryol raised a hand in a similar fashion to the motionless individual across the room, and replied, “Gaeurgh?”

The creature diverted its attention to a larger individual pressing itself flat against the wall. They shared a look that Ryol could not interpret. She suspected it was an expression of bewilderment, as was often the case during these sorts of encounters.

The aliens spoke to one another. Ryol traced a finger in the air to make a recording. The portion of her brain concerned with language tore into the file, learning everything possible from the phrase, “Is she mocking me?”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Hari

“Mocking you? No, I’m sure she’d nev—” Gerald pointed a trembling finger at the alien woman. “Is that sign language?”

Hari turned and ogled like a child in front of a television as she made shapes in the air with her hand. “Perhaps she’s a little…slow?”

“Why would they send a slow ambassador?” Gerald asked.

“Maybe she’s not an ambassador at all. Maybe she accidentally fell through whatever wormhole we created.”

“You created,” Gerald said, duly assigning blame. “And I might point out that she doesn’t seem particularly alarmed for an accident of that magnitude.”

“True.” Hari scratched his chin. “So, we’re back to her being a slow ambassador?”

“Again, why would they send a slow ambassador?”

Hari shrugged. His bony shoulders touched his ears, giving him many visual similarities to a hat rack. “It’s possible they don’t think very highly of us.”

“With deductive reasoning like this it’s no surprise.”

Hari did not respond. Dealing with Gerald required too much energy. Instead, he stepped gingerly towards the alien, who he assumed would be easier to communicate with than his colleague.

He watched the woman for signs that she might be startled, but she stared through him impassively with glazed eyes.

Hari scrounged for any sign language that might be lying dormant in his brain. Of course there was none. He had taken French in high school. He cursed himself now, because even if this were a French alien, communication beyond asking “Where is the bathroom?” would be impossible.

With a swoop and angling of the arm, Hari did his best to create, on the spot, his own form of sign language.

“What the hell are you doing?” Gerald maintained his vigil across the room.

“I’m trying to let her know we’re peaceful.”

“Oh, well she’s a hell of a charades player if she figures that out.”

“I don’t see you helping.”

“I’m not sure you are, either.”

“Well, why don’t you try something?”

“You don’t need me. I’m sure you’re doing a fine job of confusing her on your own.”