Terraplane (17 page)

"It's sized and set," said Jake, standing, keeping his sheet onehanded before him. My suit, of highest corporate style, was of
course naturalized, and its wrinkles were such that it appeared to
have been plowed under by tanktread nightlong.

Doc nodded, semblancing that he understood. "How're you
feeling, miss?" he asked. "You want to take a bath?" Her sheet
unwrapped as she stood; Doc averted eyes, seeming not so comfortable with nudity's sight without an examtable near to certify propriety.

"Too early for feel of water on skin," she said, kneeling before
one of her cases, reaching forward for the other, her left leg rising for balance. "My name is Oktobriana. Mother's familiar name for
me was Chada, if you find that more easy to say."

"I couldn't call you child, miss-"

Wanda padded in; sighted upended Oktobriana and blew. "Put
on some clothes, girl!" she shouted. "Don't you see those damn
windows are open?" Oktobriana, unnerved, drew a shirt round her
top half. Wanda spotted Jake tugging his own sheet round. "Ever'
damn one of 'em buck naked. In my house-"

"Where else they going to dress, Wanda-"

"What if some cop looked in and saw you two in here with her?
Running around bareass like she was the main course at a buffet
flat. That's not how you act around here-"

"All right, Wanda," Doc said, moving hallways. "Jake. Luther.
Thisaway. "

"Haul ever' one of us down to the precinct house," Wanda continued; noted Oktobriana's deliberations. "They may want to see what
they're missing, girl, but Idon't. Put on some pants. "

At bathroom's threshold we stopped as if bluntaxed; Turkish
lavatories weren't so primitive. Jake stared at the toilet as if deciding
how to disarm it.

"She's always beefin' this time of morning," said Doc. "What're
you looking at, Jake?"

"You know this is flooded?" Jake said, regarding the bowl. Doc
clamped a hand onto his mouth, keeping from shooting untoward
word.

"See that chain hanging down? Do what you got to do, then
when you're finished, give it a good hard yank." Overhead, we
sighted the chain's root emerging from a wall-affixed porcelain
tank. "This is the tub," Doc continued, explaining. "Want to take
a shower, use the top two knobs there. "

"Recognized," said Jake, reaching past the curtain, pressing the
knobs with his fingers.

"They turn," said Doc. Stepping hallways, he added: "You don't
both have to go at once if you don't want to. We got plenty of
water. "

"Unintended," I said, closing the door and seating myself upon
the shut lid. Beneath the tub's freestanding legs showed a lakebed's sediment, a host of life. Running my shaver cross my face I
wondered what feelings remained from the dawn encounter I'd
eavesdropped; had no desire to inquire, yet. When Jake untubbed I
saw he'd dressed within; his drying suit dripped from his frame, its
ivory restored.

"Alkaline," he noted, with slim fingers touching a waterdrop to
his tongue. "It'll loosen the fabric if used overmuch."

"So don't." As Jake examined his look in the mirror I readied,
and stepped in. Standing beneath gurgling waters, the drizzle
itching rather than washing, or so it felt, I considered the ease with
which one might, if prepped as I was in such sitch, slide into alien
culture. Years past I'd first entered New Guinea incog with my
select team, coming as wanderers that we might meld into the dayby-day for a time and so work our subterfuge upon the chosen
before our opposition showed, leaving quietly as we'd come once
we finished, trailing behind us changed minds and scraps of consumed belief. All we did at first was appear, needing help; within
hours found locals keen to assist, our strangeness alluring overmuch. Once attracted, success assured. Such, I told myself, didn't
differ here; it was the old case of the advanced circling the primitive
to accomplish broader goals.

As in induced afterimage, I suddenly recalled his Cain's mark,
and felt rather rounded myself.

Feeling near-human again once toweled and redressed, I returned to the front, seeing Oktobriana again sitting close to Jake;
nonetheless, he evidenced no passion. Doc lounged in a nearby
chair; I hadn't seemed to disturb conversation. Wanda appeared at
kitchen door, a white apron shielding most of her Halloween orange
frock's shine.

"Anybody want to come give me a hand?" she asked. "Anybody
want to eat?"

"That means us," said Doc. "Somebody got out of the wrong
side of bed this morning," he said to us, winking.

"Oktobriana and I require conferencing," I said. "We'll assist
shortterm. "

"Let's get to it, Jake," he said, rising.

"Jake," I said, catching him in midflight. "Let's reset the coordinates. The green's still on?"

"Still," he said, tossing it, disappearing into cook's void. "Dot's
not moved."

"Tiny buttons on side," Oktobriana said, looking after his path.
"You know latitude and longitude here?" I nodded. "Punch them
in. Moscow grid will be replaced by New York area grid."

"How many are in memory?" I asked.

"All major cities and all Russian cities with populations over five
thousand. " Clatter's sound rebounded from the near distance. "No,
Jake. This way. That's right," we heard Doc say. As the grid reformed, fifty kilometers rounding midtown showed. Repressing, I
gained closer view In Jersey, amidst the lines of nonexistent express
lanes, his speck showed blue.

"Hasn't moved," I said. "Unconscious, possibly. Dying, perhaps. Brokenboned or stuck in the mud."

"But living still," she said. "We must see if machine survived
fall."

"Maybe Doc can drive us back out there," I said. "What's
purposed, though? It's chanced you can effect readjustment?"

"No foreseeable chance, but is worth effort," she said. "Not
foreseeable does not mean impossible."

"Can we contact Alekhine somehow?" I asked. "Your transferral's possibility must have seemed an option."

"He did not recommend."

"Still you must have incorporated a contact mode."

"There is method of signaling, yes, but remember that I did not
expect to be in city of New York if transferred. As said, Sashenka
was stationary at both times of use. Such shift in location while
moving from one plane of earth to other was not foreseen."

"What's the signal method, then?" I asked. "If he's-"

"Likely he is not," she said. "I prefer to leave as last-chance
attempt. "

"That's senseless," I said. "If it's remotely chanced it's worth it.
What's the method?"

"These trackers have special method of contact capability with out danger of observation. Sanya obtained pair for us before first
visit. By resetting tracker I can signal to show arrival using Morse
code. Transmit location and message in white flashes on tracker
screen.

"What happened to yours?"

"Disappeared immediately before I left Dubna. Made me realize time had come to move. I knew they could find me but hoped
they would not see effort as necessary. With mine, certainly, they
knew I could see them-"

"So let's transmit to Alek-"

"Without access to mainframe resetting of tracker back to original use is thereafter impossible. Where is mainframe here? As said,
this is vacuum-tube existence. Holding only one instrument it
seems senseless to rush till we have our device back in hand
recovered, yes?"

"If I hadn't left him with the other tracker-"

"If shit was gold we would all be capitalists," she said. `Again,
there is no choice. We got get malcontent Skuratov. Retrieve
machine. See if it is operable. Try to contact Sanya then. Sanya not
to be found, we try to reset device-"

"But can you?" I asked.

"Is worth effort," she said. "Men such defeatists. Device I
believe can be reenergized by proximity to operating Tesla coil.
Large coil. Larger perhaps than any in existence here, but uncertain. Problem is if I can infer directives given as programmed by
Sanya. If not-" She quieted, her lip twisting beneath her teeth.
"So we try to reset device anyway. We succeed or fail. If we fail we
are faced with great problems-"

Wanda's roar broke our conversation. "Wha'd you mean I'm
baking bread that's already baked? Help me fry this bacon-"

"Have you noted inexplicables in the surroundings?" I asked,
thinking again of that movie poster, Doc's brand, unspecifiable
feels.

"Being unconscious most of time since arrival makes thorough
observation difficult," she said. "There are things I have noticed.
What is point?"

"We're not in the past, are we?" I said. "Not truly."

"Certainly we are not in past," she said. "How many times I tell
you causality prohibits? You cannot drink vodka already drunk."

"During his first passthrough he certainly realized, then. You
mentioned as much." A fly, stricken with lust for my head, repeatedly caressed and stroked. "He surely told more than you've told.
Early on you must have clad old theories in new clothes. So where
are we?"

"To us it seems past," she said. "Tb them, and in fact, it is present
day.

"Repeat and clarify."

"This is coexistent sphere of existence," she said. "Occupies
same space as ours but at different aspect. Neither world has known
of other's existence. Perhaps each started as mirror image of other.
It seems this one developed at slower rate though following like
path. We have theory that at places there are windows between
worlds naturally occurring for short time, allowing accidental
transferral. That explained many paraphysical aspects in theory.
Sanya, therefore, developed method to get between places at
will-"

"That's crazed," I said. "It's comic book-"

"True, just the same."

"It's impossible to put two into one."

"Is obviously possible," she said. "Visualize wide meadow with
high mesh fence running down middle. Mesh in fence so fine that
person standing on one side cannot see other side's presence.
Meadow same on both sides but perhaps fence's shade causes
slower growth on one half. Makes sense?"

"What occurs within the fenceline?"

"Anything," she said. "We believed that it is area of extreme flux.
Passing but halfway through would probably be very hazardous."

"Sticking to this imbecile metaphor," I said, still disbelieving,
"how then is access gained?"

She shrugged. `Aim water from hose at fence. Water pours down
on other side. We are water."

"In theory we can return-"

"In fact Sanya did return," she said. "All is needed is operable
device. New hose, as it were. Fact remains that we must leave here soon as possible. Inherent problems contain great potential for
much mischief and harm."

"What?" I said. "We'll marry our great-grandparents by mistake?"

"You don't need umbrella unless rain falls," she said, annoyance
rising. "There is nothing to that. Here they would be other people.
Silly fantasies may be put aside. Two unavoidable problems of
which I am thinking are much more serious and likely."

`And they are-"

"This world would seem to be following path similar to ours but
we do not know for certain. We cannot foresee how actions here
will cause hurtful changes affecting this world's future."

"Or helpful changes," I said. "That's considered?"

"That was Sanya's idealistic belief," she said. "Before leaving
second time he said in fact that he saw it as solution, not problem. I
disagree because we do not know what effect our actions have, and
we should not have power to change such things. But problem of
disease is much more immediate and terribly serious."

"Disease?"

"Simplest disease here may kill us if our immunity does not
match, and there is no reason it would. Think of common transfer
of plagues from culture to culture in past. Medieval Black Death.
Your American Indians wiped out by white-man diseases. Is same
principle. Longer we are here, the more we are exposed to whatever
might be here."

"He wasn't qualmed by that?"

She shook her head. "Such a fool."

A thump, as from a blunt striking a solid, came from the
kitchen. "Jake!!"

The possibilities unlimited. I rushed in, fearful of what casualties might have been sustained, Oktobriana trailing, and my
stomach did flip upon entering-not from sight, from smell;
frying food's excremental scent permeated air at oxygen's exclusion.

"We got enough help in here," Wanda shouted, her hands fisted.
"Look how he's helped. Couldn't-you- just step on the damn thing?"

Embedded wallways, at noselevel, was a cleaver; on the floor
below were a roach's halves.

"Got it," said Jake, nonchalant.

"Just swat 'em, Jake. Get the Flit can," said Doc, freeing the
blade. "Didn't know who you was trying to get."

"Crazy man," muttered Wanda as she shook a skillet holding
baconstrips in a depth of grease over the stove's free flame. "Sticks
bacon in the breadbox, shuts the lid, wants to know how he's
supposed to watch it cook. Pokes knobs instead of turning 'em.
Lays pans on the oven half a foot from the burner and wants to
know how long they'll take to heat. He ever been in a kitchen
before?"

"Like your eggs fried?" Doc asked. I peered into a stovetopped
warmer. Therein eight jaundiced baby crania floated in their
brownish gray drowning pool. Their smell muckered twiceover, so
early in the morning. "Jake's just used to kitchens in the future,
isn't that right, Jake? They've probably got gizmos that roast your
food right on the hoof, right?"

Jake nodded. "Napalm-"

"I have such appetite," said Oktobriana. I mouthbreathed, to
lessen that overpowering smell, the permanent scent of greasy
burn.

"Dishes that wash themselves," Doc went on. "Turnips the size
of basketballs-"

"May I have two unshelled eggs?" I asked, knowing that something essentialled.

"You want 'em raw?" Doc asked. "Got ulcers?"