The Marus Manuscripts (26 page)

W
ade was awakened by the sound of running water. He slowly sat up in bed. The servant who had brought him to the room the night before was in the bathroom. It sounded as if he was filling the bathtub. The servant emerged and looked pleased to see Wade awake.

“Good morning, sir,” the man said.

“Good morning, sir,” Wade repeated, stretching his arms.

“Your bath will be ready for you in a moment.”

“Thank you. But you didn’t have to go to any trouble. I could’ve run the bath myself.”

“It’s what I do, sir.”

“Oh. What’s your name, if I’m allowed to ask?”

“I’m called Thurston, sir.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Thurston.” Wade scooted out of bed and shook Thurston’s hand. “I’m Wade.”

“Yes, sir. Did you sleep well?”

“Like a log.”

“I assume that’s a good thing?”

“Yes. Very good.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Dr. Lyst is waiting for you in his laboratory after you’ve had your bath and breakfast. He seems quite eager to begin working with you today.” Thurston began to make the bed. “I must say, I’ve never seen him like this.”

“Like what?”

“Well, he’s like a little child with a new toy.”

“Am I his new toy?” Wade asked.

“I suppose you are, in a manner of speaking, sir.” Thurston hesitated, clutching the bedspread. “If you don’t mind my saying so, the entire castle is talking about you.”

Wade self-consciously touched his hair. “Because of my hair, right?”

“I suppose for some. But most of them are talking about your knowledge. I’ll speak honestly, sir: You have brought a tremendous amount of hope with you to this place.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. I dare say that you’ve become something of a celebrity.”

Wade was impressed. “A celebrity,” he repeated softly.

After his bath, Wade was given new clothes to wear. Unlike the tunic he’d worn at Arin’s, he was given laced shoes; normal-looking gray trousers; a plain white shirt; and a V-neck sweater. Standing in front of the mirror, he thought of pictures he’d seen of students who go to colleges like Oxford or Cambridge in England. Thurston then took Wade to a large dining room where he was served eggs, toast, bacon, orange juice, and cereal. It seemed like ages since he’d eaten so much in the morning.

Dr. Lyst was pacing anxiously in his laboratory when Wade arrived. The doctor stopped in his tracks and smiled broadly. “Hello, young man,” he said. “Did you sleep well?”

“Very well, thank you.”

The doctor picked up a clipboard and assembled some sheets of paper on it. “We have a lot of work to do today,” he said eagerly.

“We do?”

“I have to get everything I can out of that brain of yours.”

“What if I don’t know as much as you think I do?”

“But you do,” Dr. Lyst said matter-of-factly. “It’s all in there. I’m confident of it.”

Wade grinned. If only the kids at school could see him now! They wouldn’t dare laugh at him for the science-fiction comic books he was nuts about or the stolen moments at lunch and recess with the science journals that Mr. Curfew, his next-door neighbor, lent to him. The kids thought he was weird and often said so to his face, but now he was
important
. Oh, if only Steve Calloway could see him!

“Let’s talk specifically about how explosives were developed in your world,” Dr. Lyst said.

“All right,” Wade replied. “But I’m a little rusty with my history.”

“Do your best. Think hard. If I can establish any parallels between your technology and ours, I may be able to find the means to create here what you have created there. Now, tell me everything you can.”

Wade took a deep breath. “Let’s see . . . I think it all started with gunpowder.”

“What’s it made from?”

“Oh. Let me think. It’s been such a long time since I read about that. Saltpeter and charcoal and sulfur.”

“What is saltpeter?”

Wade had to think for a minute. Then it came to him: “Potassium nitrate. When you put all three together, it creates a black powder that—”

“Ah! Black powder.”

“That’s one of the names for it.”

“It certainly was,” Dr. Lyst said. “It’s mentioned in the writings of our forefathers. But the exact formula has been lost for ages.”

“Then what are you using now?” Wade asked.

“Solar bombs.”

“You mean, you’re using energy from the
sun
for your bombs?”

“Precisely. We created a catalyst that makes the solar cells explode. Not unlike the black powder, I suspect.”

Wade was mystified. “That’s what the planes are dropping at night?”

“Yes,” Dr. Lyst said. “But we’ve gotten as much out of them as we ever hope to. They’re a peacetime technology that’s ill-suited for war. They don’t have the power we need. Some explosions, fire, and a little bit of damage. That’s all. It’s more for show than for destruction.”

Wade shook his head. “I just don’t get it. This world seems so . . . so advanced with some things, but so backward with others.”

Dr. Lyst folded his arms, his clipboard pressed against his chest. “You have to understand that war hasn’t been a priority for us. For the most part, our nations have gotten along over the years. We had skirmishes and fights every now and then, but not major wars. Not until now. Now everyone has a bloodlust for power. Treaties are broken; trust is destroyed. Neighbor has turned against neighbor.”

“Arin says it’s because everyone lost their faith in the Unseen One.”

The doctor grimaced. “That’s just the sort of thing I would expect Arin to say,” he responded with obvious distaste. “This has nothing to do with the Unseen One. It has to do with
us
—with the abuse of power. Tyran wants to change all that.”

“By being the most powerful, right?”

“Power in the hands of a benevolent man like Tyran is a good thing.”

Wade said carefully, “There’s a saying in my world: Absolute power corrupts absolutely. Or something like that.”

“That may be true in your world, but not with Tyran. I’ve known him most of my life. His vision for unity and peace is real. But he’s no fool. The only way to impress these barbarians who call themselves our leaders is to carry a bigger stick than theirs. Now tell me:
Your world started its explosives with black powder, but what was used after that?”

“Have you ever heard of dynamite and nitroglycerin?”

Their discussion went on from there. Wade told him all he knew about the discovery of nitroglycerin in 1846 by an Italian named Ascanio Sobrero. Dr. Lyst laughed when Wade mentioned that it had originally been used as a headache remedy. But it was too dangerous for Sobrero to use for blasting, so he gave up. In 1862, Alfred Nobel of Sweden began to experiment with it, accidentally killing his own brother in the process. But he persevered, and, in 1866, he successfully mixed liquid nitroglycerin with an absorbent substance called diatomite. As a result, dynamite was born. After that came TNT.

“TNT?” Dr. Lyst asked as he scribbled on his clipboard.

Wade rubbed his forehead. His head ached. “That stands for . . . for . . . tri-nitro-toluene. Or tri-nitro-toluol. One of those two. It comes from coal tar or gasoline, I think.”

“Don’t stop, keep talking,” Dr. Lyst encouraged him, writing furiously.

“All the explosives and bombs we use are directly related to TNT,” Wade continued. “There’s dynamite and amatol, which is TNT and ammonium nitrate. There’s ammonal, which has powdered aluminum, TNT, charcoal, and . . . and ammonium nitrate.”

“Go on.”

“I read that scientists just developed some new explosives in the war. Something called RDX, which is . . . is . . . hexamine and TNT. And something else called pentolite. That’s some other mixture with TNT. I don’t remember.”

“Try.”

“I can’t. My head hurts.”

“What do these explosives have to do with the atomic bomb?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing!”

“The atomic bomb is completely new. It’s a whole different idea. But I wouldn’t know how to explain it,” Wade said.

“You explained it to the elders.”

“Those were just the pieces. It’s top secret. Most of us didn’t even realize the bombs existed until we dropped them on Japan. We’d heard about tests in the desert and hush-hush goings-on in the government, but we never thought . . .” His voice faded. He rubbed his eyes wearily. “You have the drawings. That’s as much as I know.”

“That’s enough for now,” Dr. Lyst announced as he tossed his clipboard onto a lab table. He patted Wade on the back. “Well done. I’m sorry to push you so hard, but time is very important to us.”

“But I didn’t tell you anything.”

“You told me a lot more than you think. I can now point my technicians in the right direction, which is something I couldn’t do before. We don’t have to start entirely from scratch. We have an idea of what we’re looking for.”

Wade stood up. His legs were stiff from sitting on the stool. “Do you really think you can create an atomic bomb?” he asked.

“I don’t know. But you’ve given me the stepping-stones that your world walked on to reach that end. Anything we develop now is bound to be more powerful than the solar bombs.”

“I hope so. My brain can’t take very much of this.”

“I’m sure it can. But you’ve done an amazing job this morning. I’m very proud of you.” Dr. Lyst was standing at the window now. “Would you care for a walk to clear our minds for a while? It’s a beautiful day.”

The golden sun lingered high above them, a large dot in the middle of a clear sky. From the walk along the castle wall, Wade could see the entire city of Sarum. Skyscrapers, government buildings, hotels,
and shops rose impressively from the ground in an array of formations and styles. The scene reminded Wade of the view he’d had of New York City from the Empire State Building, though not so high up. Once again, he was struck by the vividness of all the colors compared to his world.

“Quite a city, eh?” Dr. Lyst said.

“It sure is.”

Telescopes were set up at strategic points so visitors could look at landmarks, interesting architecture, and historical sites. Wade put his eye up to one.

“Look that way,” the doctor said, pointing. “I was born near the park. Do you see? There’s a market area. Nadia’s Market, we called it when I was a boy. Now they call it something else, a contrived name that’s supposed to entice people to spend their money.”

Wade focused the telescope until the stalls, displays, and tents became clear. He saw plenty of merchandise and food. But, apart from a few stragglers, it was surprisingly empty. “Where is everyone?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I see the market and all the stalls, but there aren’t any people around.” Wade scanned the area. “Wait. There they are. They’re crowded up at one end.”

“I can guess,” Dr. Lyst said.

Wade squinted to see more clearly. “They’re gathered around someone. Listening to him. It’s Arin!”

“That doesn’t surprise me. He often preaches on market day.”

Wade looked over at the doctor. “Preaches about what?”

“The end of the world, of course.” Dr. Lyst wiggled a finger at Wade. “Would you like to see? I can show you.”

Wade followed Dr. Lyst down a set of stairs and back into the laboratory. The doctor pushed a button on the wall, and a curtain moved to one side to reveal a large television. “The market, please,”
he said to the screen. It suddenly came to life with a full-color picture of the crowd that Wade had seen through the telescope, only the people were much closer and clearer. “Focus on the speaker, please,” Dr. Lyst said. The picture moved to the right and stopped on Arin, who was gesturing at the crowd. “Sound, please,” the doctor instructed.

Arin’s voice suddenly boomed out. “Only in the shelter will there be protection!” he cried. “Return to the Unseen One and be saved!”

Some in the crowd laughed.

“Why should we believe you?” someone shouted.

“I don’t have to give you my credentials,” Arin replied. “You know me!” He moved and spoke with great energy, but he didn’t sound excited. “You know that I am truthful with you. More truthful than the leaders of this city, who wish to keep the truth from you.”

“Where’s your golden-haired boy?” a woman asked. “Why don’t you parade him out for us?”