The Pilgrims of Rayne (3 page)

I went back to the pile of clothes, dug through and quickly found what I was looking for. It was a small, silver panel about the size of a baseball card.

“It's a communicator,” I explained to Courtney. “It's how Gunny alerted Patrick the first time I came here.”

The one Gunny used had a button on it. This didn't. It looked much sleeker, with a silver touch pad. I wondered if it was another example of how things had changed on the Earth territories. Either way, I hoped it did what it was supposed to. I touched the button. It gave off a quick hum.

“Is that it?” Courtney asked.

“I don't know,” I answered truthfully. “I hope so. Let's get out of here.”

The route was familiar to me. I led Courtney to the far wall and a wooden door that might have been three thousand years old. I knew this ancient piece of woodwork gave no hint to the
modern wonders that lay beyond. I pulled the door open and bright light filled the cavern. With a quick “after you” gesture to Courtney, we stepped outside into the gleaming white subway tunnel of Third Earth. The door closed behind us with a soft click. The only sign that it was there was the star symbol that marked it as a gate to the flume. The subway tunnel was exactly as I remembered it. It was incredibly clean, with shiny white tile walls and two silver monorail tracks about ten feet apart. So far, nothing was different about Third Earth except for the slight change in the communicator. And the quig that nearly ate my Adam's apple.

“This way, before a train comes,” I said, and jogged toward the subway station. “This is the exact same station that was abandoned on Second Earth. But with a few changes.”

“I remember what you wrote,” Courtney assured me.

We quickly found ourselves at the modern subway station of Third Earth. Courtney climbed up to the platform first and then helped me because of my injured arm. It was all pretty much the same as I remembered it. The station was busy with people, but not crowded. We were able to sneak onto the platform without drawing attention. Courtney immediately ran across the platform. I knew exactly what she wanted to see.

On the far side, opposite the tracks, was a railing. Below that railing was a vast, multitiered underground mall that stretched fifty stories beneath us. Some levels were full of shops and offices. Other levels had apartments. All were busy with people, either hurrying about or riding two-wheeled vehicles that sped them silently on their way. Far down below was an indoor lake where people paddled boats and swam. It was a city built entirely underground. This is what Earth had become. Overcrowding and overpopulation had forced cities
to expand underground. It was actually a good thing. The surface of the planet was allowed to heal. Pollution was a thing of the past. People learned to respect our natural resources, while utilizing the planet as best they could.

Courtney looked down at this impossible city of the future. I watched her silently as she saw the words in my journal come to life.

“It's just awesome,” she gasped.

I scanned the station, trying to collect my thoughts. It looked as if everything had progressed the way it was supposed to. Things didn't look any different from when I had been there before. It was a total relief….

Until something odd caught my eye. It wasn't obvious at first, but after taking it all in for a few minutes, I noticed something that at first seemed impossible. I looked more closely, thinking I had to be wrong. What I saw made no sense. Besides the various passengers in the station, there were dozens of people who worked there. A guy sold newspapers. Another guy sold snacks. There was a subway conductor waiting for the next train and a transit cop walking his beat. A quick look down to the first few levels of the mall below showed me people working in stores, cleaning floors, and polishing shiny railings. There were mail carriers, ticket takers, window cleaners, and a hundred other people doing the various jobs it took to run a subway station and all the retail stores of the elaborate complex.

“What's the matter?” Courtney asked, sensing my tension.

“Look at the workers.”

Courtney scanned the subway platform. At first it didn't click for her. Then I saw her react. She gave me a quick, nervous glance, and frowned.

“Am I crazy?” I asked.

“If you are, I am too,” she answered. “Everybody looks exactly alike. I mean
exactly
! Was it like that when you were here before?”

“No, which means I know how it can be. You do too.”

Courtney nodded and said the word I didn't want to say myself. “Dados.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “Third Earth has dados now. Lots' of 'em.”

“Which means the future isn't what it used to be,” Courtney said softly.

“Let's find Patrick.” I gently took Courtney's arm and led her to the up escalator. We needed to see the rest of Third Earth.

The
new
Third Earth.

FIRST EARTH

T
he last time I was on Third Earth I was a few years younger and way more naive. I still remember the excitement I felt while riding the escalator up and out of that subway city to get my first glimpse of the future. I was pretty excited this time too. Or maybe excited isn't the right word. It was more like a burning knot of fear was twisting in my gut. Yeah, that's a better description. The future had been changed. The robot dados in the subway were proof of that. Question was, would the new future be better, or worse? My aching stomach feared the worst.

Courtney was just plain excited. She had read my journals describing Third Earth, but reading about something and seeing it for yourself are two different animals. The last thing she said to me before the flume took us from Second Earth was, “I want to see the future.” She was about to.

When we arrived at the top and stepped out from under the green kiosk that marked the entrance to the subway, Courtney did a slow three-sixty, her eyes wide with wonder.

“Don't forget to breathe,” I cautioned.

“Unbelievable,” she gasped.

I'm relieved to say that Third Earth looked pretty much the same as I remembered. Gone was the crowded city of cement that was the Bronx of Second Earth. In its place was a vast parklike meadow. The air smelled sweet, with the faint hint of pine. I saw several green kiosks scattered about, marking other entrances to the underground city. Not too far away were the low, boxy buildings where some people still lived aboveground. The winding roads were there, with quiet electric cars gently moving along their way. People still rode bicycles.

Courtney took a few steps away from me to soak it all in. I followed, in awe of what Earth had become, yet nervous about how the dados might have changed the equation.

“People finally got it right,” she exclaimed. “No pollution. Respect for the environment. No overcrowding. No wars—”

“And a bunch of robots to do the grunt work,” I added.

“Yeah, that.”

In the distance I could make out the few remaining buildings of Manhattan, including the Empire State Building, which now had a shiny steel coat of silver. It seemed like nothing was different about Third Earth.

Except for the dados.

They were everywhere. Some repaired a section of roadway. Others were mowing the acres of beautifully kept grass. I saw a team of dados putting a fresh coat of blue paint on a footbridge that spanned one of the winding streams. A silent delivery truck cruised by with a dado at the wheel. One of the squat apartment buildings had several dados clambering on the outside walls, washing windows. None of the activity was strange, except that all the workers looked the exact same. Most wore deep red coveralls, but some had uniforms that designated a particular job, like the crossing guard who stood in
the road to halt traffic, allowing a group of giggling kids to run across. That guy wore a white sash, like the safety-patrol kids in my grammar school. The dado driving the delivery truck also wore a uniform that looked like the UPS guys wear. After all those years, the UPS guys still wore brown uniforms.

All the dados seemed to be men, though with a robot there's no such thing as sex. At least I don't think there is. Let's not go there. They all had the exact same perfect haircut: short and dark, parted in the middle. They were exactly the same size, too. I'm guessing about six feet tall with medium builds. The odd part was they all had the same face. I mean, exactly the same face. It wasn't the same face as the dados on Quillan, but they were definitely all the same.

“Why would they make them all look alike?” Courtney asked.

“I'm thinking if they didn't, you'd never be able to tell them apart from real humans.”

Courtney did a quick look around at the dados and nodded. “Really. Put a mustache on one of those dudes and he'd disappear into a crowd. How creepy is that?”

“Creepy” was the word. I didn't get it right away, but there was something about these dados that gave me the heebies. I mean, beyond the fact that they were even there. There was something about them that felt a little off. I kept staring, trying to focus on what it might be. It was right there, but I couldn't grab on to it. They looked way more like real people than the robots of Quillan. When you watched those robots closely, you could tell their movements were stiff and almost too perfect. That was the difference. The dados of Quillan moved too perfectly. Real people don't move perfectly. The dados of Third Earth didn't move perfectly either. They seemed every bit as human as Courtney and I. If I had seen
only one, I never would have guessed it was a dado. But seeing hundreds of exact replicas, well, that pretty much screamed robot to me. Was that it? Was I bugged because these dados looked so much like real people?

Nope.

Courtney realized it first. “Look at them, they're all the same,” she gasped.

“Yeah, I get that.”

“No!” She swallowed hard and looked at me, pained. “Look closer.” Her voice cracked as she said, “They all look like…Mark.”

I snapped a look to the nearest dado. They were taller, their hair was short, and there wasn't a zit in sight, but there was no mistake—these robots looked exactly like Mark Dimond. Every last one of them. We were seeing hundreds of clones of my best friend.

“I want to cry,” Courtney whimpered.

“It's okay,” I assured her, though I didn't feel even close to okay. “It just means we're on the right track.”

“Mark really did have something to do with this,” Courtney said, shaking her head.

We were interrupted by a quick
beep
from a car horn. We both jumped and turned to see a small, silver car speed up and stop next to us. It was easy to see the driver since there was no roof.

“Pendragon!” Patrick yelled.

Patrick was the Traveler from Third Earth. I'm guessing he was in his twenties. He was about my size with longish brown hair. He wore the same type of clothes as the last time I'd been there, jeans and a short-sleeved shirt. He looked more like a preppy from Second Earth than a teacher and librarian from the year 5010. Then again, I'm not really sure what a teacher
and librarian from the year 5010 should look like. The thing I remembered most about Patrick was that he had a calm, confident way about him.

Not anymore. That was another thing that had changed about Third Earth.

Patrick drove up and slammed on the brakes, looking anything but calm. Frantic, scared, nervous…those were all better words to describe him. I'd only met him once, but he seemed to be a guy who was in perfect control. He was an intellectual. A guy who lived to study and teach. Now he looked like a crazed guy who lived to rant and drool. He leaped out of the car without opening the door, ran to me, and grabbed both my arms. His eyes were wild. His hair was tangled. He hadn't shaved. He was a mess.

“What happened?” he demanded. “What's going on?”

I looked to Courtney. She shrugged.

“Uh, not following you, Patrick,” I said.

Patrick looked as if his head was about to explode. He looked at Courtney. “Who's that?” He ran to her and grabbed her arms. “What territory are you the Traveler from? Do you know what happened?”

Courtney froze. “N-No. I'm not a Traveler—I—”

“Not a Traveler!” Patrick screamed, backing away from her, stepping closer to the edge of panic. “Pendragon, you can't bring a non-Traveler here! What are you thinking? Things are all wrong!”

I gently put my hand on his arm to try and calm him.

“Relax, okay?” I said. “We're here to help figure things out.”

I felt him relax. A little. His eyes darted around as if unseen ghosts were closing in on us. He was coming back to Earth. Or Third Earth.

“I'm going out of my mind, Pendragon,” he said, gulping air.

Yeah, no kidding.

“You're used to jumping around between territories and dealing with this insanity. I'm just a teacher. I never thought something like this could happen here.”

I glanced around to see if there was a place we could talk that was more private. We were still outside the kiosk leading to the subway, and lots of people were passing by. Lots of Mark-looking robots, too. The creepy factor was still very high.

“Let's drive somewhere, okay?” I suggested.

Patrick focused on my injured arm. “You're hurt.”

“Quigs,” I answered. “Down at the gate.”

Patrick's eyes suddenly went wide. “Quigs!” he shouted, ramping up again. So much for calming down. “You know what that means? Saint Dane is here! Here! It's starting, isn't it? That's why you came, right?”

It was Courtney's turn to try and calm him down. She put her arm around his shoulder and started out softly, saying, “It's okay. We're here to help.” Her calm, reassuring voice quickly amped up into a tirade. “But we can't do anything unless you get a grip! All right! Now calm down!”

Good old Courtney. Patience wasn't her strength.

“Nice,” I said sarcastically, pulling Patrick away from her. “Let's take a breath and go someplace quiet.”

“I'll take you to a doctor,” Patrick said. “You need to get that treated.”

“Fine, whatever. Let's just go.” My first thought wasn't about the slash on my arm, but if letting Patrick focus on getting me help would put him back under control, I wasn't going to stop him. He jumped behind the wheel of the tiny car.

“You sure you can drive?” Courtney asked. She wasn't thrilled about riding in a car being driven by a maniac. To be honest, neither was I.

“I'm okay,” Patrick said, taking a deep breath. He was definitely calming down.

We all got in, with Courtney in the back and me next to Patrick. I could feel Courtney's tension radiate from the backseat.

“My doctor is in Manhattan,” Patrick explained. “He'll take care of you.”

“Good,” I said. “No hurry.”

“Yeah, no hurry,” Courtney echoed. “Safe and boring. That's the ticket. Let's get there in one piece.”

Patrick looked at her, then at me. “She's not a Traveler?” he said, as if I had just brought a martian into his life.

“It's cool. She's as much a part of this as we are.”

“But she's not a Traveler,” Patrick argued.

“That's the least of our problems,” Courtney said sharply.

I hoped she was right.

Patrick gave me a worried look, then turned over the ignition. The engine made no sound. Moments later we were rolling along the peaceful road, headed toward Manhattan. The trip was exactly as I remembered it, except for the dados. I didn't say anything to Patrick about them at first. I wanted to make sure he was completely calm. I also wanted to make sure his mind was on his driving. Crashing into a tree wouldn't have helped matters. I noticed that his eyes were darting everywhere. It seemed like every time we rounded another bend, he'd see something so shocking that the sight actually made him tense up and give out a little gasp—as if he were seeing ghosts or something. The guy was a raw nerve. It finally clicked that it happened whenever he saw another group of dados.

I couldn't take it anymore and said, “Okay, tell me why you're so freaked.”

Patrick answered, “I was hoping you could tell me.”

“Uhh,” I answered dumbly. “We just got here. You're the one acting all mental.”

Patrick thought a second. “You'd be a little crazy too if you woke up to find your territory wasn't the same as when you'd gone to sleep.”

I shot a look back to Courtney. She raised an interested eyebrow.

“Explain that,” I demanded.

Patrick took a shaky breath. “When I went to bed last night, everything was normal. Do you know how I woke up this morning?”

“No,” I said patiently.

“A stranger was shaking me, saying it was time to get up to go to work.”

“Who was it?” Courtney asked.

Patrick laughed, but it wasn't because he thought it was funny.

“Not ‘who,'
what!
” he shouted. “It was a mechanical man! I jumped up screaming and demanded to know who he was, but he just gave me this confused look and said he'd been my domestic da…da…”

“Dado?” I asked.

“Yes, dado! He said he'd been working for me for five years and didn't understand what game I was playing. I thought somebody was playing a practical joke. I ran out of the house to get away, but there were mechanical men everywhere! Pendragon, they weren't here when I went to sleep. Now there are more robots than people and nobody seems surprised but me! Am I crazy?”

“Unfortunately, no,” I answered.

Patrick continued, “I drove around in a daze, not believing what I was seeing. That's when my communicator activated, saying you were at the gate. I knew it couldn't be a coincidence.” He pulled the silver card out of his pocket. “But this isn't my communicator! It's changed! How can that be?”

The communicator looked exactly like the one at the flume.

Patrick added, “You can explain all this, right?”

I looked at Courtney. She shrugged and said, “Go for it.”

“I only have theories. We're here to find the real answers.”

“But I don't have any!” Patrick cried.

“History might,” I shot back quickly. “The same thing happened on Second Earth. One minute all was normal, the next minute technology changed. It's your computer archives that we're hoping will tell us why.”

“You're saying this all happened in the past?”

“I think so,” I answered. “I think the reason nobody is reacting to the change is because it happened long before they were born. These robots are now a normal part of Third Earth.”

“But if something happened in the past, I shouldn't have noticed a change,” Patrick argued. “I mean, this should all seem normal to me, too, right?”