Communion of dreams, p.13
Communion of Dreams, page 13
* * *
“You’re getting closer.”
It was a voice that was familiar to him. Old. Maybe wise. Darnell Sidwell’s voice.
He opened his eyes, saw nothing. He couldn’t tell anything about where he was, or what was around him. He was blind, could feel nothing. No sense of gravity, no motion. Neither cold nor hot. He could touch himself, feel the thickness of his own flesh, but there was no sensation of texture or temperature. He was just clay. Dull, inert, floating in nothingness.
He found he had a voice. “Closer to what?”
There was a long pause.
“The point of definition.” He heard the old man sigh, a deep exhalation that seemed to last for ages, a sigh that had been waiting to be released almost forever. “Think. There can be no silence without sound. Nor shadow without . . . ”
“Light.”
Brilliance erupted around him. He tried to close his eyes to it, but the light still filled his brain, so intense that there wasn’t even a hint of color in it, no filter of blood in his useless lids. Just a white that surpassed anything he had ever experienced.
* * *
“Round one t’ the angel, I’d say.”
“Wha . . . what happened?” Jon was groggy, disoriented. He sat up on one elbow, looked around. He was back in Sidwell’s home.
“Take it easy. You passed out.”
“What were you talking about, that stuff about light and shadow?”
Darnell looked concerned. “You were out cold. We didn’ talk ‘bout nothin’.”
“But . . . ” Jon paused, tried to remember. It was slipping away now, breaking up into nothingness. He shook his head, tried to get his thoughts to clear. “How long was I out?”
“A while. Mebbe 20 minutes.” Sidwell looked at him, brought his ancient, craggy face down close to Jon’s. A hand peeled back an eyelid. “But, I reckon you’ll be OK.”
Jon touched the back of a hand, checked that his medical monitors agreed with what Darnell said.
Darnell stood up, went over to the galley, came back with a steaming cup. “Here, have some coffee.”
Jon slowly sat up a little more, taking his time to see if there was any sense of dizziness or disorientation. Nothing but a lingering fuzziness, like he’d been in a deep sleep. He took the cup, sipped it.
“So, why’d you pass out?”
“Dunno. I’m tired, and not used to the gravity. Maybe that was it.”
Sidwell sat down, and just watched him as he sipped at the coffee, saying nothing.
“Anyone else collapsed around the artifact like that?”
“Nope.”
He shook his head. “Well, I think I’m all right. Probably just tired.”
“Be a good idea to see that doc they’ve got up there, though.”
“Yeah. How’d you get me here?”
“Had them two sentries carry you. Didn’ think I did it, did you?” He smiled.
“No, that’s . . . wait, you mean the two sentries left the dome? Was there anyone in there with the artifact?”
“Nah. But don’t worry about it. Nothin’ happened. It’s still there.”
“But who knows . . . ”
“Look, I know. Nothin’ happened.”
“But...”
Darnell sighed. “I had that thing all t’ myself for most two weeks, an’ nothin’ happened t’ it or me durin’ that time. Just relax.”
Jon nodded, finished the coffee. “Still, I’ll feel better once the other team arrives and we can start seriously examining it.”
“Right. Oh, that reminds me . . . Pal?”
The cat materialized on the other end of the couch. She looked at Jon, then at Darnell.
“I want you t’ have th’ micros start sealin’ th’ upper deck ‘n th’ dome.” He glanced from the cat to Jon. “Do it a section at a time, so th’ sentries can stay in there.”
The cat just nodded.
Darnell looked back at Jon. “When that’s done, we’ll warm the place, an’ pump ‘n air. It’ll be ready when yer other team arrives.”
Jon nodded. “Thanks.”
“Feelin’ better now?”
“Yeah. Still . . . ” He looked to the cat sitting by his feet. “Can you connect me with my expert, Seth?”
The cat blinked, and Seth appeared in the room. He was standing beside the couch, and nodded to Darnell. “Mr. Sidwell. Greetings.”
The prospector frowned, but nodded back.
Seth looked at Jon. “You asked for me?”
“Yeah. Tell Tops I need to see her when I get back. Upload my med stats, and she’ll see why.”
“Done. Are you well?”
“I think so. But I want to double check.”
Seth’s nodded. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“Not right now, unless you have something for me.”
Seth glanced at Sidwell. “We can wait and discuss it when you return, if you prefer.”
Jon raised an eyebrow. “That research project?”
“No, I just received a message from Director Magurshak. I scanned it, was just about to contact you.”
Jon considered. Somewhat less than an hour before the shuttle would be back to pick him up, but then there would be transit time. He looked to Darnell. “Do you mind? This should only take a moment.”
“Nah, go ahead.”
Jon nodded once to Seth. The file downloaded. He asked the expert, “Anything else?”
“No.”
“OK. I’ll let you know if I need you again.”
Seth vanished. Jon played the message.
“Jon? Thought I should let you know. There’s indication that someone else has known about the artifact almost as long as we have. We’re still tracking down the possible transmission route, and don’t know how far the news has spread. But at least one cell of the Edenists seems to have been informed. There may be other groups involved. I’ll get any real news to you as soon as I can. Magurshak out.”
Jon’s focus came back to the room, and he saw Darnell standing nearby, holding out another cup of coffee. He took it. “Thanks.”
“That wasn’t good, from th’ look on yer face.”
Jon sipped. “No.”
“Concern me?”
Jon nodded slightly. “Yeah, maybe. There might have been a leak.”
Sidwell considered this. “Well, no s’prise. Not with a thing like this.”
“I suppose not. But we hoped to avoid it.”
“So now what?”
“It seems that the news is still being kept quiet. Whoever knows probably has their own reasons for not spreading it further.”
“Prob’ly.” The old man looked down into his coffee mug. “So whatcha goin’ to do now?”
“Don’t know. Have to think about it.”
Darnell nodded, said nothing.
Jon sipped his coffee. “They think it’s the Edenists who know about the artifact.”
There was a flash in the old man’s eyes. “You don’ say.”
“They’re an ugly mix of radicals.”
Darnell looked at him carefully. “Anytime religion gets ‘n th’ way of lookin’ for God, it’s ugly.”
Chapter 9
“Well, there’s nothing that I can find.”
Jon nodded at the news. “So, thoughts?”
She leaned against the side of a cabinet. “There’s a lot of conditions which could account for fainting, but I can’t find anything that would support a medical cause for what you experienced. And dreams are very unusual during normal fainting episodes.”
“OK, but how about non-medical causes?”
“Well, no one else has reported any sort of fainting, seizure, or visions. And the first couple of people who went down to investigate got pretty close to the artifact. Hell, Sidwell says he touched the damned thing, albeit through a suit.”
“He didn’t faint.”
“Not so far as he said, anyway.” She grinned. “But I wouldn’t put it past him to ‘forget’ such a small detail.”
“Then either I’m susceptible to the artifact in some unique way, or something else is going on that is unrelated to the artifact altogether. And that latter conclusion I don’t buy, because it was pretty clearly connected in some way.”
“Agreed. You know, there are a lot of altered states of awareness. States that don’t leave much of a trace afterwards, though they can usually be identified while the subject is in them.”
“Sure. Except I wasn’t meditating, practicing yoga, praying, or falling asleep.”
“Well, maybe you weren’t intending to do any of those things. But maybe the artifact can prompt the mind to achieve such a state. A good hypnotist can put a subject under in seconds, frequently without the subject really realizing it.”
Jon thought about it. Had he felt anything like that? No. But could he rule it out? No. “OK, that’s a possibility. What do we do, wire me and give it a test, see if it happens again?”
“Why not? I can easily program your existing vital stats monitor to do it, no further hardware needed. Won’t take but a few minutes.”
Jon nodded. “Do it.”
Seth appeared. “Forgive the interruption, but I thought that this may be a good time to discuss that research you wanted, Jon.”
Jon looked at Tops. “Can you listen and work at the same time?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
Jon looked to Seth, nodded.
“After he experienced several instances of unusual dream activity, Jon asked my thin-film counterpart back on Earth to collect data on the subject. Reports in discussion groups, news sources, and public postings on any significant change in the frequency of dreams or their content. My dup went back through the last year’s datafiles to establish a baseline for the study, then I compared that to activity for the last few weeks. There is a significant deviation from the norm.”
“More?”
“Not really. It’s more a qualitative difference. The level of discussion and reportage hasn’t changed. But as I sifted through the data, I came to realize that how people were talking about their dreams has changed.”
“Oh?”
“At any time, there is usually a general buzz about dreams being insights into one’s personality, or wish fulfillment, even of forecasting some future event or relationship. It seems to be a way that humans process the general concerns of life, a trait you share with other primates, according to background research. In any event, something has changed, according to the discussions in the public forums, though I’m not sure that anyone is yet aware of it.”
Jon glanced at Tops, back at Seth. “And what is the change?”
“There seems to be a lot of dreaming about doorways, portals, passages, arches, bridges, boxes, baskets, presents, . . . in short, any sort of metaphor for discovery and mental journey.”
“That sounds pretty vague,” said Tops.
“It isn’t. These are all instances where the dreamer made the connection; it wasn’t just a haphazard bridge or gift that happened to appear in the dream. The dreamer realized that there was some significance to the object, and had drawn the conclusion that it meant some kind of impending revelation.”
“How many people are you talking about?” asked Jon.
“Thousands.”
“And given that only a small percentage of people usually remember their dreams, and probably only a fraction of that number would get into a discussion of them that Seth would come across . . . ”
Jon felt a slight tingling at the back of his neck. “Seth, when did this change take place?”
“There is a significant increase starting March 30th of this year.”
“Two days before Sidwell found the artifact.” The tingling spread, and the hair of his arms started to stand on end.
* * *
He wandered, considering the evident connection between the artifact and the change in dream content. Was this how it meant to communicate with us? He was too tired; tired from the gravity, tired from the experiences of the day. Too tired to make much sense of it all. His feet took him down to the commons, that part of Titan Prime similar to the atrium of Wright Station. But here, instead of a wedge of open space rising dozens of stories, there was a central arboretum and associated gardens that included a small brook originating from a nice waterfall. Around the perimeter of the commons were restaurants and pubs, gathering places and communal spaces that offered a reprieve for the scientific and operational staff. The roof, several stories above, was glass fabric, and looked out on the open stars. At the edge you could see the dull silver moonlet of the Advanced Survey Array.
“Not exactly the romantic image of Luna you’re used to, is it?” asked Duc Ng, who was standing and admiring the view.
“No, not really.” Jon looked at the thin artist, hands in his pockets, slouch hat pushed back to afford him a better view of the sky.
“You know, I could design a program that would enhance the image. Everyone who looked up at that would see our Moon, instead. Wouldn’t take much. I could even paint it red.”
“Paint it red? You mean the Moon?”
“Yeah, old joke. There was this artist back at the turn of the century who had this project called ‘Paint the Moon’. He wanted to get everyone in the Western Hemisphere to focus these popular little hand-held laser pointers on the Moon all at once, with the idea that enough of the laser light would cause a red spot to appear. Had it all figured: what phase of the Moon was best to do it, how people could aim their lasers, the whole bit.”
“Crazy,” said Jon. Then, after a pause, “It didn’t work, did it?”
“Nah. But that wasn’t the point. He always described the project as a ‘shared lyrical fantasy’, designed to bring people together for a single moment, all doing the same thing. The first attempt got quite a lot of attention world-wide from the media. Millions heard about it, and maybe tens of thousands participated. It is still considered a seminal art event — we studied it in school.”
“But . . . what’s the point?”
“Oh, I just always liked that grandiose sense of whimsy. There were a number of crazy things like that back then, before everything went to hell. Do you know someone else even got all the schoolkids in Britain to jump up and down all at once, to see if they could cause an earthquake? No shit — really happened.” He grinned at Jon. “So, what did you find down on Titan?”
“Well, I’ll have a report to everyone tomorrow before the meeting, but suffice it to say that I had a different experience than I expected.”
Duc raised an eyebrow. “Really? I look forward to hearing about it.”
“Well, I was just looking for something to eat. Want to join me?”
“There was an interesting looking little Thai place back over this way . . . ”
* * *
After an enjoyable and relaxing dinner with Duc Ng, Jon returned to his quarters. Bone-weary, he propped himself in a sitting position on the bed and started to work on his report for the other members of the team. It would be necessary to give them a good overview of what had happened to him on Titan. He didn’t tell them much about his interaction with Sidwell, but concentrated on his fainting spell, along with the subsequent medical analysis. As an addendum, he outlined a summary of Seth’s report on the change in dream content, and the timing of that change. Just as he was finishing up, Seth appeared.
“Good evening. Dr. Taupiczak asked me to tell you she’s on her way over. She should be here shortly.”
“Tops? Why?”
“She said that she had finally received the medfile on Chu Ling, and wished to discuss it with you.”
“OK. Thanks.” Jon nodded. “I’ve composed a report that I want you to review. You may wish to expand the last section, about the analysis you did on dream content.”
Seth paused a moment. “Done. Do you wish to see the final version before I send it out?”
“No, that’s fine. Go ahead and distribute it.”
“To the usual recipients?”
“Yeah, but from now on, also include Soukup and Tops. Tops may not participate directly, but I want her included in the datastream.”
“Should I provide them with all the previous material?”
“Hmm. Summarize it, and give them access to the full reports if they want to review it all.”
“Understood. I’ll preface it with an explanatory note.”
“Thanks. They can check with me if they need information you can’t provide.”
Seth glanced to the door. “Dr. Taupiczak is here.”
There was a knock at the door. “C’mon in.”
She came into the room, sat in one of the reading chairs, saying nothing. The look on her face was hard, eyes narrowed, jaw set.
Jon shut the door, cranked up the security screen, took the other chair. “Drink?”
“No,” she said flatly. Paused. “Sorry, I don’t drink.”
“Seth said you got the full medfile for Chu Ling . . . ”
“Finally! And with what’s in it, I’m not surprised they didn’t want to give it to me.”
Jon said nothing, waited.
Tops fidgeted with her hands a bit, at last seemed to compose herself. “I don’t like it. Cloning is a superbly bad idea. Mucking around with the genetic sequence in order to enhance a human being is a worse one. Combining the two is just plain insane.”
“Agreed. But now we’re stuck with her.”
“And just what crazy notion got into your head to bring her along on this trip, anyway?”
He paused a moment to consider that she hadn’t yet seen all the relevant files. “Seth is going to provide you with all the background information on our mission, and there’s a complete explanation in there. But let me tell you briefly how it happened: Gish asked me to, said that he had an instinct that she would be somehow important to us. And I trusted that instinct.”
