Communion of dreams, p.4
Communion of Dreams, page 4
She shook her head, like she was trying to remember something else, but couldn’t. She looked at him. “You’re a funny color this morning, you know that? Some kind of deep red about you, instead of the normal blue-grey I see.”
Jon smiled. Judith had always claimed that she could detect a color aura around people.
She saw his smile and returned it, but said, “You know, you shouldn’t dismiss it so quickly.”
“So you’ve said before.”
“And meant it.”
“Oh, I’ll grant that perhaps there’s something that inspires you, gives you the wonderful artistic gift you have. You certainly see things in a different way from most of us. But paranormal stuff just doesn’t stand up to examination.”
She sighed, a little exasperated. “Even Dale saw something unusual about you this morning. There’s more to the universe than you think, you know. ”
This caught him. He thought of yesterday’s events, and laughed out loud.
Judith looked hurt, started to get up from the table.
Jon reached out, took her hand. “Sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you. Please, sit back down.”
With some reluctance, she settled back into her chair, looked at him expectantly.
“Let’s just say you are more correct than you know. Look, I’ll explain after I get back from Titan, all right? But take my word on it for now.”
She considered him and finished the peach. “Be careful. I don’t like this color seeping into you. I don’t know what it means, but I don’t like it.”
“I’ll be careful, promise. But now, I need to get going. I have a lot of things to take care of today.” Taking his plate over to the sink, he kissed her quickly in passing, and headed for the door.
* * *
“Morning, Jonathan.” Seth appeared as Jon cleared through Security and entered the USSA headquarters.
“What’ve you got?” asked Jon as he made his way to his office. Once he crossed the broadcast threshold of the facility, a display came up in his visual field.
“Routine things. You’ll note a few minor changes to your scheduled meetings later this morning. Director Magurshak wants to meet with you over lunch, concerning bringing in someone to help with the workload here while you’re gone.”
“Oh?” said Jon as he turned a final corner, came to his office. “What did he say?”
“Nothing. Sappho communicated with me about scheduling the meeting. She said that Magurshak was concerned that I was also going to Titan, thought that it made sense to bring in some additional resources.”
“All right. Let him know that I’ll be there.”
There was hardly a pause. “Done.”
Jon sat at his desk. “Seth, package a summary of last night’s general meeting for me, ready for transmission to Susan Jakobs. Focus on decisions, time frame. Append reports about personnel to expect, including the NSA force. And let’s set a regular communications schedule.”
“Of course. Anything else?”
“Not at present. Give me a little time to review this stuff.” Jon touched the back of his hand, pulling up the status reports that he needed to go through, and settled back in his chair.
* * *
“. . . so we should be en route by late afternoon tomorrow. I’ll be arriving with the NSA force and my team on the da Vinci. Bradsen’s research staff will arrive with their equipment a couple of days later. USSA out.”
With a touch to the back of his hand Jon sent off the message for automatic encryption and transmission. He glanced at his schedule, noted the time. The first of his appointments would be in momentarily.
Seth’s voice announced, “Jackie Gates to see you, Jon.”
Jon got up, went to the door of his office. Opening it, he saw a young woman, American, red hair. Thin, moderately tall. Green eyes and a quiet but bright smile. She stood, as if in conversation with Seth. She looked at Jon, held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“My pleasure also,” Jon said as he shook her hand. Nothing in her palmkey information he didn’t already know from her file. “Won’t you please come in?”
“Thank you.” She followed him into the room, took an offered chair. Seth also came into the room, appeared to sit. They both glanced at the expert.
“Were you involved in Seth’s creation?”
“Not directly. I worked with my father to develop the semifluid CPU, but am not involved in production. For now I prefer the experimental stuff.”
“You’ve also published quite a number of papers on gel systems.”
She smiled. It had an edge to it. “And the most interesting stuff won’t see publication until we’re ready with the next generation of the semifluid CPU.”
Jon carefully said, “Something has come up on Titan related to the tholin gel. Would it be possible for you to go out there and give us some advice on the matter?”
She studied him. Looked to Seth. Looked back to Jon, said “This is something which requires me to travel out to Titan?”
“That’s right.”
She frowned. “I don’t much care for space travel. Can’t this be resolved via remotes?”
“I’m afraid not. But I believe the trouble will be worth it: we’ve found something which may radically change our understanding of the gel.”
Her eyes narrowed somewhat. After a considered pause, she asked “How much can you tell me?”
Jon shook his head. “Not much, until you’ve committed. I’m sorry about that.”
There was a silence.
She sat back, considered. Jon knew from her file that she usually was a very cautious person, exhaustive in her engineering research. But she also had a streak of opportunism, of entrepreneurship, which evidently came from her famed grandfather. “How long would we be gone?”
“We’re estimating four to six weeks. It’s possible that your component may be finished sooner. We certainly won’t keep you any longer than necessary.”
“So, you say this could change our understanding of gel.”
“Correct.”
“Would my company have proprietary use of any discoveries I make?”
Jon nodded slowly. “As related to the gel, yes, so long as it is understood that NSA concerns are paramount.”
She looked him in the eye, and slowly, she said “I’ll take the chance. Yeah, I’m in.”
“You’re certain?”
“I said I’m in. Now, tell me just what you’ve found, and when I have to be ready to leave.”
“We believe that time is important, and I’ll be leading a mission out to Titan Prime, leaving tomorrow afternoon.” Jon looked to Seth, back at the woman. “As to what we’ve found . . . well, we’ve found what seems to be a nonhuman artifact.”
Her eyes got wide. “Whoa. Seriously?”
Jon nodded.
“Technological?”
“Apparently.”
“What’s the connection to the gel?”
“We’re not sure, though there seems to be some relationship.”
“Which is why you wanted me.”
Jon nodded again. “And you’ll understand that henceforth you’ll have to abide by NSA regulations about protecting this information.”
“No problem.”
“Good. Seth will go over the details of that with you, along with everything else.” Jon stood, extended his hand. “I’ve another meeting. I’ll be available later if you want to discuss any aspects of the mission which Seth can’t help you with.”
She looked momentarily stunned, but took his hand. There was strength there. She turned and looked at Seth. “Let’s go.”
Jon watched the two of them leave the office. He checked the time, pulled up the next candidate’s file, and said, “I just hope that Mr. Ng isn’t too late.”
Seth was instantly next to him. “I’ve taken the liberty to monitor his car. He should arrive in a few minutes.”
* * *
Duc Ng was hung over. Jon could see it the moment the man walked into the room. He was thirtyish, ethnic Vietnamese, but third-generation North American. His family had settled in Canada after escaping war, famine, and more war in the latter part of the last century. Lived out on the west coast, north of Vancouver. Long black ponytail. Slouch hat pulled down to shade his eyes.
Jon could easily see it for himself. Dull eyes. Slow movements. Classic short-term burnout. Hangover, as it was known.
Duc Ng was an artist. A holo sculptor, whose specialty was slow-progression transformations. The works were beautiful, inspired, and appreciated by almost anyone who saw them. Ng had jacked-up cyberware to heighten his sensitivity, and used psychotropic drugs tailored to cause neurotransmitter activity to increase dramatically. This created an artificial synesthesia for a short period of time, during which the usual senses became blurred and intermingled, adding layer upon layer of perception. Though habit-forming, it wasn’t really harmful, though the short periods of burning brightly used up the brain’s chemical reserves of neurotransmitters, leaving the addict to struggle through periods of near sensory deprivation.
“You with me, Ng?” Asked Jon.
Unblinking, the dull eyes slowly looked at him. “Yes.”
“We need you to help us understand something we’ve found. As my expert Seth told you last night, we’ll need you to go to Titan with us.”
“I remember. And I understand. I will go.” The man nodded slowly, deliberately.
“We need you to not use the drugs until we say so. It won’t be too long, just a couple of weeks. Can you do that?”
“Yes. I can wait. I need some time to recover, anyway.”
“OK, good. Seth has made arrangements for you for tonight. We’ll leave tomorrow. Do you have any questions?”
Ng looked at him for a long time. At last his eyes blinked, and he said “Did you see it?”
“See what?”
“My latest piece. Finished it yesterday. Show opened last night. Then Seth called.” He tried to focus on Jon. “Did you see it?”
“No, I’m sorry, I haven’t yet.”
“Let me know.” With this, the man slowly got up and moved toward the door. Before he left the office, though, he turned and looked at Jon again. “I will be your eyes. It is my art.”
Jon shook his head. This was going to be an odd group. He checked the latest updates to status reports. Owen Roberts had rearranging the ship manifests well in hand, and already much of the scientific equipment was loaded. Bradsen posted that he had already met with several of his team members.
“Seth, have Arthur Bailey come in as soon as he arrives.”
“He’s here already, Jon. I’ll send him in.”
Jon smiled.
Arthur Bailey came into his office. Slight man, wiry, face a little prematurely aged by weather. Close-cropped blond beard. Worn work clothes, heavy boots. Used to doing a lot of his own fieldwork, by the looks of him. Jon stood up, shook his hand, gestured to a chair. “Please, have a seat.”
“Thank you for seeing me. I know I’ve been a bit of a pest these last few months...”
“I’ve looked over your proposal. And I’m intrigued.”
“The tools people use tell us a lot about their culture. The same is true, just on a larger scale, of the machines of the industrial age, or even our own.” The man paused. “I have spent most of my time in studying the opening of the western frontier in North America during the mechanized age, and the forward and backward linkages that had on economic development. But I still need to understand the mental landscape of the people involved in such enterprises.”
“So you want to go to Titan, to study the gel prospectors?”
“And the USSA staff facilitating the mining.”
“You don’t think that perhaps we’ve changed some in the last couple hundred years?”
“Fundamentally, no.” Bailey looked him in the eye. “Seeing the way that individuals interact with the tools they depend on to survive in a new and hostile environment, how those tools are used, maintained, and discarded when no longer useful, should provide me with insight into use patterns during the period I’m studying. It’ll help me understand and hopefully document industrial evolution during those early years of the industrial revolution.”
Jon drummed his fingers on his desk. “Well, I’ve decided to approve your request, though there is something I want your assistance with, in return.”
“What?”
“My expert recommended that you may be an asset to us in dealing with something which has just come up. It seems that some studies which were done last century suggested that someone with an anthropological background would be useful in the circumstances we find ourselves in. You see,” Jon sat back in his chair and watched the man, “we think we’ve found an alien artifact out on Titan.”
Arthur Bailey was genuinely startled. He almost stammered, “But I don’t know anything about aliens.”
“Nobody does. But you know about tools. And have degrees in mechanical and industrial engineering, along with your anthropology work, right?”
“Well, because of my anthropology work, more accurately.”
“Still, you may be of use to us. And after our survey of the artifact, you can go on to spend as much time doing your research on gel mining as you want.” Jon paused. “That is, if you want to.”
Bailey stared at him. “You bet your ass. What else can you tell me about the artifact? When do I leave?”
“We leave tomorrow. Seth will give you a complete briefing, show you what we know so far.”
“How much can I tell my family?”
“I’m afraid that from here on out, NSA guidelines must be imposed. Can you keep it to just letting them know that your research proposal has been approved, and that there is an unexpected berth outbound leaving tomorrow?”
Bailey nodded. “Yeah, that’ll work. They know how much I’ve wanted to get this project approved.”
Jon smiled, stood. He held out his hand again, shook with Bailey as the other man got up. “Then it looks like you’re on your way to Titan, and all the research you want. Welcome to our team.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t worry about being a little stunned by this. We all are.” Jon gestured at the door, to the image of Seth now standing there. “Go with Seth. He’ll get you the background information, and help with anything else you need to do before we depart.”
Bailey left. Jon dipped into the data stream and checked the status of Ng and Gates, saw that both had left the facility, presumably making arrangements to be gone for a few weeks. Commander Navarr, the Security liaison, posted a report indicating that his team was already at the near-Earth station where the da Vinci was docked, and seeing to the loading of their equipment.
Jon was tending to some details of his own when Seth announced “Robert Gish is here to meet you.”
“Gish? What’s he want?”
“He refuses to tell me, says he just needs to meet with you.”
Jon only had a little while until his lunch meeting with Magurshak. “All right, send him in.”
The rumpled little scientist came into the room. It looked as though he hadn’t bothered changing clothes since Jon last saw him. “What can I help you with, Mr. Gish?”
“Got your team assembled?”
Jon wasn’t sure what he was expecting from the man, but this wasn’t it. “Mostly. I still have a mid-afternoon meeting with someone, but I expect that will complete it.”
“No, there’s someone else you need. Come with me.” Gish turned as though to head out the door.
“Seth, lock the door to the outer office.”
This stopped Gish in his tracks. He turned and glared at Jon. “Why’d you do that?”
Jon looked at the man calmly, said “I can’t go with you right now.”
“But you have to!”
“No, I don’t.”
Gish frowned. “There’s someone you have to meet. Someone you must have on your team.”
“Then just give me the name of this person, and I’ll arrange to see them.”
“No. You have to come with me. Now. She won’t meet with you otherwise.” Gish looked at his feet. “I’m sorry. But it’ll only take a few minutes, and she is waiting outside the building.”
“What?”
“This is important. Come on, we only have a few minutes, or she’ll leave.” He headed for the door again, this time looking back to see if Jon was going to follow.
Jon thought for a second, said, “Seth, unlock the door. Inform Magurshak that I may be a few minutes late.”
Gish smiled. “I’m glad to see I was right about you.”
“How so?” asked Jon.
“Tell you later.”
Jon pondered this as they walked. Exiting into the crisp morning air, Jon looked around the plaza in front of the USSA building. He didn’t see anyone who looked like they were waiting for them. But Gish made for a small cluster of benches beside a row of low, decorative bushes on the far left side of the plaza. “Over here.”
Gish sat, looked at Jon in expectation. Jon looked around again, and sat. “Now what?”
He heard a sound from behind a nearby bush. Turning slowly, he saw a young girl come out of hiding. She was very small, perhaps seven or eight years of age. Chinese heritage. Dressed in filthy, ragged clothing.
Jon looked back at Gish. “What are you up to?”
“Family’s dead.” Gish looked to the child, said something in what sounded like Chinese. The girl came over to Gish, but warily, keeping the scientist between her and Jon.
Gish took her small, delicate hand in his own, turned to Jon. “She’s a refugee, doesn’t speak much English. I’m not too sure of her entire story. But somehow she managed to make it to Toronto. She won’t stay in any of the care facilities, refuses to remain with any family.”
“And why do you think I want her to have anything to do with our mission?”
Gish looked at him. “I found her on the street near my apartment, a little over a week ago. She asked for help, but was clearly scared. I do have a heart. I took her back to my place for a hot meal, and to see if I could help her.
