Nexus Point (Meridian Series) (20 page)

       Maeve was starting to get a grasp on what he
was saying, though the technical details still escaped her. “You mean your
computer program is like our memory as long as it keeps running. You think it
will remain unaltered by changes in the continuum?”

       “Something like that. As long as it doesn’t
shut down and re-boot from the source code. The trick was to make sure it would
always
be running. That’s when I got the idea to tack it on to the code
for my screensaver. Now it’s on over a hundred thousand boxes all over the
globe, and the sun never sets on my little Golem program. He’s always active
and running somewhere, and if any variation is noticed, he’ll phone home.”

       “Phone home?”

       “The program will send a data packet here to
the main server I set up for it last month.”

       “And what does that tell you?”

       “It’s not what it tells me, it’s what it
does.”

       Maeve gave him a look that said she would
tolerate no more nonsense. He knew he had to sum things up for her fast. There
was nothing to be done now but to blurt it all out.

       “I set it up so that if a significant
variation is detected anywhere on the globe, the server will contact me on my
cell phone and put the Arch generator on cold standby.”

       “The Arch generator? Do you have any idea
what it costs us to run that kind of power here?”

       “Yes, but don’t worry, nothing has happened
in the last 30 days and our electric bill will be well within the norm.”

       “But why, Kelly? Why would you want the Arch
on standby like that? What good would it do for your program?”

       “Maeve…” Kelly tried to fashion one of his
own stern glances now, with moderate success. “If the program reports changes
then something is afoot, as Nordhausen would say. I’m betting my Golem will
alert us to variations in the continuum.”

       “Variations? How could there be changes to
the continuum. OK, I’ll admit that Nordhausen pulled the wool over our eyes and
got away with a little train ride through the English countryside, or so it
seems now from your data file there. He won’t get away with anything like that
again, by god. Now that I think of it, an alert system like that would be a
nice fail safe for us. Just you let me catch that rogue in the act the next
time he tries to pull off an unauthorized time breach. Can you set that thing
to call
my
cell phone?”

       Kelly laughed. “If you insist,” he said,
“And I think you probably will. That’s the general idea, though. If it works,
and I’m still not sure that it will, then we could be alerted to changes in the
continuum. We could have a chance at maintaining a safe reference point here.”

       “Here?”

       “Right,” said Kelly with a satisfied smile.
He put his baseball cap back on  and waved expansively at the lab around them.
“Right here—right smack dab in the heart of the Nexus. We spin up the Arch and
the field will start to coalesce. A null spot will form, and we can be here in
the center, safe and protected from any change in the Meridian. Then we’ll
know, Maeve,” he concluded. “We’ll
know.
We’ll be the reference point, if you follow me.”

       She did.

       “Clever boy,” she whispered. “I knew I had
you around for some good reason.”

       Kelly smiled, relieved that he had been able
to get through the technical issues to the heart of the matter. “The phone
rings,” he summed up. “I get in the Subaru and haul ass over here to the Arch
complex. Maybe you have a good idea there, Maeve. I think all four of us should
be able to respond to the alert. That way we improve our chances of  getting
someone into the safety of the Nexus Point before the Meridian solidifies on
some new course.”

       “Well if we can just get Nordhausen on board
and shut this whole thing down we won’t need a wakeup call  from your cute
little Golem program.”

       “Oh, I’m not worried
about any of us changing the continuum again, but you forget Mr. Graves and company.”

       Now Maeve finally settled on the heart of
Kelly’s plan. She gave him a long look, her eyes reflecting the conclusion that
was obvious to her now, but one she had resisted in her thinking all along. “You
think they’re still using the Arch technology to change things?”

       “You know what a temptation that kind of
power is, Maeve. Hell, look what Nordhausen pulled here! Now, I don’t know
about you, but I’m willing to bet that if something starts to slip; if things
start to change on us here, I damn well want to know about it when it’s
happening so I have the chance to do something about it—just like that night
last May. We were all set to go watch a Shakespeare play, then things changed.
We were just lucky we had the Arch on standby that night with Jen and Tom on
duty here. The point is this: we had six hours to do something, and I want that
chance again if anything goes terribly wrong.”

       Maeve gave him a long, forlorn look.
Outcomes and Consequences, that was what he was talking about now. He wanted to
keep a firm grasp on the life he was living now; wanted solid ground under
foot—some sense of certainty in the face of this awful new technology they had
spawned. He understood the same yawning doubt that sat in her chest now. He had
to.

       “Good for you, Kelly. I think it’s a great
idea.” She leaned over and embraced him, a long warm hug that conveyed her
relief and approval at the same time. It’s not just me, she thought. He feels
the same way I do about all of this. “I can imagine your cell phone gives you a
bit of a start every time it rings now, doesn’t it? People are calling you on
that damn thing all the time.”

       “You mean this?” Kelly reached in his pocket
and pulled out his slim light green Nokia cell phone. “Oh, I don’t use this
account for the alert calls.”

       There was a muted sound and he felt Maeve
tense up in his arms as she looked about the room to see what it was. Kelly’s
eyes widened with surprise. “I use the red phone in my briefcase…”

       Maeve had located the noise and the look on
her face spoke volumes. Kelly edged away from her and the sound continued. He
stood up and started across the room to his briefcase.

       It was singing out its third ring now and,
one by one, the system monitors began sputtering to life, consoles lighting up
and computers beeping as they began to boot their operating software routines.
Far below them, deep in the bowels of the Berkeley Hills, the massive titanium
wheels of the main power generator began to slowly spin with a low thrum.

       The Arch was growling to life.

Part VI

Dark Designs

“We are at the stake,

And bay’d about with many
enemies;

And some that smile have in
their

Hearts, I fear,

Millions of mischiefs.”

Julius Caesar, IV.i.
  – William Shakespeare

16

The Sami was pleased
with all he
had done this night. Soon, he knew, the plan would unfold, and the matter
between him and the Kadi would be decided once and for all. It was already
wakening while he waited in the Tower of Sinan, his thin hands tracing a path
over the strange figures that were drawn on the scroll. Messages, he thought.
Messages from Egypt. How the Kadi doted over them, afraid to speak any thought
or render any judgment without consulting the scrolls. What were they that he
should revere them so? They were no more substantial than the parchment they
were traced upon—something to be crumbled in his hand, or put to the flame.   He
teased the fire of a candle with the edge of the scroll, watching as the fiber
burned and charred at the edge, sending a thin trail of smoke up into the still
air.

       Words… Why should they matter
so? The thought that any real thing could ever be written was folly to him. A
man could make his way in the world by knowing, and by action. What was behind
the heavy wooden door to this very chamber? He could only know by looking. And
so tonight he
would
look. He would open his eyes and see what the mettle
of the Kadi truly was.

       In the dark hour, just before
the setting of the moon, his guards came to the chamber of maids. The women
were lounging in a hot steam bath, the smoke from the smoldering coals scenting
the air and adding to the misty haze of the room. The Sami smiled to imagine
their fear and surprise when his men set upon them. They were sent to find the
harlot, Samirah, and drag her away to the tower. When the hour came he listened
for the shrill cries echoing from the vaulted chambers of the castle. It was
done, and he went to the tower where the woman was held, to work his persuasion
upon her, and set his will in motion.

      
The light from a single torch
painted the bare walls in hues of ruddy orange and sable. The guards turned
with a milky fear in their eyes, then fell to their knees as they recognized
the Sami when he entered, their heads bowed in supplication.

       “Withdraw,” he told them, and
his command was obeyed at once. The dry, scraping echo of the bolt on the door
soon faded to silence, chased by the fleeing footsteps of the retreating
guards. The harlot, Samirah, stared at him shaking with fear and the chill of
the cold wall at her back.

       He could see, behind the fear,
the glimmer of recognition in her eyes. He saw how her breath came fast, for
she had no doubt heard the tales describing the fate of those who were taken
from the harem. They were bound in cold chains, tortured, the skin flailed from
their bodies, and then cast about with black sorcery to be made witches and
concubines of demons. The Sami laughed inwardly to think how he had long
cultivated such rumors, feeding them as one might lay fresh wood on a fire.
Once the fear had taken hold it would burn on its own, and he could
see that the flame was well kindled in the eyes of
the woman when he came to her. The Sami remembered how she struggled to turn her
head away when he approached, but his eyes caught and fixed her gaze, as though
she was already benumbed by some unspoken charm.

       Yet, he did nothing. It was enough for him
to simply hold the woman's eyes with his own, until the unblinking strength of
his will
surrounded her like an icy fog.
He could feel her fear,
and knew that the longer he waited the more she would dwell upon the inner
dread that consumed her with each passing moment. He would do nothing. Her own
fear would be enough to suit his purpose.

       When the moment came he
recognized it at once. Her eyes grew glassy with tears and she gave a last sigh
of resignation, broken to the terror that she conjured from within. At last he
spoke to her, though his voice was soft and measured, his words carefully
chosen.

       "There are those who would
sooner die than defile themselves by consorting with our enemies. It seems that
you are not so pure as your face and form might show.”

       Again the silence and the
waiting, where each second became a dark space that Samirah filled with a
thousand demons of her own making. Her breath came fast, yet she remained frozen,
paralyzed by the unbending regard of the Sami. His eyes were like blue fire,
scoring her, shaming her, promising just punishment.

       “Hear me,” he said at last. “You
will do a thing now that may yet redeem your soul from the blackness I
perceive. You will gain atonement for your sin."

       The glimmer of hope in her eyes
was a hunger now, and he knew he could mold her as he wished. He took a deep
breath, his hand upon his bearded chin, as though considering, and with each
gesture, each subtle stroke of his finger, the woman became his willing
servant.

       "Atonement," he
repeated, binding her with the very rope he extended to the pit of her fear.
"Tonight you will go to the stranger, as you have these five nights past.
This time you will take what I shall give to you, a small vial, a cleansing
potion, and you will mix it with the evening drink. Do you hear?”

       She held her breath, desperate
to still the trembling of her body. “Do you understand?” The Sami repeated, and
Samirah struggled to speak, but her voice was lost, a frightened breath that
was barely a whisper. The Sami’s eyes held her, pressing into her, breaking
her. The moment seemed interminable. He did not need her answer to know that
all would be as he had spoken it. Still, a brief reminder of things that might
be seemed appropriate to him as he turned to leave her.

      
“Hang now in these chains,” he
told her. “Let your arms grow numb and your legs weaken in their iron grip.
Know them well. Feel the coarse, cold rock upon your naked back. Hear the
scrabble of rats in the straw upon the floor. This will be your abode if you
should fail me. You will hang here for an age and more, and the guards will be
sent to pleasure themselves and complete your shame.”