The Disestablishment of Paradise (43 page)

‘OK,’ said Hera. ‘Just give me a minute.’ She began to tick things off on her fingers. ‘There’s a ten-minute delay so you can edit. There is no live audio
signal going out. You are the only two doing the interpreting. Am I right so far?’ They both nodded. ‘How do you know they’re not picking up our tri-vid signal when it arrives up
there?’

‘Oh, I’m sure they are. And recording it,’ said Dickinson. ‘And trying to sort it out, and scratching their heads. But it won’t do them any good. Your lad Alan and
I agreed some encryption protocols before we made the link. Your broadcast is secure. If anyone tries to hack in, well . . . if they’re lucky, they’ll get garbage. If they are unlucky,
it’s wall-to-wall Mahler.’ He tapped the side of his nose with his finger. ‘Trust Professor de Kingson. They’ll have the tapes of what
we
broadcast, of course. But
that’s all. Naturally, Mack won’t be too pleased when he sees himself getting hung up by the balls on prime time. And then this morning, when he fell down in the green soup, I fell off
my stool laughing. I always told him he’d missed his vocation and should have gone on stage.’

‘
Dickinson!
Can we get back to the subject? Are you sure the Network can’t break the code?’

‘Does the Pope wear woollen bed—’

‘Answer the bloody question!’

‘Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. I’m sure.’

‘OK. One other thing,’ said Hera. ‘It just occurs to me that Time and Space may be trying to pull strings with the Space Council to get the shuttle platform opened so they can
get down here. Now, that mustn’t happen. You’ve got to stop them. Not just for our sake, but for everyone’s sake. Broadcast the warning so that if they try anything they can be
held to account. Don’t ask me to explain why, because it would take too long. But just as you helped Mack get down here to save me, so trust me on this now. Don’t let anyone come down
here. Scare them shitless, if need be. Mack and I may be safe, simply because of what we are doing – but there are other forces at work too. So over to you.’

‘I think we can do that,’ said Tania. ‘Don’t you, Professor?’

Dickinson nodded. ‘And in any case, I can always fuck up the shuttle. I’ve still got the keys.’

‘Don’t worry, Hera,’ said Tania. ‘Leave it to us. Get back to work now. Save that beautiful big beast for us.’

‘Yeah,’ said Dickinson. ‘And look after the Dendron too. But it’s still your call, Doc. Remember.’

In the afternoon Hera and Mack worked on, extending the trench right down the length of the back of the Dendron. They had struck up a good rhythm, working together. Mack cut
with the chainsaw and ripped with the mattock while Hera worked with a bucket, scooping and clearing the slush over the sides. Working as fast as they could all day, they had managed to clear about
as much of the surface material as the Dendron in Marie Newton’s diary had cleared in one cut with its crest.

But now Mack began to cut more carefully. If he was right, then the main organ of sense – the ‘brain’ of the Dendron – would be found somewhere under the crest’s
pivotal joint. Its exact location was not known, and the situation was complicated by the fact that they must now be getting close to the top of the great twin pumps, the codds.

Mack was six feet six inches tall. Now, when he stood in the hole they had excavated, his head was well below the back of the Dendron. Both he and Hera needed a ladder to get in and out. Both
were soaked with the heavy juice, which had got inside the meshlite overalls and made them sticky and uncomfortable. The heat was not helping. The clouds that had filled the sky in the morning had
cleared and the sun now shone down from a clear blue sky.

Finally Mack said, ‘To hell with this for a game of spacemen. I’m stripping down. You make yourself comfortable too. If you’re worried about the recording we can always turn
the bugger off.’

Without more ado he unzipped his overalls, stepped out of them and threw them down to the ground. He was wearing red and green shorts underneath. He had long since abandoned his boots, trusting
his bare feet. Hera decided to do likewise and soon stood in just a top and loose shorts. Her face, neck, arms and legs were plastered with the green ooze. She appraised Mack. A strong body with
broad shoulders. Hairy chest, but not too much. Powerful arms – but pale. Not having seen many male bodies close to, she did not want to seem to ogle. At the same time, not to look would seem
prudish, childish even. ‘You could do with some time lazing in the sun, my lad.’

‘I could too,’ he replied, looking at her. ‘But there’s this woman, you see. As soon as I lie down with a book in the sun, she wants me to go chasing all over the country
hunting Dendron.’ Mack stretched, and then scratched his chest and back. ‘By God, it feels better without that meshlite stuff on. I know it’s safe and strong and all that, but
it’s the wrong gear for this kind of job. Can I ask you how you are coping, having been injured so recently?’

‘I’m fine. I feel be er for the exercise. One thing, though. This green stuff. It reminds me of the jelly from an aloe vera plant. Have you ever heard of it?’

‘Vaguely.’

‘Well, it’s very good for the skin. And I’ve just peeled some of this off and my skin feels clean and soft. That’s all I was trying to say.’

‘Well I’m glad to know that. We’ll keep some in a jam jar to take home.’ Mack jumped down into the hole and was immediately knee deep in warm ooze. ‘I want you to
come down here and bring your bucket. We might have a problem. Here, jump down.’ He lifted his arms to help her. But his hands being covered with the juice and her top being loose, his hands
slipped when he tried to hold her, and although Hera was not heavy, she fell down against him. Complicating matters was the fact that his hands caught in the loose shirt and it rode up and under
her arms, exposing her breasts. In that state he put her down on her feet.

‘Sorry about that,’ said Mack. ‘My grip slipped.’ Hera didn’t reply but pulled her damp shirt down. ‘Didn’t know you weren’t wearing a
bra.’

‘Some of us don’t have to. Now let’s get on. What’s the problem?’

It was one of those moments.

Each was suddenly deeply aware of the other physically. This had been happening for some time. How can it not when a man and a woman live close together and are attracted? But neither had quite
acknowledged the attraction. In fact they had carefully avoided it – and that, of course, made matters worse, or better. For Mack the sudden sight of her breasts, nipples raised and nicely
rounded, simply took his breath away. He could still feel them pressed against him and it made his throat dry for a moment and he felt very clumsy and breathless. For Hera it was more confusing.
The shock of feeling her shirt ride up and not be able to stop it clashed with her sudden sense of the man’s arms and strong body being very, very close. The clash tied a great knot in her
and she found herself breathless, embarrassed, pleased, a bit dizzy and warm – but above all she was aware that she wanted – no, more than wanted, needed – that big knot
untied.

Habit took over, and she hid her feelings under a brisk exterior, but later she would examine those feelings. Mack, a bit less protected by habit, had no choice but to let his pounding heart
subside.

For the time being, Hera was down the hole they had cut.

Mack said, ‘This is the problem. We’re close to the codds and I don’t want to damage them. We might be near whatever it uses for a brain, and I don’t want to damage that
either, yet. So first of all, feel about with your feet. Can you feel any difference on the bottom here?’

Hera moved round the hole, sliding her feet through the mush, feeling with her feet like a child at the seaside ankle deep in the sand. Mack retreated up the ladder.

‘It feels a bit warmer here,’ she said. ‘This would be over the codds, wouldn’t it? And I think I can feel ridges. If I work my toes . . .’ She did this,
concentrating visibly.

As that moment the Dendron gave a heave. The codds went through their great gulping and, moments later, green water was released on the back of the Dendron, flowed down the trench and cascaded
into the hole. Within seconds the level was rising. Hera was in no danger, but what had most surprised her was that she had felt the movements like a great rolling wave under her feet. She had felt
the ridges on the top of the codds open and close like a concertina. She felt a sudden warmth too, and when she stepped back there was a tingling in the liquid, like little pinpricks or as though
something had scampered lightly over her feet. The bottom of the trench was a lot softer here. It was very different. She might have felt the start of the brain.

Mack had climbed out of the hole, and he now reached down and offered her a hand and helped her up the ladder.

‘No doubt about it,’ she said. ‘You’re right over the codds. I could feel them contract. And over there . . . That was hard to describe. There was something different
down there.’

‘OK. I know what you mean. I felt it too. Just wanted to be sure I wasn’t imagining.’

The green water reached the top of the hole and began to flood over. It ran away and out through the channels Hera had cut in the morning. They felt the Dendron shake and the remains of the
straps which Mack had cut twisted and curled, unfurling like tongues. Those straps which were still intact contracted and the ball joint moved, stirring the crest. But without the two main support
straps a ached, the movement could go nowhere, though the black-spiked tines turned and flexed and cut the air like scissors.

‘Is it trying to lift its crest? Why?’

‘I think it’s saying, “Get a move on!” ’

Hera turned, and then cried out and pointed. One of the two front trees, one of the horns, had begun to droop. Its flags had no life and hung listlessly. Three of the cherries detached and fell
to the ground, landing beyond the Dendron with a heavy thud.

Beneath them they could hear the codds labouring like old bellows, and for the moment there was nothing they could do but hang on. They knelt down while the Dendron shook, and they held on to
whatever they could, including one another.

It seemed to last for a long time, but then gradually the shaking subsided. The front horn had straightened, but several more cherries had fallen.

Mack stood up. ‘That’s a warning. The two up front are in bad shape. They could be dying. The Dendron gave them what it could, but it’s failing fast too. Remember in the Mayday
woman’s story, the Dendron that was doing the cutting at one point put its own horns up against the other and rubbed. I’m sure it was giving comfort or energy of some sort. We are going
to try a big gamble, Hera. Have you got a good head for heights?’

‘No, terrible.’

‘Then now’s the time to learn. It’s payback time. Look at me. I’m going to rig it somehow so I can get you up there. I want you up there – don’t worry,
I’ll make it safe – but I want you to get through to the two front trees. I think that’s what the cherries are for. Use your body, use your mind. Touch them with your hands, let
them feel your life. Remember anything you can about the Dendron, anything that you saw in the dream time. Everything. All of the good memories – it playing in the sea, it coming up and over
you. And the way you felt. The waves. The redness. The way it swept you along. The sex. Yeah,
that
. Remember
that
especially. Everything, all the details and as much as you can.
You said that knowledge came to you, yes? From the Reaper! From the planet! From the Dendron! It doesn’t matter where from. Now give it back – from your heart, your womb, your mind,
your . . . everywhere. Give it back to them a hundred times more. Let them know we’re here because I think they have forgotten, and I think they are very, very frightened. Pour your love and
life into them like they were your own children. Go and get changed quickly. Put on warm things. It’ll get cooler when the sun goes down. You might be up there a long time. And start
remembering, now.’

Hera heard his words and knew what he meant, as well as those things that could not be said. Mack was right, ‘Payback time’. And wasn’t this really what she wanted? She hurried
down the ladder and into the SAS.

Mack came down after her. From the back of the SAS he brought ropes, a light chain ladder and a large multi-spanner. He sat in the back of the SAS and fastened his boots, lacing them tight. Then
he attached a pair of the light crampons demolition men use when working on wet timber or in icy conditions. Lastly, with a long auxiliary strap, he wrapped his tool belt tight round his waist. Two
big breaths and a flexing of the hands and he was ready. He climbed back up onto the Dendron and dragged the extension ladder up after him.

At the base of the strongest of the twin trees he rammed the ladder down hard so that the feet bedded into the turf of the Dendron. Then he pulled the ladder up to maximum. Its top was still far
short of the first branch of the cherries, but at least at that height the trunk was smaller and he could get his arms round it to climb. He now draped one of the long ropes round his shoulders so
that it couldn’t drop but would cushion his head against the tree. He a ached the folded coils of the chain ladder to the back of his belt. It hung down like a tail. He made one last check to
see that he had everything he might need: spare cords, knife, ring head cleats, hammer, eye pulleys and the wrench – he touched each piece as he said its name. Satisfied, he set off up the
ladder, fast and agile – the balanced climb of a man who knows ladders and their tricks well.

Behind him, on the roof of the SAS, the small tri-vid camera turned and tracked him. It was good that Mack did not know that all the members of his team were now packed into the small tri-vid
studio watching, or that, beyond the fractal limit, millions of others observed as he climbed high above the Dendron. Professor Kenneth de Kingson described every precaution and every danger in
glowing prose.

At the top of the ladder Mack wrapped his arms round the trunk and, using the crampons for purchase, began to climb. Push, lift, grip. Push, lift, grip. It was painfully slow progress, but it
was progress nevertheless and eventually he was able to reach with one hand and take hold of the lowest of the cherry branches. With one big effort he heaved himself up. His arms were aching, and
he sat for a minute in the fork of the tree to recover.
Not getting any younger
, he thought.
This might be my last big adventure, whatever granny says
.