Authors: Bruce Sterling
Tags: #Science fiction, #General, #Fiction, #High Tech, #Computers, #Suspense, #Thrillers, #Mystery & Detective, #Science Fiction - High Tech, #Fiction - Espionage, #thriller, #Government investigators, #Married people, #Espionage, #Popular American Fiction, #Technological, #Intrigue, #Political, #Political fiction, #Computer security, #Space surveillance, #Security, #Colorado, #Washington (D.C.), #Women astronomers
The zenith angle (39 page)
“There’s
rotation.
And it’s red . . .”
DeFanti began to tremble. It was some kind of object . . . It was round . . . it had thickness and depth, and it spun and it sparkled . . . He was witnessing a cataclysm in his beloved sky. It was a Flying Object, floating in the sky, an impossible creature of red dancing light.
“Look up there at that damn thing,” he croaked.
“I’m not getting this, Tom. What exactly do you see up there?”
“It’s flying and it’s made out of lights. And it’s
big
!”
“You’re serious about this?”
“It’s
getting closer
! Look at it!” DeFanti flinched and ducked. “Look out!”
“I’d
love
to see it, Tom. What are you talking about?”
“It tried to hurt us!” DeFanti shouted. “Now it’s really moving! Oh, my God, look at the
speed
of that thing!” Awe, terror, wonder fought within DeFanti. Good Lord, to have
seen
a UFO, to know that the real world really held such things, not any joke, not a dream,
space travelers,
that alien spacecraft were true and real, just like hammers and hamburgers were real . . .
But that would burst the limits of the world. It meant total loss of control. The Dot-Commie cleared his throat politely. “Tom, did you say this thing is ‘made out of lights’? I only ask because, well, there are often good explanations for unusual visual phenomena.”
“You can’t see it at all? Look, it’s wheeling around! It’s coming back right at us!”
“No, Tom, I don’t see it. I do see that it’s getting a little hazier up there, as you said. So maybe it’s just car headlights, Tom. It’s reflections off low clouds.”
“Kid, that thing is
flying.
I see a flying object!”
“Car headlights can fly. Their lights move up and down on hillsides. Wait, Tom! I’ve got it! It’s those giant windmills.”
“What?”
“It’s flickering, right? They’re setting up megawatt windmills down in the valley now. Those windmills are huge. Light could flicker off their giant blades.”
“Are you crazy? It’s a flying saucer! I can see it.”
“Okay,” the Dot-Commie said calmly. “Okay, I guess you’re right. So then, it’s got to be an artifact.”
“An
alien
artifact?”
“No, an artifact of your perceptions.”
“You’re telling me that I’m a lunatic.”
“No, Tom. I’m telling you that you’re shaking like a leaf, and you’re saying things that make no sense to me, and I can’t see any reason why you should do that. And that’s got me very, very concerned. This UFO you’re witnessing, is it still up there?”
Of course the UFO was still up there. It wasn’t there like a piece of aircraft metal—it was there like a terrifying bloody haze, occult, supernatural. “Yeah. It’s still there. It’s hovering. I think it’s watching us.”
“Tom, I never thought I would have to use this with you. But I learned this in the chill-out tent at Burning Man. Tell that thing to move, Tom. Give it an order, out loud. Speak right to it. Because if it’s all in your head, then it’ll do whatever you say.”
“That proves I’m crazy.”
“You’re the boss, Tom. Tell that thing where to get off.”
DeFanti craned his neck and stared. He was encountering a UFO. He didn’t have many choices. “Move left!”
In all its uncanny majesty, the intruder slowly did as he said. It crawled across the zenith like a jellyfish.
“Move north!” DeFanti screamed.
The disc flickered in and out across a screen of distant stars.
DeFanti broke into sobs. The Dot-Commie put both his hands on the trembling rawhide fringes of DeFanti’s shoulders. “Tom, let’s go inside now, all right? It’s just no good out here.”
DeFanti’s teeth were chattering. Cold tears ran down his face. “Help me.”
“We’ve got to talk about the medications, Tom.”
“I need something bad . . . I need . . . I need a cigarette.”
“Back to the ranch house, okay? Can you ride the back of my bike? You’re really shaky! Hey whoa!
Let me help you up!”
Title page
Epigraph
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Adcard
Copyright
Bruce Sterling
About this Title
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