Humans (8 page)

“Very strange,” said Tukana.

“The male at the right,” continued Hak, “has now yelled for somebody out of our view to get Doctor Mah on the telecommunications link.”

As Hak spoke, several of the humans came close to the probe. Ponter enjoyed hearing the gasps from the three High Gray Council members and Ambassador Prat as they got their first close-up views of the strange, pinched Gliksin faces, with their preposterously small noses.

“Well,” said Dern, the roboticist, “it looks like we’ve reestablished contact, and it seems conditions on the other side are suitable.”

The three High Gray Council members conferred for a few beats, then Bedros nodded. “Let’s do it,” he said.

Ponter and Dern each took an end of the unexpanded Derkers tube. Adikor opened the door leading out to the computing floor. There was no equalizing hiss, no popping of ears; although the air in the computing chamber now presumably was mostly from the Gliksin world, comparable volumes had been exchanged. The Gliksins carefully filtered the air in the neutrino-detector facility, and the air Ponter was breathing now had no smell at all.

The point of entry to the other universe was clearly marked by the two cables disappearing into a blue-limned hole in space. Dern, who had been on hand when Ponter was recovered the first time, maneuvered the tip of the collapsed Derkers tube so that it was in contact with the probe’s anchor cable. Ponter swung the length of the tube—a good eight armspans—and lined it up parallel to the anchor cable.

“Ready?” asked Dern, looking over his shoulder at Ponter.

Ponter nodded. “Ready.”

“All right,” said Dern. “Gently now.”

Dern began feeding the collapsed tube through the portal, which widened just enough to accommodate its narrow diameter. Ponter pushed gently from the rear. Adikor had brought a portable monitor with him, which was repeating the view from the probe. He angled the device so that Dern and Ponter could see what was happening on the other side. Although the probe had been lowered to the bottom of the neutrino detector chamber, so that the two cables attached to it took a downward turn as soon as they went through the portal, the Derkers tube was protruding parallel to the floor far below. The Gliksins couldn’t reach it; it was too far above their heads. But they were pointing at it, and shouting among themselves.

“That’s far enough,” said Dern, noting that the tube was halfway through—he’d put a little reference mark at the appropriate spot along the tube’s length. Ponter stopped feeding more through. Dern came down to the tube’s end to help Ponter pull it open.

At first, Ponter and Dern could each barely fit a hand into the narrow mouth of the tube. But the tube yielded as they pulled in opposite directions, expanding its diameter more and more, its ratcheting mechanisms making loud clickings as it did so.

Ponter got his other hand into the widened mouth, and Dern got his left hand in, too, and they continued to pull the mouth open. Soon, the tube was a good armspan in diameter—but that was only a third of its maximum extent, and they went on opening it wider and wider.

Ambassador Prat and the three High Gray Councilors had come out onto the computing floor now. One of the Exhibitionists was with them; the other was standing at the topmost step leading up to the control room—he clearly wanted to be able to get away if something went wrong.

Old Bedros looked like he wished to lend a hand—history was being made here, after all. Ponter nodded for him to go ahead. Soon, six hands were pulling at the tube’s widening mouth. On the portable monitor, Ponter could see the Gliksin’s strange pointed jaws dropping in astonishment.

Finally, it was done: the tube had reached its maximum diameter, and its bottom was resting on the granite floor of the computing chamber. Ponter looked at Tukana, and gestured for her to go ahead. “You’re the ambassador,” he said.

The gray-haired woman shook her head. “But they know you—a recognizable, friendly face.”

Ponter nodded. “As you wish.” Adikor gave Ponter a great hug. Then Ponter moved back to the mouth of the tube, took a deep breath—despite what he’d seen through the probe’s eyes, he couldn’t help remembering what had happened to him the last time he’d gone through to the Gliksin world. He began to walk down the tube’s length. From the interior, the only sign of the portal was a faint blue ring of light visible through the translucent membrane spread between the crisscrossing metal components of the tube—it seemed that by forcing the portal wide open like this, they wouldn’t have to bear the disquieting sight of seeing cross sections of themselves as they passed through it.

Ponter walked toward the blue ring, and then, with one giant step, moved across the threshold into Gliksin world. Through the tunnel’s opening, he could see the far wall of the neutrino-detector chamber, quite some distance away. It only took a few beats for him to make it to the very end of the tunnel, which, since Adikor and Dern were holding it steady at the other end, wasn’t dipping down much under Ponter’s weight.

Ponter stuck his head out the end of the tube and looked down at the Gliksins far below, with what, he knew, must be a massive grin on his face. He spoke a few words, and Hak provided the translation in the loudest volume its external speaker could muster. “Would one of you be kind enough to fetch a ladder?”

There actually was a suitable ladder on Ponter’s side of the portal—but it would be very awkward to get it through the narrow confines of the computing center. So he waited while the Gliksins got one from the far side of the neutrino-detector chamber. It looked like the same ladder Ponter had climbed up when he’d come back home.

It took a few tries, but finally the ladder was propped up against the open end of the Derkers tube protruding out of what Ponter knew must look to the Gliksins like thin air.

Behind him, Ponter could see Dern and Adikor using power tools to affix their end of the Derkers tube to the granite floor of the quantum-computing chamber.

Once the ladder was in place, Ponter retreated down the tube and let Adikor and Dern come along to where Ponter had been. They took a moment to stare out at the fascinating spectacle of the neutrino-detector chamber and the alien beings below, then got to work, struggling with ropes, lashing the ladder’s top to the mouth of the Derkers tube. Ponter could hear Adikor muttering, “Incredible, incredible,” over and over again as he worked.

Adikor and Dern then returned to their side of the tube, and Ponter and Ambassador Prat walked its length. Ponter turned around and backed down the ladder, descending carefully to the neutrino-detector chamber’s floor. As he got close to the bottom, he felt Gliksin hands on his arms, helping him down. He got one foot then another onto the chamber’s floor, and turned around.

“Welcome back!” said one of the Gliksins, his words translated into Ponter’s cochlear implants by Hak.

“Thank you,” said Ponter. He looked at the faces surrounding him, but didn’t recognize anyone. That wasn’t surprising; even if they’d called someone he knew the moment they’d seen the probe, that person would still be in transit from the surface.

Ponter moved away from the ladder and tipped his head up to look at the mouth of the tube. He waved at Ambassador Prat and shouted out, “Come on down!”

The ambassador turned around and made her way down the ladder.

“Hey, look!” said one of the Gliksins. “It’s a lady Neanderthal!”

“She is Tukana Prat,” said Ponter. “Our ambassador to your world.”

Tukana reached the ground and turned around. She slapped her hands together, removing the dust that had transferred to her palms from the ladder. A Gliksin—one of the two dark-skinned men—stepped forward. He looked rather at a loss for what to do, then, after a moment, he bowed at Tukana and said, “Welcome to Canada, ma’am.”

The problem with relying on Hak for translations was that everything had to be filtered through its sense of humor. “We had planned to ask you to take us to your ladder,” said Hak, through his external speaker, “but I see you have already done that.”

Ponter could follow enough of the Gliksin language to realize what was going on. He slapped his left forearm. “Ouch!” said Hak into Ponter’s cochlear implants. Then, through his speaker, he said, “Sorry. I mean, ‘Take us to your leader.’”

The dark-skinned man who had stepped forward said, “Well, I’m Gus Hornby; I’m the head engineer here. And we’ve already called Doctor Mah in Ottawa—she’s SNO’s director. She could be here later today, if need be.”

“Is Mare Vaughan around?” asked Ponter.

“Mare? Oh—Mary. Professor Vaughan. No, she’s gone.”

“Lou Benoît?”

“You mean Louise? She’s gone, too.”

“Reuben Montego, then.”

“The doctor? Sure, we can get him down here.”

“Actually,” said Ponter, with Hak translating, “we would prefer to go up to see him.”

“Um, sure,” said Hornby. He looked up at the tunnel protruding from midair. “You’re assuming that will stay open?”

Ponter nodded. “It is our hope.”

“So you can just walk through to—to, um, to your side?” said one of the other Gliksins.

“Yes.”

“Can I go have a look?” asked the same Gliksin, who had light skin, orange hair, and sky-colored eyes.

Ponter looked at Tukana, who looked back at him. Finally, Tukana said, “My government wishes to meet someone who can speak on behalf of your people.”

“Oh,” said the orange-haired one. “Well, I can’t, really…”

Ponter and Tukana walked across the bottom of the vast chamber, accompanied by the crowd of Gliksins. Pieces of the acrylic sphere that had once been in the center of this space were stacked against its circular walls, and countless sunflower-like photo multiplier assemblies were likewise gathered up.

When they came to the far side of the chamber, there was another ladder, even taller than the one now reaching up to the Derkers tube. This ladder was used to access the entrance hatch for the neutrino-detector chamber, the same square hatch that had blown open when Ponter and all the air from the quantum-computing chamber had last transferred over. Hornby headed up the ladder first, then passed through the hatch. Tukana began her ascent.

Ponter looked back at the tunnel that led to his world, and his heart jumped when he saw Adikor standing just inside its mouth looking down at him. Ponter thought about waving at him, but to do so would be too much like saying goodbye, and so he just smiled, although there was no way Adikor could see his expression over such a distance. That was probably all to the good, since the smile, Ponter knew, was forced. He took hold of the ladder’s sides and began climbing up, hoping that this would not be the last time he’d ever see his beloved man-mate.

Ponter shouldered his way through the opening, hauling himself to his feet. Suddenly, five Gliksins wearing identical green clothes moved toward him, each one carrying a large projectile-firing weapon.

Ponter had read his share of speculative literature; he knew stories about parallel worlds, in which evil versions of people from the familiar universe existed. His first thought was that, somehow, he’d transferred to a different universe.

“Mr. Boddit,” said one of the—
soldiers,
that was the word, wasn’t it? “My name is Lieutenant Donaldson, of the Canadian Forces. Please step away from the hatch.”

Ponter did so, and Ambassador Prat emerged through the hatch, hoisting herself up onto the metal deck. The walls surrounding the deck were covered with dark green plastic sheeting, and conduits and plastic pipes hung from the ceiling. What looked like some form of computing equipment lined some of the walls.

“Ma’am?” said Donaldson, looking at Tukana.

Ponter spoke, and Hak translated. “This is Tukana Prat, our ambassador to your world.”

“Ambassador, Mr. Boddit, I’ll have to ask both of you to come with me.”

Ponter didn’t move. “Are we unwelcome here?”

“Not at all,” said Donaldson. “Indeed, I’m sure our government will be happy to recognize the Ambassador, and grant you both full diplomatic courtesy. But for now, you must come with me.”

Ponter frowned. “Where are you taking us?”

Donaldson gestured toward the door leading out from the deck. It was currently closed. Ponter shrugged, and he and Tukana walked toward it. One of the other soldiers moved ahead and opened the door. They entered a cramped, narrow control room. “Keep moving ahead quickly, please,” said Donaldson.

Ponter and Tukana did so. “As you may remember, Mr. Boddit,” said Donaldson, walking behind them, “the Sudbury Neutrino Observatory is located sixty-eight hundred feet below the ground, and is maintained in clean-room conditions, to prevent the introduction of any dust or other contaminants that might affect the detector equipment.”

Ponter looked back briefly at Donaldson but continued to walk.

“Well,” continued Donaldson, “we have beefed up the facilities even more, on the chance that you or others of your kind might return. I’m afraid you’re going to have to be quarantined here until we’re sure it’s safe to let you up to the surface.”

“Not again!” said Ponter. “We can prove that we are free of contamination.”

“That’s not my judgment call to make, sir,” said Donaldson. “But the people who
can
make it are on their way here even as we speak.”

Mary Vaughan was bent over a microscope when the door to her lab at the Synergy Group burst open. “Mary!”

She looked up, and saw Louise Benoît standing in the doorway. “Yes?”

“Ponter is back!”

Mary’s heart started pounding. “Really?”

“Yes! I just heard it on the radio. The portal between the universes has reopened at SNO, and Ponter and another Neanderthal have come over to our side.”

Mary got up and looked at Louise. “Fancy a drive to Sudbury?”

Louise smiled, as if she’d expected such an offer. “There’s no point. The Neanderthals are being quarantined down in the SNO facility; there’s no way we could get down to see them.”

“Oh,” said Mary. She tried not to sound disappointed.

“But they’re coming to New York City to speak at the UN once they’re released.”

“Really? How far is that from here?”

“I don’t know. Five or six hundred kilometers, I suppose. Closer than it is from here to Sudbury, anyway.”

“I’ve been meaning to try to get down to see
The Producers
…” said Mary, with a grin. But the grin soon faded. “Still, I probably won’t be able to get to see Ponter there, either. He’ll be tied up with all sorts of diplomatic stuff.”

But Louise’s tone was upbeat. “You’re forgetting who you’re working for, Mary. Our man Jock seems to have keys to open just about any door. Tell him you need to go down and collect some DNA samples from the Neanderthal accompanying Ponter.”

Mary’s smile returned. At that moment, she liked Louise very much indeed.

“Ponter Boddit, my man!”

Reuben Montego entered the two-room quarantine chamber, and held out a clenched fist. Ponter touched his own knuckles against Reuben’s. “Reuben!” he declared, saying the name for himself. Then, Hak picking up on his behalf: “It is so good to see you again, my friend.”

Ponter turned to Tukana and spoke quickly in the Neanderthal tongue. “Reuben’s the physician here at the Creighton Mine. He’s the one who first treated me when I almost drowned upon arriving here, and it was at his house that Mare Vaughan, Lou Benoît, and I were originally quarantined.” Then, turning to Reuben, and with Hak once again translating: “Friend Reuben, this is Ambassador Tukana Prat.”

Reuben smiled broadly—for a Gliksin—and executed a gallant bow. “Madam Ambassador,” he said. “Welcome!”

“Thank you,” said Tukana, via her own Companion implant, which had been upgraded to match Hak’s capabilities. “I am delighted to be in this world.” She looked around the small, austere room. “Although I
was
hoping to see more of it.”

Reuben nodded. “We’re working on that. We’ve got experts on the way from the Laboratory Centre for Disease Control in Ottawa, and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention in Atlanta. I understand you used some kind of laser-sterilization device. That’s a new one on us, and our experts will have to be satisfied that it really works.”

“Of course,” said Ambassador Prat. “Although we look forward to establishing equitable trade with your world, we understand that this technology is one we must freely reveal. Your experts are welcome to travel over to our side of the portal and examine the equipment. The equipment’s designer, Dapbur Kajak, is on hand, and she will gladly explain its principles and subject it to any tests you require.”

“Excellent,” said Reuben. “Then we should get this all straightened away quite quickly.”

Ponter waited until he was sure Reuben had finished with this topic, then he said, speaking for himself, “Where is Mare?”

Reuben smiled as if he’d anticipated the question. “She got hired up by some U.S. think tank. She’s in Rochester, New York, now.”

Ponter frowned. He’d hoped Mare would be here in Sudbury, but there was no reason for her to dally after Ponter had left. Her home, after all, hadn’t been in this city. “How have you been, Reuben?” asked Ponter. It was a Gliksin peculiarity to constantly inquire after another’s health, but Ponter knew it was the expected pleasantry.

“Me?” said Reuben. “I’ve been fine. I’ve had my fifteen minutes of fame, and frankly am glad it’s over.”

“Fifteen minutes?” repeated Tukana.

Reuben laughed. “An artist here once said that in the future, everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes.”

“Ah,” said Ponter. “What sort of artist?”

Reuben was clearly trying to suppress a grin. “Um, well, he was best known for painting pictures of soup cans.”

“It sounds,” said Ponter, “as though fifteen minutes might have been more than his fair share.”

Reuben laughed again. “I’ve missed you, my friend.”

A team from the LCDC arrived, followed shortly by one from the CDC. One woman from each organization became the first members of
Homo sapiens sapiens
to travel to the Neanderthal universe. Periodically, one or the other would stick her head through the end of the tunnel and ask for some equipment to be passed through to the other side.

Ponter tried to wait patiently, but it was frustrating. A whole alien world awaited them! Both he and Tukana had already given multiple samples of blood and tissues, as well as undergoing complete physical examinations by Reuben.

Despite the quarantine, Ponter and Tukana were not without visitors. The first nonmedical one was a pale Gliksin woman with short brown hair and small round glasses. “Hello,” she said, with what Ponter recognized from his time with Lou Benoît as a French-Canadian accent, “My name is Hélène Gagné. I’m with Canada’s Department of Foreign Affairs and International Trade.”

Tukana stepped forward. “Ambassador Tukana Prat, representing the High Gray Council of—well, of Earth.” She nodded at Ponter. “My associate, Scholar—and Envoy—Ponter Boddit.”

“Greetings,” said Hélène. “Delighted to meet you both. Envoy Boddit, we promise things will go a little more smoothly than on your last visit.”

Ponter smiled. “Thank you.”

“Before we proceed further, Madam Ambassador, I’d like to ask you a question. I understand the geography of your world and this one are the same, correct?”

Tukana Prat nodded.

“All right,” said Hélène. She was carrying a small briefcase. She opened it, and removed a simple world map that showed only landforms but no borders. “Can you show me where you were born?”

Tukana Prat took the map, glanced at it, and pointed at a spot on the west coast of North America. Hélène handed her a felt-tipped marker, its cap removed. “Can you mark the spot—as precisely as possible, please?”

Tukana looked surprised at the request, but did so, putting a red dot on the northern tip of Vancouver Island. “Thank you,” said Hélène. “Now, will you sign next to that spot?”

“Sign?”

“Umm, you know, write out your name.”

Tukana Prat did so, drawing a series of angular symbols.

Hélène removed a notary’s seal from the briefcase and embossed the map, then added her own signature and date. “All right, that’s what we were hoping would be the case. You were born in Canada.”

“I was born in Podnilak,” said Tukana.

“Yes, yes, but that’s in what corresponds to Canada—to Vancouver Island, British Columbia, to be precise—on this world. That makes you, by all established law, a Canadian. And we already know that Envoy Boddit was born near Sudbury, Ontario. So, if you and Envoy Boddit don’t object, the first thing we’re going to do after you leave quarantine is bestow Canadian citizenship on the two of you.”

“Why?” asked Tukana Prat.

But before Hélène could answer, Ponter spoke up. “This matter was raised during my first trip. One requires documents to travel between nations on this version of Earth. The most important one”—he paused, while Hak reminded him of the name—“is a passport, and you cannot have a passport without a citizenship.”

“That’s right,” said Hélène. “We took a fair bit of heat from other governments, particularly the U.S., when you were last here because you were kept entirely in Canada. Well, once you’re released from here, we’ll take you to Ottawa—that’s Canada’s capital—where you will be made citizens under Section 5, Paragraph 4, of the Canadian Citizenship Act, which lets the minister grant citizenship to anyone in extraordinary circumstances. Don’t worry: it won’t affect your ability to remain citizens of whatever jurisdiction is appropriate in your world; Canada has always recognized dual citizenship. But when you travel outside of Canada, you will be registered as Canadian diplomats, and therefore afforded full diplomatic immunity and courtesy. That will let us cut through all sorts of red tape until formal relations are opened between each of our nations and your world.”

“Each of your nations?” said Tukana. “We have a unified worldwide government now. Do you not have the same thing?”

Hélène shook her head. “No. We have something called the ‘United Nations’—we’ll be taking you to the UN headquarters right after you have a state dinner with our prime minister in Ottawa. But it isn’t a world government; it’s just a forum in which individual national governments can discuss matters of mutual concern. As time goes on, your government will have to be formally recognized by each of the nations that compose the UN.”

“And how many of those are there?” asked Tukana.

Ponter smiled. “You are not going to believe this,” he said.

“There are currently a hundred and ninety-one member states,” said Hélène. “So you see, it will take years for your government to negotiate treaties and so forth with each of those nations. But Canada, of course, already has treaties with all of them, so by becoming Canadian diplomats, at least in name, you can travel to any of these countries and speak with their government leaders.”

Tukana looked baffled. “I am sure that is all as it should be.”

“It is.”

“Great,” said Ponter. “When do we get out of here?”

“Soon, I hope,” said Hélène. “I can’t leave the SNO chamber myself now, until the two of you are cleared. But the doctors seem impressed by what they’ve seen of your decontamination technology.”

That news delighted Ponter, since it sounded like they’d be released shortly—he’d spent almost all of his last trip to Canada quarantined, after all, and didn’t look forward to more of the same, especially deep underground.

That afternoon, Tukana retired to the second of the two rooms in the quarantine suite. Like many people of her generation, she seemed to enjoy a nap. Ponter busied himself practicing his English with Hak’s help until Reuben Montego returned, accompanied by a short, hairy, beige male Gliksin, his appearance quite a contrast to Reuben’s dark skin and completely shaved head. “Hey, Ponter,” said Reuben. “This is Arnold Moore, a geologist.”

“Hello,” said Ponter.

Arnold extended his hand, which Ponter took. “Dr. Boddit,” he said, “it’s a real pleasure to meet you. A real pleasure!”

Boredom had taken its toll; Ponter could not resist a little sarcasm. “Are you sure it is safe to touch me?”

But the comment was lost on Arnold. “Oh, I’ve been wanting to come down from the first moment I heard you were here! This is an absolute treat. An absolute treat!”

Ponter smiled wanly. “Thank you,” he said.

“Please,” said Arnold, indicating the chair Ponter had risen from. “Please sit down.”

Ponter did so, and Arnold turned around another chair and straddled it, with his arms crossed on top of the chair’s upright part, which was now in front of him. Ponter felt his eyebrow going up; that looked like a more comfortable way to sit. He got up again and rotated his own chair, sitting on it in a similar fashion. It wasn’t as nice as a proper saddle-seat, but this posture certainly was an improvement.

Reuben excused himself and headed off to confer with the immunologists who were crawling all over the facility.

“I have a question to ask you,” said Arnold.

Ponter nodded for him to continue.

“We’ve noted something unusual happening to this version of Earth,” said the geologist, “and I was wondering if you could tell me if the same thing is happening on your version?”

“What?”

“Well, the aurora borealis—and the aurora australis, too—have been acting up.”

Ponter was quite surprised. “No, nothing like that is currently occurring. In fact, I saw the night lights last evening; they were perfectly normal.”

Arnold looked disappointed. “We were hoping you guys would have some insight. Our best guess is that Earth’s magnetic field is collapsing, and the poles are perhaps going to reverse.”

Ponter raised his eyebrow again, rolling it up his browridge. “When was the last time something like that happened here?”

“I’m not sure off the top of my head. Many thousands of years ago.”

“There have been no field collapses since?”

“No.”

“Fascinating. We had one—Hak?”

“Six years ago,” said Hak, through his external speaker.

“You mean it
ended
six years ago?”

“Yes.”

“But it must have started centuries earlier.”

Ponter shook his head. “It started twenty-five years ago.”

“Let me get this straight,” said Arnold, eyes wide. “Your entire field collapse took just—what?—nineteen years?”

“That is correct,” said Ponter. “Up until twenty-five years ago, the magnetic field was at its normal strength. Then it collapsed; the planet did not have any appreciable magnetic field for the next nineteen years. And then, six years ago, the field popped back up.”

“‘Popped up’?” repeated Arnold, astonished. “No, you must be joking.”

“When I joke,” said Ponter, “I strive to be much funnier.”

“But…but…we’ve always believed the magnetic field would take hundreds, and probably thousands, of years to collapse.”

“Why?”

“Well, you know, because of the size of the Earth.”

“The sun’s magnetic field reverses every hundred and forty months or so—every eleven years—and the sun is about a million times the size of Earth.”

“Yes, but…”

“I do not mean to sound grayer than you,” said Ponter. “We knew very little about field collapses, too, until we actually experienced one happening. Some of our geologists were astonished by the rapidity, as well.”

“Geomagnetic collapse and reestablishment in less than two decades,” said Arnold. “Incredible.”