Phase Shift (17 page)

About seventy-five years prior, a technique
known as terraforming was developed, the process by which
scientists were able to transform the planet, moulding it into
something designed neither by hand of Nature nor by whim of
tectonic plate movement, but by man. Terraforming was eventually
adopted as an art form. Contests were held in which teams, composed
of scientists and terrasculptors, vied to have their creation
declared the most beautifully constructed landscape on the
continent.

In the Gaian process of terraforming, clouds
containing billions of minute, self-regulating drones, what we
would call nanites, are released into the atmosphere over the area
to be transformed. Each drone is pre-programmed as to range, and
function. For example, if the goal is to improve the air quality in
a particular area, a small army of drones would be programmed to
release positive ions into the air to target pre-determined
negative ions—anything from toxins to diseases to pollution—and
eliminate them. In this way, they worked sort of like a collective
air ionizer. Each drone is programmed to carry out its task and
then fall to a pre-determined location where it de-activates. At
the end of the terraforming process, the debris is collected and
recycled into the next generation of drones. Drones could be
programmed to do anything from collecting and moving earth or
water, to purification of same, to landscaping.

Shortly after widespread terraforming was
adopted worldwide, people started reporting strange experiences.
Each report had a similar sequence of events: a person suddenly
found himself in a different location, one in which the people
acted and dressed differently than was common on Gaia. After a
short while, they found themselves in the exact same spot as before
the experience. Like alien abduction reports on Earth, each person
told not only of the same sequence of events, but reported the same
sensations during and after the experience. Always reporting the
same smells in the air, the same unusual clothing, the same types
of strange vehicles and technology. Also like alien abduction
reports on Earth, some scientists took it upon themselves to
investigate.

The phenomenon, it was determined, was due
to random shifts in the planet's phase, which manifested themselves
over small areas. The more scientists studied the phenomenon, the
more they learned about the random occurrences, as well as the
strange place people reported being taken to when swept up in an
anomaly. Ultimately, scientists were able to predict where and when
a random shift would occur. Once they were able to do that, they
attempted to induce random phase shifts at will. Eventually, they
were successful.

According to Motar Prefect, open trade was
established between Gaia and the other planet, called Earth, the
exchange of scholarship and technology being the primary
concern.

Before long, scientists charged with
monitoring the frequency of the random shifts noticed a spike in
their occurrence. Through Symposium, it was determined the most
probable cause in the increase in frequency of random phase shifts
was due to the increase in frequency of deliberate phase shifts. A
moratorium was declared on all deliberate phase shifting. Likewise,
since it was determined the whole phenomenon of phase shifting had
not come about prior to the advent of terraforming, a moratorium
was also declared on terraforming, until such time as a method
might be found for each which would be less harmful to Gaia and her
people. Thus was born "The Pact", a document adhered to world-wide,
the contents of which prevented deliberate contact with any other
world, a radical but necessary move if Gaians were to save their
planet. Any person caught breaking the integrity of The Pact would
find himself heavily fined, imprisoned, or put to death, depending
on the severity of the infraction. According to Motar's story, the
threat of punishment, corporeal or otherwise, seemed to have a lot
more bite on Gaia than on Earth. To their knowledge, no one had yet
to break the integrity of The Pact, nor, he surmised, would anyone
anytime in the future.

The Pact was drafted sometime after Reyes
Prefect Senior's visit with Dr. Spencer Prescott, but before Reyes
Prefect Junior and I were born. In fact, Reyes Senior was
instrumental in both the formulation and ratification of the Pact.
While the frequency of random shifts slowed somewhat after the ban
on terraforming and deliberate shifting, they nevertheless
continued, roughly unabated.

Enter me. I suddenly appear on the face of
Gaia one day, in direct violation of a decades old law with teeth.
Avatar, the Prefecture's equivalent of a guard dog, alerts Reyes
who comes to find me. Lucky for me, the prefects see me as more of
an emissary than a threat. The scientists have come to the
conclusion that the solution to the random shifts lies somewhere on
Earth. They figure if we pool our knowledge, together we can find a
solution as to how to put an end to random shifting.

Luncheon begins after Motar's speech. Bowls
of fresh fruit are placed at regular intervals on the table. Reyes
helps himself to something resembling a small, black plum. He takes
a bite and then offers me the bowl. I also take a plum. The skin of
the fruit is taught. It yields to my teeth with a snap. Beneath the
sour skin is soft, fibrous, yet juicy flesh. I like my fruit hard,
as a rule, like an apple, slightly under-ripe and tart. I struggle
to chew and swallow this particular fruit even as I use my tongue
to work out a piece of it stuck between my front teeth.

It's hard to eat gracefully when you're
being watched. The only parallel I can think of that even comes
close is a wedding dinner, one in which the bride and groom are
forced to show their table manners in front of their entire family,
all their friends, and a few strangers. When Palmer and I got
married, I dropped my fork on the floor during the salad course and
knocked over a water goblet nearly soaking Palmer's tuxedo jacket
through and through. During the main course, I wore gravy on my
cheek until Palmer wiped it off. Okay, so he kissed it off, but
lord only knows how long it was there before he did or how many
people besides my new husband noticed I was a slob. I swear anyone
responsible for dreaming up the etiquette behind dressing someone
in white from head to toe and forcing her to eat a multi-course
meal under the scrutiny of a hundred or so people had to have been
a sadist. And male.

The salad course is next, something akin to
mesclun mix, which I love, only a little on the peppery side. The
dressing tastes like sweet raspberries with a touch of balsamic.
The salad is followed by a cheese and olive platter served with
rustic bread, sliced and served on the side, with a ramekin of
something that tastes like slightly pungent herbed butter. This is
followed by the main course—chunks of pickled bean curd and onion
and some kind of white-flesh meat with more sliced bread. The meal
is washed down with a watered-down wine and fruit concoction
reminiscent of
sangría
.

I start off skewering small, random morsels
of cheese and then bean curd with my two-pronged fork, but soon
follow Reyes's lead, ripping off small chunks of bread, and
layering them with bean curd and onion and some of the remaining
bits of cheese, finishing each miniature open-faced sandwich in two
or three small bites in between requisite gulps of wine.

The meal is followed by another fruit
course.

I'm still masticating a rather large
mouthful of tart, firm, Granny-Smith-like fruit when Goren reclaims
the dais.

"Fellow prefects," he begins, "we give
thanks for the bountiful harvest which we have partaken." The
prefects offer up a round of muted applause, Gaian style.
"Prefects: I give you our guest of honour." He points at me with
outstretched hand.

I half-stand and nod, murmuring thanks for
the applause.

No sooner have I settled back into my chair
than Reyes grins at me and nods in the direction of the podium.

I stare at him, dumbfounded for a moment,
deafened by the applause, until I realize he means for me to take
the podium. No, I tell him, by shaking my head and tightening the
muscles behind my eyebrows.

Before I know it, Goren's standing behind
me, hand planted firmly at my elbow. He tugs upward, but gently so,
until I stand. Maintaining a light, yet firm grip, he leads me
toward the dais. Slowly the applause tapers to silence and I'm left
alone and exposed at the front of the auditorium, experiencing the
naked in a crowd nightmare for real.

There is a popular misconception that
teachers are comfortable speaking in front of a crowd, any crowd.
The truth of the matter is there's a quantifiable difference
between addressing a group of students and addressing a group of
one's peers. There's also a measurable difference between an
impromptu address and a practiced one. And so now I find myself the
object of the gaze of at least a thousand eyes, a reluctant guest
of honour, ill-dressed and unprepared.

"Thank you," I manage. It comes out as
barely a whisper. I clear my throat and try it again, hoping the
acoustics of the room will work for me as well as they did for
Goren. "Thank you. Really. I'm flattered. Really, I am." The room
remains quiet, so I attempt to fill the awkward silence. "If
there's anything I can ever do to help, anything at all, I want you
all to know I'm willing to do whatever I can. Thank you." Relief
comes in the form of applause and I begin to make my way back to my
seat, but Goren intercepts me and re-directs me to the dais.

He leans over my shoulder and projects, "The
Podium recognizes Trelon Prefect, Second Prefect of Mexus
Prefecture."

A woman with wavy russet hair that reaches
below the breastbone stands. Her robe is the same colour as
Reyes's. Didn't Reyes say he was Second Prefect as well? Is that
what the colours mean? Rich purple equals Second Prefect? Deep
turquoise equals First?

"Matron," Trelon begins, "what exactly do
you propose?"

What do I propose about what? "Well, I'm not
sure," I stammer. Think fast, Moll, think fast. "I guess I'd have
to learn more about the situation, and take it from there." Can I
go now?

"The Podium recognizes Zesahr Prefect."

"Matron? How do you defend the accusation
your planet is at fault for the increase in random shifts?"

"My planet?" I say, incredulous.

"Those who bear witness report horrific
accounts of poisoned air and water, of great wastelands, of—"

"Your own prefect just testified
terraforming was to blame—"

"These are our transgressions. We freely
admit our culpability in the matter. How can you not do the same?
Admit culpability? Take some degree of ownership? How dare you and
your kind lay the blame solely at our feet?"

"Enough, Goren!" I hear Reyes whisper
angrily. "She was brought here as emissary, not as lamb for the
slaughter."

I look to Reyes and Goren, my eyes silently
begging rescue. I want to go home. Dear God, when can I go
home?

"Goren!" Reyes says once more.

At last Goren nods, rises, takes the podium.
"Zesahr," he shakes his head. “Hardly in the vein of building
bridges, Zesahr, really," Goren mumbles. The congregation responds
with a short but quiet burst of laughter, initiated by Zesahr
himself before he takes his seat.

I mouth silent thanks to Reyes for coming to
my rescue.

"Thank you to Matron Molly McBride, emissary
to Gaia from our sister planet, Earth," Goren says. I hold my
breath as I pass Goren on the way back to my seat. Once there, I
fall into my chair and take a deep breath.

There is sporadic applause and then Goren
dismisses the group. Rather than stand and exit immediately as do
most of the prefects, I wait for Reyes's lead.

Reyes downs the last of his sangria and
stands rather abruptly. I look up at him. "Wait here," he tells me.
"This will only take a moment." I watch as he approaches Goren. The
two men have a brief conversation which starts off amicably but
ends with Goren fuming and Reyes glum.

"Please, Molly McBride, let us retire to my
room for further discussion."

"This map," I tell Reyes, "I've seen it
before." We are back in Reyes's classroom. At the front of the room
hangs a large pull-down map which is an exact enlargement of the
map from Stanley's collection, the one inside the small, silver
case.

"It is a map of Selene," he tells me, a.k.a.
the Gaian counterpart to the continent of North America.

"What happened to California?" I ask.

"I do not know this word: 'California'."

"The south-west coast. Over here." I run my
finger along the coastline. There is a shallow bay extending almost
as far north as Oregon, south to San Diego and inland almost as far
as Nevada. In other words, most of California is missing.

"You recall the discussion of terraforming
at Symposium?" Reyes asks me.

"Yes. Of course I do."

"That area was prone to tectonic activity.
Nearly a hundred kalend cycles ago, a rather large seismic event
occurred in that region of the mass."

"The Great San Francisco Earthquake of
1906," I offer.

"Earthquake," Reyes repeats as if he's never
heard the term before, and I suppose he hasn't. "Yes. As it goes,
the prefecture perished. Many lives were lost, Gods bestow them.
Our scientists posited another seismic event was imminent in the
next century or two.

"With the advent of terraforming, we were
able to prevent the seismic event from occurring. Save lives."

A pre-emptive strike against Mother Nature.
The thought was both brilliant and horrifying at once. Plagued by
tsunamis in South East Asia? Terraform the region away. Land
dispute over Palestine getting out of control? Terraform it with
the wisdom of Solomon.