The Last Dragon Chronicles: Fire World: Fire World (2 page)

In a moment, it was done. David sankback onto his pillow with a thump thatalmost  buried   his   face.   The   onlyindication of stress was a trace of saliva

running down his jaw. Whatever force had

animated him, had just as quickly left him

be.

Strømberg paused the film. “Thesewere the only abnormalities we captured. After this, David slept peacefully with noother conflicts.”

Harlan Merriman stood up and steppedtowards the screen, tilting his head toexamine David’s features. “Have yourecorded morphing like this before?”

“No.”

Harlan looked puzzled. “But what couldbe happening within his fain to make hiseyes change colour and his teeth grow likethat? And what was that noise he made? Itlooked as if he was
 
fighting
 
something. How could he possibly be fightingsomething?”

Strømberg raised a hand. “Sit down.

There’s more to see.” He reset the filmclip to its beginning, but this time Davidwas pictured from the opposite direction. “This is the view from a second camera.

When I run the sequence, you’ll seeexactly what you saw from camera one. But I want you to look beyond David tothe window behind him. Concentrate yourattention there.” He gave a command andthe film replayed.

Harlan watched closely. The windownext to David’s bed was darkened by a setof vertical blinds. But as the recordingreached the point where the boy’s bodyjerked up, a series of brightly-glowingobjects appeared in blotches behind theslats. The objects swelled in size thenslipped through the slats in lines ofcoloured light. Strømberg paused the film.

“Any guesses?”

“The only things I know of that move as rapidly as that are firebirds.”

“Correct,” said Strømberg. The film ran in reverse, back to the moment where the colours had materialised. “Here it is again, nine times slower than normal speed. Watch carefully.”

And Harlan did. This time as the

colours slipped through the blinds it was possible to see them re-expand into the familiar   long-tailed   shapes   of  the creatures that inhabited every part of Co:pern:ica. Firebirds. Four of them. Green, cream-coloured, sky blue and red. They flew to David’s bed and hovered in the region of his flashing hands. It was then that Harlan witnessed something even more extraordinary. Just in front of David,

over an area approximately two feet long, the air was rippling in a vertical line, as if the fabric of the universe was being torn apart. “In the name of Co:pern:ica, what’s that?” he muttered, and watched in fascination as the firebirds went about sealing the rift with bursts of the whitecoloured fire that was sometimes seen to issue from their nostrils. When it was

done, they went back the way they’d come. Only one, the green one, a kindlylooking creature with a yellow plume of feathers sprouting up between its ears, stopped to hover in front of David. As the boy fell back to his pillow, the creature touched its feet to David’s forehead and

zipped away. The film ended there.

“What just happened there?” Harlan

gasped.

Strømberg ran a hand through his longfair hair. “I don’t know,” he answeredtruthfully. “But I’m bound by the nature ofmy work to tell you that these pictureswould be of great interest to the Higher.”

“You’re going to
 
report
 
him?”

“It’s my duty to note anomalies likethis.”

“But he’s a child. He’s barely twelvespins old. He’ll be sent to the Dead Lands. We’ll never see him again.”

The counsellor gave a solemn nod. “This is only an initial assessment, but it’smy belief that your son is a rareec:centric.”

Harlan buried his hands inside his

pockets and let his worried gaze drift back

to the screen.

The image of David remained there for

a moment before Strømberg hit a button and cleared it. “He could be a danger to us all,” he said.

3

“No, no, no.” Harlan turned away, shaking his head. “David is a kind, good-natured child. I’m telling you, he’s no threat to the Higher.”

Strømberg spoke to the com:puter. “Project 42,” he said. “Load and hold.” A violet light flashed and a few lines of text scrolled out across the screen. “And what makes you say that?”

Without turning to face him Harlan replied, “He materialises nothing more than any of us would. Yes, he can be surprising sometimes. But children often are when they’re learning to develop their fain. You don’t need me to tell you this.”

Strømberg, legs crossed, let his chair

swing. “Give me an example.”

“Of his constructs?”

“Yes. Anything unusual – or surprising, as you put it.”

Harlan came and sat down again, perching on the lip of one of the aumatic chairs. Strømberg switched its correctors off. “All right. Recently he imagineered a katt. I know there’s nothing odd about that, but this katt was different from any I’ve ever seen before.”

“In what way?”

“It was imperfect.”

Strømberg lifted his fingers off the chair

arm. “Go on.”

“It has a small piece missing from its

left ear.”

“Has? You  haven’t  corrected  the

flaw?”

Harlan pressed his lips together andsighed. “Eliza pointed it out to him. Butwhen she offered to help him right it orproduce another katt, he refused. Weassumed at first that he hadn’t understood

the template properly, but it soon became clear that he’d introduced the flaw

deliberately. It gave Boon – that’s what he named the katt – ‘character’, he said.”

Counsellor   Strømberg   raised   an eyebrow. “Interesting choice of word. Have you gone into this with him?”

Harlan shook his head.

“And he does this kind of thing… how often?”

“Look, Counsellor—”

“Thorren,” said Strømberg. “I’d be happier if you called me Thorren. I think we might be seeing quite a lot of each

other and formal assignations will soon become tiring.” He placed his hands on the table and adopted a calm, professional tone. “I understand that you feel you’re betraying David by giving me information like this. But the laws of my profession are quite straightforward. The Higher expect me to thoroughly investigate cases of this nature and keep an active register of innovative anomalies. They also expect an honest testimony from the subject concerned or those involved with the said subject. Honesty is beauty, and beauty is perfection. Perfection maintains the Grand Design.   Anything   that   attempts   to challenge   that   continuity   could   be damaging to our shared consciousness. This is why ec:centrics, even one as young as David, have to be monitored and, if

necessary,   resolved.   That   is   the Co:pern:ican way. However, there is a great deal of flexibility in these cases and it is left to the integrity of the counsellor involved as to what action is to be taken.”

Harlan looked up.

“Everything   you’ve   told   me,” Strømberg said, “confirms that David isaberrant. The film of his disturbed sleeppatterns supports this.”

Harlan felt his auma wane. So far, littlehad been said about the film. How much ‘aberrance’   did   Strømberg  need  tocondemn David to the Dead Lands, oreven de:construction? Very little, Harlansuspected. And yet the thoughtful look inthe counsellor’s eyes suggested that he

was  not  about  to   follow   standard

procedures. And so it proved to be when

he said, “I
 
will
 
need to log a report of these disturbances – but so far, the only two people who have seen what camera two has seen are you and I.”

“Are you suggesting we hide this?”

Strømberg pursed his lips. “I will report what was seen from camera one. If it comes to the attention of the Higher and they   choose   to   send   in   another investigator, that will be another matter.”

“Why?” asked Harlan. “Why would you do that? Why would a distinguished auma therapist put his career at risk for the sake of my son?”

Strømberg shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said plainly (and with shining honesty, Harlan thought). “Your son intrigues me – possibly because he’s
 
your
 
son.”

“You’re interested in my work?”

Strømberg nodded. “Not long ago, I attended your lecture at the Ragnar Institute. I found your concept of thought frameworks very illuminating, particularly the way you hinted at the suggestion that what we imagineer on Co:pern:ica might also be happening, with slight variations, in an infinite number of parallel universes. It was the word ‘variations’ that gripped me most. It made me wonder what we’d

be like if we all existed on another world, in a slightly different guise. You, me, Eliza – David.” With that, he swung his chair towards the helegas screen. “My com:puters were able to record a great deal of data about the rift that appeared over David’s body – co:ordinates and other physical factors. Like me, you must

be wondering what it was and what caused it. As David’s counsellor, I have the authority to call in any expertise I require to resolve his case. I’m calling in you, his father. The file I recorded, along with the film, will be downloaded to a secure server at your laboratory. It’s simply labelled ‘Project 42’. In any correspondence, that’s how you’ll refer to it. I want you to analyse Project 42 and find out what happened while your son was sleeping. Report your findings to me, and only to me. Meanwhile, I’m going to be conducting some research of my own – from a different angle.”

“The firebirds?” Harlan guessed.

Strømberg   nodded.   “The   greatest mystery on Co:pern:ica just got a little more puzzling, don’t you think? Why did

these creatures that we all take for granted come to David’s aid? Because I have no

doubt that they did. Did he call them? Or were they watching him, perhaps?”

“And how were they able to seal that rift?”

“Indeed,” said Strømberg. “Now, as I said earlier, I need to send David away for a while. It will seem suspicious if I don’t. Often in these cases it helps to place the subject in a completely neutral environment.”

“You’re preparing a construct for him?”

“Not a construct – a reality,” Thorren Strømberg said. “I’m sending David to a librarium.”

4

“A
 
librarium
?”

Eliza’s face was so filled with shock

that Harlan swiftly imagineered a rose. He put the violet-coloured flower straight into her hand and was relieved to see its

auma:scents rising visibly towards her nose and mouth as they began to calm her. Bizarre, he thought, as he stroked her arm, to have seen (and felt) such a variety of emotions in the space of one hour. He put out a thought for a taxicar and one was there before he’d framed his reply. “We have no choice,” he said. “If we resist Strømberg’s therapy, he will have to refer David directly to the Higher. We’re not going to lose our son, Eliza.”

He drew her into the taxicar and spoketheir destination: Pod 24, The Crescent Way. Bushley. The doors closed and thetaxicar sped into the night.

Eliza dropped heavily into her seat,putting out the thought for no incidentalmusic, film or colour. For once, she justwanted to talk. “What good can it do tosend him to a place stacked high withbooks? He’ll be so bored his fain will

just… shrivel.”

“I rather think that’s the point,” said Harlan. “Strømberg is pretty sure David’s an ec:centric. His fain is hyperactive, to the point where his constructs are turning against him. Hence the bad dreams. Strømberg believes that a spell in the librarium will calm him down. The

curator is a very good man, he says.” He

unfolded a piece of paper and handed it to

her.

“Mr Henry?”

“He and Strømberg are related – distantly.   We’re   to   collect   David tomorrow and take him to the librarium ourselves. Mr Henry will be expecting us.”

The taxicar swished along the Bushley clearway. Through its transparent shell, Eliza could see a narrow river, lit by a series of hanging lights. She loved the river and its arched bridge made of stone. Sometimes   she   thought   she   could imagineer feathered creatures swimming in pairs on the surface of the water, maybe even bathing in its swell. But they were always just shadows, tricks of the light. The only creatures on Co:pern:ica were

firebirds and katts. Neither of them, she was sure, liked to get wet. She folded the paper and handed it back. “How long will he have to stay there?”

“Until the curator is satisfied that David

is resolved.”

“Will we be able to visit him?”

“No.”

Eliza brought the rose up to her mouth. Its colours had seeped into the flesh of her wrist. She squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them again, a distinct redness was forming in their corners. “How can they  change   what  we   imagineered, Harlan? David is a construct of our commingled love. If they alter him, if they dampen him down, aren’t they denying us what we wanted? Aren’t they tampering with
 
our
 
combined fain, just as much as