The Last Dragon Chronicles: Fire World: Fire World (5 page)

Harlan  sent  back  a   message   ofacknowledgement, before copying all thefiles to an encrypted micro:pen. Then,

dimming the office lights, he sat back in his chair and ran the films again.

He was on his second playthrough of the view from camera two when a voice

behind him said, “Goodness, is that David?”

Harlan stopped the film at once. A younger man, a little overweight for his height,  but  with  an  open,  pleasant disposition, was standing just inside the office door. He was dressed in black

trousers and a plain white shirt. His name

was   Bernard   Brotherton,   Harlan’s

tech:nical assistant.

“I’m sorry, Professor, should I leave?” He had guessed from the look on Harlan’s face that he had walked in on something quite private.

Harlan shook his head. “No, Bernard.

Come in. I want to show you something.” He ran both films again.

Bernard was practically speechless. “That’s   extraordinary,”   he   said,   sostunned by what he’d seen that he’d onlymanaged to place a knee on the seat of thechair next to his boss.

Harlan said, “I need to be sure I cantrust you, Bernard.”

Bernard shook his head in slightconfusion. The blue of the com:puter’shelegas screen glinted off the bald patchspreading through his hair. “Trust?” hequeried.

“I know it’s a concept we’ve largelyforgotten about. But this is not the kind ofthing you see every day. David’s beenexperiencing severe sleep problems. He’sbeen diagnosed ec:centric. His counsellor

has   sent  him  to   a   librarium  for observation. Outside of official sources, I don’t want this known.”

“But they’ve given you the films?”

Harlan explained what he’d been asked to do. “I want to run this through SETH.”

Bernard rubbed his chin for a moment, taking off several flakes of skin. He reached for the com:puter’s neural pad and advanced the film, pausing it when the rift appeared. “That certainly looks like a spatial enigma. But isn’t it equally possible that David has imagineered all of this, even the facial changes? We’ve all heard stories about how potent the dream state can be.” Before Harlan could offer a

reply, Bernard let the film run on for twenty secs and pointed to the screen to support his argument. “It’s the firebirds

that make me think it’s a construct. Why would they come and fix everything? We all love them and have our fanciful theories about them, but there isn’t a single piece of research that points to them having the level of intelligence necessary to seal a rift like that.”

“But  to   some   degree   that’s   the problem,” said Harlan. “The definition of ec:centricity is the ability to imagineer outside the framework of the Higher’s Grand Design. The very fact that David visualises firebirds rescuing him from an unknown threat indicates he’s reaching way beyond the limits of the Co:pern:ican Stencilla. I want to believe you’re right, Bernard, because if you’re not, what we’re seeing on these films is real.” He swung his chair sideways and spoke a few

words of command to the com:puter. Several strings of code ran out across the screen. “These files were recorded by David’s counsellor. They contain the pro:dimensional co:ordinates of what you saw in the films. I want you to load them into the SETH program, using every probability filter available. It might be several days before we have a result, but I’m pretty sure SETH will confirm that what we’re investigating is a time horizon.”

Bernard closed his eyes momentarily. His face, in this state, resembled the full moon. He sat back and placed one hand behind his head, clutching at hairs that were no longer present. “And then?”

A :com light flickered on the wall in front of them. A video message from Eliza

Merriman. Harlan placed it on hold. “We’ll deal with that when we know.” He

handed  Bernard  the   encrypted  pen. “Everything you need is on there.”

Bernard nodded. “I’ll get onto it right away.”

“Good man,” said Harlan, and clapped him on the shoulder. The tech:nician left the room.

“Eliza,”   Harlan   said.   Her   face appeared in the small :com window.

“Sorry to interrupt you at work, but I thought you’d like to know that I’ve made an appointment with an Aunt. She wants to come over tonight. Is that all right?”

“That was quick,” Harlan replied. “Is it the same one we had for David?”

“No. I did ask for Aunt Agnes, but she wasn’t available. They assure me this one

is very efficient.”

“Good,” said Harlan, looking pleased. “I’m hoping David will be out of the librarium very soon, so efficiency is exactly what we need if we’re going to surprise him with a little sister.” He smiled and imagineered a picture of their son with a baby in his arms. Eliza smiled back. “What’s her name, this Aunt, in case she gets there before I arrive?”

“Gwyneth,” said Eliza. “Her name is Aunt Gwyneth.”

9

By the time Harlan Merriman had returnedhome that night, the Aunt Eliza had spokenof was already at the pod. They were inthe gardenaria with Boon, admiring Eliza’s latest construct: a rockery, whichshe’d populated with a dazzling array ofsmall green plants, many with intricateleaf  structures.   It  was   a   beautifulcomposition. A real feat of imagineering. Something which could not fail to impresseven the harshest of Aunts. As he watched

them chatting from the kitchen window, Harlan saw the Aunt crouch down beside a group of plants near to the ground. This was some achievement, for the woman was dressed in a tight-fitting two-piece

suit, and the skirt was all but clamping her knees together. He watched her shoo Boon away, then circle her hand over the place where the katt had been sitting. Eliza’s placid gaze changed in an instant. She was clearly unhappy about what the Aunt had done. But by the time the woman had raised herself, Eliza had fixed a gracious smile to her face. Quick to realise she could use his support, Harlan loaded up a tray with three tall glasses and filled them with a sparkling white juice. Then he strolled into the gardenaria, speaking a greeting. The Aunt turned to face him. She was older than he’d been expecting, with a sharpness in her eyes that their first Aunt, Agnes, had not possessed. Next to the Higher itself, the Aunts were the most powerful group on Co:pern:ica. This one

bore her authority like a mask. It was etched deep into the lines of her face. Even her silver peppered hair, pulled into a bundle at the base of her neck (a recognised trademark of her profession) looked so brittle it would crack if it was touched. He felt her fain probing his, and knew that he must not resist. She was, by the nature of her business, allowed to do this and Harlan, although he did not approve of this most invasive manner of commingling, gave himself up to her. She could not read his mind, but she could measure his general auma in an instant. It was important for her to sense that he was happy in her presence. Any show of disrespect might influence her decision to grant them permission to imagineer the daughter they wanted. And that would

break Eliza’s heart.

“Harlan,” Eliza said, “this is Aunt Gwyneth.”

He bowed his head and offered up the tray. “Thank you for agreeing such an early   appointment.   A   drink,   Aunt Gwyneth?   We   find   this   whiteberry construct very refreshing.”

The woman lifted her chin and looked, almost suspiciously, at the glasses. “I do not like anything
fizzy
 
.”

“Well, I can—” Harlan began, but Eliza held up a hand and said, “We’ve already had a herbal tea, Harlan. Aunt Gwyneth has been here for a little while.”

“Oh, I see. Forgive me,” he said. “I was, erm, caught up with something at work.”

“You lecture in Realism, I understand?”

The woman’s fain reached out again, likefingertips pressing at the flesh around his

ears.

“That is one aspect of what I do,” said Harlan. And feeling somehow vulnerable with   both   hands   occupied,   he de:constructed the tray of drinks and said, “Shall we go inside?”

Aunt Gwyneth turned on her stocky little heels. “I prefer the gardenaria. I like the freshness of the air.”

Eliza saw an opportunity to gatherground in this. “Harlan, look what Aunt Gwyneth has done. She’s added a newconstruct to the rockery.”

Harlan  glanced  down.   “Is  that…fungus?” he said. Growing out betweenthe rocks were three short stalks with

large grey caps.

“Very knowledgeable, Professor,” Aunt Gwyneth said, purring at the same low level as Boon. (The katt by now had padded away and was playing with a piece of tweedy fluff that he’d managed to imagineer – the same blue colour, Harlan noticed, as Aunt Gwyneth’s suit.) “Fungal constructs are quite a rarity these days.”

Rarity?
 
thought Harlan, trying hard to keep his fain at bay. “I thought they’d been

”

—

“Limited?”

“Yes.”

“Not to us.”

Harlan gave a respectful nod. Aunts hada vast catalogue of constructs to call upon,though how anything with the poornutritional value of
 
mushrooms
 
(was thatwhat they were called?) could be helpful

to anyone was beyond him. He looked up at Aunt Gwyneth and sensed she was revelling in a minor victory. Her fatuous smile reminded him of a finger drawn across a steamed-up mirror.

“So, may we talk about the prospect of a daughter?” He moved forward and took Eliza’s hand. “We’ve completed our application to the Higher and believe we are favourably placed to bring a new child onto Co:pern:ica. We have her image and her auma traits fixed. We merely ask for your guidance and approval, to help us bring together this happy—”

“Tell me about your son,” said the Aunt, cutting him off without a glance. She was staring instead at two orangecoloured firebirds, which were perched in Eliza’s cherrylea tree, hiding themselves

in the thick of the leaves.

“Oh. Well, David… ” Eliza began, but this was just the topic she and Harlan had been fearing, and she found herself unable to go on.

Harlan patted her hand. A gesture which suggested that he should do the talking. Drawing down calm into his auma, he said, “We imagineered David over twelve spins ago. He’s been a model son.”

“It says in my report that he’s ec:centric, Professor.”

Harlan laced his fingers together. The woman was thorough. He must choose his words with care. “It’s… true that he’s