Echoes of Earth (10 page)

“We will not be speaking to anyone but you, Peter,” the voice was saying in response to something Alander had asked. “You were chosen to act as mediator, and you alone. We will communicate through you or not at all.”

“Chosen?” Alander’s tone reflected the same incredulity that Hatzis felt at the news. “That’s not possible. I was the one who decided to come to
you
.”

“Nonetheless, our creators chose you. Our initial scan of you confirms this.”

“But
why
?” He was having difficulty hiding his exasperation.

“Because you suit their needs,” came the unruffled reply.

“And what are their needs?”

“We don’t have that information,” said the voice. “We know only that we must mediate through you.”

“Then ask them!”

“That is impossible,” said the voice. “They have already left.”

“Well, when are they coming back?”

Hatzis could sense Alander’s frustration rising, but she couldn’t blame him for it. She felt the same way. The whole thing was as puzzling as it was suspicious, although she had to admit that it was intriguing at the same time.

“They won’t return. They have moved on.”

Alander shook his head, turning to scan the vast expanse of the place that stretched out all around him.

“So what is the purpose of all of this, then? Of you? Why should they choose
us,
of all people? I mean, we’re nothing special, surely? Intellectually, we’d be nothing compared to them.”

“They came upon you by accident,” said the Gifts. “Like yourselves, the Spinners come from a species of travelers. When their path crosses that of another species, they impart something of their own technology in the hope of aiding the advancement of that species, as long as that species would not misuse the gifts they receive. In the time the Spinners were in contact with you, they learned much about your species without you knowing, enough for them to feel that you would use such technology wisely and not destructively. We are a gesture of goodwill from a race that has neither forgotten its humble origins near lost the desire for companionship. Our makers feel that by assisting and nurturing other fledgling species that one day they will be able to meet such species again on a more equal footing.”

Hatzis’s mind was swimming with images of the Spinners on their grand journey through the galaxy, stopping now and then along the way to toss a tidbit of technology to those less developed civilizations. It might have made little difference to the Spinners themselves, but to
humanity
...

“Is this your first encounter with humans?” Cleo Samson asked suddenly from behind Alander. They waited a few moments for a reply, but there was just the terrible, empty silence.

Alander shook his head and then repeated the question himself.

The response this time was immediate. “Yes. A routine probe to this system detected your transmissions. Caution was exercised at first; there are civilizations who take delight in the destruction of others. Closer investigation revealed that you were not one of those, so it was decided to approach closer.”

The glitch.
Hatzis mentally shook herself as Sivio butted in with a request that the Gifts confirm that they were the source of the mysterious data that had immediately preceded their appearance around Adrasteia.

“That is correct,” the Gifts said when Alander relayed the question. “The emissions you recorded were symptomatic of our makers’ means of transportation to this system.”

“Do you use the same transportation system?”

“Not anymore. We are not designed to move.”

Another specialist, Jene Avery, interrupted with a query. “They seemed to arrive out of nowhere,” she said. “Ask if they were camouflaged.”

Alander repeated the comment.

“No.” There was no elaboration upon the blunt reply.

“Does that mean they have some sort of instantaneous drive?”

“No,” the voice answered. “Although it is much faster than yours.”

“And this is one of the gifts?” Alander said.

“Of course,” replied the Gifts. “The Spinners see it as a fundamental necessity for interstellar travel. Your method is too slow and impractical. We have also provided technology for faster-than-light communications, since it is a complementary requirement.”

Hatzis had a few questions she needed answering and directed them to Alander to ask. He would no doubt eventually get annoyed by this, but that was too bad. Even though he had so far done a good job, she couldn’t rely upon him to ask all the questions that needed answering. And at the moment, at least, he seemed to have no problem with everyone pressing their queries onto him. If anything, his annoyance was toward the Gifts for being so stubborn.

“You said that the Spinners have gone elsewhere,” he said, repeating the question being whispered into his head by Hatzis. “Can you tell us where that might be?”

“We do not know that ourselves.”

“For security reasons, I suppose?”

“We are not privy to the reasons behind all our builders’ decisions. Those matters are not relevant to our purpose here.”

“So they just built you, then left?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re ours to do with as we wish? No strings attached?”

“That is the nature of a gift, is it not?”

“I understand that,” said Alander. He paused to listen to rest of Hatzis’s comments before repeating them. “But you can’t blame us for thinking there might be a catch.”

“There is no catch.” The voice of the Gifts was calm in response to Alander’s concerns, as though it could keep on saying the same thing forever.

“Just wait until Earth hears about this,” said Samson.

“If there’s anyone left there,” said Alander.

Hatzis didn’t grace his cynicism with a rebuff.

“Ask them what the spindles contain,” she said. Alander repeated the question.

“That will become clear when you arrive at each of the eleven gifts in turn,” the voice replied.

“Eleven?” said Hatzis. “But there are only ten towers.”

Alander shrugged. “Maybe the Gifts are a gift,” he said.

“I mean, they have a collective intelligence that allows them to communicate with us and instruct us in the use of each individual—”

“It would be easier to see for yourself, Peter,” the Gifts interrupted him.

“Okay,” he said. “But how?”

“We will show you,” they said. “The area you currently occupy is called the Hub. After your impression of the climber, we have tailored it more to your expectations.”

“My impression...?”

“You expected it to look more sophisticated,” came the reply.

Hatzis absorbed the revelation that they
had
been listening in with the understanding of why the environs within Chamber Five were so outlandish. Both unsettled her.

“We must make it clear,” the Gifts went on, “that this chamber is the common entry point to all of the gifts. You cannot enter any of them without first passing this point. You are the only individual currently permitted to pass, although you may at any time allocate another. Given your people’s current circumstances, we will allow them free access to the climber that brought you here, should they wish to use it to ferry more android drones or other far-sensing devices to the gifts, but you are still required to give them permission. Understand this, Peter: You were chosen to have first access to all the things we contain, and to you we pass the responsibility of who will follow.”

Alander nodded solemnly. “Okay,” he said. “Whatever you say.”

Hatzis’s mind was immediately racing. Who would go next? Should she order the shuttle immediately back to Drop Point One for the other drones? Then she remembered the temporary lack of reaction mass.
Shit.
Damn Alander for screwing up that bath! That set them back at least a week. Maybe a telesensing robot could be constructed in orbit and sent in via the bug instead.

She didn’t have time to reach a decision, however; the Gifts were speaking again.

“The Hub lies at our heart.” Movement around Alander made him start and look around. The view of Adrasteia melted away, and in its place appeared ten doorways in a circle around him. Each was different, and all of them were closed. Between each door was nothing but space. “All gifts may be accessed from here.”

When Alander hesitated to approach, the Gifts nudged him along with the assurance, “None are locked, Peter.”

He picked one at random, or so it seemed to Hatzis. It was painted a rich, garden green and had a simple, metal latch. The frame was weathered as though it had stood outside for decades. He walked up to it and put his hand on the latch. Samson stayed close to his side.

He stopped there for an instant, as though having second thoughts, then opened it and stepped through.

Instantly, Hatzis found herself viewing a dead channel.

“Fuck!” She fumbled at her conSense parameters, fearful that she might have unconsciously disturbed something. “Jayme, what’s going on?”

“We’ve lost him. Hold on a second. I’m trying—” For a brief instant, conSense filled with a chaotic, cross-purpose noise as a dozen voices all tried to speak at once. Then:

“Wait, we’ve found him! Only...”

She imagined the worst. “Speak to me, Jayme.”

“He’s not there anymore. In Spindle Five, I mean.”

“What do you mean? Where else
could
he be?”

“Look for yourself.”

Hatzis followed his link to the triangulation of Alander’ s signal at the same time as the data from his senses began to flow in. And, immersed in both, she finally
did
begin to see.

1.1.9

Alander walked through the door, thinking:
This can’t be,
the house was demolished twenty years ago
! He was so preoccupied with the thought that he almost didn’t notice Cleo Samson disappear.

When he did, he stopped. His heart hammered. “Cleo? Caryl? What’s going on?”

There was no reply. “Hey... Gifts!” He directed his question to the air above him. “What have you done to them?”

“Nothing, we assure you.”

“And why should I believe you?”

“Because we have no reason to lie.”

But he barely heard the reply, distracted as he was by the reappearance of a frightened-looking Cleo Samson at his side.

“Peter, are you all right?” Her hands were gripping him tightly.

“Where the hell did you get to?”

“We lost your signal,” said Hatzis’s voice, loud and clear. “You jumped to another spindle—Spindle Three, in fact. We had no warning, and nothing was pointing at you. It took a second to pick up your beacon and reestablish contact. There’ll be a slight delay until we get a relay or two in position, so bear with us.”

He nodded, exhausted by the relief that flooded through him. Relays were the least of his concerns; just so long as they knew where he was. He didn’t understand how he could have physically jumped from one spindle to another without crossing the space between, but he knew without doubt that he was somewhere quite different.

“It’s beautiful,” Samson breathed, looking around her in awe.

He agreed without reservation.

They were standing on a wide, oval platform suspended in a space as seemingly infinite as the Hub. Except this space wasn’t empty. It was filled with dust and tiny lights that looked uncannily like—

“Stars,” he whispered.

“All the stars of the galaxy,” replied the Gifts. “Their positions, types, and relative motions correct to a small fraction of a percent, as of this moment.”

Alander looked around him, hardly daring to consider the implication of such a map. “
Every
star?”

“Every star,” the Gifts confirmed.

“And every planet?” Samson added.

He repeated the question.

“Most,” said the Gifts. “Some are best left hidden.”

“If you say so,” said Alander. “I doubt that we’d ever have the time to study even the ones that
are
here.”

He felt an almost childlike thrill as he looked out at the star systems around him. He was a boy again, using the cheat codes for the games he would play on his father’s old PCs, with all the secrets of the game world right under his fingertips.

“We will instruct you on the use of the map when you are ready. You should find it useful in times to come.”

Alander laughed aloud at the understatement. “You don’t say,” he said, trying to imagine the excitement the astronomers and physicists on the
Tipler
must have been experiencing at that moment. If the Gifts weren’t lying, this knowledge would revolutionize their fields.

Then another concern returned as he stood watching the universe turn around him.

“That door,” he said, glancing behind him. “It was the front door of my stepmother’s house. I lived there until she sold it in 2009. I went back there just before the mission, but it had been knocked down. How... ?”

He stopped. The question didn’t need asking, because the answer was obvious.

They knew everything about him. More, possibly, than he did. But not all of the doors had been familiar. Perhaps, he thought, the ones that
were
familiar were the ones the Gifts wanted him to explore first, knowing he would be automatically drawn toward them.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’d like to go back to the Hub and try one of the other doors.”

“All you need to do is go back the way you came.”

Alander took a step toward the door but not through. Now that he was paying attention, he could see that the other side was blurry, as though seen through a heat haze. “You ready for this, Caryl?”

“As ready as we can be.”

“Okay.” He went through the door, alert for any odd sensations but feeling none at all. Samson vanished again as he did so but reappeared a split second later on the other side, in the Hub.

“No obvious surges or emissions,” Hatzis said. “Beats me how they do it.”

“How
do
you do it?” he asked the Gifts. “Move me around like that?”

“We do not do anything, Peter. The Spinners have provided the technology. We are only permitted to guide you so far in its use.”

“What happens if we hurt ourselves in the process? Like a savage might, poking around in a television set?”