Phase Shift (14 page)

The man considers me for several moments. I
can almost feel the weight of his stare bearing down on me. When
the silence threatens to become excruciating, he speaks again. "I
am Reyes Prefect, Second Prefect of Theran Prefecture."

Reyes
? The man who made contact with
Prescott? But he would have to be close to a hundred years old by
now.

"And you are...?" he prompts.

"You speak English," I blurt. I'm not trying
to be evasive about my name, nor am I trying to be rude. In some
cultures, to know someone's name is to wield great power. I just
don't think I trust this man enough to imbue him with that kind of
authority, at least, not quite yet.

He smiles. Dimples form to bracket the
smile. "I speak Universal. Verse for short. It is the official
language spoken here."

"And where exactly is, 'here'?"

He looks confused. "Why, Theran Prefecture,
of course."

That's not what I meant. "I mean where,
geographically?"

"Theran Prefecture resides on the mass of
Selene."

I continue to look at him, trying to process
this information.

"On the planet of Gaia," he offers.

It's nothing new, nothing I haven't already
read in Prescott's memoirs, nothing I wasn’t anticipating, in the
event our experiment worked. Still, I can't help but wonder: is
this actually happening? Am I really to believe I'm on another
world?

"You said you were expecting me."

"Not you, precisely." He picks at the
upholstery on the padding of his chair. "Perhaps someone like you."
He looks up at me. "We knew it was only a matter of time before
someone discovered how to bridge the gap from the other side."

"The gap? I don't understand."

"Between our world and yours."

I must still look confused because he takes
it upon himself to explain further: "Every living thing, from the
smallest insect to the largest animal, has a life force that
sustains it through its existence. It is the phase pitch at which a
life force resonates that binds it to its earth.

"And this 'gap' you speak of?"

"Our clerisy posits at some point in time, a
cataclysmic event ensued on our planet, forcing a shift in the
phase of all living things.

“History tells us at the time of the
cataclysmic event our world spawned a doppelganger, an exact
duplicate. Your world." Reyes's explanation was a lot like
chocolate: it tasted good, but did nothing to sate the
appetite.

"So the 'gap' refers to the difference in
our...broadcast frequencies?"

"In the pitch of our phase resonances, yes.
Your world and mine co-exist, occupying the same space-time, only
slightly out of phase. Here, yet not here.

"We have known of your world for some time
now, known how to travel between the two worlds as well. In the
interest of science, this technology has been banned until your
world could discover our existence, learning how to bridge the gap
on your own accord. Our clarists posited the coming of this
day.

"Do not look so concerned, Matron."

"Molly," I tell him. He says nothing, but
looks confused. "My name," I say, "it's Molly. Molly McBride." The
title of 'Matron' had finally worn thin. I guess I just grew tired
of being addressed as if I were ugly, old, and dowdy.

"Do not look so concerned, Molly McBride.
This is a wondrous day for us all. On both sides of the gap."

We sit there staring at each other for I
don't know how long—five seconds? Ten? It seems like an eternity. I
finally continue to speak, if for no other reason but to break the
growing silence. "I'm a professor of Archaeology. At the University
of Toronto."

"And what is this...this...Archaeology?"

"It's the study of past cultures on Earth
based on their material remains. The objects they leave behind.
They get buried and I dig them up and study them."

I can almost see the light bulb that goes
off reflected in his face. "You are an Antiquarian," he says.

"I guess..."

"And this University of Toronto?"

"It's a place of higher learning."

Reyes is quiet, then once more, his face
lights up in sudden realization. He sucks in some air and then
says, "The Prefecture of Toronto?" rather excitedly. "Do you know
Dr. Spencer Prescott Prefect?"

"Dr. Prescott left the university long
before I ever became a student there." I avert my eyes and lower my
voice, laying it on him gently. "I'm afraid he passed away quite a
few years ago."

Reyes polishes his front teeth with his
tongue and nods his head. "Yes, of course. As did my father." He
closes his eyes and says, "Time spares no soul," in a voice
approaching a whisper.

"I take it, then, you knew Dr.
Prescott?"

"My father did, yes. I was no more than a
distant concept to my parents when the encounter took place. At
that time, my father was working on a technology that would bridge
the gap between this world and the next. They were great explorers,
the prefects of my father's generation, imagining great stores of
knowledge on the other side, but not quite able to fathom to what
that knowledge might pertain. Their goal was to forge an alliance
with the powers in existence on the other side." Reyes looks down
at his hands as they rest in his lap. He wears a slim grin on his
lips. He sits there for a moment, as if remembering.

"My father used to regale me with tales
about another world. As a child, they seemed just that: tales. As I
grew, and my father passed, I regretted having not inscribed them,
regretted having not listened more closely when he spoke."

I nod. It's the only way I can think of to
respond.

"If you did not know Dr. Prescott Prefect,"
he says, quickly, as if he has suddenly remembered he was not alone
in the room, "then how were you able to bridge the gap?"

"This device," I say, as I raise the hem of
my t-shirt slightly, just enough to reveal the silver modulator
clipped to the waistband of my jeans.

"It is an old design, one which is no longer
manufactured." He examines it from a distance at first, but then
hunkers down in front of me to take a closer look. "How did you say
you came by this device?"

"I found it. Actually...someone else found
it. He gave it to me."

"Where, exactly, was it found?"

"It was buried. In his backyard."

"Underground?" he asks, astonished.

"Yeah. Well...sealed in a box...but,
yeah."

"Remarkable. It still maintained a charge
after all these years?"

"No. I charged it. My husband and I.
My...mate. We figured out a way to charge it."

"How was that?"

"We ran it through a cat-scan."

He looks up at me, brows pointed, creating a
furrow down the center of his forehead.

"A CT-scan?" I ask. "Computed
Tomography?"

His expression doesn't change.

"Let me guess: you don't have nuclear
medicine on your world."

"Nuclear?"

"It uses radioactivity to take detailed
pictures of the inside of the body. For medical diagnosis."

The muscles on his forehead relax somewhat;
I can tell something's getting through to him. "You have one of
these? These cats-ans?"

"Cat-scan," I say. How much information is
too much information? Did they have anything that even remotely
resembled anything nuclear on Gaia? Or mummies? The climates were
basically the same—according to Prescott and now Reyes, Gaia and
Earth were once one planet after all. Maybe the question should be
not do they have mummies, but are they aware of mummies. And if
they aren't, how long was I supposed to sit here explaining the
seven wonders to him? "We had access to one. Briefly. We used it to
charge the device."

Reyes gasps. "It is stunning. In perfect
condition. As though it just now came directly from the Antiquary."
He reaches out as if to touch it. "Stunning," he repeats.

I look down at the device. "Do you want to
take a closer look?" I ask, and I begin to slide it from my
waistband.

"No!" Reyes calls, staying my hand with his.
"If it is what I think it is, then to remove it would break the
resonance bubble and you would return to your world. The modulator
must maintain contact with your person at all times."

I nod to show I understand.

"May I?" he asks.

I nod once more, and Reyes reaches forward,
tracing the perimeter of the device with his forefinger. At first,
he says nothing as he examines the artifact. When he at last speaks
he sounds distracted. "It is very old, indeed. A prototype." He
looks up at me. "We retired these modulators after they were deemed
unsafe. Too many incinerations—"

"Incinerations?" I ask.

Reyes clears his throat. "Yes. Something
about unstable radiometric isotopes in the power source. You really
are very lucky you arrived unscathed."

I take a moment to think about this: what if
when I pressed the button on the modulator I had been incinerated
in a puff of smoke? While Prescott had hinted at the possibility of
the modulator blowing up, I never actually believed it was
probable. But according to Reyes Prefect, there was a real
possibility Palmer could have witnessed my accidental incineration
earlier this evening.

Suddenly it hits me how much I actually miss
my husband, how much I want to tell him I'm alright. I wonder what
he's doing at this very moment, where he is.

Reyes is saying something. I've been so lost
in contemplating how close I had come to killing myself I haven't
heard a single word he's said. I ask him to repeat himself.

"If memory serves," he says, "there was an
adaptor that went with it to help convert other isotopes to one
more compatible with the original."

"There was no adaptor."

Reyes looks at his hands, clasped together
and resting in his lap. "This is disconcerting." He shakes his
head. "My father said Dr. Prescott Prefect was a man to be trusted,
a man of honour. Dr. Prescott Prefect vowed to destroy his
modulator when he returned. The integrity of The Pact must be
protected at all costs."

"He did...kind of...destroy it, I mean. He
buried it. I don't think he ever intended anyone to dig it up."

"And yet someone did.

"This does not bode well, not at all," he
says, "not for any of us. Not on either side. If the integrity of
The Pact has been broken—"

There is a knock at the door; Reyes looks
toward it, yet decides to ignore it.

"If the integrity of The Pact has been
broken," Reyes begins again, "we are all at risk. We—"

Another knock at the door. At first it
appears Reyes is determined to dismiss it, but then he plants his
hands firmly on either side of the chair in front of him and forces
himself to a standing position. He bounds toward the door. I half
expect him to fling it wide open. Instead, he slowly cracks it
open, ever so slightly. There is a shadow on the other side, a man.
They speak to each other in hushed tones. Though I can't make out
anything they're saying, I can tell they're arguing.

The man behind the door says something and
then pauses. Reyes looks at me guiltily during the pause. I've been
nipping at my lower lip with my teeth. As Reyes watches, my teeth
manage to catch a small flap of skin. I pull it off and am
embarrassed to taste blood. Gross, I know, but it's not like I can
control it, and believe me, I've tried. It's like it's autonomic,
like it's my body's way of pinching itself to see if it’s still
awake.

Once more, the man says something to Reyes
who responds in kind. Reyes closes the door. "I apologize, Molly
McBride, but I must go momentarily. Please! I beg of you: wait for
me. There is much we must still speak about."

I nod. Reyes smiles and exits. As he does, I
hear the click of a dead-bolt slipping into place. I rush the door
and try the knob. I'm locked in, alright.

The men continue to argue on the other side
of the door for a moment or two, before the fading clack of their
heels recedes down the hall to my left.

I resign myself to wait for Reyes, at least
for a little while. The room he's left me in seems massive,
especially when the high ceilings are taken into account. Sky-high
windows with California-style shutters stud the far wall. In
between the shutters are glimpses of the prefecture campus which is
made up of perfectly manicured lawns dotted by the occasional oak,
though oddly enough, no people. Admittedly, Theran Prefecture is no
University of Toronto—it's isolated, secluded, rather than in the
middle of a bustling metropolis.

The rest of the room is typical of most
lecture halls: a wooden table sits on a podium, at the front of the
hall. Behind the table is a chalk board, and beside the table a
lectern.

After pacing the room several times, I plop
back into my original seat and wait. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Twenty.
Combined with the five or so minutes spent with Avatar, the fifteen
or twenty minutes spent in conversation with Reyes, and the twenty
minutes spent sitting here waiting for Reyes to return, I've been
gone at least an hour, maybe more. Palmer must be worried sick.
Truth be told? I want to go home. To see his face again. To hear
his voice. To tell him about my trip.

The modulator. My ruby slippers. My ticket
home. One moment it's at my hip, and the next, it's in my palm. And
then I press the button.

The light changes. The air is colder,
damper. The first breath sears my throat. Palmer sits on a lab
stool to my left. His head rests on his arms on the counter in
front of him. His breathing is heavy and slow. I think he's
sleeping.

I take a step toward him, whispering his
name as I brush loose hairs behind his ear. He startles awake,
saying my name. Before I know what's happening, he has me in a
tight embrace. He presses my face into his chest, wrenches my neck
and practically suffocates me in the process. We stand like this
for a while, neither one of us willing to be the first to let
go.