The Gates (2009) (6 page)

Now, as he sat at his desk, he looked at the strange code, written in symbols that seemed at once modern yet very, very old and wondered: Is this the proof that I have been seeking? Is this a message from another universe, another dimension?

And if it is, then what does it mean?

•  •  •  

some of you may know who Albert Einstein was. For those who don’t, here is a picture of him:

Einstein was a very famous scientist, the kind of scientist even people who know nothing about science can probably name. He is most famous for his General Theory of Relativity, which concluded that mass is a form of energy, and goes e = mc
²
(or energy = mass by the speed of light squared), but he also had a sense of humor. He once said that we were all ignorant, but each of us was ignorant in a different way, which is very wise when you think about it.
¹⁴

It was Einstein who predicted the existence of black holes (there is one at the heart of our Milky Way, but it’s obscured by dust clouds; otherwise, it would be visible every night as a
fireball in the constellation of Sagittarius), but Einstein’s black holes came with their own in-built problem. They had, at their center, a singularity (there’s that word again: remember footnote 1?), a point at which time came to an end and all known rules of physics broke down. You can’t make a rule that breaks all the rules. Science just doesn’t work that way.

Einstein wasn’t happy about this at all. He liked things to work according to the rules. In fact, the whole point of his life’s work was to prove that there were rules governing the known universe, and he couldn’t very well leave things like singularities hanging about making the place look untidy.

So, like any good scientist, Einstein went back over his work and tried to find a way to prove the singularities didn’t exist or, if they did, that they played by the rules. So, after a bit of fiddling with his sums, he came to the conclusion that the singularities might in fact be bridges between two different universes. This solved the problem of the singularities as far as Einstein was concerned, but nobody really believed that this bridge, known as an Einstein-Rosen bridge, could actually be used to travel between the universes, mainly because, if it existed at all, it would be very unstable, like building a bridge made from chewing gum and bits of chocolate over a very long drop, then suggesting that someone in a big truck might like to give it a try. The bridge would also be very small—10
^-34
meters, or so small that it would hardly be there at all—and it would exist for only an instant, so driving a truck across it (a space truck, obviously) would be both difficult and, frankly, fatal.

Mathematicians have also suggested the possibility of what are known as “multiply-connected spaces,” or wormholes—
literally tunnels between universes—that exist at the center of black holes.
¹⁵
In 1963 a New Zealand mathematician named Roy Kerr suggested that a spinning black hole would collapse into a stable ring of neutrons because the centrifugal force pushing out would cancel the inward force of gravity. The black hole wouldn’t fall in on itself, and you wouldn’t be crushed to death, but it would be a one-way trip, as the gravity would be sufficient to prevent you from returning the way you had come.

Nevertheless, the whole debate was another stage in the great discussion about wormholes, and black holes, and parallel universes, places where the rules of physics might not be quite the same as ours but might work perfectly well in that universe.

Now Professor Hilbert was wondering if something in a universe other than our own might have found a way of breaking through, using a hole or a bridge as yet unthought of in our science, and tried to make contact. If that was the case, then, if the bridge still existed, there would be an opening in its world, and another opening in ours.

The questions that followed from this were: where was that opening, and what exactly was going to emerge from it?

•  •  •  

Back in the basement of 666 Crowley Road, four figures stood staring at where there had been, until recently, a spinning circle of blue. Mrs. Abernathy had returned from her visit to Samuel Johnson’s house to find her three companions in a state of some distress.

“The portal has closed,” said Mr. Renfield, who no longer looked or sounded quite like the Mr. Renfield of old. His voice emerged from his throat in a series of hoarse clicks, and his skin had already taken on the wrinkled, unhealthy appearance of a rotting apple. The change in his appearance had begun almost as soon as the blue light had disappeared, and a similar decay could be seen in Mrs. Renfield and Mr. Abernathy. Only Mrs. Abernathy remained unaffected.

“They have shut down the collider,” said Mrs. Abernathy, but there was a strange expression on her face as she spoke, which she hid from the Renfields, “as the Great One predicted that they would. But now we know that travel between this world and ours is possible. Even now, our master is assembling his great army, and when he is ready the portal will open once again, and he will cross over and claim this place as his own.”

“But we grow weak,” said Mrs. Renfield. Her breath smelled bad, as if something inside her was festering.

“You
grow weak,” said Mrs. Abernathy. “You are here only to serve my needs. Your energy will fuel me, and when the portal opens once more, you will be renewed.”

This was not entirely true. Mrs. Abernathy was a more extraordinary demon than her three companions, older and wiser and more powerful than ever they could have imagined. The portal had not closed, not entirely. Mrs. Abernathy’s great
will and strength were keeping it open just a crack. Nevertheless, she was content to suck energy from the others as required, and to use the portal only when necessary. She would be the one to explore this new world in advance of her master’s coming, and it was important that she blend in without attracting attention. After so long in the darkness, she wanted to experience something of the Earth before it was turned to ash and fire.

S
AMUEL AWOKE SHORTLY AFTER
eight to the sound of plates banging in the kitchen. He dressed quickly, then went downstairs. Boswell was waiting expectantly for scraps from the breakfast table. He glanced at Samuel, wagged his tail in greeting, then went back to gazing intently at Mrs. Johnson and the remains of the bacon on her plate.

“Mum—,” Samuel began, but he was immediately cut off.

“Stephanie says that you came in late last night,” said his mother.

“I know, and I’m sorry, but—”

“No ‘buts.’ You know I don’t like you being out late by yourself.”

“But—”

“What did I just say? No ‘buts.’ Now sit down and eat your cereal.”

Samuel wondered if he would ever be allowed to complete a sentence again. First Stephanie, and now his mother. If this continued, he’d be forced to communicate entirely through sign language, or notes scribbled on pieces of paper, like someone in solitary confinement.

“Mum,” said Samuel, in his most serious and grown-up of tones. “I have something important to tell you.”

“Uh-huh.” His mother stood and carried her plate to the sink, disappointing Boswell considerably.

“Mother, please.”

Samuel almost never called his mum “mother.” It always sounded wrong, but it had the effect, on this occasion, of attracting her attention. She turned round and folded her arms.

“Well?”

Samuel gestured at the kitchen chair opposite him, the way he saw grown-ups on television do when they invited people into their office to tell them they were about to be fired.

“Please, take a seat.”

Mrs. Johnson gave a long-suffering sigh, but did as she was asked.

“It’s about the Abernathys,” said Samuel.

“The Abernathys? The people at number 666?”

“Yes, and their friends.”

“What friends?”

“Well, I don’t know their friends’ names, but they were a man and a woman, and they were both fat.”

“And?”

“They are no more,” said Samuel, solemnly. He had read that phrase somewhere, and had always fancied using it.

“What does that mean?”

“They’ve been taken.”

“Taken where?”

“To Hell.”

“Oh, Samuel!” His mother rose and returned to the sink. “You had me worried there for a minute. I thought you were being serious. Where do you get these ideas from? I really will have to keep a closer eye on what you’re watching on television.”

“But it’s true, Mum,” said Samuel. “They were all in the Abernathys’ basement dressed in robes, and then there was a blue light and a hole in the air, and a big claw reached out and pulled Mrs. Abernathy inside, and then she appeared again except it wasn’t her but something that looked like her. Then spiderwebs took their fat friends and, finally, Mr. Abernathy was yanked in by a big tongue, and when it was all over there were four of them again, but it wasn’t them, not really.

“And,” he finished, playing his trump card, “they’re trying to open the gates of Hell. I heard Mrs. Abernathy say so, or the thing that looks like Mrs. Abernathy.”

He took a deep breath and waited for a response.

“And that’s why you were half an hour late coming back last night?” asked his mother.

“Yes.”

“You know that you’re not supposed to be out past eight, especially now that the evenings are getting dark.”

“Mum, they’re trying to open the
gates
of
Hell.
You know: Hell. Demons, and stuff. Monsters.” He paused for effect, then added: “The Devil!”

“And you didn’t eat your dinner,” said his mum.

“What?” Samuel was floored. He knew that his mother tended to ignore a lot of what he said, but he had never lied to her. Well, hardly ever. There were some things she didn’t need to know, such as where her private stash of chocolate kept disappearing to, or how the rug in the living room had been moved slightly to cover some nasty burn marks after an experiment involving match heads.

“Don’t say ‘what,’ say ‘pardon,’” his mother corrected. “I said you didn’t eat your dinner.”

“That’s because Stephanie sent me to bed early, but that’s not the point.”

“Excuse me, Samuel Johnson, but that’s precisely the point. You came in so late that you couldn’t eat your dinner. There was spinach. I know you don’t like it a lot, but it’s very healthy. And you annoyed Stephanie, and it’s hard to get good babysitters these days.”

Samuel was by now completely bewildered. His mother could be very strange. According to her, this was how the world worked:

THINGS THAT ARE BAD

1. Coming in late.

2. Not eating spinach.

3. Annoying Stephanie.

4. Trying to confuse Mr. Hume with talk of angels and pins.

5. Not wearing the hat his grandmother had knit for him, even if it was purple and made him look like he had a swollen head.

6-99.Lots of other stuff.

100. Trying to open the gates of Hell.

“Mum, haven’t you heard anything I’ve said?” asked Samuel.

“I’ve heard everything that you’ve said, Samuel, and it’s more than enough. Now eat your breakfast. I have a lot to do today. If you want to, you can help me with the shopping later. Otherwise you can just stay here, but no television and no video games. I want you to read a book, or do something useful with your time. It’s all those cartoons and monster-killing games that have given you these ideas. Honestly, dear, you live in a world of your own sometimes.”

And then she did something completely unexpected. Having spent the last five minutes complaining about him, and not believing anything that he’d told her, she came over and hugged him, and kissed his hair.

“You do make me laugh though,” she said. She looked into his eyes, and her face grew sad. “Samuel, all this stuff—these stories, the angels on the pin—it’s not to do with your dad, is it? I know you miss him, and things have been a bit difficult since he left. You know I love you, don’t you? You don’t need to go looking for attention from me. I’m here, and you’re the most important person in my world. You will remember that, won’t you?”

Samuel nodded. His eyes felt hot. They always did when his mum talked about his dad. He’d been gone for two months
and three days now. Samuel wished that he’d come back, but at the same time he was angry with him. He wasn’t sure what had happened between his mum and dad, but his dad was now living up north, and Samuel had only seen him twice since the break-up. From a whispered but angry phone conversation that he’d overheard between his mum and dad, someone called Elaine was involved. Samuel’s mum had called Elaine a very bad name during the conversation, and then had hung up the phone and started crying. Samuel was sometimes angry at his mum too, because he wondered if she might have done something to drive his dad away. And, on occasion, when he was feeling particularly sad, Samuel would wonder if he himself had done anything to make his dad leave, if he’d been bad, or mean to him, or had let his dad down in some way. For the most part, though, he sensed that his dad was the one who was most to blame, and he hated the fact that his dad made his mum cry.