The mayan prophecy (Timeriders # 8) (21 page)

‘Inside that column is a displacement field,’ said Maddy. ‘And we’re almost certain Sal found a way inside and stepped into it.’

‘Undressed?’ Rashim looked at the clothes on the floor. ‘Why would she do that?’

‘It’s only her T-shirt,’ said Maddy. ‘I think she left it where we’d find it to show us this is where she went,’ said Maddy.

Billy frowned. ‘Why not leave message?’

She shrugged. ‘I don’t know! Maybe she didn’t have a pen on her, or there wasn’t any
time
? Maybe whatever happened here, happened too quickly.’

‘And why would she sneak away down here on her own?’ asked Adam.

Maddy shook her head. ‘I don’t know!’ She glanced at Liam. He shook his head subtly. Sal’s fragile state of mind was
their
business alone. No one else’s. The others didn’t need to know about that.

‘She’s always been the most observant, the most curious out of us three,’ Maddy continued. ‘She must have discovered it yesterday and wanted to figure it all out for herself before telling us about it.’ Even as she said that, it sounded lame. An unconvincing explanation. But then who really knew what was going through Sal’s head right now?

Adam turned and started examining the surface of the column. ‘These glyphs … there’s hundreds of them.’

‘Three thousand and seventy-seven,’ said Bob. ‘I have counted them.’

‘I think every single one of them appears to be unique,’ said Adam. ‘This column could be a key stone. A tool for unlocking this language. Incredible … this is an artefact from a society so far in the future, so far removed from our civilization today, that we would be as alien to them, as
mysterious
to them, as Atlanteans.’

‘The material of this column looks very modern,’ said Rashim, rapping his knuckles gently against the surface. ‘Possibly a carbonite meta-material.’

‘Maybe it’s instructions,’ said Liam. ‘How to make it open up?’

Rashim nodded. ‘That is exactly what it looks like to me. Like an embedded touch-screen interface.’

‘So maybe Sal figured it out,’ said Maddy. ‘She’s good at that kind of thing, pattern recognition.’

‘Or she just got lucky?’

Rashim stroked his finger along one of the characters. ‘Have you noticed the markings seem to be warmer than the rest of the surface?’ He looked at them. ‘You know, this really does look like a user interface. A control panel.’

‘Hold on, Rashim!’ said Maddy. ‘Better not touch them any more, in case we’re causing something to happen. Remember: Sal’s in there!’

Rashim pulled his hand back. ‘Yes, you are right.’

‘Bob? Becks?’ She turned to the support units. ‘Come on, any ideas?’

‘We have both been analysing the tachyon particles being emitted,’ said Becks. ‘There is a distinct pattern and orientation to their movement.’

‘So? What does that mean?’

‘They are travelling along a uniform axis,’ said Bob. ‘Every particle path is exactly parallel. This is a
tightly
targeted field. This would explain why we did not detect any rogue particles until we were in close proximity to this artefact.’

‘Targeted? Like when we’ve tried to send a signal back through time?’

‘Correct.’

‘So you’re saying this is just some kind of large transmitter?’

Rashim shook his head. ‘No.’ He looked again at Sal’s discarded shirt. ‘Clearly this does much more than just transmit a tachyon signal. Sal has been sent somewhere.’

‘Rashim is correct,’ said Becks. ‘It may function as a displacement field and signal.’

‘Where though?’ said Maddy. ‘If she did get in, we need to find out where she’s gone!’

‘The tachyons are being aimed directly into the ground,’ said Bob.

‘So is there another room below?’ asked Liam.

‘Not necessarily,’ Becks responded. ‘Tachyons pass through solid matter without any impedance. The beam could be aimed towards or from something on the far side of the world or beyond.’

‘This beam – is it
originating
here?’ asked Maddy. ‘Or are we
receiving
here?’

‘We have insufficient data,’ replied Becks.

Rashim pressed his lips with an index finger. ‘Displacement technology on this scale would need an incredible amount of energy.’ He looked around the empty chamber. ‘So if this is the transmission’s origin point … where is the power coming from?’

‘If the signal is originating from this location, it does not necessarily need to be originating from this time,’ said Becks.

Maddy looked at her. ‘Not now? Not the present?’

‘That is correct.’

‘Past or future? Can you tell me that?’

‘We are unable to determine that at the moment,’ said Bob. ‘More data is required.’

Liam looked up at the column. ‘So this signal? It’s just passing through?’

‘Affirmative.’

‘If Sal somehow managed to open this up and step into this “signal”…’ Maddy narrowed her eyes, thinking hard. ‘Is it possible then that she could have been swept all the way along to wherever it’s being aimed at?’

‘There is a high probability that is exactly what has happened,’ answered Becks.

‘All right then. Can the two of you figure it out? Could you work out where, when, the tachyon beam starts and ends?’

‘We can sample the density, travel tangents, decay rate of the particles at this moment in time and calculate approximate locations of the start and end points of the signal,’ said Bob. ‘But this would be speculative and not precise.’

‘We could make a more accurate calculation if we gathered additional data nearer the signal origin and nearer the signal destination,’ added Becks.

‘Like picking three points on a graph,’ said Rashim to the others. ‘Two points gives you a line, a third point on the line gives you confirmation you’ve got the tangent right.’

Bob nodded. ‘That is an accurate analogy.’

Maddy pressed her lips. Decisions to be made. ‘So we’re going to need to go back to London. Then send you two backwards and forwards along this beam so you can go count tachyons, right?’

They both nodded.

She looked at Adam, then glanced at the glyphs inscribed on the column’s smooth surface. ‘The other option, I guess, is figuring how this “user interface” works, if that’s what it is. If we can operate this thing, maybe we can bring her back again.’

‘I can either try to decode what all the markings mean,’ Adam said with a shrug, ‘or I can play around with it until something interesting happens?’

‘No!’ She shook her head, quickly dismissing that option. ‘No … I think we shouldn’t mess with this thing any more. Don’t even touch it.’ She was already worried that their fingers running over the glyphs might already have altered the signal in some way, perhaps subtly reprogrammed it, changing things … and …

And then Sal would be lost forever, wouldn’t she?

She pulled Rashim’s homemade cobbled-together beacon out of her pocket, opened the lid and flipped the toggle switch on. Hopefully computer-Bob was going to pick up their signal. Hopefully the faint tachyon whisper of Rashim’s modest beacon wasn’t going to be drowned out by the blast of this tachyon version of a foghorn.

‘I
am
going to find her. And, just in case anyone’s having doubts, that’s not up for discussion,’ Maddy said. ‘We’re getting Sal back before we do anything else.’

Computer-Bob
was
patiently listening for their whispered signal. And heard them. A test pinhole window opened, followed minutes later by a portal. Maddy, Liam and the support units stepped back to 1889 and into their dungeon.

Maddy let Bob and Becks silently update the computer with their wireless memories and soon computer-Bob was as aware of current affairs as anyone else.

> I did not detect any other interfering tachyon signal at your location.

‘Presumably because that bigger signal was a focused beam and not just a general scattering of tachyons?’

> That is correct, Maddy.

‘We need Bob sent to that same location at some point before 1994, and Becks some time after. But how far in time does each of them need to go?’

‘The further apart in time we are located,’ replied Becks, ‘the more useful our contrasted data will be.’

‘Right, so – what? A hundred years either way?’

> A 200-year spread should provide adequate data.

‘Right then, can you set up those time-stamps and get the displacement charging up for those two portals?’

> Yes, Maddy.

Liam came to stand beside her. ‘I might get a change of
clothes.’ He nodded towards the privacy curtains and their hammocks slung beyond. ‘I feel as grubby as a chimney sweep.’

‘Uh?’ She turned to look up at him and was suddenly taken aback at how rough he looked. His face still looked battered and scabbed, a purple bruise round his left eye made it appear like the sunken socket of a much older man. That, coupled with a week’s worth of growth round his chin and mouth – his dark hair seemed to be just that bit lighter, threaded with grey here and there – and she realized she was beginning to see the ghost of Foster’s features in his face.

‘Why don’t you go to the local bath house? Take your time, clean yourself up. Have a shave. You look like you’ve been through hell, Liam.’

He smiled wearily. ‘I might just do that.’

She watched him go and wondered sadly what was becoming of them.

Liam’s
dying
.

The corrosive effect of time travel was beginning to take its toll on him. He was further along that path than either her or Sal – that huge jump to the late Cretaceous early in their tour of duty must have taken its toll on him and was now beginning to show itself. She wondered when she was going to start seeing the ageing effect manifest itself in her own reflection: the faint spider lines of wrinkles round her eyes, the greying of her own hair, the faint discoloration of liver spots and burst blood vessels turning her pale freckled skin into a premature atlas of memories.

Soon, no doubt.

And Sal. God knows where the hell she was now, why she’d been foolish enough to step into a portal without knowing its destination.

Two hours later, with the help of Rashim’s diesel generator speeding up the recharge time, the displacement machine’s charge indicator was showing a full store of energy tucked away in its capacitor array.

Computer-Bob had the time-stamp data arranged and was ready to open the first window.

‘OK, Bob,’ said Maddy. ‘You’re up first. You’re going a hundred years back from the current location of the column. So that’s 1894 for you. And, Becks, you’re going forward – 2094 for you. We’ll give you an hour each at both those locations. Will that be enough time for you to record the tachyon particles?’

‘An hour should be sufficient,’ said Bob.

‘Good. Take your positions then.’

Bob and Becks stepped on to the square wooden plinths, their feet compressing the dirt and sawdust beneath them.

Maddy checked the countdown on one of the computer monitors. ‘OK, Bob … fifteen seconds. You ready?’

‘Affirmative, Maddy.’

She reached across and play-punched his arm. ‘Happy counting, big guy.’

‘Caution: you should keep your hands clear of the –’

‘Yeah, yeah … I know. Health and safety.’ She stepped back. ‘See you soon.’

She counted down the last five seconds over the increasing volume of the displacement machine’s eager hum. A rectangular field enveloped Bob and he disappeared along with two inches of dirt and sawdust.

‘Right, Becks – your turn.’

Bob emerged from the portal and into the chamber. He snapped on his torch and panned it around. The chamber was unchanged, no different to how it
would
be
in a hundred years, when Liam and the others would be standing there. The same circular acre of mica-black floor, reflecting the light back at him. The same central column quietly containing a powerful tachyon beam in transit between some unknown time in the future and some unknown time in the past.

He approached the surface of the dark column and rested his hand against the smooth material, sensing the powerful passing of energy just inches away. Like a surging river contained within a cylindrical sheath. He turned off the torch, leaving himself in pitch-black darkness, closed his eyes and concentrated. Almost immediately his silicon mind began to register the presence of wayward particles spinning out of their prescribed paths and he began to log them: cataloguing their number, their velocity, their charge, their decay rate.

Becks stepped out of the portal and on to the smooth, featureless floor of the chamber. She switched on her torch and, like Bob, noted how the very same chamber looked unchanged. But as she approached the central column she noticed it –
sensed
it – immediately.

‘The tachyon signal has stopped,’ she whispered quietly to herself.

Curious, she ran her fingers across the column’s smooth surface. She sensed nothing was going on within. It was dead.
It was now an inert and lifeless cylindrical structure containing nothing of interest. She had an hour until the return portal would appear, so she decided to put the time to good use and explore further afield.

She climbed the steps up the narrow stairwell to the low-ceilinged chamber above, weaved her way through the forest of support columns towards the exit.

She emerged into a sunny day. The pupils of her grey eyes instantly contracted against the brightness as she looked around.

She reminded herself that she was standing in a time twenty-four years after the end – after the Pandora event had occurred. The earth right now would be quiet. She knew this stillness, this rather pleasant stillness, would exist everywhere. In every city, town, village, coarse grass and weeds would be threading themselves through, around, over and covering the humps and husks of billions of bodies. The bodies nothing more than the bones, teeth, nails and hair, the organic material the Kosong-ni virus was unable to break down into a liquid.

Cities would be standing empty, streets filled with the bones and ragged clothes of countless billions. The highways out of those same cities would be clogged with vehicles log-jammed together, their occupants skeletons too.

A silent world.

However, in one or two locations around the planet, small groups of human survivors would be starting to coalesce together into loose allegiances, struggling to hang in there – those ‘lucky’ few whose resistance to the virus saved them from death but cursed them to this hard life of scavenging from the scrapheap of humankind.

She speculated that their lives would be difficult and brutal, and so would the lives of their children; the first generation who would never know what a holo-screen was, or see vapour trails
arc across the upper troposphere, or watch endless digi-channels of reality shows or hear tinny digital music on their temple-jack inserts, or dress up in mood-glow fashionwear, or chat in virtual headspace with their friends.

Perhaps ten, twenty, a hundred generations from now planet Earth would become a lively place once more, filled with the noise and chaos and pollution generated by humanity, but for now Mother Nature had it back.

Becks looked around at the remains of this ancient forgotten city. It looked no different.

The jungle was still very much hard at work reclaiming this place. The humid air was filled with the incessant chirruping of jungle life. The world could quite happily go on without mankind for a while.

She wandered over to the camp they’d made a hundred years ago on the edge of the round plaza. There, she noted the last shreds of the canvas awning lying on the ground, partially covered in a windblown carpet of dead leaves. The bed rolls were all but covered beneath growths of moss. The pot in which Maddy had once made a broth was a rusted relic, the handles long ago broken off and flaked away.

Becks looked around the basin-shaped ruins of this long-dead city and knew that right now every other city would one day look like this. In fact – correction – few of those modern cathedrals of concrete, steel and glass would last as long as this ancient ruin made of stone. Stone was forever. The skyscrapers of Shanghai, New York, London, Dubai would collapse on themselves within a hundred years. Would be overgrown humps of vegetation within five hundred years, and would be mere forensic evidence within a thousand.

But these ancient Mayan ruins would still be standing proud.

She pulled a quote from her database: ‘… 
the twentieth century
will be the last century to leave behind it archaeological footprints robust enough to stand the test of millennia
 …’

She felt the warm sun on her face, listened to the soothing cacophony of life coming from all sides, coming from the overflowing rim of jungle above her and around this ghost city.

The world after mankind didn’t seem to her to be such a terrible place after all. Life in all its many forms seemed to be carrying on quite cheerfully. Was in fact thriving without the toxic
contaminant
of humankind.