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
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
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