“If the race we’ve been calling the engineers, with their sun-girdling artificial worlds and plasma tunnels and black-hole energy vents, moved from here to there—and why. Or if this galaxy, this universe, was just another way point in their travels. In their search.”
With effortless and unsurpassing grace, she crossed her legs. “Search? What kind of search?”
Reluctantly he shifted his eyes away from the expanse of exposed flesh. “For a safe place.”
Swinging her feet to the floor and rising from her seat, she walked around the table until she was standing behind him. With great deliberation, she put one hand on his forehead and eased him back against her. She could not see him close his eyes, but she could hear him sigh.
“The Parramati are right about one thing, Pulickel Tomochelor. Each of us picks his or her own road. Me, I choose not to worry about whether one universe is battling for dominance over another, or over several.” She stroked his brow, enjoying the slight but solid weight of him against her. “For a long time I wasn’t sure that I liked you. Then I wasn’t sure what was going to happen to this installation, or to us. Now I’m not entirely sure what I want to do next.”
His voice was easy now, relaxed. “You’re not sure of very much, are you?”
“What do you expect? I’m human.” He sensed rather than saw her smile. “It’s my kusum.”
EPILOGUE
In another space, in another place unimaginably far away and incalculably difficult to reach, the Xunca considered what had happened. They would not interfere, of course. They had fled for reasons that could not be compromised and in the quiet interval that resulted had raised their civilization to heights greater than even they had once thought possible.
Others were not so fortunate. The Xunca monitored them, and so knew. But they never interfered, limiting their concern to their own safety and well-being. They could do nothing for others lest they pique the interest of the thing. If that happened, they would be forced to move again, and that was no longer such a simple matter. Besides, they had grown fond of their current cosmos.
They were confident but frightened, assured but afraid. Perhaps some day their science would reach a level that would enable them to deal finally with the ancient nemesis. Until then they could only live, and strive, and hide. Lesser civilizations would have to fend for themselves.
In their observations they had made note of one exception. Unpretentious and easy to overlook, it was so extravagantly different even they failed to understand it. Whether it could affect the thing they did not know. It seemed unlikely, but it was such an anomaly that nothing could be ruled out. Or ruled in.
So they continued to watch and monitor and observe. Not out of concern for the survival of the anomaly’s species, or out of any elevated sense of altruism, but because despite their grand and unparalleled accomplishments, they had not lost the curiosity that had raised them to their present lofty level of accomplishment.
Also, they were lonely.
By Alan Dean Foster
Published by Ballantine Books:
The Icerigger Trilogy
ICERIGGER
MISSION TO MOULOKIN
THE DELUGE DRIVERS
The Adventures of Flinx of the Commonwealth
FOR LOVE OF MOTHER-NOT
THE TAR-AIYM KRANG
ORPHAN STAR
THE END OF THE MATTER
BLOODHYPE
FLINX IN FLUX
MID-FLINX
THE HOWLING STONES
The Damned
Book One: A CALL TO ARMS
Book Two: THE FALSE MIRROR
Book Three: THE SPOILS OF WAR
THE BLACK HOLE
CACHALOT
DARK STAR
THE METROGNOME and Other Stories
MIDWORLD
NOR CRYSTAL TEARS
SENTENCED TO PRISM
SPLINTER OF THE MIND’S EYE
STAR TREK®; LOGS ONE-TEN
VOYAGE TO THE CITY OF THE DEAD
… WHO NEEDS ENEMIES?
WITH FRIENDS LIKE THESE …
MAD AMOS
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Join Alan Dean Foster for a wild ride out of this world … well, sort of … with his head-spinning new novel,
Parallelities.
Reporter Max Parker’s stories usually revolve around two-headed babies, alien abductions, and Elvis sightings, so it isn’t much of a stretch when his editor sends him to Malibu to interview Barrington Boles, a mad scientist who claims to have invented a parallel-universe machine. The difference is that this mad scientist’s invention actually works—only, instead of creating a doorway into a parallel world, he turns Max into the human nexus between our world and an infinite number of parallel universes. Suddenly Max finds himself slipping uncontrollably from one para—as he calls the parallel universes—to another, confronting worlds that are just like home … but not quite. As the encounters with aliens, cartoon characters, evil Elder Gods, girl Maxes, old Maxes, and ghost Maxes begin to pall, it becomes clear that his only way out is to find Boles and hope the loony genius can rescue him. But how can he be sure which world is real, which Max is Max, and which Boles is the one who can stop the madness—or trap Max in the wrong para forever?
Weird, wacky, and wild …
PARALLELITIES
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Alan Dean Foster, Howling Stones
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