Ponter looked back briefly at Donaldson but continued to walk.
“Well,” continued Donaldson, “we have beefed up the facilities even more, on the chance that you or others of your kind might return. I’m afraid you’re going to have to be quarantined here until we’re sure it’s safe to let you up to the surface.”
“Not again!” said Ponter. “We can prove that we are free of contamination.”
“That’s not my judgment call to make, sir,” said Donaldson. “But the people who can make it are on their way here even as we speak.”
Chapter Eleven
Mary Vaughan was bent over a microscope when the door to her lab at the Synergy Group burst open. “Mary!”
She looked up, and saw Louise Benoît standing in the doorway. “Yes?”
“Ponter is back!”
Mary’s heart started pounding. “Really?”
“Yes! I just heard it on the radio. The portal between the universes has reopened at SNO, and Ponter and another Neanderthal have come over to our side.”
Mary got up and looked at Louise. “Fancy a drive to Sudbury?”
Louise smiled, as if she’d expected such an offer. “There’s no point. The Neanderthals are being quarantined down in the SNO facility; there’s no way we could get down to see them.”
“Oh,” said Mary. She tried not to sound disappointed.
“But they’re coming to New York City to speak at the UN once they’re released.”
“Really? How far is that from here?”
“I don’t know. Five or six hundred kilometers, I suppose. Closer than it is from here to Sudbury, anyway.”
“I’ve been meaning to try to get down to see The Producers …” said Mary, with a grin. But the grin soon faded. “Still, I probably won’t be able to get to see Ponter there, either. He’ll be tied up with all sorts of diplomatic stuff.”
But Louise’s tone was upbeat. “You’re forgetting who you’re working for, Mary. Our man Jock seems to have keys to open just about any door. Tell him you need to go down and collect some DNA samples from the Neanderthal accompanying Ponter.”
Mary’s smile returned. At that moment, she liked Louise very much indeed.
“Ponter Boddit, my man!”
Reuben Montego entered the two-room quarantine chamber, and held out a clenched fist. Ponter touched his own knuckles against Reuben’s. “Reuben!” he declared, saying the name for himself. Then, Hak picking up on his behalf: “It is so good to see you again, my friend.”
Ponter turned to Tukana and spoke quickly in the Neanderthal tongue. “Reuben’s the physician here at the Creighton Mine. He’s the one who first treated me when I almost drowned upon arriving here, and it was at his house that Mare Vaughan, Lou Benoît, and I were originally quarantined.” Then, turning to Reuben, and with Hak once again translating: “Friend Reuben, this is Ambassador Tukana Prat.”
Reuben smiled broadly—for a Gliksin—and executed a gallant bow. “Madam Ambassador,” he said. “Welcome!”
“Thank you,” said Tukana, via her own Companion implant, which had been upgraded to match Hak’s capabilities. “I am delighted to be in this world.” She looked around the small, austere room. “Although I was hoping to see more of it.”
Reuben nodded. “We’re working on that. We’ve got experts on the way from the Laboratory Centre for Disease Control in Ottawa, and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention in Atlanta. I understand you used some kind of laser-sterilization device. That’s a new one on us, and our experts will have to be satisfied that it really works.”
“Of course,” said Ambassador Prat. “Although we look forward to establishing equitable trade with your world, we understand that this technology is one we must freely reveal. Your experts are welcome to travel over to our side of the portal and examine the equipment. The equipment’s designer, Dapbur Kajak, is on hand, and she will gladly explain its principles and subject it to any tests you require.”
“Excellent,” said Reuben. “Then we should get this all straightened away quite quickly.”
Ponter waited until he was sure Reuben had finished with this topic, then he said, speaking for himself, “Where is Mare?”
Reuben smiled as if he’d anticipated the question. “She got hired up by some U.S. think tank. She’s in Rochester, New York, now.”
Ponter frowned. He’d hoped Mare would be here in Sudbury, but there was no reason for her to dally after Ponter had left. Her home, after all, hadn’t been in this city. “How have you been, Reuben?” asked Ponter. It was a Gliksin peculiarity to constantly inquire after another’s health, but Ponter knew it was the expected pleasantry.
“Me?” said Reuben. “I’ve been fine. I’ve had my fifteen minutes of fame, and frankly am glad it’s over.”
“Fifteen minutes?” repeated Tukana.
Reuben laughed. “An artist here once said that in the future, everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes.”
“Ah,” said Ponter. “What sort of artist?”
Reuben was clearly trying to suppress a grin. “Um, well, he was best known for painting pictures of soup cans.”
“It sounds,” said Ponter, “as though fifteen minutes might have been more than his fair share.”
Reuben laughed again. “I’ve missed you, my friend.”
A team from the LCDC arrived, followed shortly by one from the CDC. One woman from each organization became the first members of Homo sapiens sapiens to travel to the Neanderthal universe. Periodically, one or the other would stick her head through the end of the tunnel and ask for some equipment to be passed through to the other side.
Ponter tried to wait patiently, but it was frustrating. A whole alien world awaited them! Both he and Tukana had already given multiple samples of blood and tissues, as well as undergoing complete physical examinations by Reuben.
Despite the quarantine, Ponter and Tukana were not without visitors. The first nonmedical one was a pale Gliksin woman with short brown hair and small round glasses. “Hello,” she said, with what Ponter recognized from his time with Lou Benoît as a French-Canadian accent, “My name is Hélène Gagné. I’m with Canada’s Department of Foreign Affairs and International Trade.”
Tukana stepped forward. “Ambassador Tukana Prat, representing the High Gray Council of—well, of Earth.” She nodded at Ponter. “My associate, Scholar—and Envoy—Ponter Boddit.”
“Greetings,” said Hélène. “Delighted to meet you both. Envoy Boddit, we promise things will go a little more smoothly than on your last visit.”
Ponter smiled. “Thank you.”
“Before we proceed further, Madam Ambassador, I’d like to ask you a question. I understand the geography of your world and this one are the same, correct?”
Tukana Prat nodded.
“All right,” said Hélène. She was carrying a small briefcase. She opened it, and removed a simple world map that showed only landforms but no borders. “Can you show me where you were born?”
Tukana Prat took the map, glanced at it, and pointed at a spot on the west coast of North America. Hélène handed her a felt-tipped marker, its cap removed. “Can you mark the spot—as precisely as possible, please?”
Tukana looked surprised at the request, but did so, putting a red dot on the northern tip of Vancouver Island. “Thank you,” said Hélène. “Now, will you sign next to that spot?”
“Sign?”
“Umm, you know, write out your name.”
Tukana Prat did so, drawing a series of angular symbols.
Hélène removed a notary’s seal from the briefcase and embossed the map, then added her own signature and date. “All right, that’s what we were hoping would be the case. You were born in Canada.”
“I was born in Podnilak,” said Tukana.
“Yes, yes, but that’s in what corresponds to Canada—to Vancouver Island, British Columbia, to be precise—on this world. That makes you, by all established law, a Canadian. And we already know that Envoy Boddit was b
orn near Sudbury, Ontario. So, if you and Envoy Boddit don’t object, the first thing we’re going to do after you leave quarantine is bestow Canadian citizenship on the two of you.”
“Why?” asked Tukana Prat.
But before Hélène could answer, Ponter spoke up. “This matter was raised during my first trip. One requires documents to travel between nations on this version of Earth. The most important one”—he paused, while Hak reminded him of the name—“is a passport, and you cannot have a passport without a citizenship.”
“That’s right,” said Hélène. “We took a fair bit of heat from other governments, particularly the U.S., when you were last here because you were kept entirely in Canada. Well, once you’re released from here, we’ll take you to Ottawa—that’s Canada’s capital—where you will be made citizens under Section 5, Paragraph 4, of the Canadian Citizenship Act, which lets the minister grant citizenship to anyone in extraordinary circumstances. Don’t worry: it won’t affect your ability to remain citizens of whatever jurisdiction is appropriate in your world; Canada has always recognized dual citizenship. But when you travel outside of Canada, you will be registered as Canadian diplomats, and therefore afforded full diplomatic immunity and courtesy. That will let us cut through all sorts of red tape until formal relations are opened between each of our nations and your world.”
“Each of your nations?” said Tukana. “We have a unified worldwide government now. Do you not have the same thing?”
Hélène shook her head. “No. We have something called the ‘United Nations’—we’ll be taking you to the UN headquarters right after you have a state dinner with our prime minister in Ottawa. But it isn’t a world government; it’s just a forum in which individual national governments can discuss matters of mutual concern. As time goes on, your government will have to be formally recognized by each of the nations that compose the UN.”
“And how many of those are there?” asked Tukana.
Ponter smiled. “You are not going to believe this,” he said.
“There are currently a hundred and ninety-one member states,” said Hélène. “So you see, it will take years for your government to negotiate treaties and so forth with each of those nations. But Canada, of course, already has treaties with all of them, so by becoming Canadian diplomats, at least in name, you can travel to any of these countries and speak with their government leaders.”
Tukana looked baffled. “I am sure that is all as it should be.”
“It is.”
“Great,” said Ponter. “When do we get out of here?”
“Soon, I hope,” said Hélène. “I can’t leave the SNO chamber myself now, until the two of you are cleared. But the doctors seem impressed by what they’ve seen of your decontamination technology.”
That news delighted Ponter, since it sounded like they’d be released shortly—he’d spent almost all of his last trip to Canada quarantined, after all, and didn’t look forward to more of the same, especially deep underground.
That afternoon, Tukana retired to the second of the two rooms in the quarantine suite. Like many people of her generation, she seemed to enjoy a nap. Ponter busied himself practicing his English with Hak’s help until Reuben Montego returned, accompanied by a short, hairy, beige male Gliksin, his appearance quite a contrast to Reuben’s dark skin and completely shaved head. “Hey, Ponter,” said Reuben. “This is Arnold Moore, a geologist.”
“Hello,” said Ponter.
Arnold extended his hand, which Ponter took. “Dr. Boddit,” he said, “it’s a real pleasure to meet you. A real pleasure!”
Boredom had taken its toll; Ponter could not resist a little sarcasm. “Are you sure it is safe to touch me?”
But the comment was lost on Arnold. “Oh, I’ve been wanting to come down from the first moment I heard you were here! This is an absolute treat. An absolute treat!”
Ponter smiled wanly. “Thank you,” he said.
“Please,” said Arnold, indicating the chair Ponter had risen from. “Please sit down.”
Ponter did so, and Arnold turned around another chair and straddled it, with his arms crossed on top of the chair’s upright part, which was now in front of him. Ponter felt his eyebrow going up; that looked like a more comfortable way to sit. He got up again and rotated his own chair, sitting on it in a similar fashion. It wasn’t as nice as a proper saddle-seat, but this posture certainly was an improvement.
Reuben excused himself and headed off to confer with the immunologists who were crawling all over the facility.
“I have a question to ask you,” said Arnold.
Ponter nodded for him to continue.
“We’ve noted something unusual happening to this version of Earth,” said the geologist, “and I was wondering if you could tell me if the same thing is happening on your version?”
“What?”
“Well, the aurora borealis—and the aurora australis, too—have been acting up.”
Ponter was quite surprised. “No, nothing like that is currently occurring. In fact, I saw the night lights last evening; they were perfectly normal.”
Arnold looked disappointed. “We were hoping you guys would have some insight. Our best guess is that Earth’s magnetic field is collapsing, and the poles are perhaps going to reverse.”
Ponter raised his eyebrow again, rolling it up his browridge. “When was the last time something like that happened here?”
“I’m not sure off the top of my head. Many thousands of years ago.”
“There have been no field collapses since?”
“No.”
“Fascinating. We had one—Hak?”
“Six years ago,” said Hak, through his external speaker.
“You mean it ended six years ago?”
“Yes.”
“But it must have started centuries earlier.”
Ponter shook his head. “It started twenty-five years ago.”
“Let me get this straight,” said Arnold, eyes wide. “Your entire field collapse took just—what?—nineteen years?”
“That is correct,” said Ponter. “Up until twenty-five years ago, the magnetic field was at its normal strength. Then it collapsed; the planet did not have any appreciable magnetic field for the next nineteen years. And then, six years ago, the field popped back up.”
“‘Popped up’?” repeated Arnold, astonished. “No, you must be joking.”
“When I joke,” said Ponter, “I strive to be much funnier.”
“But…but…we’ve always believed the magnetic field would take hundreds, and probably thousands, of years to collapse.”
“Why?”
“Well, you know, because of the size of the Earth.”
“The sun’s magnetic field reverses every hundred and forty months or so—every eleven years—and the sun is about a million times the size of Earth.”
“Yes, but…”
“I do not mean to sound grayer than you,” said Ponter. “We knew very little about field collapses, too, until we actually experienced one happening. Some of our geologists were astonished by the rapidity, as well.”
“Geomagnetic collapse and reestablishment in less than two decades,” said Arnold. “Incredible.”
“It was an interesting time to do physics,” said Ponter. “Our people learned a great deal about the—the process by which the field…you must have a word for it?”
Arnold nodded. “The geodynamo.”
Ponter frowned; another ee phoneme. But he let Hak take care of supplying it as needed; it was only proper names that Ponter had his Companion repeat exactly as he spoke them. “Yes. We learned much about the geodynamo.”
“We’d love to hear what you know,” said Arnold.
Ponter was glad that Tukana was asleep; he’d probably given away too much information already. But this concept of trading data—it upset the scientist in him. All data should be freely exchanged. Still, he decided to shift the topic slightly. “Is Inco worried that the demand for nickel will abate dur
ing the period of collapse?” Nickel was widely used in compasses on both versions of Earth—and the deposit here in Sudbury was one of the world’s largest.
“What? Hmm, I hadn’t even thought about that,” said Arnold.
Ponter was confused. “Reuben said you were a geologist…?”
“Yes, I am,” said Arnold, “but I don’t work for Inco. I’m with Environment Canada. I flew here from Ottawa as soon as word came that contact with your world had been reestablished.”
“Ah,” said Ponter, still not understanding.
“My job is protecting the environment,” said Arnold.
“Is that not everyone’s job?” asked Ponter, being, he knew, a bit disingenuous.
But again the subtlety was lost on Arnold. “Yes, indeed,” he said. “Yes, indeed. But I wanted to find out what your people might know about environmental effects associated with magnetic-field collapses. I was hoping you might have some data from the fossil record—but to have complete studies of a recent collapse! That’s fabulous.”
“There were no appreciable environmental effects,” said Ponter. “Some migratory birds were confused, but that was about it.”
“I suppose they would be, at that,” said Arnold. “How did they adapt?”
“The affected birds have a powerfully magnetic substance in their brains…”
“Magnetite,” supplied Arnold. “Lodestone. Three iron atoms and four oxygens.”
“Yes,” said Ponter. “Other kinds of birds navigate by the stars, and some individuals of the species that use brain magnetite for determining direction turned out to be able to use the stars, too. It is ever the way in nature: variation within a population provides vigor when the environment changes, and most crucial capabilities have a backup system.”
“Fascinating,” said Arnold. “Fascinating. Tell me, though: how did you originally determine that Earth’s magnetic field does, in fact, periodically reverse? That’s a fairly new insight for us.”
“The alternation of the planet’s magnetic-field polarity is recorded at meteor-impact sites.”
“It is?” said Arnold, his one long eyebrow—how refreshing to see someone who looked normal, at least in that regard!—rising up his forehead.