Glory Lane

  “You know what they say, bro,” Seeth commented. “ ‘There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Ollie, than ever you dreamed of in your philosophy.’ “

  “Fine, except it was Horatio.”

  Seeth shrugged. “Must’ve seen a different version.”

  “Yeah. The cartoon one.”

  “Sorry guys,” Seeth told the three Halet, “but I gotta go with my brother on this one. I mean, I’m not the brightest guy in the world, and maybe my interests are more in the arts than the physical sciences, but,” and he looked at Miranda, who was lying down on the sand while Izmir shielded her. In fact, he looked so long that he almost forgot what it was he wanted to say.

  “Izmir? He ain’t any bigger than the rest of us. Again, I ain’t no physicist, but it seems to me that if you took twelve or ten or even one percent of all the mass in the universe and rolled it up together, taking out all the space between electrons and nuclei and subatomic particles, you’d still have a pretty good sized something left over. Like a giant black hole, right?”

  “Oh, much more massive than that,” Odenaw assured him. “More than an entire galaxy, provided natural law was followed. Izmir, however, does not act according to natural law. Which is why he can do things like change shape and position at will and defy all kinds of small forcefields. The only reason he exists in this form at all is that awareness is a form of energy, and energy is only altered matter, and somehow that portion of the missing twelve percent that has been intruded into the universe from where it is presently located has acquired a sort of consciousness.”

  “Intruded into the universe?” The sense of what the Halet were saying was like a gull, rapidly vanishing into the distance.

  “Your scientists may be primitive, but they are not stupid,” said Odenaw. “Their percentages may have been off, but the basics of their observations are sound. The reason a substantial portion of the matter that should make up the universe cannot be found is it doesn’t exist in this universe anymore. Sometimes the great problems have simple answers.”

  “What happened to it?” Seeth asked. “Somebody swipe the stuff?”

  Brittle did not smile. “Sometime very close to the actual creation of the universe, the force of initial expan­sion was great enough to shove our missing twelve percent clear over into the seventh dimension.”

  “Whoa, wait,” said Kerwin dazedly. “Are we talking about multiple universes?”

  “No. One universe with multiple dimensions. It’s very poetic, really. Now, we Halet get around pretty good, but travel between dimensions is one bit of commuting we haven’t managed to achieve yet.” Brittle was reminiscing. “As I recall, we were goofing around over in what you call NGC 286 when somebody smelled this peculiar shift in spacetime. We’ve been trying to track it down for several million years. Our task was complicated considera­bly by the fact that the shift doesn’t always announce its presence and keeps moving around.”

  Kerwin looked to his left. “Izmir?”

  “Izmir,” Brittle said, nodding. “When we finally lo­cated it, we naturally settled in for some long-range study­ing. We had no idea of the potential with which we were dealing and didn’t want to make any hasty moves.”

  “Sound policy, man,” said Seeth knowledgeably.

  “What we’re dealing with is an intrusion from the seventh dimension, a crack in the fabric of spacetime which has allowed a minuscule portion of that missing matter back into its universe of origin. That it should acquire a rudimentary kind of consciousness and aware­ness is really no surprise, considering the sheer amount of energy involved.

  “Which is what makes our handling of him so touchy. You see, if he were to suddenly snap back into his normal dimension, the resultant reaction in this dimension would manifest itself as the release of a pretty fair amount of energy. Enough to destroy an area, oh, the size of what your people refer to as the local cluster of galaxies.”

  “Galactic whiplash,” Kerwin muttered.

  “More or less. You can’t concentrate matter equal to the mass of several million stars in one small place and expect it not to affect its surroundings.”

  Kerwin looked back at Izmir, who looked harmless as ever, and Miranda. “Isn’t there anything we can do? I’ve kind of grown accustomed to this galaxy. Can’t you just kind of push him back where he belongs?”

  “You don’t just ‘push’ twelve percent of all the mass in existence,” Odenaw told him. “For one thing, we don’t have anything to push with.”

  “What I can’t figure out is why he keeps following us around.”

  Brittle shrugged. Entirely for their benefit, Kerwin sus­pected. He doubted Halets normally shrugged, didn’t even know if they had anything to shrug with.

  “Perhaps he’s fond of you. There must be something about your presence he finds appealing. It likes you, it likes your Prufillian friend Rail, and it certainly likes the one you call Miranda.”

  The lady in question rolled over and peered across at aliens and humans alike. “I just wanna say, like, I’ve been listening and I don’t buy any of this at all. Twelve percent of all the mass in the universe indeed! Why, he’s as light as a feather. He doesn’t weigh anything at all.” As she ran her fingers along Izmir tiny flashes of light trailed behind her fingertips.

  “We really shouldn’t be here, talking to you like this,” said Brittle tiredly. “We’ve just been tagging along, mak­ing our measurements and taking our readings. But the Isotat have been clumsy. We weren’t going to interfere because we had hopes this Izmir phenomenon would even­tually retract itself and reseal the crack in spacetime. Maybe push over into another dimension. Let them worry about him. Everything would slip back to normal.”

  “How many are there? Dimensions, I mean,” Kerwin asked the Halet.

  “We think eleven. Even your scientists have figured out that much. Most of them seem to be pretty empty, but it may be that we simply don’t have the means for sensing what’s there.

  “Anyway, we decided things were starting to get out of hand and that it was time we put in an appearance before clumsy types like the Isotat did some real damage.”

  “Now listen,” said Seeth evenly, “I’ll grant you pulled a slick trick getting us out of that Sikan ship and bringing us down here, but how do we know all this stuff about missing matter and multiple dimensions isn’t just a line? I mean, look at you guys. You really are just ordinary type runts. Back home nobody on the street would look twice at you.”

  “When you’re very big and very powerful it’s easy to appear big and powerful,” Brittle told him. “Making yourself look small and insignificant, now that’s tricky. Takes a lot of thought and energy.”

  “So you’re really big and powerful.” Kerwin shot his brother a warning look which, as usual, Seeth ignored. “So if I was to come over there and sock you I’d really be hitting a big powerful thing in the mouth?”

  “You wouldn’t be able to do that, not that it would affect our actual physicalities anyway,” Brittle told him. “We could simply stop your hand before contact was achieved. Or dissolve it. Or dissolve you. That would be simple. What would be difficult would be to mimic the actual response of a simple creature such as yourself, complete to broken bones, blood, and bruises.”

  “I get it. You’d probably even try to writhe on the ground in pain, right?”

  “Exactly,” said Brittle delightedly. “That would be a real challenge.”

  “Then how can we be sure it’s all still not part of a line you’re trying to feed us?”

  Brittle looked thoughtful. “You could come over here and try it. Or I could save time by dissolving your right arm now.”

  Seeth took a half-step forward, hesitated. “Man, and I thought I’d met some guys on the street who had good lines.”

  “If you didn’t want to get involved, why did you? Certainly not for our sakes,” Kerwin said.

  “You’d be surprised. We hold intelligent life sacred. It’s pretty lonely out there, especially wh
en you’re com­muting between galaxies. While we Halet enjoy one anoth­er’s company, there aren’t a great many of us left. So we’re always pleased when we run across another new sentient race. There’s always the chance of a future rela­tionship, though we can’t be friends on an equal basis, of course.”

  “I don’t know.” Some of the green fringe covering the back of Rail’s head was beginning to turn brown, and Kerwin wondered if the sun was too hot for him. Maybe he needed to be watered. “We seem to be getting along pretty good well okay.”

  “Maintaining these humanoid forms is quite a strain for us. We do it because we enjoy the challenge and we don’t have many challenges left. You would find our real selves more difficult to relate to.” Brittle pointed past the Prufillian. “Izmir is another challenge. A dangerous one.”

  “Why?” asked Kerwin, alarmed. “You think more of him’s getting ready to shift back into our universe?”

  “Oh, that wouldn’t bother us,” Odenaw explained. “We’d simply scoot to a farther place. It would be aesthet­ically displeasing to watch while several thousand galaxies with their billions of suns and attendant solar systems all, so to speak, went up in smoke, but it wouldn’t harm us. No, the danger arises from the possibility that someone might figure out a way to control Izmir by appealing to his rudimentary consciousness.”

  “You mean, if he could be used selectively, like a weapon.”

  “Right. If that happened even we wouldn’t have a safe place to hide. If you could channel that much matter back and forth between the seventh dimension and ours, you could do just about anything. The ultimate weapon. Abso­lute power. Call it what you will, but call it Izmir. The situation is unstable and complex.”

  “Look,” Kerwin told him tiredly, “I have an exam to take. That’s all I want to do. I’m not interested in absolute powers and ultimate weapons and characters who can flip back and forth between galaxies and...” He sat down abruptly and rested his head in his hands. “And I think my ability to comprehend has just about been overloaded.”

  Rizz leaned toward Odenaw. “I feared as much. Events have grown beyond their small minds’ ability to cope. They are beginning to shut down.”

  “You must try to help us,” Brittle told him.

  Kerwin looked up and frowned. “Us? Help how?”

  “Yes. You see, Izmir responds to you. To the four of you. He will not respond to us. Oh, we’ve tried, believe me. We produced no reaction whatsoever. Why this odd consciousness should prefer the association of lower forms we don’t know, but it’s a fact we have to deal with.”

  “Maybe we ain’t as low a form as you think,” Seeth said combatively.

  “Yeah,” said Kerwin sarcastically. “I mean, look at you.”

  “If you possess unique abilities, we have been unable to discover them.” Brittle shrugged. “Even so, in a cosmos of multiple dimensions and missing matter, anything is possible.”

  “What can we do?” Kerwin looked back at Izmir and Miranda. “If you can’t push him back where he belongs, how can we do anything?”

  “By persuasion, so that he will retract voluntarily. That means making contact with him. A mind-boggling concept.”

  “No way,” said Kerwin fervently. “My mind’s bog­gled out.”

  “Do not give up so easily.” The three Halet conferred. “Why not come inside our habitat while you are pondering the matter? You might find it more comfortable and we certainly would.”

  Kerwin looked at the sand dunes and empty sky. “Habi­tat? Where?”

  “You’re standing on it,” said Odenaw. “We could simply shift you inside the way we shifted you off the Sikan craft, but we worked hard to get this exterior decor just right, and it would be nice to retain the artistic consis­tency. If you’d follow us?”

  He turned and led them toward a cave cut in the base of one of the towering sandstone monoliths. Kerwin and the others followed.

  Rail studied the dark opening as they entered. “I do not understand. Do you mean all of this is not real?”

  “It’s very real.” Odenaw sounded slightly put out. “We don’t go in for artificialities. Too easy.”

  “Let’s do oceans next week,” Brittle said thoughtfully. “I’m tired of desert.”

  “Sure, why not? We’ll have a cluster vote.”

  Kerwin eyed the tunnel walls warily. It looked like a normal cave. Dry, cool, dark.

  Then the cave wasn’t there anymore. Neither was the darkness, though it was still cool and dry.

  They were drifting, floating as if weightless, though Kerwin still had the normal sensation of weight. He doubted it had anything to do with gravity. They were in an endless open space without visible boundaries. He discovered he could move by walking, though there was nothing to walk upon.

  Rail and Seeth hovered nearby. So did Miranda. Izmir had left her to assume the smooth shape of a large silver ovoid. It might have been only Kerwin’s unease, but he thought the single blue eye was more active than usual.

  Brittle confirmed his supposition. The Halets were drifting close by. “See, we finally got it to react to something.” He was whispering animatedly with Rizz and Odenaw.

  Off in the distance, Kerwin thought he could make out vast, cloudlike forms. Light twisted and ran through them. They conveyed a feeling of immense size and substance.

  Odenaw noticed his stare. “A few of our relations, toned down so as not to cause you mental trauma. Every­one’s extremely curious about you and Izmir. They’re restraining themselves with difficulty, as are we.”

  “They’re not gods,” Kerwin muttered to himself. “They’re just people.”

  “You got it.” Brittle sounded approving. “We Halet are just folks. A little bigger maybe, a little more power­ful, but with thoughts and feelings just like everybody else. Some things don’t change no matter how far you evolve.”

  There were so many questions to ask. How were all of them existing in what appeared to be a formless, endless void filled with faintly pearlescent air? How was he still able to walk and talk and reason? Better just to accept what he couldn’t understand and deal with it as best as he was able.

  “Right,” said Odenaw, as though Kerwin had spoken aloud.

  “You read minds too?”

  “Not difficult.” The Halet scratched at his hair. “Just a collection of artfully aligned electric charges. If only we could do the same with him.” He pointed toward Izmir. “Don’t think we haven’t tried. If there’s anything rational going on in there, we can’t tune in to it.”

  Seeth was turning a slow somersault. “This is your ship, huh? You guys aren’t real big on interior decor.”

  “It changes from time to time. This is mostly for your benefit,” Rizz informed him. “We didn’t want to overawe you too much.”

  “I like the colors,” Miranda declared. “Really sub­dued. Neat.”

  “Thank you,” said Brittle solemnly. “I am surprised to find you have the control to admire your surroundings.”

  “She’s different from the rest of us,” Seeth told him. “See, her mind, what there is of it, don’t run along the same lines as normal folks.”

  “That’s like, funny, coming from, you know, a freak,” she replied coolly.

  “Your propensity for personal argument is known to us,” said Brittle. “Not now, please. There are more im­portant issues at stake that require your attention.”

  “Hey, maybe we’d all, like, you know, be better off if you guys would just mind your own business.”

  Kerwin froze, but the Halets didn’t respond to the sug­gestion or the implied criticism.

  “That is precisely what we plan to do, Miranda,” Brit­tle informed her, “just as soon as we can assure ourselves that Izmir will not become a threat to us or you or anyone else.”

  “Well, I think you’re all just horrible, picking on him and blaming him for things that haven’t happened and like that.”

  “Miranda, haven’t you been listening?” Kerwin asked he
r. “Izmir’s not a person, he’s a thing. A portion of an inconceivable amount of mass.”

  “Person, portion—poo! They’re just saying that because they can’t push him around like everybody else.”

  Odenaw looked at Seeth. “You may be right, human. I believe her mind does operate differently than yours. Per­haps that’s why Izmir is attracted to her.”

  “Yeah, sure,” said Seeth. “Don’t mass abhor a vacuum?” He executed another slow tumble. “So this is your ship, huh? How big is this cave, anyway?”

  “There is no cave,” Odenaw told him. “You set down on the sculpted skin of our habitat. We did not wish to shock you too much.”

  “You mean your ship’s inside this planet?”

  Odenaw and Rizz exchanged a glance. “We will try one more time,” Rizz said patiently. “There is no ship. There is only the habitat, in which we all presently reside.”

  “Oh, okay, I get it, Jack. You mean this whole world is your ship, right?”

  “Habitat,” Rizz corrected him. “Ship is an outmoded term. It implies the utilization of physical instrumentali­ties. We’ve not used such clumsy, smelly things for mil­lions of years. We travel by thought, which is a very effective method of propulsion once you learn how to think properly.”

  “You think we could do that someday, maybe?” Kerwin asked eagerly.

  “The idea is premature. Your people haven’t reached the point yet where they could make a toy habitat move across a room.”

  Suddenly all three aliens—he’d almost ceased to think of Arthwit Rail as an alien—went silent and still.

  “What is it, what’s going on?”

  Brittle blinked, looked back at him. “The Sikan. They are preparing to attack. They cannot harm us, but they could do severe injury to themselves. Even the Sikan are entitled to protection from themselves. We are debating how best to cope with this new problem.”

  “Hey, check out Izmir!” Seeth yelped.

  The Astarach was growing, swelling until the ovoid had become several times larger than usual. Energy was run­ning across the smooth surface at high speed. Most discon­certing of all, the single blue eye was racing wildly in all directions.