The Impossible Cube

but I never made the connection. The electricity in the alloy cycles between the average and the peak—the square root of two—and when combined with the Impossible Cube’s design, it forces a constant on the universe and changes local time.”

“My paradox generator might do the same thing,” Gavin said. “If we used your alloy in it and powered it correctly.”

Dr. Clef clapped his hands with newfound glee and cooperation. “It would take a lot of work and careful calculation.”

“Wait a minute,” Alice put in.

“And precise measurement, which we couldn’t do here, with the lab rocking.” Gavin began to pace within the shack, stepping over Click without really seeing him.

“One moment, please,” Alice said.

“But we’ll be in Berlin in a few hours.” Dr. Clef flipped to a fresh page in his notebook. “The train will stop.”

“Now, see here,” Alice said.

“And we’ll be able to buy more materials in a large city,” Gavin said. “We may have to build a few tools first, but—”

“Wait. A. Minute!” Alice shouted.

Both men blinked at her, as if only then remembering she was there. Click’s green eyes shuttered open and closed with little clicking noises that were clearly audible despite the rushing wind outside the shanty.

“What’s wrong, my dear?” Dr. Clef asked at last. “You see how well we are working together. Is this not a fine thing?”

“You should not be discussing any of this,” she said, one hand pressed to her bosom. Her heart fluttered about her rib cage like a frightened bird, and she felt a little sick. “You’re treating the idea of changing something as fundamental as time itself like nothing more than some schoolboy’s science experiment. This is… it’s… Good heavens, I don’t know what this is! Why would you do such a thing?”

Gavin looked at her, truly puzzled. “It’s for you.”

Alice hadn’t thought she could be more shocked, and was even more shocked to learn she’d been wrong. His words sent an electric jolt through her gut, and she found herself pressed against the wall of the shanty. “What do you mean?”

“You need more time,” Gavin said. “We need more time. You need to spread the cure and recover from it. And I’m… well, I don’t have much time left. If I can find a way to change the way time flows for us, I can speed us up—or slow the world down. You’ll have more time to recover. We’ll have more time together. We can save the world, Alice. Just like Monsignor Adames said.”

Nausea and more than a little fear sloshed around Alice’s stomach. The very idea of tampering with time, let alone doing so in her name, screamed with wrongness. Alice tried to reply, but all that came out was a squeak. She tried again. “Gavin, Doctor—you can’t be serious. I would never ask for such a terrible thing.”

“I know. That’s why I’m doing it.”

He reached for her hands, but she snatched them away. “You don’t understand at all. This is a horrible idea, Gavin. It’s the sort of thing the Doomsday Vault was built to contain. What if you make a mistake? What if you speed time for us and the rest of the world goes ahead as normal and that tears a big piece out of the earth itself?”

“I wouldn’t make such a mistake,” Gavin soothed. “Truly. I don’t make mistakes.”

“You make mistakes all the time!” Alice felt like she was arguing with a tree. “You decided to escape the world’s most powerful police force in an airship that can’t fly without making a spectacle of itself. You used that whip of yours without knowing how much power was left in it, and it fizzled away right when you needed it most. Just now you tried your… your thing on Dr. Clef without considering whether or not it might damage his brain. No sane scientist would—” She clamped her lips shut and turned her face away. That was the problem, wasn’t it? Gavin wasn’t… wasn’t…

She couldn’t bring herself to complete the thought.

A hand took one of hers. Gavin looked her in the face, his expression worried and agitated at the same time. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry. You’re right. It’s… I’m going in strange directions, Alice. I’m changing. My brain runs ahead of my mind, and I don’t think. No, that’s wrong. I do think. I think too much, and these ideas come to me, and it doesn’t even occur to me that there might be something wrong. It scares me, Alice. I don’t know what to do.”

Alice squeezed his hand in both of hers, flesh on metal on flesh. The spider’s eyes glowed red. “It’s the plague. You have to fight it, Gavin. For as long as possible.”

“Help me,” he said simply. “Lead me.”

“I’ll try.” It was hard to speak around the lump in her throat. “I’ll never stop trying.”

“Don’t fail,” Gavin said. “Adames said I can cure the world, but you mustn’t fail. Maybe that’s what he meant.”

“I am confused,” said Dr. Clef. “What are we doing?”

“We’re realizing what we should and shouldn’t do,” Gavin said. “This”—he gestured at the paradox generator —“was a mistake. I’ll destroy it now.”

He drew back his foot to kick the generator over the side and let it smash on the rocky railroad bed. Then he hesitated.

“What’s wrong?” Alice asked.

“I can’t do it,” he said. “I worked so hard on it, and it’s so beautiful and perfect. How can I destroy it?”