'We all have our talents,' Trask argued. 'Maybe mine told me it wasn't possible.'
'And maybe it told you to let him live,' said Goodly. (As Trask's closest friend, he was the only member of E-Branch who had ever been able to talk to him as openly as this.)
'I was younger then,' Trask answered gruffly, 'and a sight more foolish. The Necroscope could have been lying when he said he was quitting Earth for Starside. Talent or no talent, I
didn't have the right to take that chance. But I did. Foolish, as
I
> j > ve said.
'Younger I remember,' the precog nodded. 'But foolish? If Harry hadn't lived, what then? Who would have stopped Shaitan, and given his life for us in the vampire world? And what would have been our fate then? The chance that you took paid off
But now the jetcopter loomed, with Jake leaning out and down, offering a helping hand to Liz. And: 'We'll just have to let it go for now,' Trask murmured, his voice almost inaudible even to his companions as the engine coughed into life and the rotor blades began slicing the air overhead. 'But that doesn't
mean we'll stop watching. And sooner or later, we'll see what
MI > we 11 see.
What he didn't tell them, keeping it back for the moment, was that in fact he had already contacted David Chung by telephone from the airport. From now on they wouldn't be the only ones who were 'watching.'
And while Chung, the Branch's top locator, would still be far distant in the purely physical sense, psychically he would be very close indeed — and closer in both senses when he found a relief to take over his duties, allowing him to join up with his colleagues in Brisbane…
… 50 damn hard to get in?! The hinted question but definite exclamation rang like a shout in Jake's sleeping mind, startling him. But he immediately recognized the Voice' and said: 'You? I was hoping you'd come by.'
You could have fooled me! said the ex-Necroscope. But for that tiny piece of me that will be with you always, I wouldn't know where to find you. Even with it, it's hard to get through your shields. Still, maybe that's a good thing. I'm sure it's going to be, eventually.
'But where are you?' Jake had been waiting for everything to straighten up but nothing had, so that now he wondered: And for that matter, where am IP
He was floating. Not surprising, really, for he had often dreamed he could fly, and as often been disappointed on waking up to discover that he couldn't. This must be a different version of the same thing. But floating in darkness?
You don't recognize the place? Harry Keogh's disembodied voice asked him.
'A place?' Jake answered. 'But there's nothing here. Nothing at all.' And as he lazily turned (or at least he felt like he was turning) on his own axis, he could see that what he had said was literally true. There was absolutely nothing here. As if this were the bottom of a bottomless pit, or the darkest of dark nights, or—
Or the kind of nowhere and no~when place that the universe must have been like before there was light? Yes, I know, said Harry. Once experienced, however, there's no forgetting it. So when we were here last you must have had your eyes shut. I can understand that. It's always been the same, and for just about everyone who ever tried it — including me! So now let me welcome you to the Mobius Continuum. No gravity or light or matter at all. Not even a sound unless we make it, which isn't advisable. Not here.
'And this is it? Your way of… of getting about?'
This is it. But it's still only a dream. Your dream, Jake. And the only thing that's real about it is me.
'So how did I get here?'
I influenced it, and you dreamed it. I just wanted you to see it through my eyes, and maybe get used to it. For, you see, you've been lucky on three occasions now. Three times when you thought you were in danger — two of which you really were — I was close enough to help you out.
'My escape from jail?' Jake nodded his understanding. 'And the next time from Bruce Trennier, right?'
Right. But as my dart — let's call it my metaphysical intuition — becomes a more accepted part of you, there'll be less room for the actual me. Already you've reached the stage where you're almost able to shut me out. But before you can do that, you still have a lot to learn.
'About the Mobius Continuum?'
For one thing, yes.
(Jake was still turning; he didn't know which way was up, but he wasn't at all dizzy from it.) 'And that's why I'm here?'
You tell me. You dreamed it! But it's as good a starting place as any.
'You did influence it, though?'
Yes, but you must have wanted it. Wanted to visit, wanted to know.
'To know how to use it, you mean?'
Exactly. And how not to misuse it.
'Eh?'
Well, if this were really it, the Continuum, you'd probably be stone deaf by now. You see, you don't talk in the Mobius Continuum, Jake — not in a place where even thoughts have weight.
'Thoughts have weight here?'
They do in the physical world, too. Ask any telepath, or any scientist for that matter. Those tiny sparks that jump the gaps in your brain, Jake? If they didn't make the connections, you couldn't think. Have you never wondered why geniuses have 'weighty thoughts'?
'But that's just an expression, surely?'
But in the Mobius Continuum it's reality. Well, of sorts. A parallel reality, at least.
'So… I've no need to talk?'
Not at all. Thinking will suffice. But here in your dream it makes no difference — because you aren't talking anyway. Or at best you're only muttering to yourself.
'You're making me feel like a cretin!' Jake burst out. 'I don't know where I am or how I got here — or how to get out of here — and you're telling me I have a lot to learn about it? A lot to learn about nothing, about nowhere, about emptiness?'
Oh, it isn't nothing, Jake. It isn't nowhere, but a route to everywhere and — when! Let me ask you to do something for me… actually, for you. Just keep quiet for a moment or two, and float. And feel it! Feel the Mobius Continuum!
Jake did, and felt it. 'It's… big/ he said then, feeling very small. 'It's… huge! It knows I'm here, and it doesn't especially want me here. But where here?'
Everywhere! said Harry. Or anywhere. Anywhere you want to be, want to go, as long as you know the coordinates. Come with me. Just come, and you'll see.
'You mean follow you?' And suddenly Jake was afraid. 'But I can't even see you!'
I'm in your head, Jake. Just let go.
'Of you?'
Of everything.
And Jake did it, let go. He sensed motion in himself, and also felt himself come to a halt. At a door.
A time door, said Harry. A door on past time. And:
'But this is even more like a… a… ahhhh!' said Jake. Because now he was standing on the threshold, looking back into the past. And while it wasn't deliberate he was echoing what he seemed to be hearing:
A concerted 'Ahhhhhk!' like some unending one-note chorus, the vocal product of a vast choir of angels echoing in a sounding church or cathedral. And yet Jake only seemed to be hearing it; it was in his mind as a result of what he was seeing, which must surely be accompanied by just such a SOUND — the sound of life, of evolution, from its prehistoric source to this present moment, this very NOW.
More like A Christmas Carol? Harry finished it for him. I suppose it is, in a way. But this isn't a ghost of the past, it is the past — as viewed in Mobius-time.
Looking out, looking back, through the door, Jake saw what appeared to be the core of some vastly distant nova, an incredible neon-blue bomb-burst, whose streamers were lines of light. A myriad endlessly twisting, twining, frequently-touching lines or neon tubes of blue light, all reaching out from that central explosion, expanding towards him, rushing upon him like a luminous meteorite shower. Except the tracks didn't dim but remained printed
