The Devil's Eye

me. 'But,' I told him, 'you might want to keep a plasma gun handy

in case there really is a monster running loose.' He said something along the lines of how I needed to work on my sense of humor. When Callistra had risen prominently into the center of the sky, I fought my way through another series of cautionary admonitions from Alex, went up to the roof, and took the skimmer back to the cemetery. It's an even drearier place at night. There was no light, save the soft blue evanescence cast over the headstones and monuments by the lone star. I landed in the parking area, about thirty meters from the grave site. A strong wind was blowing out of the west and carrying a lot of dust with it. I climbed out, turned on my lamp, and walked over to the grave. Something moved off to my right, on the edge of vision. A couple of teens, trying to walk and make out at the same time. They disappeared behind a mausoleum. I shut off the lamp and stood in the silence, broken only by the drone of insects. The block gleamed in the starlight. I'd expected to be able to see the town lights, but there was only a soft glow in the trees to the south. A warm breeze kicked up. I pictured Vicki standing at that identical spot, listening to the darkness. And she had to be thinking how she might re-create that place, how she could use it. In her Point Man interview, she'd mentioned The Devil's Eye as a working title. I looked up at the blue star. It was the wrong color. But that night, in the presence of the oversized marker, color didn't matter. I wondered whether she'd been at all nervous. Or whether she delighted in an experience like that. Was that maybe why she'd come? Maybe it had nothing to do with planning a novel. Maybe she just liked the inner creep, the chill, that came with standing near a grave that people insisted was unquiet. A set of lights appeared in the northwest, passed overhead, and descended toward the glow that marked the town. I turned my lamp back on and looked at the symbols on the marker. Forrest Barryman. Gone to Glory.

The rock and the Arrakesh characters had to be pure showbiz. Who knew what they really said? Whether they said anything at all? The whole town was an enterprise based on a fantasy. Like West Kobal on-where was it?-Black Adrian, where a sea monster with enormous tentacles was periodically reported. Or Bizmuth in the Spinners, where visitors from another galaxy were supposed to have crashed. (They and the wreckage had been spirited off by the government, which denied everything.) There's even a place that claims to have a doorway into another dimension. They'll show you the doorway, it's in the side of a mountain, cut into solid rock, but conditions have to be exactly right to get through it, which, of course, they never are. Just as well: The locals claim no one has ever come back. But townspeople swear you can get a magnificent view of this other-dimensional place. It was easy to imagine Vicki Greene standing there, thinking the same thoughts, wondering the same things. Possibly concluding that the answers didn't matter. That it was the uncertainty that counted. I began, that night, to feel close to her. Until then, she'd struck me as a kind of opportunist, making money by writing about things that could never be. That I personally didn't care about. But it struck me that the vampires and Forrest Barryman and all the rest of it weren't imaginative creatures dreamed up to separate idiots from their money. That they reflected light into the darkest corners of what makes us human. There was, after all, a time when we did not comprehend the natural world, did not see the order. There was only a vast darkness, a world for which no one really knew the rules. Filled with phantoms snatching unwary travelers, perhaps. With angels moving stars, and gods riding the sun across the sky. The ground moved. It wasn't a tremor, exactly. More like a flutter, a barely noticeable palpitation. My imagination, probably. It came again. I could see nothing, but I eased the scrambler out of my pocket and took a long look around. I was alone. The teenagers seemed to have gone. The block moved. Began to rise. I shook my head. Stared as one end, the forward end, the end closer to me, lifted.

I'd like to say I stood my ground. I understood immediately it was an elaborate illusion for tourists brave enough to go out there at night. To feed the legend. But it didn't matter. My hair rose, and my heart started to pound. The bottom of the rock cleared the ground, and I could see something holding it, lifting it from beneath. An oversized blue-tinted hand appeared, pushing down on the ground while the slab kept going up. I turned and ran. All the way back to the skimmer. I ordered the AI to open the hatch while I was still running. 'Start the engine,' I told it. My heart was coming out of my chest. The skimmer was already off the ground when I jumped on board.

NINE

Reality is what hits you in the head when you don't watch where you're walking.

- Wish You Were Here

All right. I wouldn't have you think I'm a complete coward. I went back a few minutes later, stayed in the skimmer, and looked down at the place from a safe altitude. The grave was quiet, and the block was flat on the ground again. I set back down in the parking area, opened up, and got out. I checked the time and stood where I'd stood before. And waited. Until it started again. I retreated to the lander and watched the routine play itself out. The hand, blue in the starlight, raising the slab, was as far as it went. Then it shut down. I returned again to my chosen spot. And stood there. After about two minutes, it happened a third time.

I was on my way back to the Point when Alex called. 'Are you okay?' he asked. 'Ummm. Yes. I'm fine.'

'See any monsters?'

'Just the usual ones.'

'Good. When will you be back?'

'Why?'

'So I know when to start worrying.'

'I'll be there in a few minutes.'

'Okay. Let me know when you get in.'

'Alex?'

'Yes?'

'The people in this town can't be trusted.'

'I'm shocked to hear it.'

In the morning, I couldn't resist going down to the city hall. Alex tried to talk me out of it, but I was annoyed that they were playing tricks on their visitors. It was a run-down building, situated next to the courthouse and across the street from the police station. They had a human receptionist who looked as if she had more important things to do than talk to strangers. 'Who did you want to see, ma'am?' 'The supervisor, please.' 'Do you have an appointment?'

'No.' 'I'm sorry. He's not available at the moment. How can we help you?' 'You know,' I said, 'somebody's going to have a heart attack out there.' 'Out where?' It went on like that for a while, but I finally managed to get past her to a staff assistant. He was no help either, and relayed me to an overfed guy in a large office that needed sweeping and dusting. He looked as if he'd been there forever. He had a bristling white mustache and an enormous bald skull. He smiled in a grandfatherly way, told me he was glad I'd come by, and pulled over a chair for me. His nameplate identified him as a Mr. Collander. 'Ms. Kolpath,' he said, 'I'll put your comments on the record, and we'll look into it.' We sat there a moment, watching each other. He was giving me a chance to say thank you very much, shake his hand, and leave. 'Mr. Collander,' I said, 'this doesn't bother you at all, does it?' The smile stayed in place, but it acquired a regretful aspect. 'I wish I could say I'm disturbed.' He pressed his fingertips against his forehead. 'But I won't lie to you. No, we've known about it for a while.' 'In fact you put it there.' I looked up at a framed picture of him, two young girls, and a puppy. He was presenting them with an award. His eyes followed mine. 'It's our annual Pet Appreciation Day,' he said. 'Look, Ms. Kolpath-May I call you Chase ?' ' Ms. Kolpath will do fine.' 'Ms. Kolpath, may I ask what you intend to do when you leave here?' 'I haven't decided yet.' 'I can understand you were frightened.' 'I wasn't frightened.' Terrified would be closer to the truth. 'So what happens now? That thing turns on every time someone goes out there?' I'd gotten up, and he asked me to sit again. 'I won't take much of your time,' he said. 'I'm sorry for your inconvenience. I truly am.' He nodded toward the window. 'Look around you. Boldinai Point is a small town. It has no major industry. We're isolated, and the only reason we exist at all is our tourist trade. If that were to go away, this town would dry up.' The guy was good. In retrospect, thinking about it, I wonder that I could have been put off so easily. But at the time, it was hard to argue with. 'There's no harm done,' he said. 'We have monitors. If