The Tasmanian Devil was coming at us, following the broad curve the side road took from the highway. It had lost no energy; the pale orange fire and luminescent yellow smoke of which it was made still swirled furiously about its sparkling, molten, ever-changing center. Shadows moved within it, the suggestion of a living thing, its shape constantly shifting, ephemeral, now a manlike form, now a winged demonic thing, now something else, some nameless terror, a shape out of the night, out of the deepest core of the ancient mind of man. My stomach coiled and quivered; and the taste of iron sat bitterly on my tongue.
Roland was busy with the car's weapons control panel, which had materialized automatically on the dashboard. 'Roland,' I said calmly, 'Carl never showed me how to fire. it, but there's a weapon on this buggy he called the Green Balloon.'
'That's exactly how he marked it,' Roland said, peering at the board. He pressed a switch.
A spherical object whooshed out from under the car-it was green, about a meter across, and it sparkled like the Fourth of July. It streaked directly toward the approaching tornadolike phenomenon.
The Tasmanian Devil came to a full halt, still spinning. It seemed to sense what was coming, moving quickly to one side, scooting off the road and up a grass-covered hillock. Its course unchanged, the balloon went flashing out over the plain, missing its target by a wide margin.
'Interesting,' Roland said.
'At least we know it's afraid of the balloons,' I said, not very thankful for small favors. 'Damn. I would've thought they could seek out a target.'
` 'Maybe the devil is doing something to confuse it.'
'Maybe. Try it again.'
Roland launched another glittering green ball. The devil retreated again, this time ducking behind the hillock and disappearing for a moment. When the balloon was gone, it came out of hiding, rolled down the hill and got back on the road.
'I wonder who or what it's programmed to kill,' I said.
'Go off-road and see,' Roland said.
I steered to the right and ran up a shallow grade, bumped down into a trough and ran up onto level ground. The devil crossed the road to follow us.
'So, it isn't the truck, and it isn't the spacetime ship,' I said. 'I was hoping it was the ship.'
'No, Jake. I'm afraid it's after you and you alone.'
'Fine. Why should it be different from everyone else?'
I floored the pedal. Streamers of dust trailed from the back tires. I ran the car up another gentle grade, this time turning sharply to follow a ridge that paralleled the road and eventually curved back toward it. I didn't know the top speed of that thing, but I was willing to bet the Chevy could outrun it, providing the race were run over the highway. Off-road, all bets were off. That horrible whatzis didn't have wheels and didn't need them. If we could dodge around the thing, though, and make it back to the road, we might have a chance.
But what about Sam?
Roland seemed to be reading my thoughts. 'Sam's coming out of the temple,' he told me, looking back through the rear window. 'I don't think the devil will give him any trouble.'
But it was giving us a truckload, racing to cut us off. I floored the pedal and immediately hit a rough spot that wrenched the wheel to the right. I countersteered, but saw that we'd never make it. I wheeled right again, and we rolled down a little hill, hit bottom and bounced. I bounced, my head hitting the mercifully padded roof. Roland lost his seat and wound up on the floor. I stood on the pedal, aiming up the opposite slope. The devil came over the ridge behind us. The slope was steeper than I had thought; the rear tires started spinning and throwing dirt; the back end began to fishtail. We made it to the top and rolled onto level ground, but the devil had gained ground and was now sniffing at our tail. It was all I could do to keep ahead of it.
'Jake, did you know that it was possible to drive the Substratum as well as walk it?'
'Um… no,' I said. 'I get the message, though.'
And so I turned the wheel so that the front tires were aligned-as my friend Dave Feinmann would have put itwith a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. I floored it, and we went somewhere. It was a sort of shortcut between here-and-now and there-and-then, with a stopover in hither-and-yon. Angry clouds appeared above, and a spatter of rain hit the windshield, briefly-then bright stars came out and something trilled a night song in a wood off to the right. Quiet. The smell of autumn leaves… And then all that disappeared and we came out into bright sunlight back on Microcosmos, back to the here-and-now, only now we were here, on the side road, racing for the main highway. The devil was far behind us, whirling its dervish and wondering what the hell had happened.
'Neat trick,' I said. 'How did you do it?'
'You did it, Jake.'
'Yeah, I know. It makes me feel creepy.'
'Better creepy than dead.'
The speedometer read over a hundred miles per hour, which was just cruising as far as the Chevy was concerned. We could outrun the devil, beat it to the portal, but Sam wouldn't be able to keep up. And I wouldn't be able to find the right portal without Sam. That meant it was best to deal with the devil now. I had no reason to doubt that it could follow us through a portal. But how to deal with it?
My mind raced furiously. Maybe I could lead the devil a merry chase until Sam caught up, then… But any ploy would call for close timing.
The side road diverged. I took the right branch, which swung us back onto the main highway.
'Roland, what the heck is the Substratum, anyway? In twenty-five words or less.'
'It's the metaphysical base of the universe. It underlies everything.'
'Who discovered it?'
'No one. It was agreed upon.'
'Thanks, Roland. That helps a whole hell of a lot.'
He guffawed. 'You're welcome.'
'No, really. You mean to tell me'-I glanced at the rear view mirror and saw that the devil was still well behind us, but keeping pace-'that consciousness can create a new universe?'
Roland looked at me; his eyes were limitless. 'It's a good universe, Jake. But it could be better. Lots better. Don't you think?'
'I think it could be a whole shitload better, Roland. But that don't mean…' I checked the mirror again. The truck was a gray dot way back up the road.
Metaphysics 101, three credits, Monday, Wednesday, Friday, 1500 hours. Kantian rationalism. Jesus, mercy, let me out of here.
'Why did you guys build the Skyway?'
'For those who're dissatisfied with the way things are, a path to follow.'
I nodded. 'And why the bloody hell did you make that path so difficult to follow?'
'You know the answer to that. A quest is never easy. Although there is a more mundane reason. If we'd handed out roadmaps, we would've had the biggest traffic jam in the universe on our hands. The real candidates would have been trampled in the rush.'
'And that's why the White Lady wants me to have the Roadmap.'
'Oh, that's part of it, I suppose. She has her reasons.'
'Roland, answer me one more question. Will I ever understand it all?'
'No.'
'Thanks, Roland.'
'No problem. Why don't we try to deal with the Tasmanian Devil now?'
I said, 'Suggestions?'
'The first devil we saw was generated by this automobile.'
'Are you proposing we fire a devil at a devil?'
'Precisely.'
'Oh, good. I always wanted to find out what happens when the proverbial irresistible force meets your average immovable object. They probably sign a nuptial contract and invest heavily in tax-free provincial bonds.'
