and get off the transmission as quickly as possible. After that the only thing we can do is hide in one of the tunnels."
âWhere they'd have us neatly cornered."
âTrue.â Her purplish-blue eyes rolled. âI suppose it's useless."
âDon't give up yet."
Gene approached the door and eyed it up and down.
âDo you have any ideas?â she asked.
âThis security system you mentioned, the way you phrased itââ He ran a hand over the smooth yellow-painted metal of the door. âIs it controlled by an Artificial Intelligence?"
âOf course,â she said. âHow else could a security system know friend from foe?"
âRight. If we did get in, we'd have to contend with it. True?"
âWe'd have to take it out."
âHmm. First we have to get in. I'm going to try something."
âWhat?"
âLittle magic trick I know."
Gene squared himself in front of the door and extended his right hand, bringing the palm up flush with the metal plate.
She watched with interest.
â'Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston pie,'â he began.
She was very interested. One pale eyebrow rose.
â' A fly can't bird but a bird can fly, 'â he finished. 2
[ 2. See Winnie-the-Pooh by A. A. Milne.]
He repeated the couplet several times, keeping perfectly still, fixing his gaze straight ahead.
Presently the door emitted a high-pitched tone. It emitted several more in a complex harmonic sequence, then beeped dissonantly. After a few more seconds it slid aside with a hiss.
âAmazing,â she said.
âNothing to it."
âWhatever was that?"
âA little facilitation spell. I can't do much in the way of hocus-pocus, but I can do a door-opener in worlds with manageable indigenous magic. Fortunately, this is such a world."
She guffawed. âYou're a magician?"
âAn inept one. Please, I'm very sensitive about it."
She laughed.
âDon't you have any compassion for the handicapped?"
âI have no idea who you are or what you're up to,â she said, âbut you do have style, that much I'll say."
âStyle is the last refuge,â he replied as he helped her up, âof those who are short in the substance department."
The strange building was dark inside. They entered cautiously.
Â
Â
Â
Â
PLANE
Â
The horizon had lightened a bit, he thought. But he could not be sure. He had been walking for ... how long? But there was no time, of course. Nothing, except...
Was it that he had a better conception of himself? Not a conception, exactly. It might best be said that he had a firmer grasp on his own reality. The situation had been touch and go for a while. (Timelike words again! No avoiding them, try as he might.) He had felt that he would dissolve, fade away. But now he was fairly sure that his existence, such as it was, would continue for an indefinite time into an indeterminate future. That was something. Not much, but something.
There was not much else, however. His name still eluded him. He had no memories to speak of. Only, now, a vague sense that much had gone on before.
Well, that was more than he had possessed on his arrival here....
Again, the persistence of time. Perhaps time did have a meaning here. Things were changing, albeit imperceptibly. Conditions were ... improving. No. That was exaggeration. It was enough that things were changing, and perhaps changing in an important way.
But on the other hand...
Did he have two hands? He looked at them. Yes.
But on the other hand, not much about this place had changed. It was barely a place at all. There was a nothingness about it that was disquieting, that defeated him. There was too much nothingness here. In fact, there was almost no âhereâ in which to contain a nothingness. There was absolutely nothing to distinguish any one point on this plane from any other...
Until now.
He stopped. Far ahead, something rose above the horizon. It wasn't much of anything but a
âWhere they'd have us neatly cornered."
âTrue.â Her purplish-blue eyes rolled. âI suppose it's useless."
âDon't give up yet."
Gene approached the door and eyed it up and down.
âDo you have any ideas?â she asked.
âThis security system you mentioned, the way you phrased itââ He ran a hand over the smooth yellow-painted metal of the door. âIs it controlled by an Artificial Intelligence?"
âOf course,â she said. âHow else could a security system know friend from foe?"
âRight. If we did get in, we'd have to contend with it. True?"
âWe'd have to take it out."
âHmm. First we have to get in. I'm going to try something."
âWhat?"
âLittle magic trick I know."
Gene squared himself in front of the door and extended his right hand, bringing the palm up flush with the metal plate.
She watched with interest.
â'Cottleston, Cottleston, Cottleston pie,'â he began.
She was very interested. One pale eyebrow rose.
â' A fly can't bird but a bird can fly, 'â he finished. 2
[ 2. See Winnie-the-Pooh by A. A. Milne.]
He repeated the couplet several times, keeping perfectly still, fixing his gaze straight ahead.
Presently the door emitted a high-pitched tone. It emitted several more in a complex harmonic sequence, then beeped dissonantly. After a few more seconds it slid aside with a hiss.
âAmazing,â she said.
âNothing to it."
âWhatever was that?"
âA little facilitation spell. I can't do much in the way of hocus-pocus, but I can do a door-opener in worlds with manageable indigenous magic. Fortunately, this is such a world."
She guffawed. âYou're a magician?"
âAn inept one. Please, I'm very sensitive about it."
She laughed.
âDon't you have any compassion for the handicapped?"
âI have no idea who you are or what you're up to,â she said, âbut you do have style, that much I'll say."
âStyle is the last refuge,â he replied as he helped her up, âof those who are short in the substance department."
The strange building was dark inside. They entered cautiously.
Â
Â
Â
Â
PLANE
Â
The horizon had lightened a bit, he thought. But he could not be sure. He had been walking for ... how long? But there was no time, of course. Nothing, except...
Was it that he had a better conception of himself? Not a conception, exactly. It might best be said that he had a firmer grasp on his own reality. The situation had been touch and go for a while. (Timelike words again! No avoiding them, try as he might.) He had felt that he would dissolve, fade away. But now he was fairly sure that his existence, such as it was, would continue for an indefinite time into an indeterminate future. That was something. Not much, but something.
There was not much else, however. His name still eluded him. He had no memories to speak of. Only, now, a vague sense that much had gone on before.
Well, that was more than he had possessed on his arrival here....
Again, the persistence of time. Perhaps time did have a meaning here. Things were changing, albeit imperceptibly. Conditions were ... improving. No. That was exaggeration. It was enough that things were changing, and perhaps changing in an important way.
But on the other hand...
Did he have two hands? He looked at them. Yes.
But on the other hand, not much about this place had changed. It was barely a place at all. There was a nothingness about it that was disquieting, that defeated him. There was too much nothingness here. In fact, there was almost no âhereâ in which to contain a nothingness. There was absolutely nothing to distinguish any one point on this plane from any other...
Until now.
He stopped. Far ahead, something rose above the horizon. It wasn't much of anything but a
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