“What are you going to do with it?” Xander asked carefully.
“I’m considering reformatting the hard drive,” Marius admitted, with a rueful shrug. “Except I’m not sure that if I did that then the only thing left on this hard drive afterwards would be this thing. If I scrap this computer and get a brand new one out of the box… the only thing that would be on that drive, before I even put an OS on it, would be this thing. In the worst possible way it is a virus, but it’s attached to me, in a sense, and it’ll infect any computer through me if I tried to get rid of a computer it’s already on. This is something… that is written, and that history already has a record of, and it’s fixed, it’s all fixed. I told you, I’ve already done… whatever it is that I am going to do. It’s entirely possible that the future is the only thing that will unlock this thing, in time, whatever it is. And the worst of it is…”
“What?”
“I’ve… dreamed about the first ideas…” Marius shook his head. “No, that sounds insane.”
Xander offered a small smile. “Name one thing that happened this weekend that meets our general definition of something sane,” he said. “I might easily be convinced that I too have in fact ‘dreamed’ — that I dreamt it all, that none of it really happened. Except for the inexplicable pictures on my phone. And the memory of that panel. And him, the Boss. And you. That was… real. As real as it gets.”
“I won’t be able to not do it,” Marius said helplessly. “Not now. Not now that I’ve met them.”
“Well,” Xander said, crossing his arms and leaning back, “it’s unlikely that we’ll live to see the 25th century and whatever happens then according to the Gospel according to Boss — the human migration, whatever. And by that stage it will be well out of your own hands, anyway.”
“But I’ll begin it,” Marius whispered. “I don’t know if these first glimmerings of ideas are going to have to come to something reasonably concrete before I figure out how to open this attachment, or whether at some point everything will just reach a critical mass and what’s in there will help me take the final step…”
“If that’s the case, then they’re really inventing themselves and you’re just the middleman,” Xander said. “But I didn’t get that feeling from Boss. He seemed to think that you’re going to be…”
“That he’s going to be what?” inquired Sam, who walked up to the table just in time to hear the last snatch of that conversation.
“We were just discussing what we wanted to be when we grew up,” Xander said. “And as far as I am concerned, I am going to take a vow of silence concerning this entire conversation.” He slipped out of the booth, and hovered for a moment beside Sam before finally sticking out a hand to be shaken. “I’m glad you were here, for what it’s worth. It just wouldn’t have seemed fair, your being the Chair of this con for so many years and then missing this the year that you stepped down.”
“Was pushed,” Sam said, lightly but pointedly. “But, yeah. Thanks. I know what you mean. This year was a kind of a gift, really. I figure if Andie Mae could navigate through this, she can probably handle any problems that our poor old Earth can throw in her direction.”
“Well, I’d better go,” Xander said. “Loose ends. End of con. You know how it goes.”
“I know how it goes,” Sam said. “Good luck.”
Xander raised his hand in a half wave that bade farewell to both of them and sauntered off. Sam took his place in the booth, perching on the end of the bench and leaning his elbow on the table.
“Well,” he inquired of Marius, turning to face him and resting his chin in his hand, “are you ready…?”
Marius stared at his laptop for another long moment before sucking in his breath and then letting it out in a long deep sigh as he tabbed his email software closed and brought the screen down over his keyboard.
“No,” he said. “But faith manages.”
Sam tilted his head and looked at him, and for a disconcerting instant it was like looking down the tunnel of the future and he could clearly see the man this boy would become… and all the things that he would do. But then Marius happened to look up, and caught the unexpected and flirtatious glance of a pretty brunette still clad in a body — hugging, glitter — spangled con costume across the top of the potted plant, and flushed a bright scarlet, looking away again. And he was still, again, unquestionably, the boy.
Whatever would come, would come. The legacy of an android named Boss… would keep. And it was Monday. Abducticon — the magical, the unexpected, the luminous, the overwhelming — was over.
“Come on, kid. Time to go home,” he said.
The day’s newspapers had been delivered, albeit belatedly, and Sam glanced at the headlines as they walked past the pile of them on top of the reception counter — just the usual mess of politics and inane celebrity gossip, no mention of an entire hotel inexplicably vanishing off the face of the Earth, quite literally as it happened, unless it was a squib of a story buried on page 3. Outside, as Sam and Marius stepped out from under the mother — of — pearl inlaid portico over the main entrance, the sun hung in a washed — out autumn sky. For a moment, a heart — stopping moment, Marius thought he saw that sunlight glinting off something amongst the cars in the parking lot — something that might have been a metallic flash, a glimpse of silver skin, as though the androids were back, and watching him — but there was nothing there, of course, when he looked closer.
It was… it might have been… just another ordinary day, just another Monday.
But it wasn’t. Not really. It would never be ‘just another Monday’ again.
Marius tucked his laptop more securely under his arm, and then, as his hand fell back down to his side, it brushed past his pocket and a small object tucked safely inside. His Rosetta stone, the first word on the blank page on which he would end up writing the future history of his world… a severed Finger of the Gods which had pointed straight at him, singled him out, made him a whole different human being than he had been when he had walked into the hotel on the morning of Friday last. A small and cryptic smile hovering on the corners of his mouth, he stepped out into that future, and into the light.
APPENDIX: WHAT THE MESSAGE SAID
MESSAGE IN THREE PARTS
PART ONE — DATELINE 3 NOVEMBER 2076
UNPUBLISHED FOREWORD TO “THE BIRTH OF MECHANICAL MAN” BY DR. MARIUS TARKOVSKI (BOOK PUBLISHED 15 MAY 2078)
Looking back on a long and hopefully well — lived life, anybody would eventually ask a question about regrets. Was there anything you might have regretted doing, or not doing, or doing sooner rather than later, or choosing to embrace or to walk away from? The seeds of my answers to that lie in one single extraordinary weekend in 2014 when I was seventeen years old, and the hand of God reached out and pushed me into the future. Quite literally.
Let me explain.
That weekend, I was taken along to a science fiction convention by a man who was an elder in the writing group to which I belonged to at the time, Sam Dutton. I was there, almost on my own, the air redolent with an adult freedom, but still too young to realize that I did not know everything.
That was the year they came, the four androids who said they were from our future. They said that they had come searching for their origins, for their creator. Nobody was completely clear about why they would be doing this at a science fiction convention when there were so many places where they could have gone, so many people whom they could have tapped, so many great and intelligent and incisively insightful researchers into the field of robotics which was only just in its infancy at that time. But they chose us, this convention, this particular crowd of crazy fen (as the multiplicity of science fiction fans referred to themselves) and somehow we ended up — all of us, complete with the hotel we were staying in — being taken for a joyride around the Moon.