“But your globe hasn’t gone online young lady,” Whetstone said. “It may never work.”
“It already does to an extent,” Lanie shot back. “I’ve had success going from known event to known event. I believe our problem is a basic one.”
“Pangaea,” Crane said.
She pointed to him. “Correct. We’ve based the globe on a possibly erroneous assumption—that Pangaea happened the way scientists have speculated it happened. If that speculation is incorrect, then there’s no way our globe will connect with the realities that we do know about for sure. I’ve thought about this a great deal, and I believe we need to go back farther, beyond Pangaea, for our answers.”
“Back to where?” Masters asked.
“All the way, I suppose.”
“The beginning of time?” Masters asked, amazed.
“If that’s what it takes,” Crane said. “We can let the globe tell us about Pangaea.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Whetstone said, “except for the fact that starting with the totally unknown could mean that you create an earth that doesn’t really exist, one simply invented by the globe.”
“No,” Lanie said. “Not possible. My job as a synnoeticist is to communicate with the globe, to talk to it, to form that symbiotic relationship that makes the sum of the parts greater than the whole. We know where our globe ends up. We have real events that must conform. All I have to do is explain to the globe that it must design a world that ends in conformation with what exists. The rest will take care of itself.”
“You can really do this?” Whetstone asked, his voice hushed.
“She’s the best,” Crane said. “Of course she can do it.”
“Mr. Whetstone,” Lanie said, “you can help mankind see the dawning of a new day in which Man and Earth work in conjunction, not opposition. If you turn us down now, you are destroying the hope of humanity rising above its bondage to Nature’s unfeeling destructiveness. You sit in a historic position, sir. How much money do you really need to finish the rest of your life, and how does that stack up against the salvation you can bring?”
“You can really do this?” Whetstone asked again, his voice small, childlike.
“I can,” Lanie said. “And with your help, I will.”
Whetstone was staring at her, his lips quivering soundlessly, his eyes locked on some faraway, internal place. He looked at Crane.
“When do we do it?”
“Right now,” Crane said without hesitation. “Tonight.”
“Thanks to your imager,” Stoney said, “you’ve just got three billion dollars.”
“Borrowed,” Crane said. “Borrowed, not ‘got.’ You’ll have every cent of your money back on February 28th.”
“Let’s shake on it,” Stoney said, extending his hand.
Burt broke out a small bottle of the cache of Sumi’s famous dorph, and everyone started to celebrate with it except Crane and Newcombe.
Newcombe felt out of place and wondered what Brother Ishmael was doing right now. He’d stopped drinking alcohol and given up dorph after his visit to the Zone. It was a revelatory experience. He found himself having to deal for the first time with depressions and the kind of minor irritations dorph would take away in an instant. He guessed that he seemed surly to those around him, but inside he felt in touch with his true self at long last. He might suffer petty emotional discomfort, but at least what he felt was for real.
“What are we waiting for?” Stoney asked. “We’ve got the terms of a wager to figure out, an accounting firm to line up, and, I assume, a broadcast to plan, right?”
“Right,” Crane said. “Let’s go down to my office.”
They were off then to pats on the back from Kate, Burt, and Lanie.
Newcombe couldn’t take his eyes off Lanie. She and Kate had hit the dorph pretty hard and were refilling their glasses with rum. He didn’t like that one bit. It wasn’t like Lanie. That thought encouraged him. He missed her terribly, wanted her in his life and his bed; maybe she was suffering too. He walked over to where she was standing with Kate.
“Don’t you think you’d better go a little easy on that stuff?” he asked, taking the glass from Lanie’s hand.
“I think it’s none of your business how much I drink,” Lanie said, snatching the glass and draining it.
“Do you mind, Kate, if I steal her away for a couple of minutes?” Newcombe asked rhetorically. He took Lanie’s elbow, none too gently steering her toward Crane’s bedroom.
“I’ll be right back!” Lanie called over her shoulder. “Don’t get ahead of me!”
He nudged her into the room and closed the door.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Lanie asked. “You embarrassed me back there.”
“We weren’t finished with our talk.”
“We were as far as I was concerned. Don’t you get it, Dan? We’ve been tearing each other to pieces for five years now. It’s time to stop the pain, to staunch the bleeding. Dan, it’s over.”
“It’s him, isn’t it?”
She sat heavily on the bed. “What are you talking about?”
“Crane,” he said. “You’ve got something going with that madman.”
“You’re wrong,” she said. “But even if you weren’t, it’s none of your business.”
“You’ve completely sold yourself out to his insane program,” he charged. “I couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of your mouth a few minutes ago. How could you say them with a straight face?”
She jumped up and stared him down. “I meant every word of what I said. How dare you belittle my life and my work!”
“Look, you’re good with computers,” he said. “Kudos. But Crane is selling fantasy. How can you possibly believe that globe will ever work?”
“It will work. I’m going to make it work.”
“Then you’re just as crazy as he is.”
She glared at him, and for the first time he saw meanness there, focused anger. “Are you finished?” she asked quietly.
“No, I’m not finished. I’m just getting started.”
“Well, I’ve heard enough, Dr. Newcombe. You’ve got to excuse me. There are two people in the other room who don’t think I’m insane. I’d prefer to be with them.”
“I’m not going to let you go that easily,” he said. “Crane’s infected you somehow with his insanity. I can wait, Lanie. I love you and I’ll always be there for you.”
“Do yourself a favor, Dan,” she said. “Move on.”
Newcombe’s gut was on fire, dorphless rage and despair settling over him as he watched Lanie leave.
Sumi sat at her new desk at the National Academy of Science and tried to concentrate on the grant requests stacked up before her. She was having a difficult time keeping her mind on the job. They’d put Crane in jail—jail!—and it was all her fault. He had always treated her with respect and friendship. And how had she repaid him? With the basest deceit. She wondered how much of herself she could give up and still remain human.
“You seem deep in thought,” came a voice, jerking her back into the here and now.
Mr. Li stood before her desk, smiling beatifically down at her. “Sir,” she said, rising.
“Is it you or a projection?”
He reached across the desk and touched her arm, his touch lingering. “I’m real and I’m here. What I’m going to say is very private.”
“Sir?”
“Sit down, Sumi.” She did as she was told.
Li moved fluidly, snakelike, around to her side of the desk and sat on its edge. “Sometimes,” he said, “life has a way of altering our … circumstances in the most astounding fashion without our having to do anything to precipitate the changes. Do you know what I’m saying?”