“But this is an isolated incident. Surely?”
“I wish it was. Other species have done the same kind of thing, sometimes by accident. This is the worst incident we have on record, and we know enough to guess that similar crimes have been hidden from us. It even happens on worlds with no interversal contact. All it takes is a more advanced society encountering a less advanced one and leaving their rubbish behind, and then even that can start a religion.”
“It’s not a very flattering portrait of humanity, is it?”
“No. It isn’t.”
“But it’s not true on my world. It can’t be true.”
“Why not?”
“Because they came back. They weren’t irresponsible explorers who came by one day and left a civilisation behind. It was their planet. And they came back.”
“The Quillians came back. Repeatedly.”
“But they were only human.”
“And the Antecessors weren’t?”
“They’re more than human.”
“So, posthumans, then?”
“They’re living fields of energy. I think that goes a little further than ‘posthuman’.”
“But they were people, once? Like you and me?”
He thought about that. “Yes. They were human once.”
“How do you know? How do you know the energy beings you saw are the same as the people who lived on your world three thousand years before?”
He took a breath. “Because I saw them. Before they came back.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“When was this?”
“I… can’t talk about it.”
“Ah. Something that happened in the other part of your career.”
“Yes. I… saw one of them. I saw it leave our world and go out into the stars. Perhaps… something out there changed them. I don’t know what…”
“What do you think happened?”
“I don’t know. Don’t ask me any more. I don’t know.”
It didn’t look much like an improvement; but the automatic divinity of the Antecessors had shrunk a little. It was slow progress, but progress nevertheless.
6. Elsbet
Elsbet was asking questions. She wanted to know when she could return to her unit and get back into the war, and we couldn’t keep telling her she needed to recover when it was obvious there was nothing physically wrong with her. It was time to tell her the truth, as carefully as we could.
I turned up in her room unannounced. She jumped out of bed and saluted.
“Sit down,” I said. She obeyed and sat on the edge of the bed. “We’re not going to be sending you back to your unit, Sergeant.”
She looked a little panicked. “You’re putting me back in the general population?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Sir. I’m signed up for the duration. I’m trained as a pilot. I’m no use in the general population.”
Interesting — but I had no time to pursue it now. “Things aren’t like that here.”
“Sir…?”
“We don’t have a general population. You won’t be sent there. But we can’t send you back to your unit, either.” She was utterly baffled, now. “I’m going to be honest with you instead.”
I stepped a little closer. “Elsbet, do you know what a parallel universe is?”
She shook her head, not knowing what to make of me.
“You’ve never heard of the concept?” I asked.
“Major… I don’t understand.”
“Okay. I’ll explain. You live in a universe, with planets and asteroids and stars and galaxies and all the rest.”
“Yes…”
“But it’s not the only one. There are others.”
She must have thought I was insane.
“There are other universes, Sergeant. Similar to yours, with all the planets and asteroids and stars and galaxies, but the people are always different. History is never the same. There are universes where there wasn’t a war. Do you understand me?”
“Uh… yes.” She might have understood me, but she didn’t believe me. Her eyes darted around the room.
“That’s where you are now. A universe with no war. We have no armies, and I’m not an officer. I’m a therapist. I’m only here to help you. We can’t send you back to your unit because it’s in your universe, and it’s too dangerous for us to go there. We already lost a lot of our people the last time we went.
“I’m sorry to break it to you like this but you deserve to know the truth. I’ll answer any questions you have…”
She looked down and clasped her hands together. They were trembling. Not a good sign.
“It’s a lot to take in, I know. You do understand me, don’t you, Sergeant?”
She looked up at me. “Oh, yeah.”
Then she ran for it.
She rushed forward, trying to barge me onto the floor — but I wasn’t there. I was only an image, projected remotely from a place of safety, and she found herself running through nothing.
“Sergeant—” I tried to say, but it was no good. She tracked back, eyes wide as she realised I was just an illusion, then turned and dashed for the door.
It swished open for her. She found the infirmary outside deserted, the windows shuttered, every door closed. She tried the first one she came to — it stayed locked. She hammered on it, tried to find a door control, but there was nothing. She tried another door — the same. And another.
It opened. She ran through, into the centre, past more doors that wouldn’t open, meeting no one, running down the path we’d laid out for her, until she turned a corner and saw an open door ahead of her — a door into blinding light. But it wasn’t a light. It was an exit from the building, and it was so much brighter outside that she was momentarily dazzled. She dashed towards it, shielding her eyes as they adjusted — until she saw what lay beyond the corridors she thought were buried inside a cold rock halfway out to Jupiter.
The forest, stretching forever, more shades of green than the eye could see, a blue sky above fog-strewn mountains in the pale distance. Before the forest, a green glade with a small vegetable garden, neatly laid out with shoots budding into life.
And sunlight, warmer than any she’d ever known, making the colours burst out as a cloud passed away and the sun shone full upon the garden. And as she approached the doors, her run slowing to cautious, astonished steps, a smell no one from an asteroid could ever know: the morning’s rain, still wet upon the grass.
Spellbound, she stared through the doors at the green world outside, unable to go further. When I caught up with her, judging she wasn’t a threat any more, I found her weeping at what she saw. I put a hand on her shoulder to show I was real. She could barely tear her eyes from the sight to look at me.
“It’s… Earth…”
“Yes.”
“But this is… this is in the Testament! Just like this… Those are… trees? And… sky?”
“That’s right.”
“They destroyed it. The Testament shows it! All the smoke and poison and, and… machines…”
“In your universe, perhaps. This is another Earth. A parallel Earth. There was no war here.”
“It can’t be real. I’m dreaming!”
“Then go outside. See for yourself.”
“I can’t…”
“You can. It’s just a few steps.”
She looked at me, needing support. “I’ll go first, if you like,” I said. I walked ahead of her to the exit, and stepped outside. I turned back and held out a hand. Nervously, she joined me, and I led her across the paving into the garden.
She had no shoes on, and noticed how wet the grass was. “It was raining earlier. Mind yourself, the grass is a bit slippery,” I said. But she didn’t mind. She revelled in the feel of the grass between her toes.