Nordhausen gave him a penetrating look. “Yes,” he said. “I always did suspect that the image on that scroll was a rubbing. It was clearly not penned in ink or created by any other drawing instrument. I determined that it was a rubbing from a carved stone, just as you say.”
“Well you were quite correct, professor. Why we were so blind to the scheme amazes us even now. We put our faith in technology, and thought our enemies would do the same. We had every confidence that we could best the radicals. We were better at it than they were, and we had the benefit of your original research as well.” He pointed at Paul.
“Imagine our surprise when you took that fall in Wadi Rumm and discovered a working Arch, in the form of a well, that relied on something as deviously simple as an Oklo reaction as its primary power source.” LeGrand’s eyebrows raised over his grey eyes as he hurried along.
“We were winning, you see. They built their own version of the Arch, but we found it, and destroyed it. And each time they built another we destroyed it again, until we were certain we had done them all in. We had them hounded in to the far corners of the world, just like old Osama Bin Ladin from your era. He set the model. He gave up his cell phone and relied on couriers—a decidedly low tech approach to the struggle that proved quite effective. He sat in his cave and remained a thorn in America’s side for years, inspiring a whole generation of new insurgents as your government blundered into one grandiose military action after another.”
“Nothing new in that,” said Robert. “Islam has been guided by so called ‘hidden imams’ for centuries. Whenever the culture comes under stress from external forces, it generates these mythical figures: hidden imams, the Mahdi they believe will emerge to lead them to victory. Then we get Fedayeen warriors rallying to the call of jihad in an almost antibody like reaction against the outside force.”
“If only the leaders of the West understood that,” said LeGrand. “They have no idea how resilient these religious beliefs can be.”
“Glad to see you’ve had a change of heart,” said Maeve, but with little warmth.
“Oh, I can agree that we were wrong with our methods at times,” said LeGrand, “but Western culture was simply too shining a force in the world to be contaminated and destroyed by these radicals. If that meant war—unjust war, I’ll admit—then so be it. Yes, you will be quick to lecture me on imperialism, colonialism and all the other evils that the spread of our culture engendered. But we soon came to the conclusion that empire had its benefits—benefits that outweighed the liabilities.”
“Oh, certainly,” said Maeve. “Empire is wonderful—when you’re a citizen; when you’re on the inside. It’s not so lovely when you are on the receiving end of the bombs.”
“I’ll concede that. But what would you hand me in place of Hiroshima? Would you forgo the bomb if it meant a billion people in Southeast Asia would live under the tyranny of Imperial Japan? And what would you hand me in place of Dresden? Weren’t the concentration camps at Auschwitz enough? Cultures clash, nations struggle with one another in the stream of history, and one side prevails. We’re offering social equities, free markets, capitalism, democracy—”
“Levy Silver,” said Maeve, her arms folded in opposition.
“I don’t understand,” said LeGrand.
“…and some of us were mostly brass under a thin film of gold,” said Maeve. “…A poem I read once. Free markets? Capitalism? Haven’t you studies the history of the financial shenanigans that brought on the second great depression? The problem with all the wonderful things that empire provides is that millions have to die for them. Democracy? Equity? The West is guilty of a thousand felonies on that count, monsieur LeGrand.”
“Yes, yes—we went through all this before, didn’t we? But look at the time!” His eyes flashed up at the clock, laden with anxiety and emotion. “We can’t sit here and quibble over the morality of our culture—it’s dying! Yes, that means the poetry you’re so very fond of, my dear—Shakespeare, Milton, Chaucer and all the rest. They don’t exactly resonate with the edicts of Sharia and the Koran! Now please—just hear me out. We’ve come to you again, in our last extreme. The whole thing has come full circle. You chose once, and now you must make a choice again. Will you help us? Because if you do not, then you forfeit the entire heritage of Western culture. Nothing of it will survive this hour if you do not act to save it.”
LeGrand looked from one to another, pleading, and it was Paul who spoke first.
“What is it you have come to ask of us?”
“A mission—from here—just like the first time. This is the first wound in the flow of Time, here and now. No other Arch exists prior to this point on the continuum. They can do what they might in years to come, but from here you can act with impunity. No one else can interfere. Do you understand?”
“Act with impunity—yes, I suppose I do understand. But what would you have us do?”
LeGrand hesitated for the barest instant, then blurted out his response, desperate to persuade. “You must find the touchstone! That’s the key. The professor had it by the earlobe all along. It was Mister Kelly’s idea—the RAM bank, the touchstone database. If you are going to change the history, how will you preserve a record of the way things were? That’s why you sent out your Golems—to keep watch, find variations in the data and warn you of a crisis like this. Well it’s come, and what will you do about it? You’ve got to find their touchstone, that’s what. Find it and destroy it before we loose the whole.”
Part IX
Decision
“Multitudes, multitudes in the valley of decision”
25
Kelly was the first to speak, gesturing to the lab complex as he did so. “The Golems are not operating,” he said flatly. “We have no way of identifying a variation in the history without them.”
“Yes,” said LeGrand, “but you do have the original RAM bank still operating, and it has an imprint of the history as known to this point on the Meridian. That research will be essential… if our plan is to succeed.”
“Research?” Maeve leaned heavily on the table. “You mean to say you want us to find this thing, this touchstone, by using the data stored in our RAM bank as a guide? That could take years!”
LeGrand smiled wanly. “Possibly—just as the research on the Pushpoint that reversed Palma could have taken years as well. But we gave you a nudge in the right direction, didn’t we? I have come to aid your quest again. I can put you on the target, if you’ll hear me out. The rest will be up to you.”
Maeve pursed her lips, obviously struggling with the whole notion of using the Arch again to support this man’s plans. “How do we know you’re telling us the truth? How do we know you’re not just manipulating us into furthering your war plan?
“I was wondering if that would come up,” said LeGrand. “Fair question. As of this moment, you have only my word. If you’d care to test my assertions concerning the world outside the influence of this Nexus, be my guest. I would not advise it, however. Paradox is quite unforgiving.”
Paul intervened, seeing that the present line of argument would lead them nowhere. “You have information for us? You have a plan?”
“We hope as much.” Then LeGrand turned to Nordhausen. “We are really in your debt, professor. The moment we realized our adversaries were using a decidedly low tech solution, we immediately knew where it had to be hidden—give or take a few hundred years.”