‘Sort of.’
‘Plus I have my own bias, given that my uncle died fighting those bastards.’ She presumably meant in one of the occasional violent incidents that had broken out over the centuries without ever escalating into war. ‘But the Zajinets also asked whether we were staying, you and me, meaning Pilots. When I said yes, they said we should flee as well. That part was clear.’
‘They’re afraid of Helsen.’
‘And they see her the same way you do, Roger Blackstone. Infested with this darkness, and they even use the same word. So perhaps you’re not delusional after all.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Not that thinking like a Zajinet is anything to be proud of. Are you done?’
‘Sorry?’
‘With breakfast. Are you finished?’
‘Oh. Sure.’
She gestured and the table melted back into the floor, the crockery dissolving, organic leftovers digested by the quickglass.
‘Final item you need to know,’ she said. ‘If Helsen’s goal is to create another Anomaly, and if she has the means to do it, Zajinet-inspired or otherwise, then we have ten days to find her. You know about Conjunction, right? I mean, I gather you were shacked up with an older lover in Barbour. No better way to get to grips with local culture, is there?’
Roger looked at her, feeling not the slightest hint of blushing.
‘There was quite a lot of conjoining going on,’ he said. ‘I was too busy to pick up trivia.’
Rhianna gave a slow nod.
‘Noted. But you surely knew that sky-cities are always on the move, and that Deltaville’s giving birth to D-2 would normally be attended by more than just Barbour.’
‘Because all the cities are moving to this Conjunction, which is …?’
‘Exactly what it sounds like.’
‘Of course.’ He clasped his hands, interweaving his fingers as he used to do when Dad was thrashing him at chess or go. ‘Every city in Molsin’s skies coming together in one spot. Cultural interchange. Very natural.’
‘Happens every four standard years.’
‘Shit,’ he said.
‘Right. I don’t think the authorities quite appreciate what Helsen might do, or don’t believe what we’re telling them. The cities are far too independent of each other for effective action anyhow, despite Conjunction. At best we can hope they’ll give us the nod if surveillance spots her, and then I’ll set you loose.’
Roger stared at her.
‘Interesting wording,’ he said.
‘But you’re dying to kill Helsen, aren’t you?’
So it was not an illusion: he had changed, and she saw it too.
‘Yes.’
‘Then I think you should.’
FORTY-SIX
EARTH, 1942 AD
Gavriela spent four days in Washington amid an absence of skyscrapers, talking to codebreakers working on Japanese naval ciphers. Then it was back to Princeton via train, thanks to Payne, where a student from the Institute of Advanced Studies met her at the station, rode with her in the taxi to Fine Hall where she left her bag, and walked with her to Nassau Street. They were in time to see two gentlemen perambulating towards them, one with the mane of white hair and farmer’s moustache, looking as if he were strolling through his olive orchard.
‘There they are, ma’am. You want I should introduce you?’
‘No need, thank you. The professor and I are old friends.’
‘You know Professor Einstein?’
Morning sickness and the train ride had kept her irritated, deprived of sleep.
‘Why else would they have asked you to take me here?’
‘I thought—’
‘I’m not familiar with Princeton, that’s all.’
‘Then, um … Do you want me to wait for you?’
He was gawky, the young man, embarrassed to have annoyed her, and uncomfortable in the proximity of the great men approaching. Gavriela realized she was behaving badly, and softened her voice.
‘You’ve been kind,’ she said, ‘but there’s no need.’
‘Um … OK.’
After the young man left, she waited, trying to force away the gritty, sleep-deprived feeling behind her eyes.
‘Gavi.’ Another familiarity, as if they had known each other for years. Einstein kissed her cheek, then continued in German: ‘Kurt, allow me to make introductions. Herr Professor Gödel, meet Fräulein Doktor Wolf.’
Those eyes that saw so deeply were twinkling as he added: ‘We’re discussing the existence or otherwise of time.’
‘In the context of entropy?’ she asked.
Gödel’s answer was in precise, logical German.
‘A lifeline is a fixed geodesic in a four-dimensional continuum.’
And every moment exists for ever, outside time-flow. She understood the concept, and why it appealed to anyone considering their own mortality.
‘There are six million murdered Jews,’ she said, not knowing where that number came from, ‘that you can’t have a conversation with now.’ She tried to soften her tone, but if anything her throat tightened even more: ‘I beg your pardon. I feel so stuck in the past at times.’
Either Gödel forgave her or he had no idea how to respond to such emotionalism, for the three of them began to walk, continuing the journey to Einstein’s office, while the two men brought her up to date on their discussion.
‘Kurt distinguishes coordinate time from what he calls Kantian or pre-relativistic time, and his cosmological model allows closed time-like curves.’
Gavriela did not think relativity had supplanted thermodynamics in any way, therefore hardly invalidating its implied arrow of time; but she said nothing as Gödel responded:
‘If you can return to the past then the moment has not truly passed. That is my point.’
‘Or send back information?’
‘Absolutely equivalent in the causative sense. Of course …’
The discussion grew ever more rarefied as they walked on to Fine Hall. After Gödel left to work by himself, Einstein led Gavriela into his office.
‘Kurt is trying to prove that God exists,’ he said. ‘By rigorous logic, I mean. Perhaps I am glad not to be a mathematician.’
‘You can see the darkness.’ When it came down to it, Gavriela had no idea what lay behind her visit to the States. ‘What is it, do you think? What does it want?’
The blackboard no longer showed the equation featuring the Λ constant that had caused him to pluck those disquieting notes on his violin.
‘I see it less well than you, I think, dear Gavi. And as for what “it” wants … ascribing goals to natural phenomena sits no better with me than trying to prove that if God is possible then He must exist in all realities.’
‘The key word there is “if”, isn’t it? Anyway, the darkness is an observed phenomenon.’
‘And acting in human affairs, or at least appearing to.’ His eyes glowed with their own deep lustre. ‘Does a phenomenon affecting human minds necessarily have a mind of its own?’
Gavriela was blinking, off-balanced.
‘Military men,’ he added, ‘need a definite target to aim at, or so I believe. I think our counter-conspiracy, if we even have one, will die out in the absence of clarity.’
After a prisoner in the basement of SOE Headquarters broke out using abilities that seemed almost mystical … perhaps Einstein was right. Whatever the SOE files said, the language would not reflect the reality. Unless people like Rupert back home, Oppenheimer in New Mexico and the great man here continued to talk about it and organize – what? resistance? – even the recognition that the darkness existed would eventually be forgotten.
Or perhaps that was a problem for future generations, while everyone currently alive needed to concentrate on the actual world around them.
Back home.
A part of her realized that she had been thinking of England as home.
‘… may be a post available somewhere,’ Einstein was saying. ‘My word carries a little weight, you see, and I take advantage because it is necessary.’
She backtracked through his words.
‘I have to sail back,’ she said. ‘I don’t know … I just have to.’
Now the dark eyes shone with sadness.