Eschaton 1 – The Other End of Time

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Patsy

The Dr. Patrice Adcock they were calling "Patsy" (she was willing to answer to that name, because she didn't have any choice about it, but she never ever thought of herself that way) was angry. She sat Buddha-like, her legs tucked into the lotus position, glowering at the world. She knew she shouldn't be angry. She conceded to herself that Dan-Dan had some reason for ordering them to be quiet, and she supposed those orders might make sense. Why should you give away what you might be able to sell? All the same, she wasn't used to being told what she could or could not talk about.

What she was bursting to talk about was that whole "eschaton" business. It was right on the tip of her tongue, if only she could compare notes with Pat and Patrice to goose her memory along. That ancient and ill-recalled episode had been a very minor item in her education, no more than a grace note in some course she had taken for easy credits. She could almost see the face of the professor who had talked about it. It was the young dark one with the bedroom eyes-what was his name?- and he hadn't called it the eschaton. Something like-oh, yes. The "Omega Point." Whatever that was supposed to be. But she was pretty sure that it was precisely the thing that Colonel du-Valier had been blathering about in the message on the helmet.

Farther than that, however, her unaided memory would not take her.

It was perfectly obvious to her that everybody else was dying to talk it out, too. Well, of course they were. Was it even remotely possible that this notion of eternal life ten-to-the-zillionth years in the future could be real? Or that some hideous creatures from outer space might be doing their best to turn that eternal heaven into some kind of perpetual hell?

The whole thing was ridiculous.

The other thing about it was that it was also, just possibly, quite true.

In any case, she couldn't help thinking about it, and neither could any of the other six captives. It put a damper on all other subjects for conversation. The seven of them did their chores, completing Rosaleen's inventory, cooking and eating their meals, using the "latrine" when there was no way to avoid it; but what they were thinking about was this eschaton thing. If only Dopey would show up! Then maybe Dan could work out some kind of deal with him and then they could all talk freely, and maybe scratch that burning itch to hash the subject out.

But Dopey didn't show; and time wore on.

As she was beginning to get sleepy she said something about Dopey's absence to Pat, who had nothing useful to say in return. "How would I know why he doesn't come? Maybe that power glitch is screwing things up for him."

"Well, sure, but there must be something else going on. It couldn't be just the glitch; he got that new duValier message out to us after that happened, didn't he?"

"Beats the hell out of me," Pat said irritably. "Anyway, maybe we're not supposed to talk about that, either."

Pat wasn't the only one who was short-tempered. Everybody was getting antsy under the burden of Dan's rule of custody of the mouth. Then, when they were all getting sleepy, Pat didn't join Patrice and herself. Instead she nestled up next to Dannerman again, just as before; evidently his silence was now understood and thus forgiven. And as Patrice was settling herself down she glanced at the two of them, and then whispered to Patsy, "What's she got to be pissed off about?"

It was a fair enough question. Pat had Dan-Dan, and what did the other two of them have?

There was certainly some jealousy there. There was also quite a lot of sisterly (or sort-of-sisterly) loyalty. To be fair about it, Patsy thought justly as she drifted off to sleep, you couldn't really say that Pat actually had Dan-Dan. Not in the total lack of personal seclusion that was their present condition. Patsy wondered drowsily if they could talk Dopey into giving them a few more of the helmets, because if everybody but Pat and Dan were wearing a helmet there would be at least the illusion of privacy while they got each other, as they were obviously yearning to do. Or maybe she and Patrice could patch together some of the blankets from Starlab and make a kind of a screen to hide the lovers as they went to it. Or-

Or maybe somehow, miraculously, the U.S. cavalry would come charging over the hill with bugles blowing and pennons flying, and wonderfully carry them back home; and then the two of them could do whatever they damn pleased… and so could she, with whoever was handy… and…

And then the world would be fine again, but none of that was actually going to happen. The cavalry wasn't really coming to rescue them, was it? Their future was very uncertain but definitely dark-if the seven of them turned out to have any real future at all-and when Patsy finally did succeed in falling asleep there were tears on her cheeks.

They slept, and they woke up, and

they spent most of another long day of trying to keep from talking about the things that really had to be talked about. And when finally Dopey did appear, without warning, simply walking in through the mirror, he said only, "I was delayed."

"We understand that you were having problems," Rosaleen said courteously. "You needn't apologize."

He looked flustered, Patsy thought; his peacock tail was rippling in dark colors and the expression on his furry little face was troubled. But he said firmly, "I did not apologize. I simply stated an explanation. I am now prepared to transact business with you on the basis you proposed."

Everyone was listening intently, and Patsy thought they all looked delighted-well, so did she. But Dannerman was making sure of the terms. "No holds barred?"

Dopey looked faintly puzzled. "I assume that what you mean is without reservation. I agree to that. However, I must tell you that there are things I cannot do, because at present they are physically impossible to me. The Horch terrorists have caused serious interruptions in our communications with the Beloved Leaders, and even certain of the resources of this base are temporarily not available to me. But please, you must help me to evaluate the message for Earth."

It was what Patsy had been waiting for; she opened her mouth eagerly, but Dannerman raised a hand. "Wait one," he said. "If your communications are down, what's the point?"

"They will be restored," Dopey said doggedly. "Please. Do not argue. Remember that you are not indispensable."

"Sure we are," Jimmy Lin said, his face angry. "You need our input."

"But not necessarily from your particular specimens, Commander Lin. Do you not realize that it would be possible to produce new copies of all of you, copies who would remember nothing after being taken from Starlab, and extract the information from them?"

"What I realize," Dannerman said firmly, "is that if that were what you wanted to do you wouldn't be talking, you'd be doing it."

Dopey looked irresolute. "It is true that there are at present some difficulties in this respect," he admitted. "Very well. I agree. Now tell me-"

"No, no! You first!"

The creature didn't like that. The lips on the little kitten face were drawn back-almost, Patsy thought, as though he were going to hiss at them. Then he relaxed. "I will agree," he capitulated. "What do you want from me?"

"Information!"

The little paws drummed impatiently on the muff-not inside it, Patsy observed, and realized that in this interview, unlike any other, Dopey was not keeping his hands in the muff. Was there something wrong with the thing? "Be more-" Dopey stopped as there was another ground tremor. A mild one, this time, Patsy observed gratefully, but was surprised to see the way Dopey reacted: his tail went all dark, his eyes were fastened on the wall, there was something like fear on the little feline face.

But nothing happened to the wall. Dopey's fan slowly began to regain its color. "Be more specific," he ordered. "And hurry."

"All right," Dannerman said. "What's wrong with the wall?"

Dopey paused to think. "The terrorists have done some damage to our systems," he said at length.

"The whole truth!" Pat snapped. "You promised!"

"But that is the whole truth," Dopey said, seeming surprised. "Do you wish to know details? Very well. Approximately, ah, nineteen of your days ago the Horch succeeded in transporting some of their weaponry into our base; since then there has been fighting. Each time their attack has been defeated, and each time they succeeded in transmitting new forces and attacked again. Much damage has been done, and communication with the Leaders has been interrupted."

"Who s winning?"

More hesitation. "I do not know," Dopey confessed. "I have no doubt that in the long run our Beloved Leaders will prevail, but as your sage John Maynard Keynes once said to your president Franklin Delano Roosevelt-it was on a documentary broadcast while I was still on your Starlab-the trouble with the long run is that in the long run we are all dead."

"I'm glad to see you've kept your sense of humor," Danner-man said caustically. "I'm only surprised to discover that you have one. More details!"

"But I do not know any more details," Dopey said in surprise. "I know nothing of weaponry. Many of our people are dead now and much has been destroyed; that is all I can tell you. In any case, now it is your turn. Are there errors in the second broadcast?"

Dannerman looked rebellious, but gave in. "Not as far as I know. Nothing significant. Did any of the rest of you notice anything?"

No one had. "That is good," Dopey said gravely. "Now, about your comments on the eschaton-"

If Patsy had been prudent-if all the Pats had-they might have held out for more information from Dopey. They weren't. Pat and Patrice were as eager to talk as Patsy, and it was Pat who got in first. "We heard about it in a history-of-science class in graduate school. The professor-"

"Dr. Mukarjee," Patrice supplied eagerly.

"Yes, that's the one. He told us about some scientist a long time ago, just before the turn of the century, I think it was, who claimed the same thing. Only he didn't call it the eschaton-"

Patsy raised her hand, excited and impatient. "The Omega Point! That's what he called it."

Pat gave her a grateful look. "How smart of you to remember that! Anyway, it was the same thing-universe expands, universe contracts, Big Crunch, everybody reborn in heaven."

Then they stopped, having run out of recollections. "His name," Dopey insisted. "Who was this scientist?"

The Pats looked at each other. "Tinker?" Patrice hazarded.

Pat frowned thoughtfully. "I was going to say maybe Doppler. Something like that." Patsy just shook her head.

"That is not satisfactory," Dopey complained. "Now I must try to have a data search conducted through that primitive equipment on Starlab. Have you nothing else to add?"

They looked at each other again. "Nothing," Pat said, and Patrice said:

"Only something Dr. Mukarjee said. He said that was just another example of the ways most cosmologists went kind of loopy after a while."

"That is not a useful datum," Dopey declared, but Danner-man cut in.

"Sure it is. Now you know he was a cosmologist; that ought to help identify him. Anyway, that's all we've got, so now let's talk about-"

But what it was Dannerman wanted to talk about he didn't get a chance to say. The ground shook, the wall flared again, the sound of distant thunder drowned out his words.

This time the display lasted for many seconds. No one spoke, though Dopey was whimpering softly. Patsy, eager to take advantage of any new visions that might come through the wall if it happened to go transparent again, faced it unblinking through all its swirling changes of color. It didn't. It cycled rapidly through the entire spectrum, then resumed its milky mirror sheen. She turned just in time to see Dopey's plume vanishing through the mirror as the creature sped away.

"Oh, damn the thing," Pat said feelingly. Rosaleen was more tolerant.

"He's frightened," she observed. "I don't blame him. If we knew everything he knows we might be terrified, too."

"I'm already terrified as much as I can handle, Rosie," Pat said. "Well. What do we know that we didn't know before?"

The answer to that, Patsy thought, was "damn little." She listened as the others tried to piece meaning together from what Dopey had told them, but there wasn't a lot of meaning there. All right, things were even worse than they had expected; but what kind of news was that?

She scowled at her own reflection in the mirror wall, half listening to what the others were saying, mostly filling with resentment. For just a moment there she had been reminded that she had another life, a life in which she was not a helpless pawn stranded in a demeaning captivity, but a responsible human being who held an important job. She was, for God's sake, a highly trained scientist. It was time for her to act like one, she told herself. It was time to stop being so damn passive and start to take action…

The problem was, she could not think of any productive action to take.

She looked at the others. Dannerman, at least, seemed to be actually doing something, even if only going over everybody's recollections, repetitively, demandingly. Maybe, she thought, that was the way he had learned to interrogate witnesses in spook school. Was there any point in it? Did it matter how much they learned, when there was nothing they could do about it, anyway?

A snarling, buzzing sound interrupted her. It interrupted everyone else, too. It was not a sound any of them had heard before, and so it took them a moment to realize that it came from the helmet.

"What the hell," Dannerman said.

"I think it wants to be picked up again," Patrice said.

Jimmy Lin said nervously, "You sure? It sounds like it's broken to me. Could be dangerous."

"Oh, for God's sake," Pat said in exasperation, snatched the thing from the floor and pulled it on over her head…

And then a moment later, she gasped, "Hey! It's a damn Horch and it's trying to tell me something!"