Jeremy Robinson - Blackout

“He said it was hidden in a Buddhist statue. I’m not really sure what he meant by that.”

“I think I know,” Suvorov said. “I might not know what it is, but I think I know exactly where it came from.”

Alexander led them back into the ruins of the Louvre. Fiona stayed close to him, and Sara stayed close to her, with Julia a few steps behind. As they picked their way through the rubble and entered the darkened museum that had once been a kingly palace, the curator gave a little gasp.

“I can’t believe it. Hundreds of years’ worth of history…all ruined.”

Fiona couldn’t quite fathom the woman’s grief. In her life, she’d witnessed the total destruction of her home, her family, everything she had known, and if Alexander was correct, the entity that had been unleashed on this night had the potential to destroy so much more. And what about the radiation poisoning? Why did a few old paintings and statues matter anyway?

Alexander glanced back but said nothing.

The edifice creaked and groaned all around them, the air filled with a sound like boulders being crushed together. Fiona felt off balance, a sensation that increased with each step forward. Although the debris-strewn corridors were flat, she felt like she was walking downhill, and that at any moment, she might fall forward. She saw that the others were having similar difficulty moving and asked Alexander about this.

“It’s the gravity of the black hole,” Alexander explained. “Its mass is still relatively small right now, but as we draw closer, this effect will become more pronounced.”

“It’s still here? I thought that thing…the basilisk…was the black hole.”

He shook his head. “Merely an extension of its presence. A drone, if you will. The black hole itself cannot move, though as it consumes more and more matter, its mass will increase until it sinks to the center of the Earth. When that happens…” He didn’t finish the thought.

“How long will that take?” Sara asked.

“It is impossible to say. This is unexplored territory. The increase in its mass is not mathematically related to the amount of matter it consumes. But I fear that the time remaining might be measured in hours, not days or months.”

“Hours?”

“The strange matter at the core of the singularity can add mass to any particle. Right now, it has a relatively limited supply-pieces of masonry, wood and plaster that have broken loose and fallen into the event horizon. Seventeen hundred years ago, something similar happened. The black hole was in a cave. It had consumed all the loose material nearby, after which, it could only draw away subatomic particles from the solid rock surrounding it, which is a very slow process. Relatively speaking, of course.

“But there is another source of material that might accelerate the process, one that was not available then. The sun. Sunlight is made up of particles that have very little mass. Some of these particles, neutrinos for example, are so small that they can pass through solid matter without striking other particles, sometimes penetrating many miles into the Earth’s surface. When the black hole was in the cave, it was shielded from direct sunlight. Now, that is no longer the case. When the sun rises and light reaches the black hole, it will be showered by subatomic particles, all of which will be instantly converted into mass.”

Fiona didn’t understand the scientific principles he was trying to explain, but the bottom line was clear. When the sun rose, the world would end. “Can we really stop this thing?” she asked in a small voice.

Alexander clapped a firm hand on her shoulder. “I believe so. Those Buddhist monks found a way, centuries ago, and they didn’t even know what they were dealing with.”

“Maybe it’s different this time,” Sara suggested. “You were playing that recording of the chant they used, but it didn’t seem to make any difference.”

“That is true,” Alexander conceded. “But I think that Fiona’s experience may hold the key to that mystery. Recall how she was able to discern the mother tongue’s influence in the original works of art, and even in the fragments of the Buddha statues, but not in reproductions.”

“Copies don’t work,” Fiona said. “Has to be the real thing.”

He nodded. “There is some deeper mystery at work. I was mistaken in believing that it was simply a matter of finding the right harmonic frequency. That was only part of it. Intention also plays a role. It was the intention of those monks, seventeen hundred years ago, to render the black hole dormant. And I believe that you can do the same, Fiona.”

“Are you actually serious?” Julia said from behind them. “What you’re proposing…it’s like faith-healing. Believe and you’ll be saved. Seriously? The real world doesn’t work like that.”

Alexander regarded her with a grim look that was almost menacing. “You are mistaken, Dr. Preston, and your skepticism isn’t helping. Scientists have long recognized that intention-what you would call ‘faith’-can influence the physical world. It is a precept of quantum mechanics, and that is exactly what we are dealing with here.”

Despite Alexander’s confident assurance, Julia’s doubts weighed on Fiona. Did the fate of the world really depend on her ability to believe that she could save it? She took another step forward, and felt the inexorable attraction of the black hole, an invisible presence only a few hundred feet away, and knew that her faith was about to be put to the ultimate test.

They marched like the professional soldiers they were, picking their way deftly over the uneven surface of the fractured road, maneuvering around abandoned vehicles and other obstacles without breaking stride. Suvorov led the way. Brown, either unable or unwilling to move with the same urgency, was being dragged along by two of the Spetsnaz.

King easily kept pace with them but did not allow the apparent truce to lull him into complacency. This was an alliance of convenience, and he did not doubt that, when or if they succeeded in dealing with the immediate crisis, the Russians would turn on him.

One thing at a time, he told himself.

They reached their destination only a few minutes later. The Louvre now bore little resemblance to the stately seventeenth century palace that had been transformed into what was arguably the most famous museum in the world. The classical facade had been devastated by the earthquake, particularly in the central part of the structure, which appeared to be on the verge of imploding. The towering pavilion had collapsed in on itself and the exterior walls, what little remained of them, leaned dangerously inward. In the foreground, little remained of the famous glass pyramids; the largest of the triangular structures now appeared to be nothing more than a twisted web of steel.

Suvorov had paused at the edge of the courtyard and was gazing in disbelief at the scene of near total destruction. “I can’t believe it,” he whispered, barely restraining his grief. “I was just here. A few hours ago.”

King surveyed the ruin. The Russian had been right about the connection between the Buddha statues-or rather their remains-and the cause of the event. This had almost certainly been ground zero. Something powerful had been awakened inside the museum, and even though he was still more than a hundred yards from the structure, he knew it was still there. He could hear it in the persistent crunching sound that emanated from the ruins, and he could feel it in every fiber of his body.

The Russian quickly overcame his shock and led the group into the courtyard. He directed one of his team to remain outside and signal with a gun shot if and when the dark shape pursuing them finally arrived. King didn’t doubt that it would show up, but he was starting to believe that what lay inside the museum might be even more dangerous. His dread, and an increasing sensation of vertigo, intensified with each step forward, and as they crawled through a gap in the museum’s exterior and into its lightless depths, he felt almost like he was in free fall.