Michael Sullivan - Hollow World

He pointed up the slope. “Up here, I think.”

They climbed, and Ellis was becoming desperate. Just as he thought they wouldn’t be able to find it, he caught a glimpse of bright red and blue.

“There it is!” he shouted as they ran to the pile of plastic milk crates surrounding his old van seat.

“ This is your time machine?” Pax asked, stunned.

“I told you it wasn’t much to look at.”

Ellis ran to the cooler.

His sweater was still where he’d left it. Throwing it over his shoulder he popped the top off the cooler. More cans of food, bottles of drinking water, and the Internet-purchased Geiger counter were still with the rest of his gear. He had no rational reason to expect it wouldn’t be—just the general nightmarish fear that the worst would always happen when he could least afford it.

“This is it.” He picked up the little handheld and showed it to Pax. The Mazur PRM-9000 was the size of a thick iPhone and looked a bit like a garage door opener except that it had a green digital display and a red LED warning light in the design of a radiation symbol.

“And that can find the bombs?” Pax asked.

“It should. Warren wouldn’t even let me get near the one they had at the lab because it was leaking radiation. The website I bought this from said it had excellent sensitivity for detecting even low levels of radiation in food, which was why I paid six hundred dollars for it. So it ought to be able to pick up a plutonium-leaking nuclear warhead.”

Ellis slipped the Geiger counter into his back pocket. “Have we gotten coordinates yet?”

“Not yet. I have Vin and Alva working on it. They’re calling in favors on my behalf from a few people I’ve helped in the past.”

Ellis pulled his sweater on and plucked leaves off it. Now that the weather had cooled, he found he was happy to have it again. “So you just, what? Think Alva or Vin and they can hear you?”

“They hear a faint tone or the name of the person who is trying to talk to them. The person being called can either accept or reject.”

“Wow.”

“Alva was being a real pain, though. Without my chip, the con can’t verify who I am. And they can’t call me, either, because they don’t have a designation to transmit to. Alva refused to accept my call until I answered all these questions. I actually guessed at one. I suppose it’s good that Alva is so careful, but—” Pax promptly turned away looking up at the trees. “Uh-huh…Really? That’s fantastic! Oh, thanks so much. Yeah, hold on. Let me get the POC out.” Pax grabbed the Port-a-Call. “Okay, go ahead.”

Pax dialed up the coordinates to the Geomancy Institute. A portal appeared, through which Ellis could see the control room in Subduction Zone 540. “We’re all set. Thanks, Vin.”

Looking through the opening, Ellis said, “I know you don’t like it, but I wish I had my gun right now.”

Reaching around, Pax drew the pistol out from where the coat had been hiding the weapon. “If there was ever a time for Superman, this is it, don’t you think?”

Ellis took the gun. He felt less confident holding it this time. He’d seen what it could do to a person, and the metal felt heavier than before. He checked the chamber to make sure it was loaded. “C’mon, let’s go.”

The moment they entered, dozens of people turned to face them. Expressions of irritation, annoyance, and suspicion were the big winners. As before, the geomancers were all wearing long coats and dark-blue safety glasses, some of which were propped on their heads or hanging around their necks. Above them giant screens displayed thermal weather maps of the planet that changed in real time.

“Ellis Rogers, I hope you aren’t planning on making a habit of taking tours here,” one of the many said, approaching them. “I thought I had impressed upon you the seriousness of the work we do here.”

“Geo-12?”

“Yes, and I—”

“Shut up and listen.” If anyone wasn’t looking, this got their attention. Everyone in Hollow World regarded geomancers highly, and a show of disrespect was shocking. Even Pax looked stunned.

“In about two hours, three nuclear bombs will explode and destroy this facility.” Ellis didn’t feel the need to explain the ramifications to people who knew them far better than he did. “The warheads have been ported in and placed somewhere nearby. We need to find and eject them into space.”

“How do you know this?” It wasn’t Geo-12 but one of the others who stepped forward.

“A group of people living on the surface wants to destroy Hollow World,” Pax said. “They have been responsible for several deaths over the last few months. One was Geo-24, who the killer had been impersonating.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m Pax-43246018, arbitrator.”

“I’ve heard about you. I’m Geo-3.”

“Pol-789 was with you on the tour here,” Geo-12 told Ellis.

“Except that wasn’t the real Pol.” Ellis took out his Geiger counter and pressed the power button.

The device beeped once, the LED flashed, and an alarm sounded. The backlit LCD read 55.8 µSv/hr.

Ellis had no idea what all this meant. He’d never used a Geiger counter before, and he unfolded the accompanying directions. He scanned for a way to interpret the readings, but while it explained the use of the four buttons and spoke of recalibrating, the paper had no indication of what was a good number and what was bad. Ellis made the assumption that the flashing light and alarm wasn’t a positive sign.

Geo-3 stepped forward, took the device, and stared at it a moment. “An antique? Cute. Radiation levels here are naturally higher. It’s one of the reasons we don’t allow visitors, and when we do, it’s only for short periods. Initiates are altered to withstand these conditions. Still…” Geo-3 looked concerned. “846, run a standard on ground zero and put it on the main.”

Ellis had no idea who was being spoken to. There had to be close to a hundred individuals manning stations. The place looked like NASA ground control staffed by a welders’ guild. Those who didn’t wear the long coats and glasses worked naked at their illuminated virtual 3-D stations, each of which could have been nothing more than an incredible video game. Some even had snacks and drinks beside them. No tattoos, scarves, or masks. Ellis imagined geomancers didn’t care as much about standing out.

“What is it?” Pax asked.

“We only do a general condition survey once a month for known areas, but if this antique detector of yours can be trusted, it’s indicating we’re over the mark on radiation.”

A moment later the big center screen changed to a stylized image of a sun—a circle with numerous rays shooting out from the center. It took a moment for Ellis to realize it was actually an overhead view of the control base he was standing in. Over this were laid the ghostly colors that Ellis had seen in spy movies when they used thermal imaging. Numbers ran across the bottom like a news crawler.

“Look—at—that.” Geo-3 walked toward the screen, causing nearly everyone in the room to look up.

“What?” Ellis asked.

“The radiation is too high. But why? 47, get a lock on the rad source.”

Everyone watched the main screen as colors were isolated and filtered out until just yellow and purple remained. Then the image moved and zoomed, closing in on the center of the purple cloud.

“Give them coats and glasses,” Geo-3 said, pointing at Pax and Ellis.

Geo-12 ran to a wall and retrieved the protective gear from a shelf and some pegs.

“Come with me.” Geo-3 took a step and then stopped, turned, and shouted to the room, “Wake up Geo-1 and Geo-2. Tell them the sky is falling .”