John Schettler - Touchstone

“I can’t get a response from my Golems because there’s no network traffic,” Kelly explained. “No network traffic of any kind. My query packets are being generated, but they all time out with no response from the network.”

“This is absurd,” said Nordhausen. “How could the entire Internet be down?”

Paul was off his chair and heading toward the stair well. The professor had turned to him for an answer to the dilemma when he saw him go. “Paul?” The plaintive twang in Nordhausen’s voice was plain to hear. Somewhere, deep inside, he was possessed with the notion that this was all his fault. It was his insatiable curiosity, after all, that had started the whole thing. He had to take that train ride to steal Lawrence’s lost manuscript… he had to go back to have a look at the Rosetta Stone in the British museum. While Paul had tried to comfort him, explaining that nothing he did could have caused a major transformation, the professor was still nagged by guilt, and the look on Maeve’s face did nothing to assuage his embattled conscience.

“Where are you going?” He called, following after his friend.

“The observation deck,” Paul said flatly. “It’s only two flights up, and the Arch effect should still encompass the dome. I’m going up to have a look outside.”

“Good idea. Let’s have a look outside.” Maeve started after him, but Kelly remained behind, hunched over his keyboard as he stroked his chin in thought.

Paul led the way into the stairwell and up a few short flights of stairs. He reached for the door at the top, and Nordhausen saw a slight tremor in his hand. Then he took hold of the latch and pushed hard. The door opened with a metallic squeak and Paul went through. Robert and Maeve crowded close behind him, as if his presence would offer them some protection from whatever they would find on the other side.

The room was very cold, and completely dark. There was an acrid smell in the air, like ozone on a smoggy day in the city. Nordhausen saw Paul grope for the light switch, and it flicked on. Their gaze was immediately drawn to the far wall, where a series of windows marched in a circle at the base of a shallow dome.

“What time is it?” Nordhausen asked an obvious question, for there was inky darkness beyond the panes. He stepped to the edge of the dome, feeling the cold grow more pronounced as he approached the glass.

“It’s half past four, in the afternoon,” said Paul.

“What? Is it storming? Why is it so dark? Look at it, Paul, you can’t see a thing out there. Is that fog or are we just socked in with overcast?”

“Weather report was for clear skies, sixty five degrees,” Paul said matter of factly. “You were just telling me how the atmospheric conditions had to be ideal for an FM signal to reach us from the Middle East. That’s the bay side of the dome there, Robert, and we should be able to see the sun starting to set over the city by now.

“Sixty-five degrees? Come over here! It’s freezing out there! It must be a freak storm that blew in off the ocean. What else?”

Paul came to his side, immediately noticing the chill. Maeve hung back, her arms folded tightly against the cold that was ever more penetrating now. There was a flash of light outside the dome, lending support to Nordhausen’s suggestion.

“See what I mean?”

“I’d like to,” said Paul “but I don’t think that’s lightning.” While it looked like a tempest was raging outside, Paul could not believe his eyes.

“Not lightning? Come on, Paul, come to your senses.”

“It’s green,” said Paul. “Ever see green lightning? And don’t tell me it’s the Aurora Borealis. We would never see them this far south. Besides, I’d recognize them at once.” Paul had served a three year stint as a teacher in Alaska when he was just out of college.

“Not lightning?” Nordhausen repeated the objection again, unbelieving, but his own voice quavered, and now the cold was sending chills all though his frame.

“Feel that…” Paul’s breath was frosty. “This is San Francisco, Robert. That’s arctic cold. Ever feel that here before?”

Nordhausen turned to him, shivering. “Are you saying something’s happened to the weather now? Are you saying the world is spun off its axis and this is the North Pole? Damn it! What’s going on here?”

“Let’s get back downstairs.” Paul tugged at him, pulling him back from the opaque murkiness beyond the windows. Maeve was pale and cold, clearly worried as they retreated to the door.

“What does this mean, Paul?” Nordhausen’s voice was punctuated by the clatter of their footsteps echoing in the stair well, but Paul said nothing, deep in thought.

When they reached the bottom and opened the door they were surprised to see that the consoles seemed alive again. Lights were flashing to the staccato electronic beep of the computers. Nordhausen beamed when he saw it, smiling with relief. “He’s got the net back. I told you! It was just a local problem after all—must have been the storm.” He rushed toward the consoles, gleeful to have a plausible explanation in hand at last. But Paul’s trained eyes scanned the room quickly and came to another conclusion that had escaped the professor entirely.

“What’s the read, Kelly?” Nordhausen was at the history console now, but Kelly was looking over his shoulder at another bank of equipment. “Is the net back up?” Nordhausen persisted, more enthusiastic now. “Is this a variance report coming in?”

“Quiet!” Kelly was watching the other workstation now. “Paul?” He looked for Paul in the room, finding him with worried eyes.

“I see it,” said Paul. “Let’s get power back up beyond standby mode.”

“Right,” said Kelly, moving quickly past the professor to another console across the room.

Maeve stood in silence, watching as the two men went to work with a feverish urgency. She knew what was happening, being familiar enough with the equipment from her stint with Kelly on the initial operations.

“Now what in blazes is going on here?” Nordhausen was getting angry.

“Be quiet, Robert,” said Maeve. “Can’t you see what’s going on? That’s the retraction module.” Maeve’s revelation did little to dispel the professor’s confusion.

“The retraction module? Is it still operating? We’ve been here for over an hour now. I haven’t even had time to get out of these clothes. Turn the damn thing off, Paul, we’ve got to check on this Golem alert.”

Kelly gave the professor a withering look. Then he put his hands on his hips and explained. “Look Robert, there is no Golem alert. I told you—the net is down. It’s not responding. There’s nothing out there, at least not that I can reach. And this—“ He pointed to the workstation where Paul was making quick adjustments to the quantum infusion chamber. “This is the retraction module, just like Maeve said. So sit down and be quiet. We’ve got to focus now.”

Robert was dumbfounded. He took a deep breath and recovered a bit of his composure. “I know very well that’s the retraction module. Why don’t we just turn it off and be done with it? If the net is down then we’ve got to start thinking on our own. What about the stone?”

The professor felt two hands grip hard on his shoulders, pushing down firmly. He found himself plopped into a swivel chair and twisted about to see Maeve frowning at him again.

“Quiet, Robert,” she said in a low voice. “They’ve got to be sure the system timing is balanced now, understand?”

“But—” The flare in Maeve’s eyes silenced him, and she spoke again, the words striking Nordhausen like a hammer.

“Someone is coming through the Arch.”