Marek Huberath: Nest of Worlds

“Let me spell it out.” Zef knew he had his opponent by the throat now. “Suppose a square centimeter of star emits a million photons a second. I pulled that number out of a hat—I’m sure you know the right number—but the important thing is this: we see that the star is burning because many photons from it reach us. A second for the star, however, is a million years for us. And a million photons over a million years, that means a photon a year, which is nothing, complete darkness. The star is invisible! And yet, Haifan, you see the star when you look up, am I right?” Zef blew a slow gray bubble from his chewing gum.

Haifan muttered that of course the stars shone. He said that he had to go and wouldn’t be back until the pizza. He even left a few pages of his newspaper. Zef’s victory was crushing. The red comb above his head seemed to glow redder.

“Do you often needle him like that?” asked Gavein, amused.

Zef shook his head and drew in the gray bubble.

“Today was the first time,” he said seriously. “But I’ll do it regularly now. It was because of that bastard that I had to repeat a course. They assigned him to our school once. He doesn’t remember me.”

“And what is the truth, about the stars?”

“No one knows the truth. But he didn’t know that no one knows. In general, people think that space is like a piece of cheese with holes. In the holes, time flows quickly, that is, normally. It’s in the holes that you have the stars and planets. But where you have nothing… in the cheese itself, so to speak, time slows. That’s how we can see the stars.”

“So you’re saying that the speed of time depends on how far you are from a mass?” Gavein asked.

Zef nodded, blowing another bubble.

“But in that case something should happen in the regions where time slows down, in the cheese. Take runners at the end of a race, who start walking as they reach the tape. Suddenly there seem to be more of them. They’re packed closer together than when they were running…”

“Bunch of brains in Lavath,” Zef grumbled. Clearly he liked to preen no less than Haifan. “You’re right, Dave. Where time slows down, the photons pack together and it’s brighter. What was it like for you at the altitude of minutes, or higher?”

“It was bright, very bright, until the canvas covering us glowed red. Then we had to put on special glasses, so our eyes wouldn’t be damaged.”

“Those sons of bitches put people in canvas planes.” Zef spat. “You must have got one hell of a dose.”

“Dose of what?”

“X-rays, man! It’s not just light out there. Cosmic rays… microwaves, the whole bit. Your balls are as good as hard-boiled, Dave.”

“During the flight, they had us lock our hips in these metal boxes. For shielding, I’m sure. The metal was very thick.”

Zef gave Dave a look. “Around your hips, your pelvis, you say? Yeah, those transport guys know what they’re doing. But even so you probably became anemic. Hair fall out?”

“My hair? That started falling out when I was in the cradle. I have no idea where it keeps coming from, on my head… Since I’m getting stupider as I get older, maybe the gray matter oozes out through the sweat glands and evaporates, and everybody thinks it’s hair.” Gavein found himself talking like Zef. He was taken with the style, as much as the Tonescus detested it.

Zef picked his nose and regarded his finger.

“My gray matter must be leaving me through the nose, I have so much of this stuff,” he said.

Gavein grimaced. Then he slapped his forehead. “Wait. That’s why the plane flies at night, and why it goes so low during the day. It would burn up otherwise! From the sun.”

“Not bad… not bad,” said Zef. “Chop on.”

“Chop on?”

“With your brain. My expression signifies encouragement that you proceed mentally,” Zef translated.

“The planes can’t go too high, or they’ll explode. For that reason time compensation can’t equal more than five years.”

“Wow,” Zef said with admiration. He got up, went to the door, and stuck the ball of snot to the frame. “If Mom didn’t find this in the usual place, she’d pack me off to the psychiatrist for sure. I have to keep up my image of rebel,” he explained. “And they didn’t tell you why the planes aren’t metal?”

“They said that formerly the fuel would explode from the heat. Jet engines now are used only for takeoff. There’s no fuel left, at least not the high-octane stuff, and during the flight the propellers take over. Someone told me they run on steam, but that’s hard to believe.”

Gavein fell silent, puzzling over Zef’s persona of defiant youth, and also over the photons.

“Zef,” he said at last. “You know what this means? The sun must shine in a completely different place from the one in which we see it. Because the light doesn’t arrive right away. Maybe when it’s bright for us, it’s really night in the sky, and vice versa. Do you think?”

“I’ll go further.” Zef was digging in his nose for more of his brain. “Some guys think that the delay might be so great that Earth is wrapped in a bright spiral of day and a dark spiral of night, like two ribbons interwoven. Assuming, of course, that the planet doesn’t move.”

The Tonescus returned, but not all of them: just Gwenda; Haifan, with his newspaper; and Tad. The older Tonescu boy, unusually quiet, sat with his eyes on the tablecloth. The younger one still had not put in an appearance.

“You were right, Haifan. The stars can be seen because, although each one shines in slower time, it is unaware that its time is slower,” said Zef, gloomy. “I’ve thought it over. You win.” He emphasized “win” with a theatrical lowering of his head.

Haifan didn’t answer but sat more comfortably in his chair and spread his newspaper wider.

Zef sent a mischievous wink to Gavein, who was inspecting his pizza. The frozen pizzas came on cardboard trays that stuck to the food. The cardboard could be removed more easily after heating, but bits of it still ended up on one’s plate or even between one’s teeth.

“Awful! The things people do!” Haifan exclaimed. “Listen to this. ‘Today, in the afternoon, a group of children poured gasoline over an eight-year-old boy and set fire to him,’” he read aloud. “‘The boy ran into the road, calling for help. Eyewitnesses say he resembled a torch. It took them a minute to catch him, roll him over, and smother the flames. The child is in critical condition, his name still unknown. The perpetrators fled. We ask all parents in the district to report to the hospital at 5650 Avenue and 5430 Street.’ But that’s near us…!”

Gwenda looked at her son with suspicion.

“Tad, if you had a hand in this,” she said. She turned to her husband. “He’s hiding something, I know it.” To her son again: “Look me in the eye!”

The boy started crying. “I didn’t do it. I only held him down.” Tad sniveled. “Then I was sorry, because Aladar screamed so much.” He bawled.

“Aladar!” Gwenda cried.

She tried to strike her son, but Haifan restrained her. Then everything happened very quickly: she fainted; Edda revived her; Leo went to get the truck from the garage, because neither Haifan nor his wife were in any condition to drive; then Haifan began to beat his son but stopped.

Leo, Haifan, Gwenda, and Tad left for the hospital, and suddenly it was very still.

“What was Aladar’s Name?” Gavein asked, for the first time in his life asking what someone’s Significant Name was.

“ Flomir ,” said Edda.

Flomir meant “from fire.” It was a Name of Element.

“You’ll miss your movie, Zef,” Gavein said. “Your Maslynnaya and Lola Low.”