Mark Chadbourn - The Hounds of Avalon

‘Let’s get out of here,’ Sophie said. ‘We can sort out what this means later.’

Mallory slipped the Wish Stone into his pocket. ‘I’m going to get my sword back now, and if that big mouser is sitting on it, I’m going to use this stone to-’

‘All right, so you’re a big man,’ Sophie said. ‘Let’s go.’

The day after briefing Hunter and his team, the General moved along the corridors of Brasenose with a renewed vigour. Ever since the Fall, it had all been about logistics — getting the supply lines in place, ensuring that the base was secure, developing policies and plans. Finally he felt as if they were in a position to take the first steps towards a campaign that would drive out the invaders.

He marched into Kirkham’s suite of laboratories and eventually found the scientist in a darkened room far away from the main area of activity, labouring over a model of a town laid out across a large map table, illuminated by a single light overhead.

‘So this is where you get away from it all to play with your toys,’ the General said sarcastically.

Kirkham was unruffled. ‘It’s a model.’

‘I can see that.’

‘A model of reality.’

The General masked his puzzlement in case it was construed as a mark of weakness and leaned over the table to get a better look. It was a facsimile of any small town — central shopping area, streets of suburban semis, rows of terraces, a few mansions and grand residences dotted here and there.

‘I created it for my next briefing to the Joint Board. The concepts are quite difficult to communicate to…’ He paused to find the right word.

‘The uneducated? Thick soldiers?’

‘No-’

‘Try it on me.’

Kirkham blinked through his thick glasses, clearly uneasy about going down that route.

‘Go on. Tell me about reality.’

Kirkham could see that the General had the bit between his teeth; there was no backing down. He began hesitantly. ‘As I said, these are difficult concepts. Understanding the nature of reality is key to the situation we now find ourselves in. I talked earlier about branes and String Theory, and their possible relationship with parallel universes — that’s one view. There are others. You’ll forgive me if I begin by delving into what seems to be mysticism-’

‘Just get on with it.’ The General continued to be engrossed by the model town.

‘Reality… material reality, such as you see around you, is regarded as an illusion in the Hindu religion,’ Kirkham began. ‘They have a word for it: maya, the veil of illusion. Ironically, many of the ancient spiritual philosophies are actually quite close to current scientific thinking.’ He peered at the General. ‘Do you understand that?’

‘Of course,’ the General said curtly. ‘“ All that we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream.” Go on.’

Kirkham relaxed a little. ‘Then let’s take things a step further. A hypothesis. What we perceive as reality is, in scientific terms, a network of quantum waves which have become phase-locked and act as a single entity — in the same way that a group of photons become phase-locked in a laser.’

‘Yes — random light particles frozen so that they appear to be one object. You’re saying that everything we see around us is not in its natural state. It’s just become locked in this form and we accept that as the norm. But it’s not.’

‘Exactly.’ Kirkham couldn’t contain his excitement at the General’s receptiveness. ‘Now imagine if this phase-locked system could be affected as a whole by a human mind concentrating on one small part of it, in the same way that all systems are affected by a change of one tiny aspect. That could be perceived as magic by those who do not understand the system that lies behind the illusion.’

‘So you’re saying that one mind could therefore alter the whole reality?’

‘In this hypothesis.’

The General picked up one of the houses from a suburb. ‘So where does the town fit in?’

Kirkham took the house from him and carefully replaced it. ‘All that I’ve said so far is background. This is a model of our phase-locked reality. Consider that every house is a universe, or a dimension. Some are mundane, others… ornate. In some, little happens that we would consider unusual — the father comes home from his day at the factory, his dinner is on the table. In others, the family has access to technology the previous father cannot begin to comprehend from his limited life experience. We know from our intelligence there are at least two adjoining dimensions-’

‘This one and the Otherworld.’ The General began to see the model in a new light as the ramifications of Kirkham’s hypothesis began to reveal themselves to him.

‘The place the Celts called T’ir n’a n’Og, exactly,’ Kirkham continued. ‘The two are apparently very different places. But consider this: what if there are other dimensions just like our own, so alike that you can barely tell the difference.’ He tapped a row of terraced houses. ‘The only differentiating factors being a picture here, an ornament there. You could go from one to another and not realise you were in a different place.’

‘Perhaps that’s what happens when you die.’

‘I think that would be delving too far into the realms of mysticism.’ Kirkham wandered around the table, looking at the town from different angles. ‘But who knows? Really, when you get to this level, who knows anything? We have our hypotheses, but no way to test them.’

The General examined some of the imposing mansions on the edge of town, one of which had the creepy appeal of the Addams Family home. Then he looked towards the edge of the table and the gloom that lay beyond, and shivered.

Kirkham, however, wasn’t finished. ‘What if someone decided to knock down his house and rebuild it in a different way, or add an extension, as we discussed earlier-’

‘One mind concentrating on a part of the phase-locked system, thereby altering the whole of it?’

Kirkham nodded encouragingly.

‘You know, sometimes I get the strangest feeling that the world wasn’t meant to be the way it is,’ the General mused. ‘It’s odd… unnerving. I have this idea that I was living another life, and then everything changed. Do you ever get that?’

Kirkham didn’t answer.

The General’s initial curiosity had been replaced by uneasiness at the overwhelming enormity of what was being shown to him. ‘This wasn’t the reason why I came,’ he said, abruptly changing the subject. ‘Have you heard anything about one of the enemy being brought in for interrogation?’

‘One of the gods?’

The General nodded. ‘Because if it’s true, I want you involved. If you can discover their true nature, it would help us a great deal. A great deal.’

‘I’ve not heard anything,’ Kirkham said.

‘Mister Reid isn’t always forthcoming until he’s sure he’s covered his back, front and both sides. Curse of the intelligence profession. Shits, all of them.’

‘I’ll make some enquiries.’ Kirkham pressed his glasses against the bridge of his nose, a nervous reaction.

The General turned towards the door, adding almost as an afterthought, ‘If you find anything out, report directly to me. I want this matter and my request kept strictly confidential.’

‘Understood. It won’t go any further.’

‘One last question.’ The General paused on the threshold and looked back at the tiny town. ‘You talk about reality being phase-locked. Is that a random occurrence? Or was it made that way?’

Kirkham stared at the General for a long moment, then said simply, ‘I can’t answer that.’

The General nodded thoughtfully, but as he slipped out, Kirkham glimpsed an unsettled look in the military man’s eyes.