Eoin Colfer - Artemis Fowl - the time paradox

Holly pointed to the sheen covering Angeline’s face. ‘See the gel, Foaly, from the pores. And the smell of lilies too; there can’t be any doubt.’

‘It’s impossible,’ muttered the centaur. ‘We eradicated this years ago.’

Artemis was growing weary of these vague references.

‘What is impossible? Eradicated what?’

‘No diagnosis just yet, Artemis; it would be premature. Holly, I need to run a scan.’

Holly positioned the palm of her hand over Angeline Fowl’s forehead and the omni-sensor in her glove bathed Artemis’s mother in a matrix of lasers.

Foaly’s finger swished like a metronome as the information was fed to his system. It was an unconscious movement that seemed too jolly for the situation.

‘OK,’ he said, after half a minute. ‘I have what I need.’

Holly closed her fist on the sensor, then stood with Artemis, clasping his hand in hers, silently awaiting the results. It did not take long, especially when Foaly had a good idea of his search parameters.

His face was grim as he read the results. ‘The computer has analysed the gel. I am afraid it’s Spelltropy.’

Artemis noticed Holly’s grip tightening. Whatever this Spelltropy was, it was bad.

He broke free from Holly, striding to the wall-mounted television. ‘I need an explanation, Foaly. Now, please.’

Foaly sighed, then nodded. ‘Very well, Artemis. Spelltropy was a plague among the fairy People. Once contracted, it was invariably fatal, and progressed to terminal stages in three months. From that point the patient has less than a week. This disease has everything. Neurotoxins, cell destruction, resistance to all conventional therapies, incredibly aggressive. It’s amazing, really.’

Artemis’s teeth were clenched. ‘That’s fabulous, Foaly. At last, something even you can admire.’

Foaly wiped a bead of sweat from his nose, pausing before he spoke. ‘There is no cure, Artemis. Not any more. I’m afraid your mother is dying. Judging by the concentration in the gel, I would say she has twenty-four hours, thirty-six if she fights. If it’s any consolation, she won’t suffer at the end.’

Holly crossed the room, reaching up to grasp Artemis’s shoulder, noticing how tall her human friend was becoming.

‘Artemis, there are things we can do to make her comfortable.’

Artemis shrugged her off, almost violently. ‘No. I can achieve wonders. I have talents. Information is my weapon.’ He returned his attention to the screen. ‘Foaly, forgive my outburst. I am myself now. You said that this Spelltropy was a plague; where did it begin?’

‘Magic,’ said Foaly simply, then elaborated: ‘Magic is fuelled by the Earth and when the Earth could no longer absorb the sheer bulk of pollutants the magic became tainted also. Spelltropy first appeared about twenty years ago in Linfen, China.’

Artemis nodded. It made sense. Linfen was infamous for its high pollution levels. As the centre of China’s coal industry, the city’s air was laden with fly ash, carbon monoxide, nitrogen oxides, volatile organic compounds, arsenic and lead. There was a joke among Chinese employers: if you hold a grudge against an employee, send him to work in Linfen.

‘It is passed on through magic, and thus is completely impervious to magic. In ten years, it had almost decimated the fairy population. We lost twenty-five per cent of our numbers. Atlantis was worst hit.’

‘But you stopped it,’ Artemis insisted. ‘You must have found a cure.’

‘Not me,’ said Foaly. ‘Our old friend Opal Koboi found the antidote. It took her ten years, then she tried to charge through the nose for it. We had to get a court order to confiscate the supply of antidote.’

Artemis was growing impatient. ‘I don’t care about the politics, Foaly. I want to know what the cure was, and why we can’t administer it to my mother.’

‘It’s a long story.’

‘Abbreviate,’ snapped Artemis.

Foaly’s eyes dipped, unable to meet Artemis’s. ‘The cure occurred naturally. Many creatures contain an important pharmacopoeia and act as natural magic enhancers, but because of human activities more than twenty thousand of these potentially life-saving species become extinct every year. Opal developed a simple syringe gun to extract the cure for Spelltropy without killing the donor animal.’

Artemis suddenly realized why Foaly couldn’t look him in the eye. He cradled his head in his hands.

‘Oh no. Don’t say it.’

‘Opal Koboi found the antidote in the brain fluid of the silky sifaka lemur of Madagascar.’

‘I always knew,’ moaned Artemis, ‘that this would come back.’

‘Unfortunately the silky sifaka is now extinct. The last one died almost eight years ago.’

Artemis’s eyes were haunted by guilt.

‘I know,’ he whispered. ‘I killed it.’

TEN-year-old Artemis Fowl closed the file he was working on, put his monitor to sleep, then rose from his study desk. His father would arrive in a moment for their meeting. Artemis Senior had confirmed the appointment that morning by internal mail and he was never late. His time was precious, and he expected his son to be ready for their morning talk. Artemis’s father arrived promptly at ten, leather greatcoat swishing around his knees.

‘Minus fifteen in Murmansk,’ he explained, formally shaking his son’s hand.

Artemis was standing on a specific flagstone before the fireplace. He was not actually required to stand in this spot, but he knew his father would sit in the Louis XV chair by the hearth and Artemis Senior did not like to crane his neck as he spoke.

His father lowered himself into the period chair and Artemis enjoyed a quiet moment of satisfaction.

‘The ship is ready, I take it?’

‘Ready to sail,’ said his father, excitement flashing in his blue eyes. ‘This is a new market, Arty, my boy. Moscow is already one of the most commercial cities in the world. Northern Russia will inevitably follow.’

‘I gather Mother is not very pleased with your latest venture.’

Recently, Artemis’s parents had been arguing late into the night. The conflict in their otherwise happy marriage was over Artemis Senior’s business interests. He controlled a criminal empire that had tentacles from the silver mines of Alaska to the shipyards of New Zealand. Angeline was a dedicated conservationist and humanitarian, and believed that Artemis Senior’s criminal activities and ruthless exploitation of natural resources set a terrible example to their son.

‘He will grow up just like his father,’ Artemis had heard her say one evening, through a little radio bug he’d planted in the aquarium.

‘I thought you loved his father.’

Artemis heard a rustling of material as his parents embraced. ‘I do. I love you more than life. But I love this planet too.’

‘My love,’ said Artemis Senior, so gently that it was difficult for the bug to pick up his voice, ‘the Fowl finances are in a delicate state right now. What capital we have is locked up in illegal ventures. I need one big deal so that I can begin the transition to completely legitimate businesses. Once we have some blue-chip stock under our belts, then we can save the world.’

Artemis heard his mother kiss his father. ‘Very well, my pirate prince. One big deal, then we save the world.’

One big deal. A shipload of tax-free cola for the Russians. But more importantly a pipeline of trade into the Arctic. Artemis suspected that his father would find it hard to abandon this pipeline after a single deal. There were billions to be made.