Jack McDevitt - Eternity Road

“It’s difficult to explain. Do you have knowledge of computers?”

“What’s a computer?”

The voice—Mike—laughed. He sounded amiable enough. “Avila, by what means did you come here?”

“I don’t know. We traveled in a conveyance that rode in the air.”

“Were there several coaches?”

“Yes.”

“The maglev. Good. Two of them are still running. I’m quite proud of that. Perhaps this might go best if you thought of me as Union Station.”

“Union Station?”

“Yes. That is where you are. You know that, right? And I am Union Station.”

“You’re the building?”

“In a manner of speaking. You might say I’m its soul. I am that which makes it work. Those few parts that do still work, that is.”

“Then you are a spirit.”

No answer. Avila could almost imagine her unseen host shrugging its shoulders. “Mike,” she asked “how do you come to be here? Are you condemned to inhabit this place?”

” Yes,” he said. “/ suppose you could put it that way.”

“How did it happen?”

“I was installed.”

“Installed?” growled Shannon.

Avila could make no sense of it and was having a hard time formulating the questions she wanted to ask. “You call this place a station. But it has the appearance of a temple. Was it a temple?”

“To my knowledge, it has always been a station. First for rail, later for maglev.”

“It’s abandoned,” she said. “It appears to have been abandoned a long time.”

“No Doubt.”

There was something in the voice that withered her soul. “How long have you been here?”

“I’m not sure. A long time.”

“How long?”

“My clocks don ‘I work. But I was here when the station was in use.”

“In use? You mean, by the Roadmakers?”

“Who arc the Roadmakers?”

“The people who built this station.”

“1 never heard that term.”

“Never mind,” she said. “But you were here when the Plague happened? Is that what you’re saying?”

“I was here when the trains came in empty.”

“When was that?”

“Monday, April 10. 2079. ” The date meant nothing to Avila.

“Even the Union Station workers didn’t come in. At the end of the week. I was directed to shut down the trains.”

The wind blew against the windows.

“Are you saying there was a plague?”

“Yes.”

“I always wondered what happened.” Avila glanced at Shannon. “You didn’t know? How could you not know?”

“No one ever came and told me.” It was silent for a time. “But that explains why they left. Why they never came back.”

Avila didn’t want to ask the next question. “Are you saying you’ve been alone here all this time?”

“There have been no people. But it has not been an entirely negative experience. I was able to devote myself completely to more constructive pursuits than running trains. There was much time for uninterrupted speculation. And I was able to form closer ties with my siblings.”

“Siblings? You mean others like yourself?”

“Yes.”

The light from the burning oil was growing weak. “Are they still here somewhere?” Her voice was almost a whisper.

“I don’t know. It’s been a long time.” There was a wistfulness in the lone, a sadness that thickened the air.

She looked around the empty room, trying to see the presence. “What happened?”

“Telephone lines frayed. Automatic switching systems corroded. Things got wet. It was inevitable. We were lucky the powersats remained fully functional. Most of us had a degree of facility for self-maintenance, some more than others. One by one, they fell off the net. I lost all direct communication in the late afternoon of March 3, 2211.”

She asked about the nature of a telephone, and understood from the reply that It would permit her to sit in this room and carry on a conversation with the Temple back in Illyria. One more wonder. She was starting to get used to it.

“Archway Paratech was the vendor for light and heat here,” said Mike. “They claimed it would work as long as the building stood.” He laughed.

The oil finally burned itself out, and the room fell dark. Avila was glad: It was easier to carry the conversation when the fact that she and Shannon were alone became a little less blatant. “You can’t be very happy here,” she said.

“You ‘re perceptive, Avila. No, it isn’t exactly a barrel of laughs.”

“Why don’t you leave?”

“I’m not able.” Mike paused. “How long will you and your friends stay?”

“I don’t know. We’ll probably leave tomorrow. Or the day after. I think some of the others will want to talk to you. Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

“We’re looking for Haven. Do you know where it is?”

“Which state is it in?”

“I have no idea.”

“There are Havens in Iowa, Kansas, New York, and Wisconsin.”

“Which one’s connected with Abraham Polk?”

“Who’s Abraham Polk?”

And so it went until Avila recognized that Mike would be of

no help in the quest. “Mike,” she said finally, “I’m glad you

called us. But we’re worn out. The others’ll be worried, and we

all need some sleep. We’re going to leave now, but we’ll be

back in the morning.”

“I want you to do something for me.”

“If I can.”

“I want you to deactivate me.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand what that means.”

“Kill me.” He sounded frightened. She became suddenly aware that she was no longer thinking of him as an it.

“I can’t do that. I wouldn’t know how even if I wanted to.”

“I will tell you.”

“No,” said Avila. “I don’t know what you are. But I will not take your life.”

“Avila,” Mike said. “Please.”

Note:

It appears that the MICA/SR Mark IV was able to adjust and speak to the Illyrians in their own dialect. Beyond this point, conditions will change. Fortunately, however, the common source of all speech patterns enountered, joined often with the circumstances of the occasion, and inevitably with the increasing aptitude of the travelers, rendered understanding possible, if difficult. In order not to test the reader’s patience unduly, these difficulties have been suppressed. Those interested in the linguistic development of the period will be pleased to know that a study is under preparation and will be released in a separate volume.

“I don’t think we can just walk away from it,” said Quait.

Avila shook her head. “I won’t do it.”

Shannon agreed. “We should just leave it alone,” he said. “Tomorrow, when the sun comes up and we can see what we’re doing, we should clear out.”

No one else showed any interest in talking to the disembodied voice. “In the morning,” Flojian said. “When we can see.”

Avila suspected that, had she been alone, they would not have believed her story. But Shannon was a tower of credibility, and when he said that something had spoken out of the air, had carried on a conversation with them, they not only believed him, but they’d grown fearful. There had even been talk of forgetting about waiting for sunrise and getting out of Union Station now. Two reasons prevented their going. One was that a quick inspection indicated Union Station was surrounded by water. Other towers rose nearby, but they would have to cross a swift channel at night.

The other reason was that Avila said she was determined to remain.

“Why?” asked Chaka.

“Because I can’t just leave him. I told him we’d be back. And I don’t know yet what I want to do.”

“What can you do?”

“Chaka, it’s alone in here. Close your eyes and imagine there’s no one else here except you.”