Piers Anthony - Juxtaposition

“The frames are separating,” Stile said. “Ah, yes. When they do, the human alternative selves will be carried away, becoming complete in themselves, clones of their counterparts, and parallelism will no longer exist.”

“Now that’s another thing,” Stile said. “I can see how the presence of people in one frame could generate similar people in the other frame, split by the curtain. With science overlapping magic, that sort of thing can happen. But after the initial ripple, why should it continue? I did not exist three hundred years ago; why should there have been two of me?”

“Again, the Little Folk aren’t certain. It seems that when the experts made the computer and book of magic—two aspects of the same thing—they were able to juxtapose the frames. Science and magic operated in each, for the two were the same. Then the frames separated slightly, and each person and creature separated too. This was an unexpected occurrence; before that, there had been only one of each. It was as if the fantasy frame, vacant of human life, picked up a duplicate copy of each person in the science frame. It did not work the other way, for no dragons or unicorns appeared in Proton, perhaps because it lacked a compatible environment. Already the mining of Protonite was commencing, with attendant use of heavy machinery, construction of processing plants, and pollution of the environment. The Citizen class put things on what they termed a businesslike footing at the outset, permitting no pollution controls. There is evidence that magical creatures are extremely sensitive to environmental degradation; only a few, like the trolls, can endure it for any length of time. The Citizens of Proton simply put up force-field domes and continued their course unabated, ignoring the outside planet. In this manner Proton lost whatever it might have had in nature, sacrificed by the illiterate pursuit of wealth. But despite this gross difference between the frames, parallelism persisted; people tended to align. In fact, parallelism is the major factor in the present crisis.”

“That’s what I really want to understand,” Stile said. “The frames may separate, but I don’t see why that should destroy them unless, like Siamese twins, they can’t exist apart.”

“They can exist apart. To make the problem clear, I have to clarify parallelism. It’s not just people; the entire landscape is similar. A change made in one frame and not in the other creates an imbalance and puts a strain on the entire framework. Dig a hole in the ground in Proton, and the stress won’t be alleviated until a similar hole is made in Phaze. Unfortunately there is no natural way to do that, so the stress continues to build. Eventually something will snap—and we are now very close to the snapping point.”

“Ah, I see. Like damming a stream—the water builds up behind and falls away on the other side, until it either spills over or breaks the dam. And we don’t want the dam to burst.”

“Indeed we don’t. So we have to find a way to alleviate the pressure. We don’t know what will happen if the frames equalize in their own fashion, but it would probably wipe out most of the inhabitants of both frames.”

“So we need to fill holes and drain waters,” Stile said. “Seems simple enough.”

“Not so. Not so at all. You reckon without the human dynamics. You see, the major imbalance, the largest hole in the ground, literally, is from the mining of Protonite. This is displacing huge quantities of material, creating a substantial physical imbalance, and worse yet—“

“Protonite,” Stile said. “In the other frame it’s Phazite —the source of the energy for magic.”

“Exactly. That makes the problem critical, and the solution almost prohibitively difficult. The Citizens are not about to stop mining Protonite voluntarily. Not until every last dreg of it is gone, like the original atmosphere. Protonite is the basis of their wealth and power. If it were only sand, we could arrange to transfer a few thousand tons from one frame to the other, relieving the unbalance. But as it is— “

“But if that much Protonite, ah, Phazite were transferred out, to restore the balance, what would happen to the magic?”

“It would be reduced to about half its present potency. The Oracle has calculated this carefully. The power of the Adepts, who are the main users, would diminish accordingly. They would not be able to dominate Phaze as they do now.”

“That might not be a bad thing,” Stile said. “And the Proton Citizens—“

“Their mining would have to be severely curtailed, per haps cease entirely. They would have no renewal of their present resources. The galaxy would have to discover new sources of energy.”

“But the galaxy depends on Protonite! Nothing matches it! There would be phenomenal repercussions!”

“Yes, that is why taking action is difficult. Civilization as we know it will have to change, and that will not occur easily. Yet the alternative, the Oracle says, may be the complete destruction of this planet—which would also cut off the galaxy’s supply of Protonite.”

“I begin to comprehend the forces operating,” Stile said. The end of Phaze and Proton is approaching, and we have to do something. But both Citizens and Adepts would oppose the cutoff of Protonite mining and the transfer of Phazite, because without free use of this mineral their status suffers greatly. That’s why the Adepts are after me now, and think that my elimination will alleviate their problem; they fear I can do something that will deplete them all—“

“You can.”

“And that’s why the self-willed machines knew I would have to become the wealthiest of Citizens. Wealth is power in Proton, and I need to be able to withstand the formidable opposition of the Citizens when this thing breaks.”

“Exactly. You need enough of a voting bloc to tip the balance in your favor.”

So many things were falling into place! “But why, then, did the computer try to destroy me? I don’t want to see either Proton or Phaze come to harm and I should certainly work to achieve the best compromise. Why did the Oracle sic the Red Adept on me?”

“Because only you—and I—can do the job that must be done. A .man who can cross the curtain freely, who is powerful in each frame, and who has the ability and conscience to carry through. A man who is essentially incorruptible without being stupid. The Blue Adept, your other self, was too limited; he could not cross the curtain, so he had no base in Proton, no experience with that society. He had lived all his life with magic; he depended on it. He would have been largely helpless in Proton during the crisis.”

“So the Orade killed him?” Stile demanded incredulously. “Just because he wasn’t perfect? Why didn’t the Oracle select someone else for the job?”

“The Oracle selected you. Stile. You had his excellent qualities, and you had lived a more challenging life; you were better equipped. But you could not enter Phaze. So the Blue Adept had to be eliminated—I do not speak of this with approval—in order to free you to cross the curtain. Had the decision gone the other way, you would have been the one killed, to free him to cross into Proton.”

“But the attempt was made on me tool” Stile protested, shaken by this cold calculation.

“It was blocked in Proton,” Clef said. “I knew nothing of this when I encountered you in the Tourney; believe me, I was appalled. But you were protected. The Oracle sent a second message—“

“The message!” Stile exclaimed. “I was trying to trace it! The Oracle—“ But this, too, was coming clear now. One message to start the murder process, the other to intercept and nullify part of it. Diabolically efficient!

“Now you have been prepared,” Clef continued. “The computer expects you to organize the juxtaposition and transfer.”