Read Online Montezuma Strip by Alan Dean Foster - Free Book Online
Authors: Alan Dean Foster
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frozen or if they have some flexibility.
If they’re anything more than just a twitch in spacetime, Hypatia, they’ve found immortality. Even if the power to the box
fails the resonance should remain. It may be restricted in range but it’s independent of outside energy. The resonance maintains
itself. Don’t get me started on thermodynamics. The whole thing’s cockeyed. But it’s not new. People have been discussing
it for decades.”
“Easier when they’re talking about rats,” she murmured. “You say they’re restricted by the confines of the box. Can they move
around inside it?”
“You’ve got the questions, I haven’t got the answers. We’re dealing with something halfway between physics and metaphysics.
I don’t know if I should consult a cyberneticist or a medium.” He indicated the tunnel on the screen. “Maybe when we get to
the end of that we’ll find something besides a dead end.”
She joined him in monitoring their progress. The tunnel seemed endless. By now it should have pushed beyond the confines of
the GenDyne box, yet it showed no signs of weakening.
“They took a terrible chance. They worked awfully hard to hide themselves.”
Cardenas stroked Charliebo. “Maybe all to no end. The theories I’ve enumerated might be just that. It’s more than likely they’re
as dead as their physicalities.”
“Yeah. But if there’s anything to it—if there’s anything
in there
—they might not like being disturbed. Remember the psychomorph.”
“I’m pretty sure I can handle the screen if it goes tactile again, now that I’ve got an idea what to expect. I can always
cut the power.”
“Can you? You said this resonance, if it exists, would remain whether the power was on or not.”
“Their resonance, yes, but cutting the power would deprive them of access to the system—assuming they’re able to interfacewith it at all. They could have inserted traps like the psychomorph before they vacuumed themselves.”
“And you think you can access this resonance?”
“If it exists, and only if it’s somehow interfaced with the GenDyne box.”
Three hours later the rising sun found them no nearer the end of the tunnel than when they’d begun. Thirty years earlier Cardenas
could have hung on throughout the day. Not anymore. There were times when mandatory retirement no longer seemed a destination
to be avoided. This was one of them.
He let Hypatia drive him back to her place and put him to bed. He fell asleep fast but he didn’t sleep well.
A psychomorph was chasing him; a gruesome, gory nightmare dredged up from the depths of someone else’s disturbed subconscious.
Frantically he tried to find the kill strip to shut down the power, but someone had removed them all from the control panel
in front of him. And there were screens all around him now, and on the ceiling, and beneath his feet, each one belching forth
a new and more horrible monstrosity. He curled into a fetal ball, whimpering as they touched him with their filthy tendrils,
hunting for his psychic core so they could enter and drive him insane. One used a keyword to open the top of his skull like
a can opener.
He sat up in bed, sweating. Beneath his buttocks the sheet was soaked. A glance at the holo numerals that clung like red spiders
to the wall behind the bed showed 0934. But it was still dark outside. Then he noticed the tiny P.M. to the right of the last
numeral. He’d slept the whole day. His mouth confirmed it, his tongue conveying the taste of old leather.
“Hypatia?” Naked, he slid slowly off the hybred and stumbled toward the bathroom, running both hands through his hair. Water
on his face helped. More down his throat helped to jump-start the rest of his body. He used one of her lilac towels to dry
himself, turned back to the bedroom.
“Hypatia? Charliebo?”
She wasn’t in the kitchen, nor the greeting room. Neither was the shepherd. Both gone out. Maybe
If they’re anything more than just a twitch in spacetime, Hypatia, they’ve found immortality. Even if the power to the box
fails the resonance should remain. It may be restricted in range but it’s independent of outside energy. The resonance maintains
itself. Don’t get me started on thermodynamics. The whole thing’s cockeyed. But it’s not new. People have been discussing
it for decades.”
“Easier when they’re talking about rats,” she murmured. “You say they’re restricted by the confines of the box. Can they move
around inside it?”
“You’ve got the questions, I haven’t got the answers. We’re dealing with something halfway between physics and metaphysics.
I don’t know if I should consult a cyberneticist or a medium.” He indicated the tunnel on the screen. “Maybe when we get to
the end of that we’ll find something besides a dead end.”
She joined him in monitoring their progress. The tunnel seemed endless. By now it should have pushed beyond the confines of
the GenDyne box, yet it showed no signs of weakening.
“They took a terrible chance. They worked awfully hard to hide themselves.”
Cardenas stroked Charliebo. “Maybe all to no end. The theories I’ve enumerated might be just that. It’s more than likely they’re
as dead as their physicalities.”
“Yeah. But if there’s anything to it—if there’s anything
in there
—they might not like being disturbed. Remember the psychomorph.”
“I’m pretty sure I can handle the screen if it goes tactile again, now that I’ve got an idea what to expect. I can always
cut the power.”
“Can you? You said this resonance, if it exists, would remain whether the power was on or not.”
“Their resonance, yes, but cutting the power would deprive them of access to the system—assuming they’re able to interfacewith it at all. They could have inserted traps like the psychomorph before they vacuumed themselves.”
“And you think you can access this resonance?”
“If it exists, and only if it’s somehow interfaced with the GenDyne box.”
Three hours later the rising sun found them no nearer the end of the tunnel than when they’d begun. Thirty years earlier Cardenas
could have hung on throughout the day. Not anymore. There were times when mandatory retirement no longer seemed a destination
to be avoided. This was one of them.
He let Hypatia drive him back to her place and put him to bed. He fell asleep fast but he didn’t sleep well.
A psychomorph was chasing him; a gruesome, gory nightmare dredged up from the depths of someone else’s disturbed subconscious.
Frantically he tried to find the kill strip to shut down the power, but someone had removed them all from the control panel
in front of him. And there were screens all around him now, and on the ceiling, and beneath his feet, each one belching forth
a new and more horrible monstrosity. He curled into a fetal ball, whimpering as they touched him with their filthy tendrils,
hunting for his psychic core so they could enter and drive him insane. One used a keyword to open the top of his skull like
a can opener.
He sat up in bed, sweating. Beneath his buttocks the sheet was soaked. A glance at the holo numerals that clung like red spiders
to the wall behind the bed showed 0934. But it was still dark outside. Then he noticed the tiny P.M. to the right of the last
numeral. He’d slept the whole day. His mouth confirmed it, his tongue conveying the taste of old leather.
“Hypatia?” Naked, he slid slowly off the hybred and stumbled toward the bathroom, running both hands through his hair. Water
on his face helped. More down his throat helped to jump-start the rest of his body. He used one of her lilac towels to dry
himself, turned back to the bedroom.
“Hypatia? Charliebo?”
She wasn’t in the kitchen, nor the greeting room. Neither was the shepherd. Both gone out. Maybe
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