Double Dose, page 11
“Nothing. Just asking, is all.”
“You wanna piece of me, I’m here any time you wanna have a go. Otherwise, get back in your candy-ass truck and get outa here. And tell that little faggot I don’t appreciate him talkin’ about me. He’ll pay for that.”
Jeffrey kept backing up. “Hey, he didn’t say any—”
“Get the fuck outa my sight before I mess you up good.”
With Karma screaming inside to be let loose, Jeffrey forced himself to walk to his pickup.
I ain’t that guy no more. I ain’t Karma. I’m somebody else. I’m Jeffrey, and I’m gonna stay Jeffrey.
He started his truck and drove off.
Hey, I did it.
The goddess would be proud of him.
30
When Note Man showed up at eleven sharp, dressed in his usual hoodie and jeans, Daley was ready and waiting in her jeans, knock-off Lakers jacket, and walking shoes.
“Before we go,” he said as she opened her door. His voice was even stronger than last night. “I want to show you something.”
With that he rolled up his sleeve to reveal large patches of normal skin spreading into the barklike areas.
“Excellent!” she said. “Does it feel any different?”
“It feels wonderful—much more flexible.”
Ya done good, Pard.
(“So it would appear,”) he said from where he leaned against the sink counter. (“But the grammar of your encomium is giving me a rash.”)
You don’t have skin.
(“A virtual rash—like hives.”)
Note Man stepped back onto the landing. “All right. Ready for some wonders?”
“Absolutely.”
He led her down and behind the row of buildings instead of on the street—no surprise that he was keeping off the main drag. They passed behind the laundromat and the Thirsty Cactus, among others, and into the desert east of town. They hurried across the road and continued north toward the windfarm. The moon was waning but still bright enough to light up the whirling blades which, even at this distance, were making quite a racket.
“Is that where we’re going?” she said, catching up and walking by his side.
“It is.”
“I’m sure we can’t just stroll in, can we?”
“No. But they have minimal security at night: Someone drives a circuit of the property about once an hour and stays holed up in a shack by the gate the rest of the time.”
“How do we get past the gate then?”
“We don’t. I have my own private entrance.”
As they neared the windfarm, the sound of the turbines grew louder and louder.
“Is it always this loud?” she said, leaning in close so she wouldn’t have to shout.
He nodded. “Conversation is going to be difficult when we get in there.”
He led her to one of the ten-foot posts that supported the chain-link fencing and began twisting at wires on the post.
God, it was loud. She’d need earplugs if she worked here.
(“I hope this isn’t one of his ‘wonders.’”)
Be patient.
After a moment, a section of the fencing peeled back as Note Man held it open for her.
“After you.”
“Is it safe?”
“Very. I come here often.”
“Why?”
“I find it…interesting. You will too. I guarantee it.”
As Daley ducked through, she had to admit she was beginning to share some of Pard’s skepticism about the “wonders” waiting. Note Man followed her through and she stood by as he refastened the flap to the pole.
He pointed to one of the turbines near the center of the farm and raised his voice as he leaned close. “See the one that’s a little taller than the rest?”
She nodded. They were all about twenty stories high but this one poked another dozen feet or so above its neighbors. “What about it?”
“That’s our destination.”
She let him lead the way through the forest of white towers to the tallest at the center. It differed from the others in that it had a small windowless, flat-roofed structure built around its base.
Note Man cupped his hands around her ear and said, “Before we go in, I want to ask you to notice something.”
“What?”
He pointed up. “See how the blades are all turning at the same speed?”
She looked around, then nodded.
She asked Pard, Isn’t that expected?
(“I would think so, but my wind turbine knowledge base is limited. Had I known this was our destination, I could have boned up.”)
“Do you feel any wind?” Note Man said.
She didn’t—nothing obvious, anyway. She wet her finger and held it up as she’d seen people do in the movies: still no wind.
“No,” she said, almost shouting. “Not even a breeze.”
“Don’t you find that strange?”
“Very.”
(“I can explain some of that. Wind shear from the ground slows air velocity at lower altitudes but not at higher.”)
I’ll ask him.
She said, “What about—?”
“We’ll talk inside.” He indicated the padlocked door to the base building. “Quieter.”
He pulled out a key and inserted it into the lock, then removed a small hammer from his pocket and tapped the key’s bow. A quick twist and the shackle popped free. He traded the hammer for a flashlight and stepped inside. Daley followed. After closing the door behind her, he flipped a light switch to reveal a rectangular room running thirty feet or so wide and about half that deep under a ten-foot ceiling. A ladder was set into the far wall next to another door. The rungs ran up into the tower.
“Ohhh,” Daley said with relief. The door cut the turbine noise by about half. “I can hear myself think. How do people stand it?”
Note Man shrugged. “They say your brain edits out noise you hear all the time.”
Daley couldn’t imagine her brain editing out that racket.
“Say,” she said, “you’re pretty handy with a bump key.”
Note Man gave her an appraising look. “You’re familiar with bump keys?”
Uh-oh. A bump key was a lock-picking device used by locksmiths and criminals…she’d used her share of them in the family that raised her for the first thirteen years of her life.
Me and my big mouth.
(“I won’t disagree. Time for a little fabrication. I suggest—”)
“My uncle was a locksmith.”
Note Man shrugged. “Oh, well, that explains it.”
(“My, you’re fast with the fiction.”)
Practice, practice, practice.
“But about the wind?” she said to get off the subject of bump keys. “Aren’t wind speeds higher the farther up you go?”
“True, but this is not a particularly windy area of the desert like the San Gorgonio Pass or Ocotillo.” He pointed to the ladder. “You can climb to the top if you like and check it from up there—or…”
“Or what?”
“Or you can take the word of someone who’s been up there many times and has often found no wind, and rarely ever enough wind to turn those huge blades at anywhere near that rate.”
She’d already climbed to the top of the Pendry clan’s Tesla tower—almost the same height as this—but that had been in daylight. Climbing up there in the dark…no thanks.
“I’d rather take your word for it, but…I mean…no wind and yet…”
“Eppur, si muove,” he muttered.
“Sorry?”
(“He just quoted Galileo—in Italian: ‘Nevertheless, it moves.’ Oh, I like this guy.”)
Note Man said, “It’s almost impossible to believe, isn’t it?”
“Exactly. But I mean, if wind isn’t moving those blades, what is?”
(“Ditto!”)
“Yes…what is?”
“Is that the wonder you promised to show me?”
“One of them.” He pointed to the door in the opposite wall. “The other is through there.”
Unlike the outer door, this one tapered to a point on top and wasn’t locked.
Daley frowned. “What’s in there?”
The building had looked about thirty by thirty from the outside, almost the same as this empty room. Where could the door go? A storage area?
“Something interesting,” Note Man said. “Try it.”
Daley opened the door and found herself in a small vestibule facing another pointed door. With his flashlight on, Note Man stepped in and closed the door behind them.
“Now, open that one,” he said.
She grabbed the handle, pushed…and gasped.
“Holy—! What the—?”
A vast, well-lit, warehouselike space stretched away before her. Strips of some sort of glowing material ran along a ceiling at least thirty feet above, illuminating a wide floor lined with boxcar-size blocks of putty-colored…what?
Daley squeezed her eyes closed for a few heartbeats, then opened them for another look. Nothing had changed.
“Wait-wait-wait! This is impossible.” She looked at Note Man. “Isn’t it?”
“It’s not an illusion. I’ve been in there, I’ve walked through it. It’s quite real.”
“But-but-but…” She jabbed a finger at Note Man. “Wait right here. Do. Not. Move.”
She went back through the first pointed door, backtracked across the room, and exited by the outer door. Assaulted again by that godawful noise, she trotted around the side of the base to the rear. The side wall ran thirty feet at most, and the rear was the same across. Thirty feet. No more.
Pard—what’s going on? Where’s that huge building?
(“I…I don’t know.”) Pard sounded uncertain. He hardly ever sounded uncertain. (“Truly, I don’t.”)
It’s the size of a football field!
(“Multiple football fields.”)
How can it be there and-and-and not there at the same time?
(“I wish I knew.”)
You’re not helping matters. You’re supposed to know everything.
(“That’s an unrealistic expectation on face of it. No one can—”)
Yeah-yeah, I know. But what’s going on here, Pard? I mean, what the fuck is going on?
She hurried back inside and rushed straight for the pointed door, through the vestibule to the third door…
No change: the giant space still loomed before her.
“How did you ever find this place?” she said to Note Man.
He shrugged. “I have no life. I’ve never had a life. So I spend my nights wandering. Every barrier, every locked door is a challenge to overcome. I stumbled on this a few years ago.”
“Years? You’ve got to explain this to me. How can the inside of this place be bigger than the outside?”
“I wish I knew. It’s one of the wonders I promised.”
She turned on him. “You have more?”
“No. Isn’t this enough?”
“Yeah. Totally.”
She gestured into the space at the boxcar blocks. “What is this place? How did it get here and what are those things?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I have an idea.”
“I’m listening.”
“Come in and I’ll show you.”
He stepped into the space but Daley didn’t follow…couldn’t bring herself to pass that threshold.
“It’s all right,” Note Man said. “Nothing to fear.”
“Nothing to fear? That place isn’t really there. I know because I went outside and double-checked.”
“You’re right about it not being really here—there’s some strange space-folding quirkiness involved here—but it’s quite real.”
(“‘Strange space-folding quirkiness’? Meaningless blather! This is all impossible!”)
In case you haven’t noticed, he’s standing in the impossible.
(“I am well aware of that.”)
Note Man waved her forward. “Come on. I’ve been in here many times.”
Should I?
(“Well…he seems unharmed so…I guess so.”)
Taking a breath, Daley stepped across into the space. The temperature suddenly jumped a good ten degrees.
“Warmer in here,” she said.
The extra brightness of the space reached inside Note Man’s hoodie and faintly illuminated his face, enough to allow her a vague sense of his features. He had what would have passed for an ordinary face except for the tree-bark texture layering it. She could make out patches of normal skin on his cheeks and forehead though.
He stepped over to one of the big blocks and pressed a hand against its side. “Because of these.”
As Daley approached she heard a low-pitched hum. When she touched the block’s surface she found it smooth and warm and…
“Ooh, it gives off a faint tingle.”
“I think they’re some sort of batteries.”
“Batteries? Where’d you get that idea?”
“Consider: The windfarm is run by the Tadak family and the Tadaks have made their fortune in the battery field—energy storage. These things are connected to an electricity-generating facility. So is it so off the wall to assume that these are batteries to store the output of all those windmills?”
“Big as boxcars?”
“Why not?”
(“It’s a good train of logic.”)
“But wait—you said there’s not enough wind to turn those turbines.”
“Right. Not enough wind here in Nespodee Springs—but there could be enough elsewhere.”
Daley shook her head, baffled. “Okay, you’ve lost me.”
Note Man waved his arms. “Look around you. This place isn’t in Nespodee Springs. You checked yourself and saw that. It’s Somewhere Else. What if those turbines are being turned by a wind from Somewhere Else?”
Daley squinted at him. “Are you high? Because that sounds like stoner talk.”
“Weed?” he said with a laugh. “I used to indulge when I was younger—it helped stave off depression—but I gave it up long ago. No, as I told you, I’ve known about this place for years. I know every inch of it and it offers no clue as to where in time and space Somewhere Else might be. No windows and no other door besides the one we came through.”
“So the only way to find out where this place is would be to break a hole through the wall.”
“No way I’d do that, even if it were possible. I might not like what I’d find. But I did discover something about the turbine blades.”
(“This I want to hear.”)
“They’re coated with a clear substance that feels sticky except nothing sticks to it. A while ago I scraped some off and sent it out for analysis to two separate labs. Neither one could identify it. So, I don’t know what it is, but I think I know what it does.”
“Let me guess,” Daley said. “Your wind from Somewhere Else…the coating makes the blades sensitive to the wind from Somewhere Else.”
(“You’re as loony as he is!”)
“Exactly! We can’t feel the wind, but the coated blades can, and they turn in response.”
(“Madness!”)
Why not? Look where we are, Pard. We’re in an impossible place. If Note Man had told us about this instead of showing us, you’d have called him “nuts,” right?
After a pause came a grudging (“Well, yes.”)
So, is a place that exists Somewhere Else any crazier than a wind from Somewhere Else?
Even though he didn’t breathe, Pard made a sighing sound in her head and said, (“No, I suppose not.”)
Daley turned to Note Man. “Okay, but if these are batteries and all those turbines are feeding them, what’s all this energy being stored for?”
“The million-dollar—or should I say, billion dollar question.”
“No, really…who needs all this energy? I mean, look at the size of these things.”
“Ten feet high, ten feet wide, and forty feet long—all guestimates since I simply paced them off, but close enough.”
“Like a regular mobile home. And there’s gotta be hundreds of them.”
“Five hundred and forty-one, to be exact.”
It took a few seconds for the enormity of that number and the scale of the place needed to house them to sink in, then Daley had to laugh. “You counted them? You’re sure there’s not five hundred forty-two?”
“Positive. I kept thinking that’s such a random-sounding number, I must have miscounted, so I counted again and it came out the same.”
(“It’s a prime number, but I can’t imagine the significance of that.”)
“Okay, okay,” Daley said, “we’ve got a lot of boxcar-size blocks here that we’re calling batteries, and we’ve got wind turbines that turn without wind, but the real mind-blowing aspect of all this is Jason Tadhak and his family. This is their place. Who are they and where’d they get this technology?”
“The Tadhaks are what you’d call an enigma,” Note Man said.
“Jason seems like such a regular guy—a nice, regular guy. And yet…” She spread her arms. “Why aren’t they sharing this with the world?”
“Jason is the face of the Tadhak family, the only one we ever see up close. The rest…have you seen their compound?”
“Just the weird wall around it. Rhys Pendry showed me.”
“They travel back and forth to the windfarm—”
“In that creepy white bus with the no-see windows.”
“That’s the one. But other than that, except for Jason, they’re never outside their compound. Has a Tadak—besides Jason, of course—ever come into your shop?”
“Never.”
“Right. No one’s ever seen a Tadhak at the Thirsty Cactus or the Coyote either. Total recluses.”
“Which is fine,” Daley said. She took a live-and-let-live approach to life. “Whatever floats your boat. Although they must be a really close-knit family to stay cooped up together all the time. But this technology they got…wouldn’t you think they’d want to, you know, license it? I can’t imagine what it’s worth.”
Note Man shook his head. “I think they’ve got all the money they need. Maybe there’s a downside that makes it not commercially feasible. I’m neither a scientist nor a businessman, so I can’t figure it.”
