Human (6 page)

“I know,” Orrin said, frowning. “I just- I think something a little more sinister is affecting the magnetosphere. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but the patterns I’m detecting suggest it may have something to do with the elemental rock here on earth. I think, perhaps, that
we
are causing this phenomenon. And if we are, it’s not going to fix itself.”

“From what you’ve described to me, surely we’d have to do some serious damage to the earth’s natural magnetic field to impact the magnetosphere? How could we possibly manage something like that?”

“Look, like I said, I don’t want to be an alarmist. Even if I’m right, the repercussions for what I’m talking about might not show themselves for hundreds, hell, maybe even thousands of years. But still, it’s worth worrying about.”

“How can you know if you’re right about this?” asked Ivy.

“I guess that’s what I’m trying to figure out. I’ve just started a series of experiments to test my theory. I’m bombarding different rock elements with high voltage electricity and electromagnetic fields to create changes of state within their atomic structures. Basically what I’m getting are measurable shifts in magnetic pulse when they’re ionized. I’ve got a couple of PhD students analysing the data with me. The patterns are concerning to say the least. Certain fluctuations in their weakening magnetic fields are almost identical to those reported from the National Space Weather Program in the magnetosphere. I can’t prove anything yet. They’re just…
tendencies.
I could be over-reacting.” He offered a humble smile. Orrin was passionate about his work, no doubt about it, but Ivy didn’t think he seemed the type prone to over-dramatisation.

Ivy considered his timescale. Prehistory had taught her to consider life on a much larger scale than normal. In her eyes, even a few thousand years would pass in the blink of an eye. “So hypothetically, if we are creating this problem, in a few hundred years, or even a few thousand like you said- what could happen?”

“I don’t want to dwell on that. It’s too soon and like I said, this is still just a theory.”

Ivy rolled her eyes. “Of course, but
hypothetically
.”

He grimaced. “Okay, do you remember what I told you about the earth’s magnetosphere?” Orrin gestured to the pine needle on the grass, still twisted into a teardrop protecting its pebble earth. “If it’s weakened too much, high energy radiation from the sun breaks through to earth. The earth heats up. Our atmosphere breaks down.” He held her gaze intently. “So that’s it. Life is no longer sustainable on our planet.”

Ivy sucked in a breath.

“
Jesus
.”

“Yeah.”

Ivy shook her head in disbelief, letting out her breath slowly. She hadn’t even realised she’d been holding it. “That’s not a good prognosis. I sure as hell hope you’re wrong about this.”

“Believe me, so do I.”

A few minutes passed in silence as they both considered their conversation. All of a sudden, Ivy felt unnervingly vulnerable.
But I’m not alone,
she tried to convince herself. She watched Kyah picking at an orange on the grass.
I have Ky.
But in truth, Ivy had never felt lonelier. She looked up to find Orrin watching her. Embarrassed, Ivy restarted the conversation.

“So what was it that you wanted Kyah for anyway? In your lab I mean. Although the answer is still no, obviously.” This time Ivy’s smile was genuine.

Orrin’s mood seemed to lighten. “Obviously. Well, we're looking at this idea of recreating the ionisation patterns of elements under controlled conditions. Firstly, we generate different magnetic fields using high powered lasers, then use high voltage electricity to create measurable shifts in the magnetic pulse. We try to anticipate different conditions- changing the properties of the waves. It's often unstable though and unsafe- no, no, hang on!” He floundered at the appalled look on Ivy’s face. “The chimp would never have been subjected to that part of it!”

“Bonobo,” corrected Ivy.

“Right. Bonobo.” Orrin hurried to explain further. “Our data modelling is mostly theoretical- on computer. But we also take measurements and monitor the effects on different substances within the lab during and after the experiments; minerals, plants, animals- ourselves included- essentially trying to establish what sort of effect the magnetic fluctuations have on life forms. Nothing too sadistic- heart rate, growth patterns, blood pressure, that sort of thing.” He leant back on his hands, nodding toward Kyah. “That's what I meant, when I asked about Kyah. Nothing invasive at all. But I entirely understand your aversion to it.” He winked. “And I’m perfectly happy to keep using myself as the guinea pig.”

Ivy frowned at the term of reference. “How very
Pierre Curie
of you.”

Orrin laughed. “Yes, I suppose it is. The things we do to save the world, hey.”

At that, Ivy laughed out loud. Now that she’d witnessed Orrin’s boyish excitement about his research, Ivy regretting thinking the worst of him so quickly. And the accent was growing on her, to say the least.

She tried to push her scepticism away, but Ivy was tainted and she knew it. Loss coloured her memories just enough to keep the walls around her heart opaque. She’d learnt long ago, that clear glass could shatter.

Making gentle noises in her throat and eyeing Orrin warily, Kyah shuffled behind Ivy and sat down. She picked at her chest again, bored with the greenery. Kyah prodded Ivy in the back with a toe flicking her head reflectively to one side. Her twitch was almost imperceptibly quickening, but Ivy noticed. Its frequency was a signal that the bonobo had grown tired. It was almost dark now and the grounds were deserted. Ivy stood up smiling, a little less gracefully than she would have liked. She turned and took Kyah's hand, pulling her up too.

“I think I'd better take this one home,” she said, “or we’re going to get caught in that.” Ivy nodded to the ominous clouds pulling in above them. “Thanks for explaining your research to me. I didn't expect that sort of work was being done around here. I assumed it was all pretty boring in the physics labs; what goes up must come down, apples falling on heads, that sort of thing…” Ivy tried to tear her eyes from Orrin’s. She squeezed Kyah’s hand and shivered, despite the warm air. “It’s been… interesting.”

“So it has,” Orrin grinned. “In more ways than one.” His eyes danced over her, reflecting the lights that were flickering on throughout the gardens. “I appreciate you listening, Ivy. It’s not the sort of thing I usually discuss out of the lab.”

“Understandably.” Ivy made to turn away, but hesitated. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Why did you tell me this stuff? I mean, I’m glad you did, but why me?”

Orrin sat up straighter. He pushed his fingers under the bridge of his glasses, letting them fall askew momentarily. He ran his fingers through his hair, considering, then shrugged, laughing. “I honestly don’t know. But I’m glad I did too.” Orrin took a deep breath. “Could you swing by the lab sometime? I'd love to show you around. Bring Kyah too,” adding hastily, “Don't worry, I promise you can keep me on a leash.”

As Ivy walked away smiling, she could feel Orrin’s eyes following her. Which made her smile more.

Walking down a narrow street in the fast-fading light, Ivy quickened her pace. The air was getting colder and she longed for a hot bath. Jacarandas lined both sides of the small road, their arms reaching bare into the darkening sky. A few weeks ago, they were ablaze in a riot of lilac blue flowers marking the heat of summer. Now the flowers formed a dried and scattered carpet across the road and rooftops, so deep that the path was barely visible. Ivy turned into the small brick apartment block where she had lived for nearly six years. As usual, Tom Chapman, her landlord, was stopping here and there to rake the masses of autumn leaves into piles. His rake was as much a walking stick as it was a tool. He rubbed his brow, storing the rake neatly into his garden shed and picked up the small pile of daisies he had gathered and left near the shed door.
For Iris
, Ivy knew. Tom's late wife had loved the bright white flowers. Although she was no longer alive to receive them, habit ensured there was always a bunch in Tom's hand each afternoon.

“Hey Grandpa Tom,” Ivy said smiling, kissing him on the cheek as he turned to face her.

“Ivy, love.” Tom's kind, weathered face and bright blue eyes wrinkled with affection. “I was hoping I’d see you today.”

Although they were not biologically related, Tom had insisted Ivy call him Grandpa years ago and still beamed with satisfaction each time she did.

“I have something for you, my dear,” he said. “Just a little trinket.” Tom's eyes sparkled in the flickering porch light. He placed his handful of daisies on the low wall by the entrance. He fumbled in his pocket with knobbly fingers, searching for the object he had been so carefully carrying around all afternoon. He placed it into Ivy's outstretched palm and patted her hands closed gently between his own, with a slight tremor. “Here love, for you. And I must say, you get prettier every year.”

A wave of sadness swept through Ivy as his hands clasped her own.
He looks more tired today. He does too much.
Ivy had seen the effects of Parkinson's disease creep over him the last few years and it pained her to see him suffer. She tried to hide the recognition of it from her face.
I've neglected him lately.
The guilt fell heavy on her bones.

“Now don't you fret, dear one,” Tom said, his face crinkling into a smile. “I'm as fit as a fiddle.”

Ivy furrowed her brow, surprised by his admonition so close to her own thoughts. “Of course you are.”

He nodded, his tartan drivers cap shifting. “Well, that's that then, isn't it?” Tom's mouth twitched and his eyes dimmed momentarily. An aching loneliness suddenly overtook Ivy, and she felt frail and tired to her core, almost
ancient
. Tom’s eyes washed with confusion and looked down to their still-joined hands as the first of the raindrops began to fall.

Ivy followed his line of sight. She let his hands go gently and held the object he’d given her up to the light. It was a smooth, elongated black stone. It was shaped like an oddly flattened teardrop, about two inches long with a small hole drilled through the top end. The glossy surface had dulled in places with age and wear, but even in the dim light Ivy was touched by its strange elegance. Small initials of
I.C.
swept the rounded side in cursive lines. On the back, five circular indentations were scattered across the stone.

“It belonged to my dear Iris”, offered Tom. “Sean sent it over in a letter not long before he, well, you know.”

Ivy
did
know. She’d heard Tom’s stories many times. While serving in the Vietnam War, his son Sean had disappeared. Dishonourable discharge, the official letter had said, on account of desertion. Tom however, had refused to accept it, as did his late wife.

“Iris wore this necklet every day. She missed him so much, the poor love,” Tom continued, “forever hoping he'd come home one day, just walk in the door whistling like he always did.” Tom looked down. A lacework of sad memories set on his face.

The old man squeezed Ivy's fist over the black stone and patted her hand. “I'd only give it to you my dear,” he said, “I know Iris wouldn't mind. You even share the same initials, see?”

Ivy sat alone on a kitchen stool, her fingers moving fluidly across the strings of her cello. The dull thud of heavy rain fell outside her window. The scales Ivy played were reflexive and her eyes were closed as she felt, rather than noticed, where her fingertips pushed the fingerboard. The wooden body of the cello was resting softly against her left knee like an extension of her own. Eventually, Ivy graduated to pieces she knew by memory. The bow in her right hand chased the strings leaving a few long hairs broken and hanging from the tip. She had drifted so far into the music that it took three knocks before Ivy realised someone was at her apartment door. Reluctantly, she placed her cello in its stand next to the bench and ducked through the tiny lounge room swinging the front door open without checking.