Human (63 page)

Jayne swallowed, looking down. “Alright then. We’ll work with option one.” The pity in her eyes was too much for Orrin and he pushed himself out of his chair and tacked the image to the growing collection of clues on the laboratory wall. He took a deep breath to regain his composure.

“Thanks Jayne. I appreciate your help, I really do. I just can’t afford to think like that.”

Jayne picked up her bag and walked to the door.

“I’ll keep looking okay? It’s not over yet,” she said, turning away.

“Miss me,” called Phil after her.

“Bye Phil.” And she was gone.

Dale returned his attention to the computer and clicked hard on the keyboard, with a scowl on his face.

Orrin shook his head and downed three pain-killers from a nearly empty packet on his desk. After a sip of water, he set Ivy’s cello recording into the music dock on repeat and got back to work.

“Heads up.” Phil rounded the doorway shooting a dark look at Orrin, and then turned with feigned innocence. A woman stepped past him, striding toward the server rack where Orrin stood.

“Chancellor.” Orrin took a deep breath.

“What the hell is going on here, Doctor James?” Her voice was subdued, but all the more dangerous for it. “I've dismissed rumours that you've been failing in your duties for the past three weeks - assuming that my newest member of staff, who came so highly recommended and honoured - would not let our department down in such a way. Yet here you are, able-bodied and available, lounging in your office whilst sending an unqualified
student
to do your work. You'd better have a damn good explanation.”

Orrin looked to Phil for silent clarification.
What did you tell her?
Phil scowled at the polished floor, shaking his head and avoiding Orrin’s eyes.

Shite.
Orrin stepped forward. His disarming smile fell far short of its goal in view of his dishevelled appearance.

“I apologise, Chancellor. Clearly I've let you down. I didn’t intend to, of course. There have been some, complications… with my work, that’s all.”

Orrin considered the woman before him. His only previous experience of Reshma Thandi involved the fastidious series of interviews he had undertaken to secure his position at the university four months prior. At the time, he had quite liked her refined and understated manner. Her unusual accent suggested an international career in academia, a subtle blend of American, Indian and Australian pronunciation. She had an intuitive understanding of knowing when to apply the pomp and circumstance, and when to cut the crap. Clearly, she had deemed the current situation one of the latter.

“Complications of what nature, Doctor James?” Her tone was cold.

“Ah, well, various complications I'm afraid. Complicated… complications.” Orrin’s fingers found the week old stubble on his chin.
Bollocks.
He smoothed his crinkled shirt down and shifted away from the servers, highly conscious of the illuminated plasma screen behind him.

This woman was no bureaucrat. She was a physicist, first and foremost. Given the opportunity, she would recognise the inherent potential in the energy fluctuations he had created. Magnetospheric disintegration was at an all time high and any research that could provide an alternative energy source if grids were wiped out was a gold mine.

Orrin had no doubt that the university would demand full control over his attempts to recreate the energy fields, or worse, they could bring external authorities into the fray. Dozens of pencil pushers suffocating his lab was the last thing he needed right now.

And Ivy wasn’t the only concern. If he publicised his belief that he was solely responsible for a prehistoric time shift, Orrin was guaranteed to earn himself either a Nobel Prize or a golden handshake to the nuthouse. He couldn't risk either.

“I'm waiting, Doctor James.”

“I'm afraid I can't explain it, Chancellor.”

Her neat eyebrows rose in disbelief and Chancellor Thandi swivelled to face Phil. He straightened up.

“Mister Chan would you like to offer an explanation?” she said.

“Um, I suppose not,” Phil muttered. “
At this stage.
I'm sorry, Chancellor.”

She turned back, her lips pursed. From behind her, Phil glared accusingly at Orrin.

“Doctor James,” she began, “I am not entirely without compassion. If there is some personal issue that you are experiencing, then I would strongly consider a leave of absence.” The Chancellor glanced toward Phil and lowered her voice even further. “Mister Chan here may be well-versed with your teaching methods, but this is a prestigious institution. I absolutely cannot abide our undergraduates being taught Quantum Physics by an unqualified student only a few years their senior.”

“Of course not Chancellor, I understand entirely. There were factors… outside my control.”

“Let me make this abundantly clear, Doctor James,” the Chancellor turned to face Phil, “and Mister Chan I am addressing you too. This university will
not
accept staff that are consistently unable to meet their commitments. Nor will we abide unqualified students instructing our classes.” Phil's face was bright red. “Consider this a warning. Both of your positions on staff are now probationary. If this happens again, I will have absolutely no hesitation in revoking your employment. Am I understood?”

“Trust me, Chancellor. It won't happen again,” Phil said, weighing as much resentment into his voice as he could.

“Of course, I understand entirely,” added Orrin.

As the Chancellor moved her eyes from Orrin, to the laboratory equipment, they narrowed in suspicion. He shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny and moved forward in an effort to shepherd her out of the door.

“I'm sorry to take up your time, Chancellor, I assure you, I will attend to all of my classes myself.”

Reshma Thandi stopped at the door and turned back to face the room. An uncomfortable silence pressed on them all as she flicked her eyes in turn over Orrin, Phil and then Dale, who sat wide eyed behind his monitor. She glanced at each of the whiteboards, the still-broken tesla coil, the plasma screens and finally, the myriad of papers that Orrin had pinned to the wall. Finally, she spoke.

“Doctor James. Let me be frank. I hired you because you’re one of the best. The work you’re doing to isolate the cause of our magnetospheric degradation is of upmost importance to this department. We’ve provided you with the resources and budget you require without question and trust me when I say, that is not our standard practice.” Chancellor Thandi gestured toward Phil, fidgeting by the door, and Dale, who shrank back under her gaze. “Nor is allowing such swift transfer and employment status for your research students. Perhaps I’ve been a little generous in your case regarding the autonomy of your work. That being so, I think it’s best if the board keeps a closer eye on your progress.”

“I really don’t think that’s necessary -” Orrin began.

“Well, I do. I expect a full report of your current status on my desk in two days.” She turned to leave, but stopped turning back to face him again.

“I feel I should also inform you that I've been contacted recently by the Director of the CSIRO Division of Astronomy and Space,” she said. “Multiple times, in fact. They’re investigating suspicious electromagnetic activity detected within this locality. It seems NASA is involved, along with the Ministry of Energy and Resources. Now, I assume that as one of our senior researchers, you would not hesitate to disclose any details of your research that would affect this school’s safety or reputation?”

Orrin's back stiffened and he swallowed audibly.
NASA is involved?
Of course they were. It was only a matter of time before the CSIRO traced the origins of the fluctuations to the university. He’d done it himself, with the help of Dimi’s stolen data, but he’d already known what he was looking for.
How far behind me are they? Did Dimi lead them here?
Orrin had the distinct feeling in his gut, that things were about to get a lot worse.

“Sure, I mean, of course, Chancellor, I um, assure you I’m
not
involved,” said Orrin. He was all too familiar with the look of deep scepticism he received back.

The Chancellor nodded slowly, poised to turn.

“One more thing, Doctor James.”

“Yes, Chancellor?”

“Do something about your appearance. This is not a frat house.”

Chancellor Reshma Thandi turned and walked away. Orrin closed the door behind her, confining himself to the tirade Phil would undoubtedly release.

Orrin was home before midnight, for the first time in two weeks and the growing mess around him reflected his neglect. He was resolute to clean himself up after the Chancellor’s mandate. That job was vital. Without access to his lab, he was screwed. After a hot shower and shave, he scanned the internet for scraps of logic linking hobbits to the environmental devastation of his new reality. Nothing made sense.

Orrin lifted his socked feet off the coffee table and set his open laptop in their place. He grabbed his empty scotch glass and stood up.

Then he stopped, spellbound, between his lounge and the glass windows overlooking Port Phillip Bay.

“Holy Mother…” he breathed. He stumbled forward, dropping the glass to the floor, no longer seeing the room around him. Orrin pressed his hands against the cool glass.

Beautiful. Magnificent. Glorious.
None of the words that raced through his head even came close to the vision before his eyes.

The night sky was glowing. Vast curtains of neon green light filled the skyline, curling and folding in thick striations across the horizon. Above this layer, vibrant patches of pink, pure red, yellow and electric blue chased the night sky upwards. Where the colours met, violet and orange and white twisted the hues together like hazy ribbons.
Aurora Australis. I shouldn’t be seeing this. I’m too close to the equator. Holy show, what have we done?

Orrin knew that this stunning display of charged light could only be caused by the geomagnetic storms that were threatening the earth more each day. The magnetosphere was weakening, allowing massive flows of solar wind to bombard its defences. Hot coronal plasma was being pulled along earth’s magnetic field lines to the magneto tail behind it. The tail tore under the intense pressure of the flares, squeezing the solar wind back toward earth to feed the spectacular auroral display that Orrin now witnessed.

The geomagnetic storms were rising. The earth’s atmosphere was saturated with trapped particles, enhancing the current and warping the earth’s magnetic field.

If it weren’t for the unfathomable danger he knew it represented, Orrin would have shed tears of joy. In all his life, from his star-gazing enthrallment as a little boy to the endless hours he had clocked behind the lens of a telescope, he had never seen anything as perfect.

The colours evolved and switched from one to another, constantly changing in a dance of electrons spiralling around the magnetic field lines that travelled the atmosphere down to the earth.

It’s getting stronger.

Orrin stood staring for a long time. He knew there was logic somewhere, buried beneath the dirt and riddles and empty spaces. Whatever was causing the magnetosphere to decay was somehow related to Ivy’s disappearance. Ivy’s disappearance was somehow related to
Homo floresiensis
. There was a link, but no matter how hard he sought it, it eluded him. It was infuriating.

The storms were getting worse. Orrin knew it, not only from his own calculations, but from the blatant indication now illuminating the Melbourne sky.

It’s only a matter of time… GPS signals will go - navigation, oil drilling stations, flights and transport. Satellites will be dead in the sky; the International Space Station will drop. Power grids won’t be able to handle the storm’s massive currents- they’ll catch fire or explode. Hundreds of millions of people without electricity during months of repair- they’ll starve or freeze to death. Nations will take years to recover. If mother earth will let them.

Orrin buried his face in his shaking hands.

“I have to fix this. Jaysus Christ, I have to fix it.”

He dropped back to the couch, scouring the internet for more information, more clues. Hours later, Orrin was jolted from his thoughts by a shrill ring. He dropped his laptop back onto the coffee table. His latest search results reflected onto the glass windows that were still haunted by an auroral glow. ‘Homo floresiensis - Beyond the protests: the benefits and ethics of proto-human experimentation.’