The Never War (16 page)

“Pine trees,” Gunny said. “That's what you're smelling.”

He had read my mind. The green subway kiosk was built on the edge of a dense grove of pine trees. It was a far different smell from the chemical fume–odor of First Earth.

There were a few odd buildings scattered around that looked like a jumble of boxes stacked on top of one another. They must have been apartment buildings because I saw people out on their balconies, talking and reading and playing and basically hanging out.

There were streets, but rather than the normal grid pattern of a city, these roads gently curved around the natural terrain. There was traffic, but the cars were small, and must have been powered by electricity because the only noise they made was a gentle hum. Many people rode bikes or walked or zipped along on those two-wheel jobs I had seen underground. I also
saw a lot of small, dark green shelters scattered around. We had just stepped out from under one of them. My guess was that these shelters marked the entrances to the incredible underground complex below.

“The first time I came here,” Gunny said, “I just stood and stared like you're doing right now. Then I got this wonderful, warm feeling.”

“Why's that?” I asked.

“Because I realized it may have taken a few thousand years, but we finally got it right.”

“It's incredible,” I said. “Why didn't you tell us?”

“I figured we had more important things to handle back on First Earth,” Gunny answered. “The future would always be here. It's the present we have to worry about.”

I then heard a friendly voice call to us. “Looks like we've got a couple of tourists in town!”

A small car slid up behind us that wasn't much bigger than a golf cart. It was much sleeker than a golf cart, though, with a front end that came to a narrow point and had regular-size wheels. It was a silver vehicle, with no top and four seats facing forward.

Behind the wheel was a guy who looked to be in his twenties. He had long brown hair, bright eyes, and a big smile. He was dressed like a normal guy from Second Earth, with jeans and a dark green, short-sleeved shirt.

“Afternoon, Patrick,” Gunny said. “Thanks for coming to fetch us so quickly.”

Patrick jumped out of the car and gave Gunny a warm hug. “Good to see you, Gunny. Where's the wild man?”

Gunny motioned to me and said, “This is his nephew, Bobby Pendragon.”

Patrick shook my hand with a firm grip. “Pendragon! Press
told me you'd be showing up someday. I'm glad to meet you.”

“Me too,” I said.

“So? Where is he?” Patrick asked.

Gunny gave me a look. The answer had to come from me.

“Press is dead,” I said softly. I didn't know how else to say it.

I saw the genuine look of pain on Patrick's face. The three of us stood there silently for a moment, out of respect.

“I'm sorry, Bobby,” Patrick finally said. “Your uncle was like a brother to me. I'm going to miss him.”

I nodded. Wherever Uncle Press went, no matter how many lives he touched, he always made friends. With everybody but Saint Dane, that is.

“Just before he died,” I said, “he told me it was the way it was supposed to be. I have a tough time buying into that.”

“I know,” Patrick said softly. “But Press believed it. And sure as we're standing here right now, I can't remember a time when he was wrong about anything.”

I nodded.

“We need your help, Patrick,” Gunny said, getting to business. “I thought you could take us to that library place.”

“Absolutely. Hop in.”

Since this was my first visit to Third Earth, Gunny got in back and I sat next to Patrick. My new Traveler friend hit the accelerator and we zipped ahead.

“Have you ever been to the New York Public Library in Manhattan?” he asked me.

“I've been by it,” I answered. “The place with the big stone lions in front, right? Is it still there?”

“Yes. But, well, things have changed a little.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” I interrupted.

Patrick laughed. “I've been to First and Second Earth. I hear you,” he said. “But there are still many links to the past. There's a strong sentiment that history should be respected and honored. You'll see what I mean.”

Saying that things had changed was the understatement of all time. New York City, as I remembered it, was gone.

This was once an area where every square inch was cemented over or built on. It was clogged with traffic and people and noise and air pollution. I'm not saying it was a bad place, but it was definitely a busy place. What New York had become in the year 5010 was very different.

We drove our silent car along a winding road through the country. Trees lined the nearly empty roadway. Off to either side were beautiful, green, rolling hills. Every so often I saw another of those odd, boxy buildings where people lived, but besides that you would think we were driving through Vermont. There were even a few farms with rows of lush fruit trees. When we passed one, I got the definite smell of apples.

“Where is everybody?” I asked.

“I'll give you the short version,” Patrick said. “By the mid-twenty-first century, we were running out of natural resources. Pollution was worse than ever and overpopulation was beyond serious. Governments had to start getting smart or it would have been disaster. From then on, Earth functioned as one planet, as opposed to a group of countries with different agendas.”

“So they went underground?” I asked.

“That was one solution. It began with manufacturing and energy. There are power plants close to the center of the planet.”

“Unbelievable,” was all I could say.

“It took more than a thousand years, but by the year 4000, every commercial enterprise was moved underground. From factories to the Gap stores.”

“You still have the Gap?” I asked.

“I think that sweater you're wearing came from there.”

I took a closer look at the sweater. It didn't look much different than what I could have gotten on Second Earth. Good old Gap. Gotta love 'em.

“The only businesses that stay above ground are farms and some solar power facilities,” Patrick explained. “Most of the big power sources are out West in areas that are unpopulated.”

“Makes sense,” I said.

“Then people began relocating underground as well. There are vast housing complexes just below the surface, all interconnected by a train system.”

“Isn't that a little claustrophobic?” I said.

“Not as bad as it was on the surface. We were running out of space. That's what prompted the other move. We not only went down, we went up.”

“Up?”

“Space colonies. It started with Space Station Alpha at the turn of the twenty-first century. A few larger orbiting space platforms soon followed. From there we could jump out farther. The next step was the moon. There were colonies of a thousand people each, living on the moon by the year 3000. Mars was next, followed by Venus and two of the moons of Jupiter. By last count there are one hundred and fifty-five million people living off-planet. Combine that with the fact that people finally started getting smart about family planning, and we finally achieved zero population growth.”

This was a future that could only be imagined by science fiction writers in my time.

“Are there colonies under the sea as well?” I asked.

“Oh yeah, that too,” answered Patrick. “But that's not significant. Maybe only a few million people are in underwater habitats.”

“A few million? Not significant? Amazing.”

“I'll tell you what was amazing,” Patrick said. “Once man began to pull back from the surface, nature began to take charge again. Pollution was reduced. The air and water gradually cleaned up. Forests reemerged, starting with the rain forests in South America. In a lot of ways it was like the world took a giant step backward.”

“But what happened to all the stuff? I mean, most of the buildings and roads are gone. Where did everything go?”

“It was all slowly dismantled. It was like a giant recycling project. Much of the material from the surface was retooled and used below to create the underground cities. There were billions of tons of material that couldn't be re-used, like road surfaces. Not to mention all the material that had to be dug out to create the cities below. Most of that was broken down and used to create new terrain. The rolling hills you're looking at were made from the streets and buildings of New York that were demolished. The whole idea was to heal the surface and preserve our resources for the future.”

“But some people still live on the surface?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah. There are still cities all over the world. My guess is that it's about half and half, surface dwellers and below grounders. But the below grounders spend a lot of time on the surface, too. People still take vacations to the ocean, or the mountains to ski, and pretty much do most of the things they did on Second Earth. If you want, we can go to a Yankees game.”

“There's still a Yankee Stadium?”

“Of course,” Patrick answered with a smile. “There are some things that shouldn't be changed.”

“It's like…perfect,” was all I could say.

Patrick laughed. “No, nothing's perfect. But it's better than the direction man was headed.”

We rode the rest of the way to the library in silence. Of course I had a million more questions, but I wanted to stop thinking so much and take in the surroundings. Gunny was right. It was a good feeling. It took a while, but it seemed as if mankind had finally figured out the right way to get by.

We sped along the roadway, headed for Manhattan. The closer we got to the island, the more I realized what Patrick meant about preserving the past. Though most of the terrain had been returned to its natural state, there were still a lot of structures on the surface, like the bridges over the rivers that circled Manhattan.

And the Empire State Building was still there. But it now had a shiny, steel surface that made it look like high-tech Empire State. I wasn't sure if it was the exact same building from my time, but it was definitely a huge reminder of the past. Very cool. In general, Manhattan was a little more built up than the Bronx. There were more streets and a lot more of those boxy apartment buildings, and it felt more like a city. Still, it was all very relaxed and civilized.

But something was wrong.

As I saw more of this reborn world, I began to get an uneasy feeling. I couldn't put it into words just then because I wasn't sure what it was, but I was feeling strangely unsettled. I didn't say anything, but a nervous vibe was definitely tickling the back of my brain.

“This is it,” Patrick announced as he stopped the vehicle in front of the library.

I was happy to see that the two big stone lions I remembered from Second Earth were still there. The wide cement stairs leading up to the library were the same too. But the building itself was a very different place. I remembered a big, imposing structure, with arches and columns that looked like something you'd see in ancient Rome. But that building was long gone. In its place was a small, modern structure that wasn't much bigger than the library in Stony Brook.

“This is it?” I asked with surprise. “It's kind of…small.”

Patrick laughed and said, “We haven't used traditional books in about two thousand years. It's amazing how much room they took up. Believe me, you won't be disappointed.”

He got out of the car and hurried up the stairs. Gunny leaned over to me and said, “I told you, it's all about those little specks of things. That's where they keep all the information. It's magic.”

“Gunny,” I said. “I'm kind of nervous.”

“About what we're going to find here?”

“Yeah, and about what we've already seen.”

We both took a look around at the quiet neighborhood. Some kids were playing kickball on the grass across the street. People rode by the library on their bicycles. A group of musicians played some classical music on the library steps. They all looked relaxed and as happy as could be, not like the frenzied New Yorkers I knew from First and Second Earth.

Gunny took this all in and then said, “This is why I brought you here. You needed to see this. It raises a whole lot of questions, doesn't it?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Let's go find some of the answers.”

T
his was like no library I had ever seen because, well, there were no books. Actually, I take that back. There was one book, but it was in the lobby of the building, encased in a heavy glass box like a museum exhibit. I figured this was a book that was here to remind people of the past and the way things used to be. As I walked over to it, I wondered what would be the one book chosen to take this place of honor. Was it a dictionary? A Bible? Maybe the complete works of Shakespeare or some famous poet.

“
Green Eggs and Ham
?” Gunny said with surprise. “What kind of doctor writes about green eggs and ham?”

“Dr. Seuss,” I answered with a big smile on my face. “It's my favorite book of all time.”

Patrick joined us and said, “We took a vote. It was pretty much
everybody's
favorite. Landslide victory. I'm partial to
Horton Hears a Who,
but this is okay too.”

The people of Third Earth still had a sense of humor.

Patrick led us through the large, marble-floored lobby where several people sat in comfortable chairs, reading from flat computer screens. Since space was a problem, this was a
good way to go. Still, I loved to read and couldn't imagine not being able to hold a book and turn the pages.

There were several long corridors leading off from the lobby. Patrick led us down one that was lined with doors on either side. Some were open and I could see people inside. I glanced into one room and saw something that made me stop short. Three people were seated around a silver platform that was raised about a foot in the air. Standing in the center of the platform, speaking to them, was Abraham Lincoln! I swear. He was right there. Honest Abe.

“…and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth,” Abe declared.

“Th-That's Abraham Lincoln!” I said to nobody in particular.

“Yup, Gettysburg Address. Want to listen in?” Patrick asked.

“That's some guy dressed up like Abe, right?”

At that instant Abraham Lincoln disappeared. Zap. Just like that, he faded out and the platform was empty. I shot a quick, questioning look to Patrick. He put an arm around my shoulder and led me farther down the hall.

“Think of how the caveman felt the first time he saw fire,” he chuckled. “It probably wasn't much different than you're feeling right now.”

“That was no fire, and I'm no caveman,” I said in shock. “What
was
that?”

“I'll show you,” Patrick said, and led us into one of the rooms off the corridor. This room was pretty much like the one with Abe Lincoln's ghost, but bigger. There were six simple chairs circling a silver platform that was about eight feet across.

“I'm a teacher,” Patrick explained. “So I have access to this super deluxe room.”

I looked at Gunny. “Have you seen this before?”

“Yeah,” Gunny said with a smile. “Like I said, it's magic.”

“Take a seat,” Patrick said. We did and he closed the door behind us so we had privacy. “The concept is simple. Every bit of information that exists has been stored in the data banks. It's not much different from the computers you have on Second Earth, but about twelve billion times more powerful.” He took the center seat, pressed a glowing white button on the armrest, and said in a loud, clear voice: “Computer. New search.”

A pleasant woman's voice spoke back to him, saying, “Welcome. How can I help you?”

Whoa.
Star Trek
or what? The lights dimmed automatically, and our attention was shifted to the round stage in front of us.

Patrick touched the button on his armrest and said, “Computer. Lincoln, Abraham. United States president.” Instantly the image of Abraham Lincoln appeared on the platform in front of us. But it wasn't just an image, it looked like he was actually standing there in the flesh.

“Oh, man!” I said. “It's a hologram.”

“Exactly,” said Patrick. He then touched the button again and said, “Gettysburg Address.”

Instantly Abe began to speak. “Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth—”

“Clear,” Patrick said, and Abe disappeared.

“How cool is
that
?” I exclaimed. It reminded me of the holograms that Aja Killian showed us on Veelox.

“That was an easy one,” Patrick said. “Abraham Lincoln is a common entry.”

“Then let's get a little uncommon,” Gunny said. “We're here to learn about the
Hindenburg.
Ever hear of it?”

“Are you kidding?” Patrick said, scoffing. “I thought this was going to be tough.” He hit the button and said, “
Hindenburg,
zeppelin, early twentieth century.”

Before us, floating over the platform, was a familiar sight. The silver airship appeared and hovered in the air, in miniature form, of course.

“Interior views,” Patrick commanded.

The full zeppelin disappeared and we were shown a bunch of different views of the passenger cabin of the
Hindenburg.
I can't tell you how cool this was. It was like tearing open a seam in time and peeking back into another era. The
Hindenburg
was a fancy airship. I guess they designed it like an ocean liner. There were staterooms and a dining room, and a long deck where you could stroll around and look down on the world from behind the safety and comfort of glass.

“It was a luxury liner,” Patrick said. “Designed to ferry people across Europe and over the ocean in style.”

“We're interested in the crash,” Gunny said quietly.

“I figured that,” Patrick said. He then pressed the white button and said, “Computer.
Hindenburg
disaster.”

The full blimp reappeared. Then a second later fire flashed on its right side, near the tail. The fire spread so quickly it was like watching a movie that had been sped up. The tail dipped as flames spread over the silver skin of the balloon. The image was so realistic, I expected to feel the heat. The zeppelin hit the ground, tail first. Then the nose started coming down. I could even see people scrambling out of the gondola underneath and running for safety. It was horrifying, and fascinating.

Finally the entire balloon was engulfed in flames. The skeleton of the structure was revealed as the outer skin burned away. Then, horribly, the frame collapsed into a pile
of burning metal. The image stopped moving, like a freeze-frame in a movie.

The computer voice then said, “Zeppelin LZ-one-two-nine.
Hindenburg.
Crashed on first transatlantic flight of 1937. Origin of flight: Frankfurt, Germany. Destination: Lakehurst Naval Air Station, New Jersey, USA. Date of incident: May sixth. Time of incident: 7:25
P.M
. Duration of incident: thirty-seven seconds. Passengers and crew aboard: ninety-seven. Dead: thirty-six.”

“Thirty-six people died,” I said in awe. “And it only took thirty-seven seconds. Unbelievable.”

Maybe not so unbelievable. I remembered how quickly the flames spread in that slaughterhouse when Winn Farrow's rocket exploded.

“It landed at 7:25
P.M
.?” asked Gunny. “I thought it was supposed to come in the morning?”

Patrick said, “Computer. Reason for delayed arrival.”

The computer said, “High winds. Storms.
Hindenburg
delayed until storm subsided.”

“Spader will be happy to hear that,” Gunny said. “We've got twelve more hours to work with.”

Patrick turned to Gunny and asked, “What are you looking for?”

“We want to know what caused the crash,” Gunny said. He glanced at me. We thought we knew the answer to that, but it was as good a place to start as any.

Patrick hit the button and said, “Computer. Cause of
Hindenburg
crash.”

The pleasant computer voice said, “Several theories. One: Zeppelin filled with flammable hydrogen gas. Possible cause of ignition, residual static electricity from earlier thunderstorm. Two: Shell of balloon covered with volatile aluminum powder.
Potential ignition cause, same static electricity. Three: Lightning strike. Final theory: Sabotage.”

“Sabotage?” I asked.

Patrick said, “Computer. More on sabotage.”

The computer said, “Potential for explosive device having been placed on board by crew member. Never proven.”

“State most likely scenario,” Patrick ordered the computer.

The computer answered, “No likely scenario. Cause of disaster unproven.”

The still frame of the burned zeppelin then disappeared.

“It's one of the great mysteries of all time,” Patrick said. “Why did the
Hindenburg
burn? Even with all our technology, we don't know for sure.”

Gunny and I glanced at each other. We knew.

“So this computer has information stored on all people?” I asked. “Not just famous presidents?”

“Every single bit of information that exists is at your disposal.”

I thought for a second, an idea slowly forming. “Can I try?” I asked.

Patrick stood up and gave me the chair. “Have fun,” he said.

I sat down in the chair, feeling like I had a whole bunch of power at my fingertips. I touched the button and said, “Computer. Rose, Maximilian.”

The computer answered, “Over eight hundred thousand entries. More specifics, please.”

Patrick chuckled. “The computer cross-references everything in its databases. Give it more to go on.”

Okay. I hit the button again and said, “Computer. Rose, Maximilian. United States. 1937. Manhattan Tower Hotel. Criminal.”

Bingo. Who should appear on the platform in front of us but Max Rose. He was even wearing one of his familiar silk bathrobes.

“Friend of yours?” Patrick asked.

“Sort of,” I answered, then hit the button again. “Computer. Rose, Maximilian. May sixth, 1937.”

The computer said, “Maximilian Rose, killed in automobile accident on May sixth, 1937.”

Huh? I shot a look to Gunny. Gunny sat up straight. Things were getting interesting. I then said, “Computer. When and where?”

The computer answered, “Six fifty
P.M
. Intersection of Toms River Road and Route five-twenty-seven, Lakehurst, New Jersey, USA.”

“He must have been on his way to meet the
Hindenburg,
” Gunny said.

I hit the button again and said, “New Search.” The image of Max Rose disappeared.

“Computer. Farrow, Winn. New York. 1937. Criminal.”

Bang. There he was. Winn Farrow, right in front of us. I was beginning to think this computer was as good as Patrick said.

“Computer. Farrow, Winn. May sixth, 1937,” I said.

The computer answered, “Received speeding ticket from New Jersey State Police. Four twenty-five
P.M
.”

“That's it for May sixth?” I asked.

The computer answered, “He was driving twelve miles over the speed limit.”

“There's gotta be more than that,” I said in frustration. “Let me try something.” I hit the button again and said, “Computer. Amaden, Esther. New York. 1937.”

The image of Winn Farrow disappeared. There was a sec
ond of silence. Nothing appeared on the platform.

The computer said, “No data.”

That was weird. I gave it more to go on. “Computer. Add nickname, Harlow. Manhattan Tower Hotel. Singer. Friend of Rose, Maximilian.”

A moment, and then, “No data.”

“Does this machine ever make mistakes?” asked Gunny.

Patrick answered, “Well, no. Someone named Esther Amaden never existed or the computer would have a record of her.”

“What if she changed her name?” Gunny asked.

“The computer would know that. Guaranteed. Who was she?”

Uh-oh. A bad thought hit me and I started getting a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Computer,” I said weakly. “Van Dyke, Vincent. Nickname, Gunny. Manhattan Tower Hotel. New York. 1937.”

There was a pause, and then the computer answered, “No data.”

Now I started to sweat. Things were happening fast. “Computer. Tilton, Press. Stony Brook, Connecticut. Early twenty-first century. Uncle to Pendragon, Robert. Sister to Pendragon, Kathleen.”

A pause, and then, “No data.”

Patrick said, “We're Travelers, Pendragon. There wouldn't be any records.”

This was getting more horrifying by the second. I was learning something new about being a Traveler. As far as the world was concerned, we didn't exist. That's why my house on Second Earth was gone. That's why my family disappeared.

“Computer! Pendragon, Robert. Nickname, Bobby. Stony Brook, Connecticut.”

There was another pause, and then, “No data.”

“Don't do this to yourself, Bobby,” Gunny said softly.

I was freaking out, but not for the reason Gunny thought. In some ways, I think I knew something like this had to be true. Yeah, it was horrifying to know we had no history. But as frightening as that was, it wasn't what was making my brain explode.

I couldn't sit down anymore. My heart raced. I jumped up, hit the button again and shouted, “Computer! Amaden, Esther. Nickname, Harlow. Girlfriend to Rose, Maximilian. New York. 1937.”

The computer paused for several seconds and then said calmly, “No data.”

“Uh-oh,” Gunny said. He now realized where I was going with this.

“Yeah, uh-oh,” I shot back. “Travelers don't have records because Travelers don't have histories.
All
Travelers, not just the good ones.”

“Do you think—”

“Yeah, I do. Esther Amaden is Saint Dane. He's been playing the game from both sides from the very beginning.”