Twistor (5 page)

'
As it happened, Ton was bought by an evil magician.'

'David, are magicians always evil?' asked Jeff, round eyed. Melissa was looking annoyed.

David laughed. 'Not always,' he said. 'In the older times a magician was a person who tried to control nature without trying to understand it. Sometimes they resorted to things they knew were evil because they were desperate to find the control they sought. Magicians would kill animals as sacrifices and chant spells, trying to make something happen or to make something change.

'After the scientific method was invented, people began to realize that it was actually possible to understand nature. Magic, which involved little real understanding, lost out. Now magicians are only entertainers who create the illusion of magic by using trickery. Today scientists like your father and I have accomplished some of what the old magicians attempted. We've gained some control over the forces of nature by first understanding them.'

Jeff looked seriously from David to his father to make sure a joke wasn't being had at his expense. Then, satisfied, he smiled.

'The magician,' David continued, 'whose name was Zorax, took Ton to a hut deep in the forest to be his servant. Shortly after they arrived, the magician gave Ton a bitter potion to drink and made him stare at a candle flame until he fell asleep, while Zorax chanted words that had something to do with a "rope spell.” When Ton awoke, he could remember little of what had happened, only the image of Zorax's compelling eyes.

'
Ton soon learned his duties in Zorax's household: carrying water, washing loathsome pots coated with the odorous gummy residue of potions, disposing of the horribly mutilated remains of small animals killed in Zorax's experiments, cleaning the hut without disturbing the books, packets, bottles, boxes, jars, cages, and apparatus scattered everywhere, and gathering wood from the forest.

'Frightened villagers left food for Zorax every day at the same spot, seeking to appease the powerful and dangerous magician. So Ton did not have to gather food, but only to carry it the short distance to their hut.'

This Zorax seemed to have his own ways of obtaining 'funding' for his experiments, thought Elizabeth.

'Ton was allowed to roam in the forest, but soon he learned that after he had gone a certain distance from the magician's hut he was unable to go any further and so he couldn't run away. The "rope spell” that the magician had cast on him prevented his escape more surely than if a rope had actually been tied around his neck.'

That must be rather like being Allan Saxon's postdoc, thought Elizabeth, looking at David appraisingly.

'One day,' David continued, 'when Tom was in the forest gathering wood, he saw something large looming among the tall trees. Pushing through the brush, he came upon a clearing. In its center was a high tower surrounded by tumbled stones. The ruined tower, which might once have been part of a castle or fortress, stood alone. There seemed to be no way to enter or to climb it: no doors, no ladders, no footholds. Ton shouted, asking if anyone was there.

'There was an answering call, the voice of a girl. The stone tower was high and the walls were thick, so they had to shout back and forth for a long time before Ton was able to understand her story. The girl's name was something like Elle, she was the daughter of a king, and she was being held prisoner by an old magician. Zorax? Ton
wondered,
but she didn't seem to recognize the name.'

The unattainable girl, thought Elizabeth. Interesting.

'Abruptly, Ton noticed that the light was failing and that it was quite late. He called goodbye to Elle, promised to return, and quickly left. To avoid a beating from Zorax, Ton had to run all the way back to the hut with his heavy burden of wood. The magician gave him a piercing look when he entered the hut out of breath and stumble-footed, but the old man said nothing.'

David stopped and looked at each child apparently checking on their interest. Elizabeth looked across the room. Both children were clearly enjoying the story, looking at David with rapt attention. Paul seemed to be listening, too.

'The very next day,' David continued, 'Zorax told Ton that the time had come for him to earn his slave-price. There was a great task that Ton must perform, and if he did it correctly and well he would be freed from his slave-bond. Ton was suspicious of the magician's unusual generosity, but he said nothing. Zorax told him to pack some food and drink in a large basket. They left the hut walking in a direction that Ton had never explored. After a time Ton was suddenly brought up short. The rope spell prevented his further movement. The magician turned, looking annoyed, and uttered a single unpronounceable word. It was as if the invisible rope had been cut. No force now held Ton back, and he was free to follow the magician.

'They continued to walk until in the early afternoon near the base of a mountain slope they came to the tumbled ruins of what must have once been a large town. They followed an overgrown trail down to a place at the lowest part of the mountain wall, where Zorax indicated that they would halt and take their refreshment from the food and drink that Ton carried.

'After they had eaten, Zorax ordered Ton to clear the brush from a large rectangular rock slab at the base of a
cliff.
When this was done, the magician took some wax from a bag that he carried and roughly pressed it into Ton's ears, until Ton could hear nothing more than the rush of his own blood and the beating of his own heart. Zorax took some papers and packets from his bag. His lips moved so that he must be saying long and complicated words, but Ton could hear nothing because of the wax.'

Must be classified information, Elizabeth thought, remembering David's comical stories about the extremes of Los Alamos security measures.

'After a while, the magician stopped,' David went on, 'held his arms out over the flat rock, and looked expectantly down at it. Nothing happened. Then for another long while Zorax chanted words and gestured more vigorously, then waited. Again nothing happened. Finally, looking very troubled and nervous, Zorax dug some dirt away from one edge of the flat rock, undid one of his bundles, and placed its contents in the small dug-out depression. He opened a gray flask and poured a clear liquid into the depression. Then he backed away, his lips moving furiously as he said more words, and this time his efforts were answered by a bright flash, accompanied by much dust and smoke and a shaking of the ground. And the great rock moved. It lifted, shifting sideways and revealing a dark round opening in the ground.'

David may claim that magic and science are different, Elizabeth thought, but that sounds just like experimental physics to me.

'As the smoke cleared, Zorax removed the wax from Ton's ears. He dropped a rock into the hole. After it had fallen for about a second, they heard it hit something solid. Zorax nodded and gave Ton his instructions.

' "Climb down this rope until you reach the floor below. Then you must light this candle. In the chamber below you will find a long tunnel which leads back into the mountain. You must follow that tunnel past three side passages, two on the right and one on the left. When
you
have passed the last of the three passages, you must continue straight ahead until you come to a door. It will be locked, but you should be able to get it open, for it is very old. Beyond the door you will find a chamber. In the chamber are three objects: a roll of fabric like a rug, a leather bag, and a weapon. These you will bring back to me without examining them.

' "There will be many other things that you will see in the passages. There will appear to be rich treasures, jeweled weapons, golden coins. These are only traps and illusions, and you must leave them completely alone! If you do not, you will probably be instantly killed, and in any case will never be able to return above ground again. When you have brought me the three valueless mementos that I have described, mere souvenirs which I desire only for sentimental reasons, I will set you free. Do you understand this, boy?”

Ton nodded. Zorax lifted the rope, which he tied around Ton's slender waist. Then Ton wriggled through the tight hole, which had a burnt sulfurous smell from the recent explosion, and he was lowered to the cool damp surface below. Zorax then threw a burning stick into the hole, and Ton used it to light the candle. Ton untied the rope, and holding the candle high he looked around . . . '

David glanced up at Elizabeth. The signal for bedtime, she thought. She closed the book with a snap, rose, and said, 'I'm afraid, children, that that's all the story for tonight. It's time for bed now.'

'Darn!' said Jeffrey, wrinkling his nose.

'Aw, Mom!' said Melissa, 'You always stop the story at the most interesting part.'

3

Wednesday Night, October 6

Trailing red and black multimeter leads, Sam Weston grunted and eased his body from under the experiment control console. Victoria looked up from the oscilloscope on the cart before her and raised an eyebrow.

'Vickie, my love, if there's any coupling between the RF and the vacuum readout I sure can't find it. As far as I can tell, your little radio frequencies go just where they're supposed to and don't do any broadcasting. The vacuum-gauge electronics are all packaged in a nice copper-shielded box, and the leads from the gauge tube even pass through RF-traps on the way in. The gauge itself is all DC. I couldn't force RF into that circuit with a crowbar. There may be a spook in your hardware, but it ain't from RF getting into the vacuum readout.'

"Yeah, Sam,' said Vickie, pulling back a strand of coppery red hair, 'I was coming to the same conclusion. I picked up the campus FM station on my 'scope, but I don't see our frequencies on any of the lines. Something else must be wrong.'

'So,' said Sam, standing up, 'I'm afraid that's all I can do for you tonight, sweetie. It's gettin' late, and if my wife ever found out I was consorting all evenin' with a beautiful redhead, I'd be in for some real trouble.' He dropped several of his tools into a camouflage-patterned olive drab tool box with the number '3' stenciled on each end.

'Hey, Sam,' said Vickie, 'why is that toolbox with the funny paint job "number three," and why do you have all
those
odd-looking tools and meters in there? They don't look like anything from the electronics shop.'

'They're special, honey,' he answered. 'After the bomb falls, there ain't gonna be any nice wall sockets where you can plug in your little soldering irons and drills and oscilloscopes. This is my number-three toolbox. Number one's at home, and number two's in my Jeep. Everything in these boxes is self-powered, and there's a little solar-cell recharger unit, too. It's all done with batteries, little gas cartridges, stuff like that. After the Big One, mine'll be the only stuff that works.

'You know, Vickie, you ought to give a thought to what you'll do when the time comes. It's coming, you know, and it's not that far off. We've got our place up in the Cascades all ready. You'd be welcome to join our group.'

'We've talked about this before, Sam,' said Vickie, slightly amused, 'and you're not going to convince me that it makes any sense to worry about such things. I want to get my Ph.D., not dig myself a hidey hole. In the Middle Ages a good part of Europe was convinced that the world was going to end in the year 1000. They fully expected the Second Coming and Armageddon, and they did some pretty odd and unbelievable things to prepare themselves. They must have been quite disappointed when the millennium came and nothing happened.

'You'd better watch out, Sam,' she continued. She liked to tease him, but she was careful not to hurt his feelings. 'This survivalist stuff can have a bad effect on your character. After you've made all these preparations, done all that work, and spent all that money, aren't you just a tiny bit disappointed every time the international situation gets a little better or tensions drop a notch? Don't you worry that you won't be able to get the benefits of all your investment?'

He looked at her for a moment, then sighed. 'Vickie, honey, I guess the ants couldn't convince the grasshopper that winter was comin', either. Anyhow, I got
to
get home. You think about what I said, though, OK?'

'OK, Sam,' she answered, 'and thanks for all your help. We didn't find any RF pickup, but we're that much farther along in knowing we have to look somewhere else. David's going to be disappointed, though, when he gets back from dinner. Anyway, thanks! Now I owe
you
one.'

'Naw, we're even, Vickie,' said Sam. 'G'night!'

Victoria turned back to the control console as the door shut. She moused up the supervisor program on the control computer and clicked the data file containing the settings that David had been using. Then she set the oscillator to manual and slowly turned the black knob to change the frequency while she watched the vacuum gauge. As she tuned, the gauge abruptly dropped to the 10
^-9
scale. The spurious vacuum improvement again: the problem was still there. 'Shit!' she said to no one in particular.

She had an idea. Maybe this frequency wasn't unique. She slowly swept the drive frequency from one end of the oscillator range to another, watching the meter. Only at the one value that David had found did the vacuum meter drop. She changed the oscillator range switch and tried again. As she tuned, the meter took an abrupt drop. She backed over the frequency several times to check that it was really there, then noted its value in the logbook.

Reaching for the black knob, she continued the search. At another frequency the meter dipped again. She blinked. Curiouser and curiouser, she said to herself as she recorded the third new frequency in the logbook.

Returning from the children's rooms, Elizabeth smiled at David. That was a nice story, David. You haven't lost your touch. Where'd you get this one? I don't think I've encountered it before.'

'It's funny, Elizabeth,' David replied. 'I don't actually remember. When I was a kid I was absolutely fascinated
with
mythology and folklore. On my tenth birthday my mother bought me good facsimile reproductions of all twelve of Andrew Lang's
Fairy Books
that were originally published in England around the turn of the century. You know,
The Blue Fairy Book, The Green Fairy Book, The Crimson, The Lilac,
and all the others. They had beautiful pictures and wonderful stories, and I practically memorized them. I think maybe that's where I read this story. It sounds a bit like "Aladdin" from the
Arabian Nights
or Hans Christian Andersen's "Tinderbox," but it's different from both of them. Tonight it just popped into my head. I'm not sure I was remembering all the details; I may have improvised a bit.'