Jimmy did not desire to explore the full implications of his roll in the field. They could be so wide-ranging and multiple, he knew, as to deny any insightful or useful information or purpose. `What was done, was done.’ SLIP as always would be listening. He looked down into the monitor, at the array of information in his area of particular concern. Checks for the presence of the splinter groups of the small d Delguardites, found they existed as a broad smattering of individuals with identifiable sentiments, but there was no longer any focus to their discontent. Around the longitudinal time dimension stack of each one displayed was a faint pink perimeter, representing a dormant cause field. Within this he noticed a few unconnected pale ochre dimples, and these through previous encounters he had come to associate with unconnected, thus inactive, effect-chain potentiality nodes. `It worked,’ Jimmy said happily to himself. By thwarting the nascent group who wanted to leave the Earth behind, the population would concentrate on saving the planet.
XXXXXX
“Might I ask why you’re doing this?” Jimmy asked SLIP.
“You said I hadn’t created anything.”
“I’m glad you weren’t put off by our last reception to one of your `creations’. We were cruel, I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t appreciate it at first. It was a shock. You have always liked every thing I have done. I later understood laughter as group release of nervous tension. You were all very tense at the time, if you remember. Also that you felt you could laugh at my efforts, dared to laugh, is, I learned, part of human acceptance ritual so I bear no hard feelings. Besides I can take criticism. I’ll appreciate your criticism. I just want to prove to you that I can create something.”
“Ah, I see. A bit of a challenge. I didn’t really have sculpture in mind.” He felt the side of the statue. It was incredibly smooth and pliant, something like coated marshmallow.
“What did you have in mind?”
“I don’t know,” said Jimmy trying to think of anything they wanted for, starting at household appliances to super computers, but finally drawing a blank. “I don’t know.”
“I am creating a work of art.”
He detected a sense of licence in the tone. “I wouldn’t put it past you SLIP.”
He put his hands on the stomach. “May I?” As SLIP complied he pushed his hands in between two near invisible plates and spread them like a Filipino faith healer to reveal the internals of the dummy. `Puppet would be more accurate,’ he said to himself as he looked at a criss-cross of string-like tendrils making the arms and legs, in fact the whole body move. “Fantastic. I can see you’re no student of anatomy, but anyway who cares what the guts look like. Something like this might come in handy, SLIP. For Tommy, probably more than for me; for hostile environments, that sort of thing.”
XXXXX
Lorraine found Tommy and her worked well together. Tommy knew enough about the principles of nature to devise some fantastic analytic and control mechanisms. He was strong in this area and used to working with SLIP. Often he would be physically defining for SLIP what was required, while as a subject expert of sorts, she provided him with the crucial elements or determinants that would be good indicators.
“Have a look at this quick, Lorraine, quick,” called Tommy from the far end of the long control room.
SLIP must have wanted her to look as keenly as Tommy because her stool took off down the room. She grabbed the backrest and hung on with both hands. Stopping dead, she flopped forward and her hair fell into her face. Brushing it aside, she brought herself upright, and followed Tommy’s eyes.
The viewpoint through the expanded portal was from space standing off above a planet. “It’s set at intervals of fifty yps, years per second.”
She was witnessing the progressive greening of an entire continent.
“I used that sporadic aerial seeding you told me about. You know with the little concrete tips.”
“Yeah, but they never actually did it so far as I know. It was just an idea. They were afraid they might hit someone on the head.”
“See how they’ve taken in that wet area north east of the equator, and all along the coast,” the continent came around again, “most of the coast.” Tommy passed his hand through a yellow holo bar and the planet appeared to stop rotating. The forests were spreading at a remarkable rate; germinating on the lower foothills and ridges, following the course of rivers across the expanse of the continent and blown by the wind to the four corners of the world.
“I seem to have got the environment right, for trees at any rate. Look at the CO5 draw down.” He indicated a purple holo column hanging in the air alongside the portal. The top of the column was constantly bobbing up and down as the years rolled by, but unmistakeably it was moving upwards.
There were five planets they were surveying and future monitoring. They were all regarded as highly viable propositions. There was a limit to the number of planets one could supervise after which quality outcomes dropped off seriously, and usually ended in disaster. Even with five, it was hard to keep your eye on everything that might be happening at any one time. Despite all the marvellous tools at her disposal, sometimes when things went wrong, identifying the cause was a formidable task, often beyond her.
The planet they were looking at was Phoenix; one of Tommy’s earlier failures, set back on course after prematurely being struck by a enormous meteor causing a dust cloud that shut out the light, and killed the forests before they had time to establish themselves and reduce the CO5 in the atmosphere.
There were also three prime planets with well balanced biospheres: Aristotle and Plato twin planets directly opposed in a single orbit, Declevia; a watery orb where land mass consisted of rows of huge narrow ridges and the one she was looking after, which didn’t have a name, also the object of several of Tommy’s early not entirely successful what-if exploits at terra forming.
“You see. Look that other smaller continent is starting to green over at the coast.”
Tommy’s constant enthusiasm was contagious and made it a pleasure to work with him each day.
“That’s great. How long will it take to reach an Earth-like atmosphere?”
He pointed to a smaller portal. “That’s a million years on, and it looks pretty good to me.” He moved along the console a way and pressed a pink bar. This caused a holographic histogram of atmospheric composition to appear. “Yep, look at that 7.8 percent ho ho. Methane is a little high.”
“There is increased decomposition of plant material going on.”
“Ah . . .” Tommy nodded and looked back at the console. “Now what can I do about that.”
“I’m going to check on Jeri. I’ll see you later.”
“Okay. SLIP can you do a search for me on decomposition; gases produced quantities, sources, rates . . .”
XXXXX
When she walked in the room Jeri was crying. “Aw, what’s the matter darling?” She picked her up and cradled her to her chest, and rubbed her back. “There, there. You wake up miserable did you darling. Ah, come on we’ll change you eh, and you’ll feel much better.”
“What’s this?” On Jeri’s forearm there was what looked like a crinkled piece of dried leaf. She tried to brush it off but it disintegrated in front of her hand into millions of particles. They covered her hand and ran down Jeri’s arm. She stood up immediately, picked up Jeri and left the room. She suspected the particles were spores of some type, and if it were an aggressive parasite the last place she wanted them was in their lungs or digestive tract. In the bathroom and took off Jeri’s clothes and put her in the bath. After adjusting the temperature she used a shower attachment to hose down Jeri’s arm and her own. She grabbed a washcloth, soaped it up and rubbed it vigorously over Jeri’s arm. After rinsing their arms once more, the resting place of the dust could still be seen as a light speckled brown shadow like a faded birthmark. It occurred to her removing the outer formation might encourage a greater grip on the host – themselves.
She finished bathing Jeri and drying her off tried not to panic as she noticed the outline of the dust on their bodies darken. She should have looked at it closer. She should have known better. It must have come in on one of the specimens she collected from her planet.
“SLIP we need help. Get Tommy and Jimmy for me, tell them to hurry.” It was as if the utterance took some equilibrium with it, because immediately she felt dizzy. She sat on the bed and pulling her legs up laid down next to Jeri. She felt her brow and knew Jeri like her was burning up. Unusually, Jeri was quiet, subdued for this time of the day. She squirmed next to her pushing her head up into her armpit.
Tommy was first into the room, followed seconds later by Jimmy and Mac. As soon as she saw them Lorraine began to rave. “It’s this fungus thingy in . . . on us. But I know what we can do. Jimmy, Jimmy we go back, back in time before the fungus latched onto us, and take the necessary precautions. Have to be careful . . . I believe in preventable medicine don’t you?” They all looked at each other. She sounded intoxicated.
“What go back in time and stop you leaving SLIP or without proper protection, but you are here with the fungal infection. Think about it. Won=t we run into another me and Jeri, and another SLIP?” suggested Jimmy. “We’re wasting time. We have to find a place where you can get treatment.”
“Medical treatment?”
“Yeah. The best. What else can we do Lorraine? SLIP you know all the parameters, find us somebody. A doctor, a herbalist, a professor, scientist, whoever best fitted to deal with this infection.”
“I have already begun. I have vented the room they were in when the spores were released to space. Noting the growth rate of this organism leads me to know it will reach maturity very quickly. I would suggest vacuuming away the new growth as it occurs to prevent it spreading.”
“Good idea SLIP.”
Two long black tubes dropped from above. Tommy and Jimmy picked them up and began sweeping the exposed areas on Jeri and Lorraine. Mac alternated between looking down at the stricken two and wiping a fevered brow to pacing the room wringing his hands.
Jeri squirmed, moaning and Tommy placed a hand on her tiny shoulder to quell her, but she continued to toss and turn. She opened her eyes wide and cried loudly. Lorraine rolled and took Jeri’s head in her hand. “Der, der darling, it’ll be all right. Mummy’s here. It’s all right.” Lorraine’s soothing did not make any difference as Jeri continued to bawl with all her might, swinging her head from side to side, kicking with her legs, then she crawled around Lorraine’s neck where she quietened and began to shiver.
`What’s keeping SLIP? Come on for Christsake hurry!’ Jimmy said to himself again. `How long had it been? Five minutes, ten minutes?’
“Have located forensic biologist who has devised effective poisons for eradication of fungi. But they are poisonous to humans too. The fungus is working fine tendrils through their skin. There is a risk of invasion to the bloodstream. Skin irritation would be extremely painful. There is no guarantee. The species is primitive and resistant to refined agents.”
“Keep searching SLIP. Don’t worry Lorraine we’ll find someone.”
Lorraine deliriously rolled her head back and forth, eyes glassy and wide.
Jimmy and Tommy kept vacuuming away the new growth no matter how difficult it became. Lorraine twisted from side to side with Jeri locked about her neck.
“Jesus! Come on SLIP what’s taking so long?” complained Jimmy out loud though he knew SLIP could operate no faster.
None-the-less the walls began to waver and hum like a neon tube on its way out. For a while everything about them seemed insubstantial. When the room returned to normal SLIP’s soft voice addressed them.
“There was a similar fungus species on Earth but it was wiped out quite early on. I have found a man who has also been infected several times as he lives near a forest wherein it lives. He has a treatment.”
“Let’s go!” Jimmy picked up Lorraine and Mac picked up Jeri. A portal opened in the nearest wall and they stepped through into a partly harvested field of grain. Not far away they could see a red roofed farmhouse and a large shed. Negotiating the furrows and stubble they came to a gate.
Tommy yelled as they approached the small split-beam house. “HELLO! HELLO! IS ANYONE HERE! HELLO! HELLO!”
From out the shed about a hundred metres away came a throaty reply. “I be in horral you’re lookin’ boy.”
As they entered the semi darkness of the shed they saw a figure seated on a box outside a makeshift stall. Several chickens ran about in a flap. Before the man was a small stool, acting as a table, on which was spread some leatherwork. He was plump, filthy-looking and shabbily dressed.
“Aye, greetings strangers,” he sat forward on his box and loosely fingered his knife, “I were not thinking there be so many of ye.”
“We mean you no harm farmer. We seek help. This woman and girl have been attacked by a fungus. We’ve been told you have a cure.”
“Ah,” smiled the old man revealing two lonely teeth on the left side of his jaw.” I be knowen many of yer words stranger. Foongaas, I never heard. Lay woman and girl on yon hay. If I can aid ye, I will.” He got up from his box and squatting down looked them over. He raised Lorraine’s arm and looked at Jimmy. Lorraine came to and passed out again shivering. “Ah, it be the growth yourn speakin about man. Aye, that be it.”
Near his feet chickens gathered to peck hopefully at specks. He stood straight, sending them fluttering and squawking to the far ends of the shed. Hands on hips he looked Jimmy in the face. ” Poultice need be prepared. Poultice, it be made from the bodies of the bug that chews the growth in the forest. I be thinkin’ there be tiny beasties in the belly of the bugs,” the farmer offered an opinion. “They like the poison,” he added as if he might be stretching credibility, and disappeared into the darkness at the back of the shed. There were some clattering and shuffling noises and he emerged from the shadows carrying a ceramic jar.
The minute he opened the jar a terrific stench bit into their nostrils; an indescribable mixture of every bad smell ever encountered. Tommy was holding his stomach and controlling his breathing. Mac was not feeling too good and his brow was prickled with sweat. Jimmy kept drawing back. “A foul smell aye. Because it be older.” He took up a piece of sheepskin and plunging his hand into the erstwhile cesspit extracted a lumpy greyish and yellow slime which he proceeded to spread over the skin. `If looks or smell can kill, it’s done the job already,’ thought Mac.
The farmer proceeded to wrap the piece of sheepskin around Jeri’s arm and lash it with two strips of hide. “This’ll mende youngun, sting a mite.”
“Will it scar?” asked Tommy. “Leave a mark?”
The farmer straightened up and wiped a greasy strand of hair back across his thinning pate. “Times leaves mark others not. Look ye ‘ere.” He drew back the grubby sleeve of his loose tunic and pointed at a hairless and dirty but otherwise perfectly normal section of skin. “An’ look ye ‘ere.” He lifted his shirt and pointed under his ribs, but they could see no scar. “’ere.” He pointed to his neck.
Jimmy looked closely, but saw not a mark. It was remarkable, or the man was crackers.
“Aye, ye say fair ‘nough, but look ye ‘ere boys.” On saying that he rolled up his trouser leg and opened out his foot so that his calf could be seen. It took a moment in the light to see the extent of the damage. Straddling across the muscle like an oversize, half-cooked steak was a horrible, purple-red scar depressed several centimetres below the surrounding unaffected flesh. “Happin’ ‘tween seasons. Got the growth on me and the bugs be still in the ground unhatched. Twere week ere I catch some babies to make poultice. The child’s skin be tender, but the stuff ol’, less poten’.” He held up the jar and looked inside. “Be little left. If not collect more, be none, for the wom’n an’ for ‘nother day.”
“We will help you.”
“Will ye? Oh that be good of ye.” He smiled showing them his sparsely populated gums once more. And his sparsely populated brain as well for all they knew, thought Jimmy.
“How long will this take?” Mac asked.
The farmer rubbed his chin and drew a squiggle with his boot in the dirt. “Two, tree hour.”
“Someone should stay behind with these two,” said Tommy.
Jimmy could see by their faces they were anxious to actively assist. “All right I’ll stay. But look ye be careful. Farmer, where can I get water?”
“Draw from brook behind horral a ways.”
Mac and Tommy following the old farmer traversed the wheat field and entered the surrounding forest. It was a dense mixture of fir and birch-like trees. Most of the time it was very dim so that even the inches of leaf litter they felt beneath their feet disappeared from sight. Every footstep released foul gases of decomposition. From time to time the farmer would stop and wet a finger testing the breeze before they went on. He volunteered nothing. They travelled deeper into the forest for an hour or more, until the old farmer spied something in a patch of sunlight which sent him veering off track. They followed his lead; though it was the sort of magic place they would have been attracted to were they without their guide. As would anyone, out of desperation for an opportunity to relieve the darkness and chill of the forest, and bathe in the warm, golden light and look up at the sky. The spot was populated with sprouts from seeds of the parent tree and competing blow-ins, all struggling to get up high and survive.
One of these claimants for sunshine was a poor acacia bush the branches of which had stretched long and slender. The farmer broke off several dead branches and following his example they stripped them of twigs. All the while he was walking them back to their former track, where once again they began travelling downwind.
The sombre and foreboding atmosphere engendered by the dark forest surrounding them made Mac uneasy. “We’ve come a fair way my friend. Where are these bugs hiding out?”
The farmer stopped and turned around. “We passed many a’fore. We must go back to wind so we be not covered in the dust.” Saying no more he shambled off and they trailed along. Half an hour later they saw him looking about, and then up as if to look at the condition of the sky, or the height of the sun. He stopped.
“Look ta me,” he said. He pointed with his whip-like acacia branch. “See yon roots of tree. That be where growth has home.”
Mac and Tommy began walking towards the tree.
“Ye look close, but don’t breath near roots, don’t touch.”
“I can see the fungus,” said Tommy crouching and pointing it out for Mac,” but I can’t see any bugs.”
“Sun is too high. Bugs come out to feed when sun is low. ‘fore sun sinks we must return.”
The farmer’s internal clock was right on time, because minutes later they found themselves removed from the gloom, illuminated from above as the rays of the sinking sun grazed the lower branches transforming their surroundings into an emerald, velvet world of thick mosses.
“Ye take saplin’ . . .” He held it out in from of him and bent his legs. He paused in this position and looked at them. They realized he wanted them to mimic him, and after a quick visual consultation they took up a similar position. “The bug ‘e likes the sun. ‘E is yellow like the sun underneath. An’ ‘e turns ‘is stomach to the light. When you see ‘im, you tickle ‘is belly with the end of the saplin’ and when ‘e takes grip . . .” The farmer stood up flicking the acacia branch back. “Ye try.”
Like a pair of trained ballet dancers Mac and Tommy tickled, flicked and jumped. “Aye,” said the farmer, though they saw him frown as if he disapproved of their artistic flourish. He bent over and picked up a fat little yellow worm something like a witchetty grub. “Ye pick up the bug.” He held it in the palm of his hand. “They lost the power over the air. Ye see their wings have shrunk.” A set of almost transparent vestigial wings sat like a ridiculous miniature lace bow on the back of the creature.
“Mind ye keep ye other hand in ye pocket, and keep yer kerchief up.” He pulled a dirty rag knotted around his neck up over his nose. “Yer got kerchiefs?” Tommy felt inside his pockets and found nothing as he suspected. He looked hopefully at Mac.
“What about one of your pockets?”
Tommy pulled out his pocket and tugged at it, but it would not give. Mac stepped up and activating a laser ran his finger along the seam. It immediately detached smouldering in his hand. He slit it down the sides so Tommy could tie it around his face. He noticed the frown on Ul’s face at this apparent magic.
“Don’t worry about me.” Mac touched a pad on the inside of his wrist and activated the air dam of his personal field armour. He considered stepping into the fray alone, protected as he was by his suit, but thought that this might push Ul to look upon him as some sort of demon. Already he was eyeing him suspiciously.
Tommy brandishing his branch approached a tree nearly abreast of them.
“Keep back to wind!” shouted the farmer at him.
“We must avoid the spores at all costs,” Mac told him.
“I know, Mac,” answered Tommy.
“I just thought I would make it clear. We should watch out we don’t get in each others way, if you get me?”
“Got you, don’t panic.”
The farmer gave up with their chatter and commenced collecting, a fact Tommy knew readily by the yellow bug which hit him in the face. Watching the old farmer they saw as soon as he flicked away the bug the fungus exploded in millions of microscopic spore clouds visible in the low sunlight. The deadly generation drifted away on the breeze. Mac decided that it would be better if he and Tommy took turns; one flicking and one picking up and it worked well because they did not have to keep running back all the time, or as far. It was not long before Tommy was picking up the farmer’s bugs as well, and soon they were covering ground quickly and collecting a lot of bugs. `Just as well,’ thought Tommy looking at the quickly sinking sun, for with all their fiddling about they were running out of light. With the onset of darkness the farmer led them back to the farm.
The farm house and shed were in darkness, solid black silhouettes against the purple, early evening sky and it was eerily silent but for the clattering of the dry corn stalks in the wind. Inside the shed there was a pool of light made by a candle. Lorraine and Jeri were unconscious in the hay.
“They were shivering so I put them together,” Jimmy told them. He scrounged every piece of rag and skin he could find to keep them warm. “You were a long time.”
Tommy standing behind the old man shrugged, and nodded at his back.
The farmer turned out to be a dab country alchemist. He emptied their catch into a large ceramic urn and taking up a nearby thick stick squashed and churned them for about three minutes. To this he added straw, no doubt to assist in the binding of the insectivore porridge, and he also mixed in some weevilly flour, to thicken the goo to a pliable state.
He plastered the mixture onto another ragged piece of sheep hide and wrapped it around Lorraine’s arm.
“Thank you. You have been great. We are indebted to you,” said Jimmy.
Mac scooped up Lorraine and Jimmy picked up Jeri.
“Thanks for everything . . .” said Jimmy. “I’m sorry. I just realised we don’t know your name.”
“Ul be what people call me.”
“Jimmy,” he held out his hand but the man did not seem to understand the ritual, so he pointed at the others, “Tommy, Mac. That is Lorraine and this little darling is Jeri. Thank you so much for helping us.”
“Be likin’ to help. Ye people on journey. Ye be takin’ some of the mixture. Change the poultice in two days and leave it be for two.”
Twenty four hours later they were conscious; Jeri was screaming and tearing uselessly at the sheepskin and Lorraine’s first words were: ‘What is that horrible smell’. After hearing the story of their simple saviour she wanted to thank him herself for saving their lives.
“Something has already been arranged,” Jimmy was pleased to tell her. “We waited until you were conscious. We wanted to give Ul something he could use.”
A portal opened in the near wall like eyelids parting. Lorraine looked out and saw they were floating high above ground. Down below in an empty field a sheep jumped apparently from nowhere, then another, and another until the entire field was dotted with sheep. After the sheep a huge draft horse appeared in complete harness and pulling a cart loaded with a plough. She saw the farmer, Ul who had been watching and they waved at him from their window in the sky. He shaded his eyes with his hand, smiled and waved back at them.
“I think that was lovely fellows. The look on his face. What do you think SLIP? You played a major part.”
In her mind she heard SLIP: `I told Jimmy what I think. I think we should have left the man alone.’
`I don’t understand,’ she said internally.
`Sometimes supplanting in time is of little consequence, but even the simplest acts in some circumstances or environments can be disastrous for those concerned. That is all I wish to say.’
`SLIP you don’t mean them giving this struggling farmer a bit of livestock and a plough is going to mean trouble for him, do you?’
`If his neighbours envy his wealth, and burn him for witchcraft, such is the price of satisfying gratitude.’
`SLIP?’
There was no answer.
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