Geoffrey A. Landis - Elemental

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Geoffrey A. Landis ELEMENTAL

1. Ramsey

Fifty kilometers southeast of Naples, two men sat waiting in the bright

fluorescent-lit power control room of Napoli Spaceport. In front of them

glowed an array of green lights and computer consoles. Behind them, outlined

on the floor in a violet glow only faintly visible in the brightness of the

room, was a complex five-fold symmetric figure: a pentacle.

The younger man watched the array of dials intensely, occasionally touching a

knob to make some infinitesimal adjustment. The older man watched him work.

What he saw seemed to satisfy him, for he strolled over to the window and

gazed out across the landing field.

Without looking up, the younger man spoke: "Luna shuttle's about ready to

lift, Mr. Layr."

"Ready for it, Carlo?"

"Running steady at a hundred ten percent, sir."

"She's all yours." Christian Layr walked over to a monitor screen where he

could watch the youth's performance and take over if necessary. He doubted

that any such necessity would arise. There is a certain skill to controlling

magic, a skill of balance and timing not unlike that of a juggler, and the boy

had it. Layr almost wished something would go wrong, so he could see how the

boy would handle it. The youth had the talent, but Layr would feel uneasy

about certifying him until he saw how he tackled a real problem, one of the

minor emergencies that make power control a job for men with skill and

courage, rather than a simple task for machines. Despite Layr's unspoken wish,

though,

for the last ten days the station had operated smoothly.

Almost too smoothly.

Layr heard the nearly subsonic rumble of power build-up and directed his

attention back to the display. Power level a hundred fifteen percent; there

would be no problem with this one.

"Here it goes."

Layr glanced up to the window. As if by magic, the blunt-nosed spacecraft

appeared from the launch pit to hover for an instant before his eyes. Slowly

it began to inch upward, then to hasten forward with an implacable urgency,

finally to rush with a clap of thunder headlong into the morning sky, as if

all the demons of hell chased after it.

In a sense, they did. Behind him the control pentagram lit the room with a

brilliant violet fire as it transmitted the energy flux to shove the

thousand-ton shuttle up to parking orbit. Far beneath his feet, the main

pentacle glowed, not violet, but gamma. No human eye could ever look upon it

in its full glory. Within the impenetrable walls of the protecting spell was

confined a more powerful magic yet: two hundred kilograms of pure antimatter.

In Chicago it was 7 A.M. Yawning, Ramsey Washington looked out the window of

his third-floor apartment. A soft wet snow fell steadily. It masked the

outlines of the tenements and weighed down the branches of the evergreen that

struggled to grow in the building's entrance courtyard. He cursed softly.

Perfect Christmas weather-in April. Some bureaucrat at the weather service

must have thought it a good April fool's joke. More likely, he reflected,

they'd

needed a blizzard here as the best way to equalize a water imbalance elsewhere

in the world. Africa or Antarctica or Alabama or somewhere. Maybe it had been

announced and he'd just missed it.

He dug through the cluttered drawers of his desk and came up with a usable

piece of blue chalk and a battered secondhand hardcopy of the Handbook of

Thaumaturgy, 2052nd edition. He cleared the accumulation of dirty clothes and

half-written papers from a one-meter circle on the floor, then carefully

chalked a pentacle, copying exactly the diagram in the book. He chanted the

book's recommended spell sequence and stepped inside. Spell completed, he

grabbed his data microdisc and headed outside.

As he entered the snowstorm, a circle of warm air formed around him. Although

by now the snow was nearly twenty centimeters deep over the walk, where he

stepped and for a one meter circle around him the snow vanished, reappearing

magically behind him again as he walked onward.

Modern thaumaturgy-usually simply called "magic"-was the logical outgrowth of

quantum field theory. The basic premise of thaumaturgy is that "reality" is

merely an abstract mathematical construct. Therefore, it can be controlled by

the manipulation of abstract symbols-provided that the correct symbols can be

chosen. The snow ward which Ramsey took for granted was only one of many

changes wrought by the consequent technology.

Protected by his home-made ward, Ramsey ignored the snowstorm swirling about

him. As he walked under the low hanging branch of the evergreen in the

courtyard he ducked his head instinctively. Anyone as tall as Ramsey quickly

learns to duck without ever really noticing it. As he walked under the tree,

the snow on the branch above vanished, exorcised by the snow ward. Freed, the

branch sprang up, smacking the branch above it and shaking loose a new mound

of snow. In a chain reaction of unleashed branches, the whole tree shook

itself free of its burden of snow.

Ramsey's low-power spell had been designed to protect against a pretty heavy

snowstorm, but it had never been intended to stop an avalanche. The spell

overloaded with a loud pop. He abruptly found himself up to his armpits in

snow.

Ramsey heard a giggling somewhere behind him, and whirled around to see who

was laughing. Unfortunately, the snow was rather more slippery than he'd

anticipated. His feet skidded out from under him, and he landed flat on his

back in a flurry of snow. Helpless, he heard the giggling rise into a robust

laugh. ,

He pulled himself carefully to his feet. "Have you no respect for the mortally

wounded?" He shook himself off and glanced surreptitiously at the girl

standing on the sidewalk laughing.

"Oh!" The girl rushed over. "I'm sorry! Are you hurt? Where?"

"My dignity, woman, my dignity's taken a mortal wound. I may never recover. "

"Oh, poor baby!" she replied in mock seriousness. "Shall I kiss it and make it

better?"

"Hey, that's the best offer I've had all day," said Ramsey. He looked up at

the girl and grinned, "Say, you mind if I ask a dumb question? What's your

deep in conversation. "I'll need all the luck 1 can get."

In Italy it was early afternoon. The sun beat down warmly, as might be

expected on a day in early April. In the fields, two farmers stopped working

the rich volcanic soil to rest in the shade of a solar array. One of them

brought out .he midday snack of bread, wine, and cheese, while the other

hooked the tractors up to recharge.

"Explain once more to Giuseppe how it is that your vines produce so

bountifully this year."

"It is because of this amulet of my wife's mother." Luca held up a small piece

of carved volcanic rock suspended on a silver chain. Giuseppe looked at it

dubiously.

"That? It is no different than the one my wife wears about her neck to ward

off the evil eye. Yet my vines do not produce like yours."

"Ah," said Luca smugly, "wearing is not enough. You must know how to use it."

"Ah," said Giuseppe. "So tell me, how is it done, to use this thing?"

"And why is it I should say to you?"

"Come, Luca. Did we not grow up together? Are we not friends? How is it that

you would now hold out on your poor friend Giuseppe?" .

"Indeed," said the other, "I would not. This is what is to be done. Each

morning before going into the fields you must take the amulet and make with it

this gesture-" he demonstrated with his hands "-and say the following chant-"

he intoned a short series of nonsense-sounding syllables.

Giuseppe was still dubious. "That's all?"

"Indeed."

"It would be simple ,enough for me to try. Father Corsi would not approve,

though. He would call it witch work."

"There is no need for Father Corsi to know. Besides, he is surely aware of how

many of his flock wear charms against the evil eye, no`'"

"Yes. And he calls it idolatry, too."

"But he does not forbid it."

"This is true, he does not. But tell to me, how is it that you know this

thing?"

"My cousin Roberto, who was in the navy, learned it from a sailor who had a

brother who went to the university to learn science. This sailor knew many

things to do with such charms, but only the one of any usefulness."

"So," said Giuseppe. "This does not sound like the devil's work. Indeed, I

will do it. Perhaps my vines too will become as bountiful as yours."

"I wish you luck." Luca looked at his wristwatch. "Time now for us both to be

back to work." He walked over to his tractor. "Do you remember well the

gesture and the words?"

Giuseppe repeated the words, making the gesture Luca had shown. Luca nodded.

"Good. I wish you prosperity, my friend. "

"And you."

As Giuseppe drove the tractor that afternoon he repeated in his mind the words

and the gesture. If it worked he would show it to his brother-in-law, who also

grew a small plot of grapes behind his fields. And perhaps to his cousin

Rafaelle? Yes, he decided. Such

a useful thing should not be kept to oneself, but had to be shared with

others.

Ramsey looked down at his stack of notes, licked his lips nervously, looked at

his watch, and then knocked at the door. Without waiting for a response, he

walked confidently in. Doctor Williamson looked up from her desk computer.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Washington. Right on time. I'll be with you in a moment." She

turned back to her qwerty.

Ramsey walked over to one of the plush lounge chairs and sat down. He looked

at the expensive glass sculpture on the table next to him, then let his eyes

wander over to watch her work. What a woman, he thought. She had light brown

hair, almost a shade of blonde, cut fashionably short. Today she wore a light

green sweater with a gold and green silk scarf wrapped casually around her

neck. Dressed in impeccable taste, as always, he thought. I bet she never

falls down in the snow on her way in. She flicked the Save switch on the

computer and turned to him.

"That outfit looks very good on you, Dr. Williamson." Ramsey remarked

casually.

"Thank you. Mr. Washington," she replied curtly. "Now let's get to work, shall

we? I presume you've finished the data analysis on your recent run, right?"

"Well, not exactly," Ramsey said. "I've been having a slight problem with the

data in the third and fourth quadrants. Nothing important, I'm lure."

"Let's have a look at it." Doctor Williamson reached out a hand. Ramsey

quickly dug out his microdisc and gave

it to her. She popped it into the receptacle on her computer and studied the

screen for a moment.

"I see," she said. "What do you think this signifies?"

"I'm not really sure," Ramsey replied. "Maybe some localized anomaly in the

Earth's field'?"

"Yes, I suppose that's a possibility. Rather unlikely that no one previously

ever mentioned it, though, don't you think? After all, people have mapped the

magnetic field for several centuries now."

"Maybe it wasn't there before?"

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