“I didn’t know you had business dealings with him.”
“Not business: I don’t ‘do business.’ I’ve acted as an agent for him on some deals, that’s all. Things I could do as a freelancer. You’d be surprised how many freelancers—some call them rogue agents—there are in the world. They’re involved in everything from import/export to equipping professional mercenaries. The days of having a pensionable job are long over, Aunt Bea. It’s more profitable to float free if you’re not averse to a bit of risk.”
“I don’t like the sound of that, Jack. Is Robert Bennett doing something illegal?”
“A lot of business is illegal one way or another.”
“You think I don’t know that? I work in a bank, remember? Long before the internet came along, banks kept the most astonishing secrets.”
That evening Jack took his favorite suitcase off the top shelf in his closet and set it on his bed. One piece of luggage represented years of his life; years spent gaining the trust of strangers, acting on hunches, taking risks. The custom-made case contained those basics without which he never traveled; he could walk out the door with nothing else and go anywhere. The frame was steel, the covering was leather, lovingly burnished to a mellow glow. Subtle modifications had been made to the basic piece over the years, invisible to the casual observer. But no part of it was plastic.
Jack stroked the leather with a touch of nostalgia. “Good times,” he remarked aloud. Then he hoisted it back to the top shelf.
If I’m going to stay here for a while I better find another way to make a living.
10
At one end of the main waiting room in the Hilda Staunton Memorial Hospital a massive wallscreen extended from floor to ceiling, wall to wall. For the safety of patients and their families it was not interactive, and was tuned to the blandest programming available.
Recently there had been an insistent demand for network news.
As Gloria Delmonico entered the room to summon her next patient a commentator was saying, “The Change is being reported throughout Africa, the Antipodes and Asia, but it’s hitting hardest in the most technologically advanced areas. For once, the developed countries are on the front line of a calamity.”
The word “calamity” sent shock waves through the room.
A massive woman perched on a king-sized pillowcase filled with crushed ice gave a shriek of hysteria. By the time Gloria reached her side the woman was flailing her arms. One of her fists hit the psychologist squarely in the stomach.
Lights flashed behind Gloria’s eyes. She heard a roar like the sea. She started to say, “How irresponsible…” Then the sea rolled over her.
At first Gerry could not understand the message from the hospital. The AllCom was spitting static. When he realized Gloria had been injured he ran to his car in the parking lot at RobBenn. As he roared through the front gate the guard called out, “Hey, you just got here!”
“Wrong! I just left.”
He found his wife in a private room, propped up on pillows and looking sheepish. “They shouldn’t have called you, I’m fine. One of the patients was hysterical, that’s all.”
“You’re coming home with me as soon as they release you.” He took one of her hands in his. Her fingers were icy. “Are you sure you’re okay, Muffin?”
“Better than okay, me and our baby both. She’s tucked up safe inside me, that little accident didn’t hurt her a bit.”
Gerry’s heart gave a leap. “Our baby! Did they tell you it’s a girl?”
Her smile filled the room. “Some things a mother just knows. But let’s keep it our secret for now, okay? I don’t want to jinx anything.”
By the time Gerry spoke to Jack again, Gloria was at home. Jack drove to their house with a large bouquet wrapped in florist’s paper lying on the seat beside him.
“She’s in the bedroom,” Gerry said as he opened the door. “Go on in and I’ll fix us some coffee.”
His wife was sitting in an overstuffed armchair with a book open on her lap. Through the window behind her Jack could see Evan Mulligan’s chestnut mare grazing in her pasture.
Gloria greeted her visitor warmly. “You shouldn’t have bothered, Jack, but it’s sweet of you to bring flowers.”
“Nobody ever calls me sweet. How’re you feeling?”
“Embarrassed over all the fuss. I’m going back to work tomorrow.”
“That’s good, I guess—if your doctor says it’s okay.”
“He does, and the hospital needs me. People are really…”
“Spooked?”
“Yes, some of them. Then there are the stalwart types who deal with whatever comes.”
“That’s me,” said Jack.
“I know; I wouldn’t expect to see you in my department. Sit down in the other chair and tell me what’s going on outside. Gerry doesn’t talk about it because he doesn’t want to worry me, and our internet’s down. That’s why I’m reading a book.”
Her brown eyes were pleading with him.
He tried to answer without conveying the unease he felt. “The media’s still treating the Change like some sort of freak show. I suspect the authorities are trying to keep a lid on things as long as they can, but rumors are flying. We should take them with a grain of—”
“What’s happening, Jack?”
“The Change has begun affecting computers.”
“In Sycamore River?”
“Everywhere,” Jack said bleakly.
Gloria unconsciously clutched her book. “What’s next?”
“We’ll probably lose our connectivity; perhaps the whole global network. Anything that depends on computers could fail, and that’s just about everything we rely on.”
“Everything?”
“A lot,” he amended, “but it won’t happen all at once, and in the meantime someone may figure out a way to stop it. Your husband thinks the Change may be attracted to differing molecular structures and is moving from one to another.”
“Do you agree with him?”
“Gerry knows a lot more about science than I do. I have some theories of my own, but—”
“I can’t take this in, Jack.”
“No one can, not yet.”
From the doorway Gerry said, “Care to make a guess as to how much time we have before the real panic sets in?”
Jack stood up and took the tray and cups from him. “I hope this is stronger than just coffee.”
“My wife’s off alcohol for the duration.”
“Sorry, I forgot. Here you go, Gloria.”
Cradling the warm cup in cold hands, she looked up at Jack. “Can you answer Gerry’s question?”
“Not until we find out who’s behind this.”
“And how to undo the damage,” she added.
Gerry sat down on the arm of her chair. “I don’t think it can be undone, Muffin, we’ll just have to find acceptable substitutes for what’s lost. Already there’s some experimentation with soft woods like pine, and especially willow. They can be flexible enough to do the job plastics do, but their reaction to heat is a problem. Plus wood’s organic and permeable, rather than inert, so there are situations where it can’t be used at all.”
“Surely there are synthetics that—”
“Most synthetics are made from petrochemicals,” Jack told her. “Even fabrics. That slipcover on your chair, for instance.”
Gloria looked from one man to the other. “A hundred years ago nothing was synthetic and our grandparents got along just fine.”
“That’s because they didn’t know what they were missing.”