United Nations headquarters was just over a mile east of Times Square. It took ninety minutes to get there on foot, fighting traffic and crowds all the way, but at last they made it, and got safely inside—a Gliksin security guard recognized Ponter, and let them in.
The visions had ended shortly after midnight, stopping as abruptly as they had begun. Mary had a splitting headache, and felt empty and cold inside. “What did you see?” she asked Louise.
Louise shook her head slowly back and forth, clearly recalling the wonder of it all. “God,” she said. “God the Father, just like on the roof of the Sistine Chapel. It was…” She sought a word. “It was perfect.”
They spent the rest of the night on the twentieth floor of the Secretariat Building, sleeping in a conference room, listening to the wild sounds and sirens far below—the visions were over, but the chaos had only just begun.
In the morning, they watched the sporadic news coverage—some stations weren’t operating at all—trying to piece together what had happened.
Earth’s magnetic field had been collapsing for over four months now—for the first time since consciousness had emerged on this world. The field’s strength had been fluctuating, lines of force converging and diverging wildly.
“Well,” said Louise, hands on hips, staring at the TV set, “it wasn’t exactly a crash, but…”
“But what?” said Mary. They were both exhausted, filthy, and badly bruised.
“I’d told Jock the biggest problem related to the magnetic-field collapse wouldn’t be ultraviolet radiation getting through, or anything like that. Rather, I said it would be the effects on human consciousness.”
“It was like what I’d experienced in Veronica Shannon’s test chamber,” said Mary, “only much more intense.”
Ponter nodded. “But, as in Veronica’s chamber, neither I nor, I’m sure, any other Barast experienced anything.”
“But everyone else,” said Mary, and she gestured at the television set, “across the whole damn planet it seems, had a religious experience.”
“Or a UFO abduction experience,” said Louise. “Or, at least, some sort of encounter with something that wasn’t really there.”
Mary nodded. It would be days—months!—before they had accurate death tolls and damage estimates, but it seemed clear that hundreds of thousands, if not millions, had perished on New Year’s Eve—or New Year’s Day, in time zones east of New York.
And, of course, the debates would continue for years about what the experience—at least one commentator was already calling it “Last Day”—had meant.
Pope Mark II was to address the faithful later today.
But what could he possibly say? Would he validate the sightings of Jesus and the Holy Virgin while dismissing the reported encounters with deities and prophets and messiahs sacred to Muslims and Mormons, to Hindus and Jews, to Scientologists, Wiccans, and Maori, to Cherokees and Mi’kmaqs and Algonquins and Pueblo Indians, to Inuit and Buddhists?
And what about the UFO sightings, the gray aliens, the bug-eyed monsters?
The Pope had some ’splainin’ to do.
All religious leaders did.
Adikor, Bandra, and Louise were absorbed by a report from the BBC, covering events that transpired yesterday in the Middle East. Mary tapped Ponter on the shoulder, and when he looked at her, she motioned for him to come to the far side of the conference room.
“Yes, Mare?” he said softly.
“It’s all a crock, isn’t it?” she said.
Hak bleeped, but Mary ignored it.
“Look, I’ve changed my mind. About our child…”
She saw Ponter’s broad face fall.
“No, no!” said Mary, reaching out, touching his short, muscular forearm. “No, I still want to have a child with you. But forget what I said in Vissan’s cabin. Our daughter should not have the God organ.”
Ponter’s golden eyes searched for something in her own. “Are you sure?”
She nodded. “Yes, finally, for once in my life, I’m really sure of something.” She let her hand slide down his arm, and intertwined her fingers with his.
Epilogue
It had been six months since New Year’s Eve, and there had been no repetition of the visions. The magnetic field enclosing that version of Earth continued to fluctuate wildly, though, so there was no guarantee that it wouldn’t stimulate the minds of Homo sapiens in the same way again. Maybe, in fourteen or fifteen years, when the field reversal was complete, the people of Mare’s world—still no consensus on a better name for it—wouldn’t have to worry about a reoccurrence.
In the interim, though, Veronica Shannon, and others doing similar research, had become media celebrities as the world rebuilt, explaining what had happened…at least to those who would listen. In North America, church attendance had hit an all-time high—and then an all-time low. A cease-fire was holding in Israel. Muslim extremists were being ousted throughout the Arab world.
But here, on Jantar, the Barast world, whose field collapse had been over for a decade now, things continued as they always had, devoid of thoughts of gods and demons and alien beings.
Mary Vaughan had always wanted a summer wedding—her first one, to Colm, had been in February. But since Neanderthal bonding ceremonies were held outdoors, it was even more important to her this time that the festivities happen during the warm months.
The bonding ceremony would take place here, in the wilderness between Saldak Center and Saldak Rim. Mary had attended one previous bonding, that of Ponter’s daughter Jasmel Ket to Tryon Rugal. It had been most awkward: Daklar Bolbay, who was Jasmel’s former guardian, Adikor’s accuser, and, for a brief time, Mary’s rival for Ponter’s affection, had shown up unexpectedly. Even with her there, though, it had been a small ceremony, as was the Barast norm.
But Mary had also always wanted a big wedding. When she and Colm had tied the knot, they’d only invited their parents and siblings—simple and, more importantly, inexpensive, an event suited to their grad students’ budget.
But this time out, there were a lot of people on hand, at least by Neanderthal standards. Adikor was there, along with his woman-mate Lurt and son Dab. Also present were Ponter’s parents, two of the nicest 142s you’d ever want to meet. And Ponter’s daughters Jasmel and Mega were on hand, plus Jasmel’s man-mate Tryon. There, too, were Hapnar and Dranna and their man-mates. Because Mary wanted a maid of honor, even though Barasts had no such thing, Louise Benoît was on hand, as well. And, because he’d asked to attend—and nothing could be denied him during the celebrations of the thousandth month since he’d liberated the Barasts by introducing Companion technology—also on hand was Lonwis Trob, now a whopping 109, and only slightly worse for wear after having a mechanical heart installed.
None of the women present were showing yet, but they would be soon: generation 149 was on its way, and Mary was expecting, as were Lurt, Jasmel, Hapnar, and Dranna.
Ponter hadn’t yet arrived. It was traditional for the man who was about to be bonded to go hunting, procuring a food offering to bring to his intended. For her part, Mary had gathered a large quantity of pine nuts, roots, vegetables, edible fungi, and more as her offering.
“Here comes Daddy!” shouted little Mega, pointing. Mary looked up. Off to the west, Ponter had appeared on the horizon. He was carrying things in each of his hands, although Mary couldn’t yet make out what they were.
“And here comes Mother!” said Hapnar, pointing to the east. Sure enough, Bandra was approaching from that direction.