Matt Flexner had literally been around the Seabright Institute for a century. At thirty, he’d been one of its showpieces, a world-class physicist, doing breakthrough work in transdimensional structure. But the extension of life had underscored quite clearly what scientists had always known: that truly creative work must be done during the early years, or it will not be done at all. Genius fades quickly, like the rose in midsummer. And all the genetic enhancement known to science had not been able to change that melancholy reality.
Matt had adjusted, passed his work unfinished to younger hands, and gone into less demanding fields. Public relations, Kim thought sadly, recognizing that her genius had never got off the train. If Matt had come up short, at least he’d been in the game. People would remember him.
He still looked thirty, of course. He had a broad forehead and a whimsical smile and a long nose. His hair and beard were black, and he was an extraordinarily gifted tennis player.
Kim was his chief lieutenant.
She told him that she’d be gone for a couple of days. Her schedule was her own. Nobody cared how she came and went as long as she got the job done. And the immediate job was to persuade the members of the Germane Society that the Institute was a worthy recipient for donations.
It would, she thought, be rather nice if she could find a supernatural being in the Severin Woods. It would open a whole new field of scientific inquiry.
She went home early, slept for an hour, then made some hot chocolate and carried it into the living room. “Shep,” she said, “see what you can find out about Markis Kane after 573.”
“Searching,” he said.
The sky was gray and cold. A stiff wind beat against the house.
“Not much here. He was an artist of some note.”
“Artist? You sure it’s the same guy?”
“Oh yes. It’s the same person. Apparently his work has a modest reputation.”
“Okay. What else?”
“He left Greenway in June 579, on a flight to Earth. Worked several years there in Canada as a consultant for flight-deck design. Retired from that in 591. Moved to Old Wisconsin. Died in 596.”
“He never served as a ship’s captain again? After the Hunter mission?”
“Not that I can find.”
It was odd. Three people disappear. And the fourth gives up his career.
Nothing remained of Severin Village except a few buildings jutting out of the lake that had formed when they took down the dam. The lake itself, appropriately named Remorse, was quite large, more than twenty kilometers across at its widest point, and lined with forest. In some places there were piles of uprooted trees.
“Shepard,” she said, “take me there.”
The living room dissolved to lakeshore.
“Weather conditions?”
“Springlike. April. Maybe throw in a shower.”
Kim’s chair was at the water’s edge. The wind rose and a small boat with two fishermen was making for land. A sheet of rain was moving across the lake, coming her way. Near shore, brick walls and chimneys broke the surface.
She sat for a long time at the water’s edge. Since she was not dressed for stimulation, the storm would have no effect on her and the illusion would be ruined. So Shepard kept the rain out to the north.
There were no artificial lights anywhere, save for a lantern in the fishing boat. “Nearest town, Shep?” she asked.
“Eagle Point. Population about seventeen thousand. Approximate distance thirty-three kilometers.”
Eagle Point. They had some of Kane’s sketches there, at the Gould Art Gallery.
She hesitated. Then: “Shep, let me talk to Emily.”
The AI’s electronics murmured. “Kim, are you sure?” It had been years.
“Do it, Shep.”
Lights brightened and dimmed again. Kim was still on the beach at Remorse. But she was no longer alone.
“Hello, Kimberly.” Emily wore the same leisure outfit, loose white top and baggy pants, that Kim was wearing. Both were barefoot. It had never been quite like this before when Kim had called up her lost sister. Then she’d been an adolescent talking with a grown woman. Now they were on equal terms.
“Hello, Emily. It’s good to see you again.” The years had not assuaged the grief of loss. Maybe it had to do with the fact that there’d never been a body. Kim had never really given up hope that her sister, her other self, would come back.
“You see me in every mirror. How’ve you been doing?”
“Pretty good. I’m working at the Seabright Institute.”
“Wonderful. What do you do?”
“Public relations. Fund-raising.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“It’s not exactly what I wanted. But I’m good at it. And the pay’s not bad.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” She lowered herself onto a log. “I’m surprised to be here. Has something happened?”
“No. Yes. Do you remember Yoshi Amara?”
“Of course. She was the fourth crewmember on the last flight.”
“An old teacher of mine called me. It turns out he was related to Yoshi.”
“Really? What did he want?”
“He wants me to look into her disappearance.”
“Oh.”
“What happened to you, Emily? Where on earth did you go that night?”
“I wish I knew. I really do.” She used her heel to draw a line through the sand. “What does he think you can do that hasn’t already been done?”
“You know the stories about Mount Hope.”
“I know that Markis would never try to steal a fuel cell. Or at least I know that if he did, he’d succeed and wouldn’t blow everybody up.”
Kim leaned forward in her chair. She would have liked to embrace Emily, to hold onto her, to prevent her inevitable retreat into the shades. “Sheyel says there’s something strange about the valley. He’s implying you brought something back with you. And it got loose.”
She sighed. “What can I say to that? Your former teacher shouldn’t be allowed out by himself.”
Kim looked past her, out onto the lake. “Emily, did you ever have any reason to distrust either of them? Kane or Tripley?”
“No,” she said. “Kile was a little erratic. But I’d have trusted him with my life. In a heartbeat.”
“And Kane?”
“Markis was a man you meet once in a lifetime. I hope one day you’re as fortunate, Kim.”
“How about Yoshi?”
“Yoshi. I can’t really answer that because I barely knew her prior to the last mission. She seemed okay. A little shallow. But she was very young.”
They had talked about the disappearance before, years ago. And it was unlikely that Shep could have fed her fresh information. Yet framing questions for Emily helped her think.
“I’ve agreed to go up to the Severin Valley with Solly.”
“Why?”
“To look for whatever you brought back from wherever you were.”
“Well, I hope Solly’s good company. Because other than that, you’ll be in for a long trip.” She tilted her head. “It’s cool out here.”
Kim felt only the warmth of the living room. “I miss you, Emily. I wish you’d come back.”
“I know—I’m sorry. I wish there were a way to do it all again. And have it come out differently.”
3
When I, sitting, heard the astronomer, where he lectured with such applause in the lecture room, How soon, unaccountable, I became tired and sick; Till rising and gliding out, I wander’d off by myself, In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time, Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.