There was only one word: ‘Goodbye.’
Nordhausen came running up, breathless with elation. “We did it,” he shouted. “I’ve tuned in the BBC and there’s not a hint or a whisper of anything wrong! Oh, there’s some news about a high water warning because of a minor earthquake on the Canary Islands. Isn’t that odd? It was augmented by a storm surge from an early hurricane, but no real threat seems to be developing. The season normally begins this weekend, but hurricane Auda is running up a six foot storm surge off the Carolinas. Word is Bermuda got hit pretty hard, but nothing all that threatening to the coast. They posted a warning, but no mandatory evacuation order.”
“Yes, we know,” said Maeve softly. She was still staring at the notepad.
“What do you mean?” Nordhausen looked at them, surprised to see the wet, sad eyes and long faces. “What’s wrong with you people? Don’t you understand? We were successful! Old Ra’id Husan al Din and his Holy Fighters never blew up their volcano. We saved millions of lives tonight and you’re standing there like it was a funeral or something. Why, what would our visitor from the future think to see you like this?”
Paul gave him a vacant look, taking a long slow breath before he spoke. “He never came, Robert.”
“What’s that? Who never came? Now where is Kelly—has he come up to hear the good news yet?”
Paul was not quite sure how to explain things. He looked at Maeve, and saw that she was giving him the same searching eyes, hoping he might understand something she had overlooked, something that would work just one more magical change on the continuum and bring Kelly back to them.
Paul cleared his voice and tried to speak. Emotion closed its fingers on his throat, like the cold, strong fingers of the Turkish Colonel. “Mr. Graves… the visitor. I don’t think he ever came last night.”
“What?” Nordhausen gave him an exasperated look. “Well of course he came. How else do you suppose we pulled this thing off?” A light of realization flashed in his eyes. “There you go with this time theory business again. What are you saying? I remember the man clearly. Don’t you remember him as well?” He looked at Maeve for support, noticing her tears for the first time. “What in God’s name is going on here?”
“It’s difficult…” Paul gathered his thoughts. “Do you still remember the meeting, Robert? Do you still recall our discussion about Shakespeare and all that business about the Bermuda Papers?”
“Of course I do. I may be a bit shaken up by this little excursion through the halls of infinity, but I’m not daft. What are you asking?”
“We can remember it all because we were protected in a Deep Nexus.” Nordhausen frowned at him and he tried to explain. “Yes, I remember the visitor as well. I’m sure Maeve will say the same. He said we were in a Deep Nexus, and that makes us all Free Radicals. Don’t you see? They created the Nexus when they came back here. It started when the visitor first stepped in front of Kelly’s car to delay him on the way to the meeting. The continuum was at risk from that very instant, and a Deep Nexus formed.”
“What the hell is this nonsense all about?” Nordhausen was in no mood for another long treatise on Time theory. He was tired and awfully hungry. He wanted food and coffee and a warm bed. They could sort it all through in twelve hours. A sinking feeling settled over him.
“A Deep Nexus is a point of maximum risk on any Time Meridian,” Paul went on, piecing things together in his mind as he spoke. Maeve listened silently, nodding inwardly as he retraced the pathways where her own fear had walked with her earlier. “Once a Nexus forms, it’s as if time is holding its breath. Any willful agent caught in the Nexus becomes a Free Radical, capable of making profound alterations in the eventual course of Time as it leaves that point. We were all caught up in this the moment Kelly was saved from the accident that was supposed to claim his life last night. A Deep Nexus is surrounded by Paradox, Robert. It’s Time’s way of isolating the Meridian and protecting it until it solidifies to some definite purpose, some new certainty. The Nexus held us all safe until we took some action to bring clarity to the situation. Who knows what we did while we were muddling about in the history, as you would say, but it was enough to reach a certain conclusion, and the Nexus began to dissipate. Once that happens, and the continuum is free to move forward again, Paradox will see to anything that doesn’t belong. It’s Time’s way of cleaning up after our mischief here. Do you understand?”
The professor listened in silence, his intellect slowly pushing his emotions aside as he struggled to grasp what Paul was saying. He had gone from confusion, to elation, to outrage and now this. A nameless sadness seemed to settle on him, and he thought he was beginning to appreciate the tears in the eyes of his friends. “Then, you’re saying the visitor never came? But I remember the man!”
“Yes, we remember him. We were protected in the void. Now Paradox is taking control of the situation and cleaning up any loose ends. Poor Kelly. Don’t you see, Robert? There was no Palma Event—not in the time continuum as it stands now. They never came back, because nothing ever happened. Yes, we all remember that Kelly’s life was spared by their intervention, but not in this time line—not in the world we have around us now. Paradox is real—that’s what the visitor tried to warn us about. I always thought is was just some impossible puzzle that would send your mind in an endless loop, but that’s not what Paradox is at all. It’s a natural force, a consequence, and it holds us all accountable for every action we take. Even if we remember the visitor, the change we made in the time line removed his reason for being here—cancelled out the effect he had on the continuum before we were all swept into the Nexus Point, because he never had any reason to come. It was as if he was never here.”
“And he never saved Kelly.” Nordhausen’s voice faded away. He set the shortwave on the console and moved closer to Paul and Maeve, arms extended, reaching for them, gathering them in to a wide embrace. They drew together, joined in their understanding and their sorrow, and shared a long moment of quiet tears in the silence of the smoky room. At last the professor spoke, reciting one of his old favorites. It just seemed to hit on the nub of the moment, and whispered the only consolation he could offer. “Destiny has two ways of crushing us,” he said softly. “By refusing our wishes and by fulfilling them.”
30
The green sward of the memorial park was broken by winding flagstone pathways, trimmed with well cultivated rows of carnations and roses. The sky was blue and clear, with a gentle breeze blowing in from the bay. Paul looked over his shoulder as he walked to greet the others, his eyes climbing the Berkeley Hills and reaching for the place where Lawrence Labs lay nestled there—a portal on infinity. He carried a small parcel under one arm, handling it with an almost reverent care. Up ahead, at the edge of a gently rising knoll, Robert and Maeve were waiting beside the freshly turned earth of a shallow grave. It was just large enough to hold the few things they had decided to inter here, for there were no remains of their friend to lay to rest.