“I think we need to tell them everything,” said Olivenko. “Or we’re as deceptive as the mice.”
“They’re actually good at deception,” said Param.
“We resent how little we can trust others,” said Olivenko, “so let’s be the kind of people that others can believe. They may not approve of what we do, but they can believe what we say.”
“If we tell the Larfolders about the mice, then we’re betraying their trust,” said Param.
“The mice already don’t trust us,” said Loaf, “and we never promised them we wouldn’t tell.”
Umbo realized that there was no point in arguing any further. When it involved a secret, one person’s decision to tell would always defeat any number of other people’s decision not to.
The real problem was figuring out what the mice intended to do. Umbo didn’t really know what the mice could do, without full-sized humans creating the real technology. He had never figured out the problem of how their tiny hands could do any serious work. They could never work with hot metals, for instance—a man with a heavy glove and apron could get close enough to a fire for him to lift iron out of it with tongs. But a short-armed mouse trying to lift a teeny-tiny bit of molten metal with teeny-tiny tongs would still have to stand so close to the fire that its entire body would be instantly cooked.
So how could they make anything comparable to what humans made? What could their technology be in Larfold, where Odinfolders hadn’t already created an infrastructure of tools and machinery?
The mice manipulated genes—they admitted to having done that, when they claimed to have created Knosso and Umbo. Well, actually, it was the Odinfolders who had claimed those feats, but then it became clear that really accurate displacement was done only by the mice.
So the Odinfolders had worked metal and built mighty cities; the mice worked with time and with genes, and made new species.
Then Umbo reached the only sensible conclusion. The mice must use time-and-space displacement for everything that humans used tools for. They never had to stand close to a fire; they could shift masses far too heavy for them to move by hand.
So if the mice made it all the way to Earth undetected, what if their time displacement didn’t work? There was no reason to believe that any of this planet-rooted time-shifting could function away from Garden. If it didn’t, what was their fallback plan? To reproduce at an insane rate, eat all the food on Earth, and starve the human race to death? Not likely—mice were too easy to kill.
Perhaps they could genetically manipulate the humans of Earth. But in what way? Any genetic change they made would take many long human generations to take effect. It couldn’t stop the destruction of Garden a year after the Visitors left.
And now that he was here in Larfold, Umbo couldn’t go to the library in Odinfold and try to learn more about what the mice could do. He couldn’t even ask Mouse-Breeder, which he’d like to do, even though he knew Mouse-Breeder would probably lie to him. Or the mice were lying to Mouse-Breeder so any answer he gave would be wrong.
The mice could move items from one place to another, and from one time to another. If that power continued to work on Earth, they would have a wide range of possibilities. They had killed Param by inserting a slab of metal into her body. But could they have simply removed a vital organ from her?
What were the rules governing their powers? How many mice did it take to handle a single displacement? Did the items they shifted in time and space have to be already detached or detachable from all other items? Or could they move a section of a pillar out of place and collapse a roof? And how large an object could they move? A building? A starship?
Could they move the Visitors’ starship into space very near the Sun and let it roast?
No, that couldn’t be it—if the Visitors did not return to Earth, it would only signal the humans of Earth that Garden posed some kind of threat.
All Umbo’s questions went around and around in his head.
Until, in the middle of the night, he got the answer.
He woke up Param.
“What do you want?” she demanded. “I was asleep!”
“I know,” said Umbo. “But how can you sleep, when I have the answer?”
“What answer?”
“The answer to the problem that we don’t know enough to decide what to do about anything. We don’t even know enough to know what questions to ask.”
“For this you woke me?” asked Param. “Go away.”
“I woke you because you’re the solution.”
“You have no problems, I assure you, to which I am a possible solution.”
“We need to go into the future and meet the Visitors and see what happens with them and then come back here and figure out what to do about them.”
Param closed her eyes, but at least she was thinking about it. “So you want me to slice time to get us into the future faster.”
“And then when we’ve seen enough, I bring us right back here. Tonight. Nobody even knows we went.”
“But I’ve never sliced time that far,” said Param. “It would take weeks.”
“You’ve never wanted to slice time to that degree,” said Umbo, “because you didn’t want to miss whole days and weeks and months. But if you really pushed it . . .”
“Maybe,” said Param.
“And we still get a quick view of what’s happening. Day and night, seasons changing.”
“So we’d know when two years had passed,” said Param.
“We’re the ones with these time-shifting abilities,” said Umbo. “Let’s use them.”
“Without Rigg.”
“Rigg’s doing whatever he thinks is right. Why should we do anything less than that?”
Param sat up and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. “I don’t actually hate you, you know,” she said.
“That’s good to hear,” said Umbo. “Because you had me fooled.”
“I don’t like you,” said Param. “But I don’t hate you, either. The others keep lecturing me because I don’t treat you right.”
“You treated me right when you took us off the rock in Ramfold,” said Umbo. “And when you got us through the Wall. In the crisis, you come through.”
“And so do you.”
“So let’s try it. If it’s more than you can do, or want to do, you can just stop and I’ll bring us back here.”
“Can you bring us back with any kind of precision?” asked Param. “I thought you needed Rigg’s pathfinding in order to hook up with an exact time.”
“If I overshoot in coming back, then you can slice us back up to tonight. You’re precise even if I’m not.”
Param got up. Loaf stirred. Olivenko didn’t move.
Param rummaged in her bag and took out her heavy coat.
Umbo looked at her like she was crazy.
“What if it’s winter when we stop?” asked Param.
Umbo got his heavy coat out of his bag, too.
They took each other’s hands, facing each other.
“I think you two are reckless fools,” said Loaf, who was apparently awake after all.
“But we can’t stop them,” said Olivenko, who was awake as well.
“Thanks,” said Umbo. “We’ll be back in a minute.”
Param began slicing time.
Umbo had been through this before, as they leapt from the rock. It didn’t feel like they were moving forward through time at a different pace. Instead, it looked as if the rest of the world were speeding up. Only this time, Umbo didn’t see people or animals move quickly by. He didn’t see them at all. Just glimpses of a person here, a person there. Days flitted by in a blur of suns passing overhead, flickering with stars that appeared in a momentary darkness and then were gone.
Snow on the ground, gone, back, gone, deeper, melted, back again, gone again. And then spring, a profusion of green; a summer just long enough to feel the heat, and then it was cool and the leaves were gone and the grass was brown and there was snow again. Spring. Summer. And Param slowed down the world around them and gradually they came to a stop.