‘Freudpheno returns.’
‘Disruption at fringe still gains level.’
‘Suspect proximate disturb module.’
The frenzied churning on the horizon continued to grow and even gradually advance into the zone. In the centre of the turbulence a solid cylindrical object appeared. Slowly it began to advance into the zone.
‘Confirm disturb module.’
The module moved out into the zone, its blue metalflake body half buried in the surface of the plain. Its front end was an open intake that sucked in the fabric of the zone as it slid towards Her/Them. Behind it, it left a trail of swirling chaos that stretched back to merge with the fringes.
She/They again raised the energy wand. The module came steadily towards Her/Them, like an open-mawed reptile cutting through the surface of the plain, its smooth, shining sides reflecting the swirling colours of its wake. The stinging of yellow light flashed again, but had no appreciable effect on the machine. The thin path of light widened to a broad band. The metalflake skin of the module changed from blue to a pale green, but it still kept on coming. The yellow band of light hardened into a deep flaming red. The module became a shining grey/white, but still maintained its steady forward motion.
She/They experienced the novelty of horror as the band of light from the energy wand was forced, inexorably, up through the spectrum. Yellow, green, blue and finally violet, then fading and vanishing altogether.
The module was upon Her/Them.
As its gaping mouth engulfed Her/Them, the zone twisted and became unrecognizable. She/They was sucked into the interior of the module, losing form as Her/Their structure flowed and twisted, falling simultaneously in any number of directions, down through tunnels that squirmed in downward Möbius patterns, glowing with shifting pink, and faced with a soft cosmic tuck and roll.
She/They had never before been caught in the path of a module, and found Her/Their self fighting against patterns that threatened to destroy the integration of Her/Their fabric.
Desperately She/They pulled into a rough sphere to best withstand the pressures. As She/They managed to retain a grasp on Her/Their structure, the tunnels abruptly vanished, and, in total darkness, waves of hard energy washed over Her/Them. The environment seemed to contract and there was a sensation of falling, then suddenly everything mapped, and a phrase filled Her/Their consciousness.
‘Folksymbol.’
She/They was standing in a hot dusty street which was lined with wooden buildings. She/They was in a male structure and wearing a rough cotton shirt, denim trousers and heavy boots. Facing Her/Them was a man, similarly dressed, his eyes shaded by a wide-brimmed black hat. His arm hung loosely beside a heavy gun that was strapped to his right thigh.
‘Reach, stranger!’
Her/Their hand, a man’s hand, calloused and sunburned, clutched for the similar weapon that hung from Her/Their belt.
The male’s gun was already in his hand, there was a roar as it fired. She/They tried desperately to rearrange Her/Their fabric as the metal projectile tore through it. The experience of pain clouded Her/Their consciousness, preventing the energy buildup needed to shift out of the collective illusion of a Folksymbol. The shift was impossible, but the wooden buildings did begin to fade, and the blue of the sky took on the swirls of chaos. The male figure that She/They had been forced into began to dissolve.
In its place, amid the pale ghost of the Western township, She/They reverted to the triple form. Two standing erect, while one lay crumpled in the dust.
***
Billy and Reave stepped off the railroad track and started up the bare grey hillside. It was easy to see where the field of the Pleasant Gap generator stopped. All along a curved line the ground boiled and fell away into a blue-grey smoke. The clear air inside the field also became a swirling, multi-coloured mist. Billy and Reave walked up to the line and hesitated.
‘Do you just step into it?’
‘It’s like stepping off the edge of the world.’
‘I don’t like it.’
‘We can’t go back now. The porta-pacs should hold things together.’
They turned up the gain of the machines on their belts and, side by side, stepped into the shimmering fog.
The porta-pac doesn’t hold things together much beyond the area immediately around the carrier, even when it’s turned up. Billy and Reave found that the fog in front of their faces turned into about a foot of clear air, and a patch of solid ground formed each time they set a foot down. They could breathe, walk and even talk to each other, although their voices sounded muffled and distant. Reave looked at Billy in alarm.
‘How the hell do we know where we’re going?’
Billy looked round at the shimmering fog and shrugged his shoulders.
‘We don’t know where we’re going so we can only go on until we find something else.’
‘Suppose we don’t find anything?’
‘Then we’ll just walk round for ever.’
Reave was about to call Billy crazy, but then he thought better of it and shut his mouth.
They trudged through the bright flickering mist. There was no sense of time, and no indication that they were going anywhere. For all they knew, they might have been walking on a treadmill. The only changes in the total sameness were occasional shifts in the direction of gravity, which pitched them on their side like a sudden pile-driving wind. It was painful and annoying, but comforting in the way that the porta-pacs always seemed to be able to produce enough solid ground for them to fall on, even though it wasn’t sometimes in exactly the right place.
Although they might have no sense of time, Billy and Reave realized they were progressively collecting an array of bruises and small cuts. Reave sucked his barked knuckles and spat into the haze.
‘I sure wish I was leaning at the bar in Miss Ettie’s. I’ll tell you that for nothing.’
Billy plodded on.
‘Miss Ettie’s ain’t even open yet.’
Reave looked at him in amazement.
‘What do you mean, not open? We’ve got to have been walking all day. It must be about evening.’
‘I don’t figure we’ve been walking for more than an hour.’
Reave looked round bitterly at the changing colours.
‘A day or an hour, what’s the difference in this stuff? I don’t figure there’s anything else at all. Pleasant Gap’s the only place left anywhere.’
Billy turned and scowled at him.
‘What about Stuff Central, what about that, huh? That’s got to exist somewhere.’
‘Stuff Central? Is that what you’re looking for?’
‘Course it ain’t, but it proves there’s something else besides Pleasant Gap. Right?’
‘It don’t guarantee that we’ll find it, though.’
Billy looked at Reave in disgust, and plodded on. Reave spat again, and hurried after him. They plodded on and on. The reality of their life began to look like a half-remembered dream. It was as though they’d been walking through the nothings for ever.
Just as despair was starting to edge its way into Billy’s mind, he put his foot on something that was uneven. He looked down, and saw blades of green grass. He stopped and bent down. It was grass. He grinned up at Reave.
‘It’s grass, man! It’s grass, growing on the bit of ground around my foot.’
‘You’ve cracked up.’
‘No, no, it’s real.’
Billy picked one of the short blades, and passed it to Reave, who turned it over slowly between his fingers.
‘Sure looks like grass.’
‘It is fucking grass. Listen, here’s what we do, take two more steps forward, kind of carefully, and I’ve got a feeling we’ll find something.’
Hand in hand, they took the first step. There was more grass at their feet, extending out for maybe four feet. They took a second step, and then a third, and they came out of the coloured nothings.