Saturday, August 19, 2017

A Dancer in the Infinite - Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Blood of the Merovingians

“Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?”
– William Blake

Come...dry your eyes. For you are life, rarer than a quark and unpredictable beyond the dreams of Heisenberg; the clay in which the forces that shape all things leave their fingerprints most clearly.

-Alan Moore

     “Apparently, my dear, it has something to do with your blood, er … your DNA more accurately.”

Luke said, as if it explained anything at all.

     They were seated around a large table in the dining room, almost all of the occupants of Castle Wonderland gathered at once.  Only Dr. Helmer, Dr. Shellborne, and Dutchy weren’t present, as someone had to monitor the Freezer and Mawacky at all times.  She was seated next to the other barters, Nicole, Nancy, and Sid, and she had noticed that Barry had taken the seat across the table from her.  In total, there were fifteen current residents of Chateau de Pays m des Merveilles, so there were twelve people seated around the table.  She had a chance to talk to most of them, though their leader, Dr. Rian Jenkins, another Brit, remained silent after his initial warm greeting, and always seemed to be looking at her.  It wasn’t a hinky kind of look, though, simply one of curious interest.  She hadn’t actually seen him talk to anyone.  He seemed to like to keep his thoughts to himself wherever possible.  This project was his baby, Barry had told her.

     “What exactly about my DNA?  Dr. Shellborne had mentioned my relationship to a Clovis I?  Is that it?” Marie asked.

     “Well”, Luke said, “Jackie could tell you better than any of us, it’s her department after all, but yes, it’s exactly about your direct descent from Clovis I.  Have you ever heard of him?”

     “No sir.”

     Everyone else continued eating the meal in front of them, as they spoke.

     “Clovis I was the first of the Merovingian Kings, have you heard of them?”

     “Yes, that’s right, supposedly we’re … er … I’m related to them.  They were legendary Frankish kings with alleged supernatural powers.  Talk to animals.  Heal the sick, kind of a thing, right?”

     Luke smiled and nodded happily, “Yes, exactly!  Did you know about their alleged descent from Saint Sarah, the daughter of Jesus and Mary Magdalene?”

     “That’s just Dan Brown stuff, fiction, right?”

     “Quite probably yes, though I’m not so quick to disregard such a possibility.  The local Cathars claimed to have gotten their tradition directly from Mary Magdalene.  In any event, that’s neither here nor there, though there is a presence of ancient Jewish heritage in Merovingian DNA and yours.  But, it’s the genetic mutation that is important.  According to our friends…er colleagues in the closer parallel universes…you have the knack to do what we need to do.  They suspect it’s because of your genetic differences, an ability that very, very few have.”

     “What’s that?” she asked as she ate, she couldn’t help it, the food was fabulous. (Describe food).

     “Well, um … er … I don’t know if it’s good diner conversation or not, but you do have a right to know.  We’re not going to make you do anything, you don’t want to do.  Please, do understand that.”

     “Okay, cool, so what are you going to ask me to do?”

     Luke looked nervously at Dr. Wukowski, who nodded.  Luke continued, “In the other close universes, and by close, I mean the ones separated by the fewest differences, or shortest amounts of time ... where you … are able through your unique genetic gifts to withstand … the um … ”  He paused and looked at Barry, “Say, Barry, do you have the book?”

     Barry pulled a thin, well-worn paperback book from his back pocket.  The book had a small girl on the cover, she was floating in space.  In large print, she could read the title, VALIS; she couldn’t see the author’s name.  Allen slid the book across the table to Marie.  She saw the name of the author.

     “Oh, sure, Philip K Dick.  I’ve read A Scanner Darkly, it was a long time ago.”  Marie offered.

     “Well”, said Luke, it wasn’t like this edition.  This edition was published in another dimension, by a publishing house that does not and has never existing in this world.”

     Hearing these words, she withdrew her hand from her action of picking up the book, and froze.

     “No, no, go ahead, there’s an inscription on the title page.  Read it” Luke offered.

     Marie lifted the book gingerly off the table and carefully opened the book to the title page to the promised inscription.  It was a woman’s had writing, not easy to read, put she could make the word out:

     “This book is, quite simply, about my family, extended and otherwise.  The Lamptons and Sophia live in the house where I grew up (which was not in the town mentioned in the book); conversations here are virtual transcripts, especially between Fat, Phil, and Sophia; the child on the cover is apparently based on a specific picture of me as a toddler.  Which would make sense were this book not generally regarded as not only fiction, but a masterwork of science fiction—and by those who love it as a magnificent work of philosophy.  To me it’s fairly straightforward memoir, mixed with a little Plato’s Republic.  So that is where I am from: a place and background where the lines between life and science fiction are never firm.  Make of it what you will.  Tricia Lampton, May 2009.”

     “That book, in your hands right now…” Luke paused ”is the only thing we have been able to receive from our colleagues across the Multiverse so far, we have been able to send nothing.  And that my dear is where you come in.  In the nearby universes, where you are already helping our counterparts … you are able … to travel between parallel realities, alternate universes, different timelines … there doesn’t seem to be an end to what you can accomplish when hooked up to the Mawacky through the Freezer”

copyright 2017 Diana Hignutt

A Dancer in the Infinite - Chapter 23

Chapter 23

The Atrocity at Bram

The zombie looks like a man, walks like a man, eats and otherwise functions fully, yet is devoid of the spark. It represents the nagging doubt that lays deep in the heart of even the most zealous believer: behind all of your pretty songs and stained glass, this is what you really are. Shambling meat. Our true fear of the zombie was never that its bite would turn us into one of them. Our fear is that we are already zombies. – David Wong

Since mankind's dawn, a handful of oppressors have accepted the responsibility over our lives that we should have accepted for ourselves. By doing so, they took our power. By doing nothing, we gave it away. We've seen where their way leads, through camps and wars, towards the slaughterhouse.

-Alan Moore


     Simon de Montfort trotted back and forth on horseback and looked down on the poorly fortified city of Bram: A once safe refuge for the Cathar heretics, but no longer.  Three or four pillars of smoke rose over the fallen town.  Simon didn’t really care about Bram, he had bigger prizes in mind, Cabaret and Toulouse, but Bram was to be the start of that campaign.  Alix had brought in more crusaders from the North, God bless her, men eager to practice the art of conquest, and receive indulgences from the Church, but without the long travel to the Holy Land.  And they were all under Simon’s command.

     For a second, Simon froze on his horse:  The buzzing.  Occasionally he would hear it.  He knew the headache would follow, and there it was … the pain that seared, but in a flash, he knew what he had to do.  Sometimes, Simon believed these were messages from God himself … opening His mind to his foremost warrior against the Cathar Heresy.  Now, he knew exactly what to do.  He shouted orders down to his captains on the field of battle.  The look of horror on their faces, testified that they had heard him correctly.  He shouted the orders once again, so there would be no doubt.

     This would make the fall of Cabaret all the easier, a demoralized enemy was a beaten enemy; they just didn’t know it yet.  But Simon knew it, and he could see from Sir LaFabre’s face that his captains knew it too.

     One week later the watchman of the fortress of Cabaret rubbed his eye as he witnessed a strange procession make its way on the road towards the castle.  A line of fifty men walking single file, each with one hand on the man ahead’s shoulder.  As they drew nearer, he saw that they were not men at all but grinning demons garbed as men.  He yelled down, finally, in alarm but as he did so, he saw them more clearly.  These were not demons.  These were soldiers, wearing the yellow cross of the Cathar loyalists, compatriots.  But what had been done to them could only have been the work of demons.  Though they looked like grinning skulls, there was a reason.  Their eyes had been gouged out.  Their noses and lips sliced off.  Only their leader was spared one eye so he could take them to Cabaret.  Simon de Montfort had made his point.

copyright 2017 Diana Hignutt

A Dancer in the Infinite - Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Mountain Morning in Languedoc

It from bit symbolizes the idea that every item of the physical world has at bottom — at a very deep bottom, in most instances — an immaterial source and explanation; that what we call reality arises in the last analysis from the posing of yes-no questions and the registering of equipment-evoked responses; in short, that all things physical are information-theoretic in origin and this in a participatory universe. –John Wheeler

The crests of the mountain tops are just now turning colors, kissed by a gentle golden green. Here and there, a tiny spot of orange, red, or brown. The trees here are mainly beech, birch, fir, cedar, a few oaks, spruce, and the ever present chestnut, whose nuts wrapped still in their spiny light green sheaths litter the ground, the roads, the terrace and the trails that twist through the mountain. Autumn creeps into the countryside of Languedoc, quietly and slowly, like a thief, or better yet like a considerate roommate tip-toeing quietly in the deep hours of the night to not disturb others. When you walk down to the spring, the winding road, at first through the thickest part of the village, and then past houses situated more sporatically, their yards teeming with tangles of flowers and grape vines, terraced gardens with tired tomato plants and squash dotting the landscape on the roadsides and in the valleys below, you breathe in the cleanest air you have ever inhaled. Strangers smile and wave, greeting you with "Bon Jour." Your walk weaves you in and out of sun and shade in the mid-morning, the light taking its time to top the surrounding mountains.

Not far, in the wooded hills the sounds of dogs howling and barking on the hunt for wild boar. Primordial and savage, yet clearly they are having fun. Their yips and yelps betray their excited joy of the chase. Every once and a while, a gunshot rings out through the valley. One wonders how many reach their targets.

The water from the spring is wonderful, clear and pure. A simple pipe sticking out of a thousand year old stone wall pours forth its liquid treasure. Marie filled the glass bottles in the water basket, replaced the cap, and head on back to start her day.

The insanity of the previous day had melted away as her consciousness descended into sleep and then dream.  When she awoke to the fresh mountain air pouring in through her open window, after pulling the woolen blanket over herself she inhaled deeply and no trace of worry remained.  They all did really seem nice.  And despite their questionable reasoning, she could not but help and feel gratified by the welcome they extended her.  How could she not?  They bent over backwards to make sure she was comfortable.  Everyone in the house she meant was genuine and sincere in their greetings, and their enthusiasm to meet her.  That was something Marie had never experienced before and it meant a great deal to her.  Whatever she was expected to do, she was willing to try.

After dropping of the basket of water bottles at the chateau, she decided to wait for the bread man, who, she was assured, came by truck once a week with assorted baked goods.

The sound of French ladies talking on the bench waiting in the sunshine for the bread truck to arrive made her realize what a special moment it was. The small village center was more of a paved overlook aside the labyrinth of alleys and pathways of Labastide Espabairenque's tightly nestled houses. Birds chirped happily. A pure blue sky arched above the mountain tops.
More villagers strolled to the benches off the side of the overlook. Greetings and kisses on cheeks were exchanged. These people were honestly happy to see each other.
"Bon Jour!"
"Bon Jour!"
There was a neighborly love in their voices, even though Marie had no idea what they said to each other. Smiles and "Bon Jours" rained down on her as well. People didn't act that way at home. They just didn't. Scowls and curses were exchanged in their place.  Saint Andre's Church, ancient as the chateau was visible on a nearby mountain top.  Then the bread truck came and the villagers hurried to it.

copyright 2017 Diana Hignutt

A Dancer in the Infinite - Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Regenulfa of the Woods

If a thing loves, it is infinite. – William Blake

There is a life behind the personality that uses personalities as masks. There are times when life puts off the mask and deep answers unto deep- Dion fortune

     Regenulfa lived with the deer mostly.  She wandered the woods with them, she ate berries and grass with them; she slept and woke with them, and drank from mountain springs with them.  She loved the deer and the deer loved her.  Sometimes, when a doe, buck or fawn had hurt itself on briar, or by wolf bite, she would tend their wounds.  She was always surprised how quickly the wounds healed, but she was pleased with the results nonetheless.  If predators came round, and the tail of the deer went up in silent warning, the Merovingian princess was off at a run with them, sprinting in the crescent moonlight through dale and grove like Artemis, the pagan goddess herself.  Never, if she was with the deer, did any fall to wolves, though some were nipped and there were many close calls.  The deer sensing this, loved her all the more.

     But, sometimes, she would wander alone through the mountain forests.  Birds and rabbits would come from their nests and warrens just to spend a few moments in her love.  They would land on her shoulder or leap into her outstretched arms, secure and unworried in her embrace.  They found peace in her arms, in her vicinity, and she, in theirs.

     On one occasion a bear wounded by a hunter’s arrow had come upon her alone in the soft moonlight.  She held herself ready, but she had no fear.  These were God’s creatures, His children as much and any man, and she loved all the works of her maker.  The bear ambled slowly, and Regenulfa sensing its injury hurried to its side with great concern.  The arrow had pierced the animal’s back leg.  The virgin broke the head off the arrow and pulled it from both ends, removing it effectively from the bear.  The beast started, but just for a moment.  Once the arrow was out, it found a steady calm.  The princess rubbed the bear’s head and planted a kiss on its nose.  It nuzzled her gentle in return.

     Regenulfa knew she would never return to the world of man.  She was God’s servant, sent to tend his wild flocks and herds, take care of his beasts and all in her wooded sanctuary.  This was her purpose.  This she knew.  She could feel God closer than she ever had.  He was in each branch and leaf around her, in every rock in every stream.  In the chirping of every bird his voice could be heard.  The forest was her church, and she would never leave it.

copyright 2017 Diana Hignutt

A Dancer in the Infinite - Chapter 20

Chapter 20


From The Faith of the Future by Allan Bennett (Ananda Metteyya)

Of all the apocalyptic visions of the ending of the olden days and ways that has ever been declared to humanity, perhaps the strangest—and in a sense the truest—is the story told in the Younger Edda of the coming of Ragnarök, the Day of the Twilight of the Gods. Of old the Æsir, the bright Gods of Day, deemed that they had destroyed all evil in the world. In many a hard-won fight they had overcome the forces of Loki the Evil, Lord of the Nether Fire, and had chained him to the rocks of the nethermost hell, to suffer whilst they caroused in glorious Valhalla, holding themselves secure to all eternity. Alone amongst them Odin the Wise knew that which must be—for had he not pledged his eye to the Norns, that the knowledge of the future might be revealed to his inner vision? But Odin was too wise to mock the joy of the Æsir in their world-sovereignty with the knowledge of the day to come; and so the Gods lived heedless in the Hall of Heaven, deeming that no sorrow could again come nigh them.

But, whilst they fought and drank, the Old World and the Old Order was ever hastening to its doom. Loki, recking not of bonds, nor of the tortures of his rocky bed, was filling the nether world with his offspring; whilst the serpent Nidhogg gnawed ever at the roots of Yggdrasil the World-ash. The longer the Evil One lay chained, the greater ever grew his power, till at last the time should come when, bursting from the bonds wherewith the Gods had fettered him, he should avenge his tortue and his long bondage in a last fearful battle, wherein all Gods, of good and ill alike, should perish in one final and irredeemable struggle. Then the seasons shall fail of their order, and the hearts of men be full of avarice and wrath; brothers shall fight against brothers, and parents slay their children, and at the last there shall be nor spring nor summer, but only an unremitted winter, a horror of cold and twilight over all the earth. Loki and the Fenrir-wolf, breaking the chains with which the Gods had bound them, shall raise all the children of Hel to do battle with the Æsir, and the Death-ship Naglfar shall be floated on the twilight sea.

At last the Gods in Valhalla will perceive—too late—the coming downfall of their empire; and, ceasing from their long oblivion of festival and fight, will sally forth once more over the Bifrost Bridge to wage their last was for the ancient Order of Things. As they ride forth, the Bifrost Bridge will fall in fragments behind htem leaving them no return, and they will meet the awful army of Hel ranged ready to their coming upon Vidgard’s Plain. The Midgard Snake, breathing forth venom and fire, will overwhelm Thor the Hammerer; Odin himself shall be swallowed by the Fenrir-wolf, who in turn shall be slain by Vidar; and Loki shall at last perish under the axe of Heimdal, the Watchman of the Gods.

Then will come Surtur, from whose destroying sword fire spreads on every side, and the flames shall spread throughout the universe, and heaven and earth and hell be crumpled into one smoke-filled chaos, until at last naught shall remain of the Elder World but an illimitable ocean, and silence and obscurity; and the Old Order of Things shall have passed utterly way. All life shall have vanished,—there will be no more on earth the sound of laughter or of tears, nor of any silence of the Gods to mock. Only the Deep Waters, and the Darkness, and the Silence—only these shall reign—an elemental chaos, unredeemed of any life.

Yet not forever. When the long reign of Darkness shall have passed, a new Sun rising from the East shall shed its light; and from the Deep Waters shall come forth an Island, fair and fertile, and a new life shall be, wherein war and sorrow are unknown; and those who fought for Good of olden times will there take birth anew,—will find anew the Golden Tablets, wherein all wisdom was inscribed of old, and men shall live according to that Law, and there shall be peace and love in all the earth.

Such is the Vision of the Younger Edda:— and to-day in sooth these things are being fulfilled. For the last hundred years the Twilight of the Gods has reigned, no indeed on Vidgard’s Plain, but in the more spacious battle-field of the hearts and lives of men in Western Lands; its warring powers not the old Æsir and the Demons of the Norse Mythology, but the hopes, the ideas, the faiths; the dark ignorances and prejudices, the passions and the base desires of man. Fallen are the ancient Gods that erstwhile reigned in Western hearts, fallen the Old Order of Things,—the chivalries, the despotisms, the animistic beliefs of a hundred years ago are past and gone; and now the destroying fire of Science, like a modern Surtur, mounting aloft even to the distant stars, makes heaven one with earth and leaves behind it but a darkling chaos in the mind of man; the problems of his unanswered, the secret meanings of his being unrevealed;—to his questionings of Why and Whither only an answering silence; to his search for Light only the darkness of an unavailing nescience

Thursday, August 17, 2017

A Dancer in the Infinite - Chapter 19

Chapter 19

The Freezer

All things physical are information-theoretic in origin and this is a participatory universe…. Observer participancy gives rise to information; and information gives rise to physics-John Wheeler

     “This used to be the dungeon”, explained Barry as he led Marie down the inadequately lit stone staircase that wound its way down, “But, we hardly ever got to put anyone there, so we decided to use it for our super computer.”

     That was a joke, Marie guessed.  She noticed the temperature dropping the further down they went.

     “It’s chilly down here” she observed.

     “Yeah, sorry, I don’t really notice it very much anymore, next time we’ll make sure you have a sweater on.  We won’t be down here long, but I wanted to show you where you’re going to be spending some of your time helping us with our work.”

     “I still don’t see how I’m going to be able to help you guys with physics and stuff.”

     “You’ll see … I promise.  Within just a few minutes more of your patience … you’ll have your answers.” He assured her.  “Ah, here we are.”

     The old close stone walls around the stairwell suddenly opened into an immaculate, white tile room filled with computer terminals, banks of what looked like servers, and a large round white sphere about six feet in diameter in the center.  A young man and woman scurried busily while three older gentlemen in turtleneck sweaters sat in chairs before computer terminals.  No one seemed to notice them enter the room.

     “This is the Freezer, as we call it,” said Barry, as much to get the others to take notice as to explain to Marie.

     Everyone in the room turned to her.  The excited smiles on their faces indicated how happy they were to see her, but they quickly turned back to their work, except one of the older gentlemen who stepped forward.

     “Ms Brabant, I presume,” he said, offering his hand enthusiastically, “How exciting.”

     “Marie,” Barry nodding towards the approaching man, said, “This is Dr. Palmer, Luke, we call him.”

     She took his hand, “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

     “It’s just wonderful to meet you.  We’ve heard so much about you,” he gushed.

     “I didn’t know there was that much to hear about me.”

     “Of course, of course,” he said.  “Barry here, hasn’t explained the situation to you then?”

     She looked with mild reproach at her guide and shook her head, “No, sir … I have no idea what’s going on … except that he believes cats are out to take control of humanity or something along those lines.”  It sounded funny to her just to say it.

     “Cats? Why no, that’s ridiculous nonsense, my dear,” he laughed, “Cats are simply Their favorite hosts, our feline friends are as much victims of these parasites as we are … they were simply the first species to become infected.  Cats taking over the world?  Ha!  That’s rich, my dear.  Quite rich.”

     “So, what exactly are you all doing here, what is this place really?” She asked.

     Dr. Palmer looked at Barry.  It was Barry who answered.

     “This is an advanced research facility for experiments in theoretical physics, as I told you.  The Freezer is the world’s largest quantum computer.  It was designed by Dr. Renee Friese, over there”, he pointed to the older man with the clean shaven head who waved absently and returned his attention to his computer screen.  “Do you know anything at all about quantum computers?”

     “I’ve heard of them.”

     “Good, then you’re head won’t be filled with the incorrect nonsense that the mainstream physics and computational communities spew.  Well, as Dr. Friese’s more famous colleague, David Deutsch says, ‘quantum computers are the first technology that allows useful tasks to be performed in collaboration between parallel universes. The quantum computer’s processing power comes from a kind of outsourcing of work, in which calculations literally take place in other universes. Entangled particles would function as paths of communication among different universes, sharing information and gathering the results.’  It’s pretty neat, actually, mind-blowing stuff.

     “I’m sorry, did you say something about parallel universes?  Isn’t that just science fiction?”  Marie’s fears that she was surrounded by crazy people were starting to return.

     “I’m guessing you’re not familiar with Hugh Everett’s ground breaking work on the Many World Interpretation of Quantum Mechanics?”

     “I’m afraid not, no”

     “No, problem, Everett claimed that MWI or Many Worlds Interpretation is, and I quote, ‘the only completely coherent approach to explaining both the contents of quantum mechanics and the appearance of the world.’”

     “That’s not an explanation” interrupted Barry.

     “I was getting around to it.” Dr. Palmer insisted in his defense.

     “The principle problem in modern physics that prevents the unification of Einstein’s Theory of Relativity and Special Relativity and Quantum Mechanics is the problem of the collapse of the wave function.”

     “What does that even mean?” Marie asked, now more confused than she previously was.

     “It means,” said Dr. Palmer, “That every time an experiment is performed that can have so called random outcomes, or any time any one or thing makes a decision with various possible results … parallel universes split off where each outcome or result actually occurs.  This is now no longer theory … it is scientific fact … as we’ve proven here.”

     He waved his hand across the room.  The fact that the Freezer works is complete proof.  The fact that Mawacky works is complete proof. “


     Barry answered, “It’s an acronym pronounced poorly, Many Worlds Quantum Interface.  Ma-Wa-Qu-ie, or Mawacky for short.  I think Ricky started calling it that.  You’ll meet Ricky soon enough.  Anyway, it stuck.  Mawacky.”

     Palmer continued, with a slight air of annoyance at his younger colleague.  ”We, my dear, have been communicating with parallel universes for three years here now.  That’s how we know how important you are to this work.  Many of our trans-dimensional collaborators have been using you, or more accurately their universes’ version of you for a few months now.  We just had to find you, or, actually wait for you to find us.  We knew you would.  That’s how it’s been working in the nearby universes.”

     They’re all fucking nuts, Marie thought.

copyright 2017 Diana Hignutt

A Dancer in the Infinite - Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Wallace Patel 

The thing to know was what he belonged to, how many powers of darkness claimed him for their own. - Joseph Conrad

Wallace Patel paced in his hotel room and waited for the buzzing to start.  He understood what had happened to him quite fully, at least intellectually, but it did not concern him.  He was part of something now, something far bigger and more important than anything he had ever done as an individual.  He silently scoffed at that word:  Individual.  As if people weren’t simply colonies of cells.  As if they weren’t part of their societal organisms and collectives.  No, the very concept of the individual was nonsense; a defect in the consciousness that manifested as ego, a deranged and virulent psychological concept that prevented a greater understanding of life and purpose.  But, he was beyond even such primitive forms of collectives that humanity spurned and struggled against and for, wasting time and resources that could better be utilized.  He was with Them now.  And he was glad for it.  Humanity had its chance, but did not take it, but now in a symbiotic relationship with Them … there would be a second chance at living meaningful lives.

He did not have to wait long until he heard the buzzing inside his head.  He stood still to concentrate on the message he was receiving.  Few had this honor afforded by Them, direct contact.  The buzzing grew louder and louder to Wallace, but no one else could hear it, even had they been in the room with him.  This was how They communicated with him.  He was one of the chosen one’s, allowed to retain his mental capacity, to be aware of their presence inside him.  For a second the racket in his head became nearly unbearable, but Wallace felt this as intense pleasure, almost orgasmic.  Strange colors, corresponding to none of the known visible spectrum flashed before his eyes as the searing pain that was the richest ecstasy for him smashed through the walls of his consciousness.

The message was received.  He knew what he had to do.  Allen had gotten the Brabant to the chateau.  That he had already suspected after he had lost him.  Their enemies had removed Them from the woman.  This he had likewise guessed.  Sooner or later she would leave the safe confines of Labastide Esparbairengue, and Wallace would be ready.  The vibration emitters that the enemy had placed around the tiny mountain village kept Them and Their agents out, but she would leave.  They had left one final command in Brabant’s mind before They were terminated, and it would seal her fate.  Wallace had his instructions.  Nothing was more important than killing Brabant.  Wallace was to sacrifice himself if necessary, in order to accomplish this.

If only They had had a strong enough hold on Brabant, and could have gotten the woman to kill herself in this universe as they had in so many others, such efforts would have been unnecessary.  They had come close, They assured him … but some part of her individuality had thwarted Them.  Another reason Wallace had come to hate this defect in his own species.  If people would only just listen to Them, it would be a paradise throughout the Multiverse.  It would still.  Killing Brabant was the key to everything.  Wallace would now not fail Them this time.

He knew exactly where Brabant would go.  They had seared the image of the ruined castles into her mind, fired the right amount of dopamine into her brain before the bastards cleared Them out.  He would go to Lastours and wait.  He walked across his hotel room, opened the drawer to the bed stand and removed his Glock.  He slid the weapon into his coat pocket and walked to the door.  Brabant would die.  They would be very pleased with him.

copyright 2017 Diana Hignutt