Dark Matter - A Science Fantasy by Charlene Anderson - Vistas & Byways Review

FICTION

The last flight of the day was coming in from Prox 7.
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Dark Matter
a Science Fantasy
by Charlene Anderson

The last flight of the day was coming in from Prox 7. Addison Barnes sat crunched against the wall of the Flight Control Room working her fingers fast on the Board and her mind just as fast to zone in on the psi messages from Sue and Brad. Sitting there, with her dark hair, black shirt and dark plaid skirt, she seemed almost part of the room with its tall black walls and dark floor. The only light came from the blinking red and white lights all up and down the array in front of her, monitoring flight speed and distance, as well as the psi power that Sue and Brad were projecting out.

There was a beep on the panel above her head. She squinted at it through her thick black glasses. “Brad here,” the audio cut in. “Addy, Sue’s down again. We’re halfway in from the moon so I can coast on impulse nudging it along with my ever-so limited OTL.” He laughed. It was a standing joke that his psi status on Other Than Light Drive (OTL) was less than Sue’s.

“Gotcha,” she said. “How bad is Sue?”

“Not as bad as last time. She’s resting.” He dropped his voice. “More embarrassed than anything.”

Addy nodded. “Okay, Brad, let’s bring her in.”

An hour later, the ship had set down on the landing pad outside the building, the passengers had disembarked and Brad and Sue were knocking on Addy’s door. She let them in and switched on the light in that corner. Brad Halverson, tall, blonde and decked out in his bright blue uniform complete with the Beanie hat he insisted on wearing, helped a bedraggled looking Sue Lam in. She slumped into one of the chairs by the door and Brad took the other.

Addy leaned towards her. “How are you doing, Sue?”

Sue was Asian but had permanently altered her hair blonde, and now was so pale, her face almost matched her hair. “I don’t know what happened,” she said. “I thought I had it under control, back under control.” She looked beseechingly from Addy to Brad. “I don’t want to give this up. I’m a solid 2.”

Brad patted her back. “You’ll be okay. Maybe need to stop over to Head Med for a tune up.”

She whirled around toward him. “No!”

Addy felt Sue’s head. “No fever. Not like the last two times.” She looked at Brad. He shook his head. “Maybe we should run you through the psi-counter,” she told Sue. “That may take care of it and then you won’t have to get checked out at Head Med.”

“I guess so,” Sue said listlessly but started dragging herself up.

They moved from that lighted part of the room to the dark side where the psi-counter was, Sue leaning on Brad’s arm. Addy squinted at that, not sure what she thought about it. They got Sue settled in a chair with headphones and Addy’s agile fingers brushed across the panel.

“Okay, you register a 2/3 psi, and wobbly at that.”

Sue sat upright. “But I’m a 2 or more, you know that.”

“Not right now, you’re not,” Addy said.

Brad patted Sue’s back. “You’ll be fine, Sue. It’s temporary. You’ll see.”

Addy frowned at him. “No way to know without tests at Head Med.” She cleared her throat. “But before you go over there, let’s see how you do on the psi-thrust test here.”

Sue gave her a look but swiveled around and put her head against the panel. “Okay. Ready.”

“Go,” Addy said and peered inside the chamber. As usual, it was completely empty in there except for the all-important blue test ball. She threw the controls, the ball moved and Addy checked the readouts. “You moved the ball 2.1 feet,” she told Sue.

Sue jerked back, almost knocking Brad over. “That’s ludicrous. I’ve never been that bad, psi-exhaustion or not. You messed it up, Addy. Run it again.”

Addy sighed. “Look for yourself.”

Sue looked. Brad checked too and, looking a bit wistful and apologetic, agreed it was right. After a little more complaining, with Sue leaning on Brad’s arm, they left for the psi Recharge Lab, aka Head Med.

Addy shut the door and leaned against it, glad to be rid of them, Sue who she considered a whiner and Brad because he seemed to be fawning on Sue. It crossed her mind that they might be having an affair. Addy and Brad had never been romantically involved and she wasn’t sure she wanted to be, but it rankled that he might be interested in someone as self-engrossed as Sue.

She paused in front of the psi-counter and eyed it resentfully. She’d long known she was at least a 3, better than both Sue and Brad, but she had never done the final, defining psi-thrust test. No surprise there: her parents were the pioneers in psi and still had the highest scores ever achieved and Addy remained not-so-secretly afraid she wouldn’t measure up.

The vid phone beeped. “Addy, it’s me. I need to talk to you.” Addy jumped, hearing her mother’s voice.

Josie’s voice filled the room from top to bottom. Her face circled the room in a warped, elongated stretch. “What’s wrong with this thing?” Addy flipped the sound and video, and her mother’s face became normal-size and -shape, and her voice no longer echoed through the room.

“Hi Mom. I—I was just thinking about you.”

“I had that feeling,” her mother said, looking tanned and healthy, her hair still red at 87.

Abby blinked. “I hope you’re not claiming that your psi works from all the way out on Prox 7.”

“No, dear. It’s my mother’s intuition.”

Addy laughed, in spite of herself. “How are you? And how’s Dad?”

Josie nodded. “I’m good, although a little bored. Lucas is out touring a newly-discovered cluster of waterfalls.”

Josie Addison and Lucas Barnes had retired, both at the relatively young age of 85, and set down roots on Prox 7, the smallest, but greenest planet around the two stars, which together with a white dwarf, comprised the totality of Alpha Centauri. That planet, though small, was replete with gorgeous waterfalls and Lucas liked photographing them.

“Are you still coming back for my birthday?” Addy asked.

“Of course. That’s what I’m calling about. While Brad was here, we planned the party and—”

“—Brad visited you?”

Her mother nodded. “Yes, he’s a very nice young man.” She gave Addy a look. “So, what are you waiting for?”

Addy jumped. ‘You know there’s nothing between Brad and me.”

“That’s what I mean. Get going.”

“Mom.” Addy shook her head. “He’s younger than me and—”

“Only five years.”

“I know but—”

Her mother waved her off. “Anyway, we planned the whole party. You only turn 55 once, you know.”

Addy changed the subject. “I was thinking that while you’re here, you might talk to Dan Sherman”—Director of the Flight Program—“I’m sure you and Dad could name your project and your time-commitment. They’d love to have you back, and you’re too young to retire.”

Josie shuffled around in her seat. “You know how your dad feels about that. Anyway, we’ve done our bit. Let someday else come up with something new.” She cleared her throat. “You, for example, Addy.”

Josie and Lucas had met in grad school while working on their PhD’s in Physics. They not only had physics in common but also the odd fact that both sets of their parents were practicing psychics. As scientists, they were embarrassed by that fact and for years refused to acknowledge their parents’ ability and were appalled at the mere suggestion that they might have it too. Then, the very day Addy started kindergarten, her parents sat down together at their kitchen table and tried to employ psi, hoping against hope they’d fail, but instead they skidded their chairs and the table across the room straight into the refrigerator. Bizarrely, that was the beginning of psi or Other Than Light Drive (OTL), labeled that in deference to the still-unachieved and possibly unachievable Faster Than Light Drive (FTL) the scientific world still dreamed of.
Addy had spent 55 years in her parents’ shadows. She even carried both their names—Addison Barnes, daughter of Josie Addison and Lucas Barnes. “I just want to live my life quietly,” she told her mother now for the thousandth time. “I have no desire to invent anything. Anyway, how could I possibly top OTL?”

Josie blinked but looked pleased. “Don’t forget that Lucas also has an MD and I have a PhD in physiological psychology, and we both carry all the implants we and others developed and—”

“—Mother, I know. I know.”

“Sorry. I don’t mean to brag,” she said. “It’s just that things are a bit dull here and I guess I think about the past too much.”

“So, come back,” Addy said. “And at least do something besides cooking and watching vids while Dad goes on nature trips.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing you,” Josie only said. “And do give poor Brad a chance.” She cut the connection.

Addy made a face at the now-dark vid screen and started shutting things down. It was 8:00 on Friday night and no more flights were due in from any of the seven planets in the Alpha system until Monday. The facility in Seattle handled space traffic from the moon, Mars and Titan. And now in 2332 that was all there was. In five years, OTL might have developed enough to take them to Wolf and Barnard which, considering it had taken 20 years to make the first leap to the moon after that first weird refrigerator jump, was damned good.

Addy shot a sideways glance at the psi-counter as she opened the door to leave. She had a PhD in physics and, though she didn’t have an MD or a doctorate in physiological psych like her parents, respectively, did, she had earned an NP. So, she too had the requisite creds for space-psi: innate psychic ability, learned scientific knowledge of brain physiology and function, and of course the implants which enhanced both of those.

Both her parents had pushed her for years. “You can do so much more than coaxing flights in and out,” Lucas told her over and over until the move to Prox caused him to lose interest in that and just about everything else. Josie never stopped trying.

It was mid-May, and as she lifted to the roof to board her hover car, it was just turning dark. As she flew over LA, the darkness was studded with lights below and starlight above and oddly that reminded her of the constantly blinking lights on her Board at Flight Command.

She was halfway home when Brad called. “Sue’s neck is wired up with implant regenerators and her arms with IVs,” he said. “She resembles something out of a horror vid and looks as pale as if Dracula got to her.” He laughed. “But she’s doing better and will probably be released tomorrow.”

That night Addy dreamed she was in Head Med hooked up to implant regenerators and IV drips coming down from the ceiling. Her parents and Brad were sitting in chairs around the bed.

“You need to take that test,” Josie told her.

“And complete the training,” Lucas added.

Brad, dressed in his bright blue flight uniform, leaned towards her. “You have a responsibility, Addy.”

“Yes,” her mother said. “The world is waiting. You’re falling down on the job.”

“You have to take that leap,” her father insisted.

“Nobody can do it but you,” they chanted together, waved their fingers and rushed the bed.

Addy woke with a jerk, looked around, confused, then laughed and rolled out.

That day was especially busy and she barely got to leave the Board. Still, she found herself zoning out and revisiting that dream. “Prox 6 Steelworks here to Addy,” a voice clicked in on the panel. “Repeat request. Are we on course? Need assessment now.”

“Sorry, Alice,” Addy said. She shook her head to clear it, and deftly got things back in faze. “Come on in.”

After the long day was over and the crackling energy and lights were gone, she rolled away from the Board and sat quietly. At the upcoming party, not unlike in that wacky dream, she’d be confined to a seat and surrounded by her parents, Brad and others who, possibly with good intentions, would be telling her what to do. Both the dream and the party felt like microcosms to the macrocosm of her life.

She got up, paced around, then sank down at the psi-counter and sat there frowning for several minutes. Then, with a sigh, she put the headset on and started running tests. Not much had changed since the last time she’d run them: she was up from 3 to 3.2 on psi ability while sustainability stayed the same. She hesitated. There was still the main test—the psi-thrust test—that she’d started several times through the years and never finished. But now suddenly, she had to know—even if she scored worse than Sue had with all her psi-exhaustion.

The test, a seemingly simple one, used the tunnel to measure basic ability for thrusting objects. The tunnel was half a mile long, but no one had ever pushed the test ball that far, not even Lucas or Josie. Addy leaned forward and peered into the window. It was dusky inside and looked cold and somehow bleak and uninviting. The blue ball, lying innocuously on the floor, resembled a soccer ball and didn’t look like it would work even for testing somebody’s kicking ability, let alone how far somebody could propel a ship through space.

After all those false starts, she knew the technique well enough. So, she clenched her teeth, drew her consciousness back, focused on the ball and let the energy she’d accumulated in her mind—or hoped she had—seep back out until it ‘circled’ the ball. Then from the depths of her mind, she gathered her energy and blasted it at the already-engaged ball.

She slammed back against the chair. Her eyes shut; she slumped forward. The lights in the room flickered and the room, usually humming with low-grade background noise, went silent. Then there was no room, no darkness, and no chair.

She was standing, teetering on a ledge. Below was nothing but vaporous brownish emptiness. She staggered away from the ledge and bumped into a kind of wall that was soft and yielding and quickly surrounded her in what seemed a combination of fog, clouds and sticky white cotton candy.

“What’s going on? Where the hell am I? How did I get here?” Addy yelled. She stumbled into the white mess. The soft ‘wall’ curled around her and she couldn’t move.

A shadowy figure swirled in front of her in the gloom. “Intruder!” a raspy voice called out. “How did she get in here?” “I thought we barred the way,” a second figure yelled.

Silence. Addy peered into the whiteness, hoping whoever they were, they were gone.

Bands of energy slashed through her. “Go away,” a chorus of quavering voices sang. She wanted to do nothing better and tried to run. Diaphanous faces were all around her and she still couldn’t move.

A baritone voice commanded, “You’ve breached our world. That is unacceptable. How did you get in here? Explain. Now.”

Before she could answer, darts of communication flew back and forth among them: “She doesn’t know.” “It was an accident.” “A mistake.” “A foolish, stupid mistake.”

They laughed. The wall shook.

Addy squinted into the whiteness—they kept laughing. She was cornered, frozen. But then that part of her that had allowed her to finally finish that test, flared up. “It—it was a mistake,” she said. “I was conducting a test . . . on my psi-thrusting ability and I don’t know how I got here. And—and where am I? I’m sorry I broke in or whatever I did. I didn’t mean to. I just want to get out of here. Now.”

A ‘woman’ in a flowing dress shimmered a little closer. “Since you made it here, no matter how inadvertently, we’ve decided, out of our inestimable magnanimity, to explain. Possibly you have the ability to comprehend.” A trace of a smug smile. “You’ve arrived on what you would call the Dark Matter Plane—a plane your limited scientists don’t understand and have seriously flawed and absurdly fantastical ideas about.”

Addy’s eyes opened. That was her world they were disparaging, the world of physics and science. She blurted, “Okay, what you say sounds crazy. But seeing all this”—she looked around—“I can’t deny that this place is way beyond anything I’ve seen or heard about. So, unless I’ve gone crazy, unless that damned test drove me crazy, it might just be dark matter. And it’s true that we don’t understand dark matter. But we’re studying it, we’re working on it and who are you to—”

Images of strange trailing beings doing cartwheels shot through her mind. “Ho. Ho. Ho.”

A flickering figure stood directly in front of her. “It hardly matters what you think of dark matter.” He laughed at his little pun. “But we here, in this world of what you call Dark Matter, created your limited and limiting universe so long ago that we almost forgot about it.”

Addy looked into the whiteness trying to ferret out the ‘man’s’ eyes. “But--why? Why?”

“We designed it for fun, for sport and especially, to toy with physical bodies to see what being limited felt like. It was temporarily distracting and we had a few laughs and learned some tricks. But we soon tired of it and left.

“And as to the other question you’d be asking if you only had the wit to—that is, why didn’t we put that failed universe and you sorry beings in it out of existence long ago. Well, that’s simple too. I’m reluctant to admit that a few of us were regressive and actually liked it there.” An ethereal version of a snort. “We gave them every opportunity to leave with us but some actually preferred to stay.”

Another voice added, “So they—that is, those who came before you—remained and now you, their progeny, ferret out a tatter of a life—reproducing and actually dying!” A sigh of revulsion shuddered through the whiteness.

“And as for you, you can’t stay here,” another voice declared. “We should end your puny life right now and build better barricades so none of your kind can get through again.”

“In fact, we should destroy that nether realm immediately and all of you with it.”

“But,” said a different voice, quiet, male, possessing a little more form, “we do acknowledge achievement and so, since you made it here, accident or not, we will continue the debate on the fate of your homeland and, for now at least, let you live.”

There was a swarm of darkness in the light. Myriad hands pushed into her back.

Addy skidded across the black floor in her black chair and careened into the wall. Lights flickered. There was a crashing sound. The upper part of the room rattled and dust sifted down. Addy’s legs flayed out, but she dragged herself upright and looked around. The room appeared the same as usual, yet somehow not the same at all. Bouncing her gaze from one spot to another on the tall, rounded wall, in her mind she stood tottering on the edge of a white and undulating world.

She jumped up and ran over to the psi-counter and peered inside. The blue ball lay in the same spot as before; it hadn’t moved. She clamped her implants into the counter and verified that she’d moved the ball no distance and in no time.

She gasped, jumped up again and ran to the Board. Streaming research, she found that, as she already suspected, after all these years since its discovery in the early 20th century, very little had been determined about dark matter. The theory still held that it formed the scaffolding, the infrastructure on which galaxies and all visible matter depend; that dark energy, dark matter and visible matter are related in spacetime; and that 78% of the universe is dark energy, 27% dark matter, and only 5% everyday visible matter.

She stared at the ceiling so far above. It had always seemed like nothing but a ceiling, but suddenly now she felt like she was languishing at the bottom of a deep well. She scanned the room searching for some indication that this world, this room were the real and sole reality, not merely the lousy 5%, lying, dying at the bottom of a much larger and unfathomable universe. Nothing came.

Two weeks later, Brad helped pilot Lucas and Josie in. Sarah Brunswick was the 3 replacing Sue, who’d been reinstated to duty but was limited to solar system flights. Sixteen people—mostly invited by Brad and Josie—gathered in a new, popular restaurant floating in a mini-ship above the La Brea Tar Pits, predictably named, “From Ice Age to Space Age,” and nicknamed “Ice.” Addy felt she handled the situation fairly well. She forced herself to chat amiably with everyone, even those she didn’t know, and tried to ignore Brad’s discomfort at being seated between her and Sue. She even managed to conceal her aggravation at her father for looking dazed and distracted and her mother for jumping, what Addy considered way too eagerly, into a discussion of any speck of news from Flight.

When her parents shipped out a few days later, she felt both relieved and let down. With fewer personal concerns, the incident with the psi-counter pushed back into prominence in her mind. She tried to concentrate on work, but things were slow and how much concentration did it take to do a job she’d done for 15 years. During that week, some unexpected and unsettling things happened too. Once, thinking about Brad’s discomfort, she realized with a start that he was interested in Sue but felt guilty about her, Addy. Another time, she had a flash that it wasn’t just Josie who was bored on Prox: her dad tried to cover it by acting aloof, but he was just as unhappy as Josie. Also, rather than fading away, her ‘experiences’ in what purported to be dark matter lingered and strange ‘emanations’ occurred too. Several times she heard haunting laughter in the back of her head, and once a wispy shadow slipped through her mind and laughter echoed through the room. So, not surprisingly, by the end of that week, she was jumpy and more than confused.

The following week, Brad stopped by. They discussed the party and his upcoming trip to Titan, a destination he’d never been to before. He seemed even more nervous than usual and Addy started getting annoyed.

Then she experienced another mysterious flash of insight. “Brad, I—I’m not sure how to say this, but you don’t need to worry about me. You and I are good friends, right?” He nodded. “But I get that you’re interested in Sue.” She put her hand up to stop him from interrupting. “Don’t deny it. I don’t know if you’re already involved with Sue, but I’m honestly okay with it. I want you to be happy. The last thing I want is to stand in your way.”

He looked at her, away, back. “Addy, do you—do you mean it?”

She patted his hand. “Yes, I do. You have plenty of charm, Brad, but I won’t be crushed. I’ll manage to go on.” She grinned.

He blushed. “Well, it’s true. Sue and I have been getting closer lately, but I was worried about . . . you.”

She got up, did a little pirouette around the room. “I’m fine, Brad. See!”

He gave her a hug. That surprised her but she was glad.

They talked some more and he became increasingly at ease, and watching him relax, something dinged in her head. “Hey, there’s something I’ve been wondering about and, if you have time, maybe you can help me with it.”

“Sure,” he said. “Glad to.”

She certainly wasn’t ready to tell him the whole story, so she only said, Well, it’s the psi-counter. I did a few tests a few weeks ago—on myself—and everything else was okay, but the psi-thrust result made no sense.” She paused. “I had the counter checked, of course, but it came out clean. So, I think that maybe running it on myself, which I know isn’t recommended, might have compromised the outcome, and I wondered if you’d run it again.”

“Wow. You finally did it!” He gave her a look. “I’m impressed, Addy. And it was about time too.” She gave him a look. “Okay, okay, I won’t give you a hard time. I know it’s been tough for you to do it. I’m just happy” He paused. “So, what results did you get?”

She shook her head. “That’s the weird part—I got none. I didn’t push the ball an inch and it registered that the test took no time and had no results.”

“That is odd. So, when do you want me to conduct the test?”

“How about now? It won’t take long and you’re already here.”

“Sure,” he said and sat right down.

She sat too, got in place, fixed her gaze on the ball and tried to push her apprehensions aside. “Go,” he said. She drew in her breath along with her will and blasted her energy at it.

Her breath caught. She was on that ledge again with blinding white light all around her, swaying back and forth.

“What are you doing back here?” voices blasted up and down the scale.

“We let you live out of good will. How dare you come back!” A masculine voice rocked the back of her mind.

“Send her away. Out! Out!”

Her spine snapped. She jerked back in her chair and crashed against Brad. They both hit the floor.

He helped her up. “Addy, are you okay?”

“I think so. I—don’t know why I fell.” She looked around, glad to see where she was—and wasn’t. “So, what—what was the reading? How did I do?” She tried to cover her shock.

He looked at her but stood back. “It’s weird,” he said. “Like you said about the first time, this time too, there was none, that is no reading at all. There was a flicker and the lights dimmed. Then you fell off the chair.”

“I don’t . . . understand,” was all she could say.

He looked at her. “We can run it again.”

“No. No.” She definitely didn’t want that. “It must be a glitch. I’ll—I’ll have it checked again.” She adjusted her skirt. “Thanks for doing it, Brad.”

He kept staring. “You sure you’re okay?”

She nodded. “Yes, but I do have one favor. Don’t tell anyone about this, especially not Lucas and Josie. They’ll worry and fuss, have all kinds of ideas and theories. You know them.”

He laughed. “You’re right. They would. But I have a favor too. When you figure out what’s going on, let me know.” He paused. “But now I have to go. Got someone to talk to.”

She laughed, go stiffly up and walked him to the door. “Yes, I’ll bet you do.”

He went out, came right back in. “I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything and I probably shouldn’t mention it but . . .”

“What?”

“Well, when the lights flickered, um, I thought your hands flickered too. For an instant they turned kind of blue-white.” He shook his head. “It must have been the lights. Sorry I even brought it up.”

Her eyes opened wide. “What do you mean?” In her mind she saw a white-blackness, felt hands pushing against her back, but all she said was,” I—I think you’re right. It must be the lights. I’ll check them too. Thanks again.” She laughed nervously. “Say hi to Sue for me.”

He clasped her hands. “Take care.”

After he was gone, she slumped onto her chair and stared at her hands. They didn’t flicker. They didn’t quiver. She got up, but no matter where she stood, in bright light or none, they kept looking like normal hands.

That night she sat in her kitchen thinking about psi-thrusts in kitchens and parents smashing into refrigerators, and, rustling around on the chair, intermittently glancing down at the floor. After living in that apartment for four years, she was quite familiar with the floor and the tiles on it. But now, as she thought and tried not to think, her eyes kept returning to one particular tile. The ten-inch square tiles were a solid tan color with a decorative rim of a quarter inch of darker tan around the four outer edges, but were part of the tile, and the one she focused on now had a black speck sitting on its rimmed edge. The speck was roughly rectangular and, possibly due to her unsettled thoughts, the more she stared at it, the more she became convinced it was a bug and was about to pull itself up and start moving, who knew where or why. Finally, spooked, she jumped up, but in her haste to get away, she bumped against the tile with her foot. She gasped and jerked away. It didn’t move. So gingerly, she reached down, picked it up, and found it to be nothing but a small black pebble.

That night, she dreamed that tile was floating by itself in the blackness of space. The black speck was there too, but now it was moving. It—bug or nanite, she didn’t know what it was—moved round and round that dark-colored rim, but never veered from its path and never ‘ventured’ onto the main area of the tile.

Addy woke with a jolt. She jumped up and stumbled around the room. “What a stupid rock,” she said. “Stupid and plodding. We’re all stupid rocks. Here we are on the edge of the greater world/reality, and never give ourselves a chance to experience it. Stupid like I’ve been stupid, like those strange beings said we are. As cold and heartless as they were, they were right.”

That afternoon, interestingly enough, her parents called to say what a good visit they’d had and that they hoped she’d enjoyed her birthday. She nodded, smiled and dutifully told them what they wanted to hear. She expected them to mention Brad and, when they didn’t, wondered if they’d talked to him and found out he was dating Sue now.

All was good, if rather shallow, when there was a beeping sound on their end. “That’s Marty,” Josie said. “She promised she’d call as soon as her daughter had her baby.” She looked at Abby. “I should take it. But stay on, Abby. I’ll only be a minute.”

Facing only Lucas now, Addy had a kind of residual reaction to her dad with his long sober face, perfectly coifed gray hair and static appearance. After smiling at him with no response, she moved forward in the chair. “So, Dad, how are you doing these days?”

“I’m fine.” He looked to the side.

Something in Addy clanged. She saw her dad chasing waterfalls, like don Quixote chasing windmills, and fooling himself that he loved doing it. “What are you doing?” she snapped.

“What?” He blinked.

“Well, you’re always out looking for waterfalls,” she countered, the black speck of her soul beginning to inch inward out of its lane. “You piddle around with nature hunts while Mom aches to get back to meaningful work.”

“I don’t—”

“You must have seen her at the party practically breaking her neck to talk with Abe about his latest kooky theory.” She paused. “You’re not old, Dad, either of you, and you’re holding her back.” She barely paused. “And you’re holding yourself back too.”

“I’m not holding anybody back. I like my life and Josie can do whatever she wants. I’m not stopping her.”

“Phht,” Addy scoffed. “Mom needs work and, in the 24th century, I can’t believe I’m having to say this, but she loves you so much, she’s opting out. She’s trying to be the good, dutiful wife.”

Josie slipped back into the screen. “Callie had her baby, a girl.” She looked at Addy, then at Lucas. “What’s going on? What have you two been talking about?”

Addy put her elbows on the table. “Well, Mom, Dad and I were marveling about how happy you are to be out on Prox 7 watching Dad watch waterfalls.”

After she got off, for the next hour, Addy kept expecting the vid to buzz again: “Why are you criticizing your father? I’m not a ‘good wife’—I can decide for myself, thank you,” and “I do a lot more than look at waterfalls, you know.”

But the vid didn’t ring and, finally giving it up, grabbing her bag and heading for the door, suddenly she didn’t care. In the past, she would have worried that they were miffed or she’d hurt their feelings. Now she just felt pleased that she’d finally stood up for herself and, even more, that maybe they’d think about what she said and their relationship.

On the way out of the control room, she glanced at the psi-counter. It looked passe now and suddenly she had no desire to try it again or fear of what might happen if she did. She’d moved on somehow. She was that nanite or bug on the edge of a greater slab of reality and didn’t need an external counter to verify that or to use it to hitch a ride into what might be dark matter.

On the roof, she got into her car and set the controls for home. But the darkness was around her and she thought of her empty apartment. She didn’t mind being there, but that part of her that was edging into the vastness of dark matter reality, and somehow she realized that that was true no matter how strange it sounded, needed and wanted to go another way. So, she reentered the destination parameters and sailed off towards the east. Half an hour later, she was setting down in Death Valley on a hillside that, because it was covered with pebbles and rocks, wasn’t much-traveled.

She sat inside the car watching the light drop away. Blackness and darkness settled around her. Suddenly there was a shift in the darkness and her hands had a faint glow. She stared at them, outside or inside her mind. There was a ruffling sound, a whisper. “You made it here twice on your own and no matter what the others say, once you’re here, you can’t be pushed out again.” A pause, maybe a smile.

She recognized the voice. It was the last entity who spoke the first time she was there, who’d told her that he acknowledged her accomplishment. “So welcome here,” the voice continued. “Addy, Welcome home.”

Her head switched to the left. No one there. She got out of the car and stood in the darkness. “So, it is true. I’m still there,” she whispered aloud. “Yes, in some way I must be.” The bug/nanite in her moved again, ever so slightly, and it continued to feel good to move willfully, rather than by accident.

She swirled around in the darkness. “It goes both ways too,” she exclaimed, seeing it and saying it. “It has to. It’s the same damned world, after all, the same tile, just another aspect of it.”

She closed her eyes and set her mind into the darkness. A ripple of energy ran through her mind. She knew, even with her eyes closed, that her hands were glowing now. “You can’t keep me away,” she thought and said, “We may have been slow, maybe even developmentally disabled”—she laughed—"but we’re learning.” She frowned into the darkness. “And if we’ve finally learned enough for me to have gotten there on my own, you can’t stop us. If you don’t know that, you’ve got some really important things to learn yourself.” She opened her eyes and observed the dark sky studded with stars. “And there’s no doubt that you definitely do!”

She reached into the darkness and the undulating light. The ledge moved towards her. Pebbles slid and tumbled down the hill. A crashing sound cut through the sky. She stood in the dark and began to reel the whiteness in.

A black bit of matter lumbered slowly into the greater light.

Charlene Anderson has an MA in English Literature from Purdue University and an MA in Research Psychology from SFSU. She spent much of her working life doing research grant administration during the day and writing fiction at night, and in 2001 published a novel. When Vistas & Byways was launched in 2015, she was pleased to be asked to chair the Editorial Board, and has served in that capacity ever since. She is also pleased to be able to submit her own work to the magazine!

Other pieces in this Issue:
Inside OLLI:
Transit Zone
Photo Essays:
A Puzzling Parklet

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FICTION