15 - There is Power in a Union

Nathan was sat at the meeting table as Gail emerged from the privacy cave. He’d been amazed that, as promised, he couldn’t hear a sound escaping from the cave’s entrance. The Orb had said that a ‘dampening field’ (which presumably did what it said on the tin) enclosed the cave’s mouth whenever anyone occupied it. This stopped sound going in, and coming out. A nifty invention that Nathan was thinking of asking The Orb to install around his father’s bedroom. When his dad got drunk and down about the demise of his marriage, he played Nirvana at a volume sufficient to cause structural damage not only to Nathan’s ears, but probably the house’s walls as well. Bang & Olufsen had a lot to answer for in Nathan’s opinion, no matter how credible their sound systems were.

Nathan’s head came up from the PyeongChang tunnel schematics he’d been studying. It was the sudden reverberation of footsteps that alerted him to Gail’s return, as if a sneak thief had suddenly changed from sneakers to stilettos specifically to clack clack across the stone floor. He was about to make a remark to this effect, when one look at Gail’s face told him that this was not the time. There had been trouble, and of the hurricane in a punch bowl variety rather than the tea-cup version its cousin produced.

Nathan jumped up and tried to intercept Gail. As the distance between them closed she zigged. He zagged. She zigged again, and the universal rule of two approaching people came into effect as they both went the same way. He could tell she was upset: head down, fists clenched, and a manner that spoke of words both unleashed and still roaring inside.

“Gail.” Nathan held his arms out in the hope that this would calm her down. She didn’t even look up. “Gail, stop please.”

She was only a few meters away when she said in a tense voice, “Leave me alone. I want to be alone.”

Nathan had never heard Gail talk like this. “Please, you’re my friend. I want to help. What happened?”

Finally she stopped and looked at him. “I’m going home. If that’s allowed?” 

She said this as if Nathan were a teacher who had presided over a mammoth detention. He was momentarily lost for words. She had never spoken to him like this. All he could think of was to ask again,  “What happened in there?”

Her gaze broke from his and shifted to a point behind him. He looked over his shoulder, and found The Orb floating there. Its color pattern was a mix of dark purples that were only just distinguishable from the black hole of its skin. 

“I need to go,” Gail said to The Orb. “Will you let me go?”

“Gail,” The Orb said, “you are always free to come and go. But perhaps I might be able to help you. You are in distress. I can detect this from you elevated heart rate, and the injury to your face.”

Nathan was surprised at The Orb’s tone, which was usually so upbeat. Its words now had a crooning quality to them, like the sound of a mother talking to her crying baby. At the mention of injury, he noticed the glowing embers on the side of Gail’s face. He pointed to the mark. “Did Christina do that?”

“No,” she snapped. “I tripped and fell on her hand.”

“I don’t understand, her…oh!” He moved closer, raising his hand to try and sooth the pain away.

Gail flinched, as if Nathan was trying to steal some valuable medal pinned to her face; a combat decoration, a bleeding heart for the pain she had received. She started to sob again. “There’s nothing either of you can do. I just want to be home, in by own bed.”

Nathan looked at The Orb, and shrugged in a ‘let it lie’ type way. He needed to talk to Christina, whose absence from the conversation represented as telling a sign as Gail’s distress. If Christina was hiding in shame, then things were as bad as they seemed. 

“Yes, yes of course,” Nathan said. “I’ll walk you to your elevator. It’s ready.” Gail allowed him to put his arm around her shoulders. They trudged across the Cavern, saying nothing. From somewhere in the dimness a stalactite made its presence known by a metronomic drip of water. The tears that periodically dripped from Gail’s nose seemed less intent on reuniting with their host. Nathan felt her body shudder as they shuffled. She held his hand, the one around her shoulder. Her fingers were chilly, as if they had been fishing in a freezer for too long. 

When they arrived at the entrance to Gail’s elevator, she hugged him. Her head didn’t fit well against him, he was too tall. But he stroked her fine hair, and put his chin on top of her head. 

“Will you call me later, so I know you’re ok?” he asked.

She squeezed him.

He took this for a yes, and released her. Turning, he pushed the flashing button next to the sliding door, and with a small whoosh it opened. Gail backed into the elevator and activated it. The door closed quickly, but not fast enough to enclose the howling scream that flung through the dissipating crack. Nathan shut his eyes and massaged his temples. He imagined that the elevator was not big enough to contain the mass of Gail’s distress. He turned and walked back to where The Orb was. It had descended to rest on the floor.

“What happened?” Nathan asked.

“I am sorry Nathan, but when I said the cave was private I meant it. I have no monitoring capability in there.”

Nathan made a hurumphing noise. “Can I go in?”

There was a flash of aquamarine blue across The Orb’s equator. It was a pleasant color in contrast to the velvet purples. In other circumstances Nathan would have taken this for a good sign, but he rather suspected this might represent ire. 

“I think it might be better to wait until Christina is ready to come out. My experience of human emotional interaction is limited. However, I have studied certain types of televisual shows where emotional outbursts are common. Statistically there is a greater chance of success waiting for the other party to offer their own thoughts, rather than trying to force them to open up.”

That’s a long-winded way of saying ‘no’, Nathan thought. He was about to offer a more tactful translation of this conclusion, when Christina emerged from the cave. As she emerged into the Cavern’s light, Nathan could clearly see a purple bruise forming on her chin. Oh s**t! he thought. They had actually had a fight, a real blow to blow scrap. These two people, these friends whom he valued most in the world, they had traded physical blows. What was the emotional fall-out going to be?

“What happened?” Nathan said, as Christina came to stand in front of him, the bruise pulsating on her chin.

“I need a drink,” she said.

“What, like another glass of milk?”

Christina turned to The Orb. “Can you get me a beer?”

Nathan choked. He knew that Christina hung around with boys from the senior football team. He shouldn’t be surprised that this had led to her being inducted into some sort of alcohol hall of fame. But to hear her ask straight out for a beer was tantamount to a confession of illegality. 

“I am sorry Christina, but that will not help you,” The Orb said. 

“It might.” Christina sighed, and walked over to the conference table. She kicked a chair away from its resting place and sat heavily in it. The chair complained with a pneumatic whoop of air from its base. She pulled herself back to the table, placed her elbows on the surface, and put her head in her hands. “I kissed her,” she whispered.

“Sorry?” Nathan said. “You hit her?”

“Yes…yes, I slapped her. Then she hit me, then I kissed her.”

Nathan walked around the table and sat opposite Christina. “Which was worse?”

Christina looked up at him. “Do you think I wanted to do either?” She paused, as if considering this question. “Ok of course I’ve wanted to kiss her, but not like this.” She waved her arm in the general direction of the cave. 

“Was it about the projected Korean deaths?” Nathan asked.

Christina sighed. “What else?”

Nathan drummed his fingers on the table. “Then it’s my fault.”

“Pff,” Christina blew a raspberry. “None of us will have killed those people directly. It’s not our fault that their government’s trying to kick off World War Three. But she doesn’t get that. All she sees is their deaths. She wants the best of both worlds: to save them, and everyone else as well.”

Nathan reached his hand out across the table. “Isn’t there a way to resolve that without going three rounds together?”

Christina smiled thinly. “Three rounds? That’s about right. I slapped her, she punched me, then I kissed her. Two falls, two submissions, or a knockout right?” She put her head back in her hands and said to the table, “What an idiot.”

Nathan assumed she was being self-depreciating, at least he hoped so. “What can I do to help?”

“Where did she go?” Christina asked.

Nathan nodded towards the elevators. “Into her new elevator. It goes to her bedroom, like mine and your new one.”

“Figures. I don’t expect she wants to see me again.”

Nathan wasn’t sure if this was a rhetorical question. He looked towards The Orb for help, hoping that even an alien entity might have some suggestion for navigating out of this maze. 

“I am monitoring Gail, but not intrusively,” it said. “She has arrived in her bedroom, and is in bed.”

“Is she crying?” Christina asked.

“She is not happy,” The Orb replied.

This, Nathan suspected, was probably the emotional understatement of the century considering what he had heard as Gail’s elevator door had closed.

“I have to go and apologize.” Christina jumped up abruptly. 

“No, wait.” Nathan sprang out of his seat and placed himself between the table and the elevators. He held his hand up, but realized that Christina could easily get past him if she wanted to. He wasn’t that strong, just supple and trim from swim training. 

“Perhaps I might mediate,” The Orb said.

“Shut up!” they both said at the same time. 

The Orb flashed a sliver of blue across its equator, but said nothing. 

“Look,” said Nathan. “What if we figure out a way to stop the bomb without loss of life? We can present that to Gail and that’ll make her happy, right?”

Christina rubbed her chin. “She doesn’t want anyone to die, anything in fact.” She sighed heavily. “It’s one of things I love about her.”

Nathan smiled. “I know, me too. Look there must be a way, even if it means spiriting all the people in danger out of the country.” He looked towards The Orb. “We do that, right?”

“It would be difficult, but not impossible,” it said. 

Nathan said, “If we can put together a plan to extract the bomb and disable the tunnel with no lives lost, then Gail has to come back.”

“I have already calculated a preliminary plan, but it will involve something I do not like,” The Orb said.

“What’s that?” Christina asked.

The Cavern’s lights dimmed. A phosphorescent blue, 3D schematic of a triangular shape glowed above the table’s surface. 

“You’re each going to have to learn how to pilot a stealth module,” The Orb said.

**********

Christina had excused herself, which gave Nathan an opportunity to kick the Cavern’s wall with just enough force to wince. The Orb approached, shades of cobalt concern rippling across its skin. Nathan touched his friend, watching the arcs of light blossom out from under his hand. 

“I just don’t understand it,” Nathan said. “Why would two people who like each other so much blow up like that?” In his mind, he heard distant echos of his parents fighting in the kitchen, whilst he and Fiona sat huddled together on the stairway to heaven, or hell as it had turned in to. “I know they’re different people, and sometimes that works and sometimes it doesn’t.” He only used to start crying when then crockery started flying. “If they could only work out a way to fit together.”

The Orb said, “I have found many references to love being compared to a dance. Do you agree with that?”

“I’m not qualified to answer. But it sounds poetic. Yes, like a beautiful dance. A waltz? No, the Tango. Something more aggressive. I think my parents had it, until-”

“Until the music stopped?” asked The Orb.

“I think you do understand,” Nathan replied.

The Orb said nothing for the longest time since Nathan had met it. The silence lasted so long that Nathan became worried he had upset his friend. He was about to fumble for an apology when The Orb spoke.

“Nathan, my friend, I have not told you much about Orbic and the beings that inhabit it. I hope you do not believe that I have been concealing anything from you deliberately.”

Nathan shook his head. Concealment was the last thing he imagined The Orb would do to him. 

The Orb said, “I think I understand this dance of love. At least I understand the metaphorical meaning of its music. We…”

Another pause. This was the first time The Orb had searched for words. It sometimes used the wrong word, or made amusing linguistic faux pas’, but it had never before struggled to find meaning.

“Can you say it in your language?” Nathan asked.

A flash of amber lanced around The Orb’s meridian. It was of a shade Nathan had not seen before. It did not seem to imply anger, at least not in the sense that Nathan was learning. Orbic’s language would never be understood by humans; the combination of electromagnetic colors and harmonic tones that played together to form syntax, grammar and emotional meaning were too complex for the human brain. The Orb was teaching him a basic tonal vocabulary, allowing him to identify patterns which (according to The Orb) were the equivalent of a baby saying “Ma Ma,”. Still, he was making the effort and he could tell that The Orb appreciated it. No sooner had the amber started to fade than a of chord followed. It was the most complex that Nathan had heard so far. It was harmonious, and Nathan almost hummed a matching bass note. He resisted, lest this add a layer which turned the meaning into something insulting. Then another chord came. Nathan covered his ears and fell down, his forehead resting on the dispassionate floor. If a thousand Stradivari violins were played by prisoners armed with truncheons, this would be half way to the chord. It implied a tonal matrix so tortured that it seemed that it could rend the atoms binding his being at a level of reality previously unknown. The chord then rotated harmonically, as if the notes were waring with each other inside the confines of some terrible scale. Nathan felt crushed by it. He started to cry. The chord ceased.

“Nathan my friend,” The Orb said. “I am sorry to have caused you pain.”

He could see the bottom of The Orb resting on the ground in front of him. He raised his head a fraction and said, “If I could manifest everything I felt when my parents divorced, I think it would sound like that.” The Orb moved forward so that its skin met Nathan’s forehead. The touch registered this time as a faint coolness. Nathan reached out his hand and touched The Orb. “Who did you love that left you?”

“Oh Nathan, it is quite the opposite. I left that which I loved. When Gail diagnosed my illness due to lack of ultraviolet light she was only accessing the physical pain. There is also a spiritual loss in being away from Orbic. It is difficult to explain in words. Fundamentally it manifests itself in the principal that when you love something so much that it cannot be rendered from your soul, you must therefore also hate being away from it. Whatever it is that has purchased part of your heart will not sell it back to you, ever. Every moment I spend on Earth I come to believe that this is a universal truth. Gail and Christina are discovering this, and it is painful. You say you are not ‘qualified’ to diagnose love, and I understand your meaning. However, I cannot believe that such a good person as yourself will not become qualified in the future. Surely goodness attracts goodness, and the love you have for your friends demonstrates that you will be happy to give it to another person, as they give it to you. This free exchange is what drives love. But the music of love must always stop Nathan, even if the dance continues. At the moment Gail and Christina are dancing without music. Give them time, they will find the beat of it again. You will know when.”

Nathan smiled at The Orb. “I didn’t know you were so wise in the ways of love.”

The Orb flashed a ruby/pearl sequence which Nathan knew indicated humor received and reciprocated. It said, “I am not sure ‘wise’ is the appropriate word, at least not in terms of human love. For Orbs love is a means to an end, and the end in that case is the procreation of offspring.”

“Wait,” Nathan said, “I’m confused. You spoke earlier as if it was real love you felt for someone back home. Now it sounds like, well, just sex.”

The Orb rotated and moved a few paces away. “I cannot explain it to you in human terms. The concepts are a challenge even for young Orbs. The birthing of children on Orbic is a complicated process controlled in large part by the planet’s geography and weather. I know that doesn’t make any sense to you. I can try to explain it with holographics if you want. There is ‘love’, however it is a spear compared to a nuclear explosion with our main love.”

“What is your main love?”

The Orb actually sighed. It had been starting to imitate human sounds more and more. “If I told you, you wouldn’t understand. You have to experience it for yourself.”

“Oh,” Nathan said. “That’s not going to happen, so why don’t you try explaining it.”

“We seem to have gone off on a tangent.”

“Don’t try to change the subject,” Nathan objected. “We can get back to Gail and Christina. I want to understand as much as I can about you.”

“Orbic is the love that all Orbs hold inside them.”

Nathan considered this. “You mean you love your planet? Of course, it’s your home.”

The Orb sighed again. “Our relationship with Orbic is not the same as yours is with Earth. Many people on your planet ‘love’ it. That is natural and right. Earth protects you, it nourishes you, and it is magnificent. Believe me, I have seen other planets and Earth has the most wonderful environment. But Earth does not love humanity back. If anything, it fights to reject the harms inflicted on it. Orbs have a deep love for Orbic, and it is reciprocated.”

“How can a planet return love?” Nathan asked.

The Orb seemed to shimmer in the air. “How does anything return love? By understanding that at the root of love is trust. When beings truly love, they expose that part of them that is most vulnerable. Human children learn to harden their hearts against their parents as they are disciplined, and the unashamed love given to the young is replaced by the tempered love of teenage years. On Orbic it is different. We bond with our parents, but we love our planet. Parents are there to guide and nurture. Orbic is always there, never judging and always understanding.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” 

“I know,” The Orb said. “It is a difficult concept to explain in words. Perhaps, one day, I will be honored to show you.”

“Show me!” An image flashed into Nathan’s mind of the Starship Enterprise going to warp speed. “How far away is Orbic again?”

“20.37 light years.”

“Ah,” said Nathan. “So not exactly a day trip then.”

“No,” The Orb replied. “However, I still have permission to invite you should you wish to come.”

Nathan felt only the extension of his jaw muscles as his mouth dropped open. After realizing it, he closed his mouth. Opened it again. Closed it, then said, “Bugger me.”

**********

Gail lay on her bed staring into her pillow. Her tears had made the downy fabric sodden, but she didn’t notice. Like standing in balmy rain with no coat, past a certain point you didn’t care how wet you got. Her emotions fought with each other as to which was the strongest: revulsion at the proposal that she become an accessory to murder; disgust at Christina’s (and, the more she thought about it, Nathan’s) complicity with the crime; or an unspecified sweet-and-sour feeling which hid in the shadows cast by the other two emotions, just peeking out when it felt they were taking a break. 

Her phone rang. The warbling strains of Credence’s Bad Moon Rising, a song the liking of which she had inherited from her grandmother, fought to escape from under the same pillow that her tears were happy to inhabit. It was Nathan’s ringtone. The anger came back, just as she thought she had squeezed it back into the box her therapist had taught her to construct. She whisked the phone out, turned over and threw it against the wall opposite her bed. The phone made a satisfying clunk as it impacted, narrowly missing a painting of several cats that always looked too sly for their own good. But there was no corresponding crunch of broken glass, or better yet crack of rent silicone, preceding a forgiving silence. The phone lay on the floor, face up and continued to serenade her. Nathan’s face stared out of it.

“Leave me alone!” she bellowed. She needed…what did she need? Who did she need? Was it time to go back to the old days, after she had made so much progress? But hadn’t she already gone back? Hadn’t punching Christina been satisfying? No, it was reaction not action; Christina had slapped her first. That skittish emotion jumped out, as if to say, “Hello, I’m still here.” She ignored it. 

Her phone stopped ringing. Finally, he’s gotten the message, she thought.

Nathan’s voice resonated out of the phone. “Sorry Gail, I know you probably don’t want to speak to me but I have to talk to you.”

“How the hell-“

“I got…our friend…to override the answer function. Look I’m sorry, I really need to talk to you.” Nathan sounded genuinely apologetic. 

“Well I don’t need to talk to you, or her. I want to be alone. Just leave me alone.”

“Gail please, we’ve figured out a Plan B.”

As if Nathan had turned on an emotional fire sprinkler system, the revulsion and disgust withered and died. Without their shadows to hide behind anymore, the other feeling, the one she had been ignoring, was caught with nowhere to hide. Like someone who thought they’d locked the toilet door but just hadn’t slipped the catch over far enough, it tried to hide its embarrassment whilst sidling offstage in an “I’ll be back,” type way.

“Well?” She blew her nose on a dry piece of bed sheet.

“Can we switch to video?”

“Oh, so you need my permission to do that do you?”

Nathan paused. “Ummm…no actually it appears not. But I’d like it.”

She got out of bed, walked over and picked up her phone. Holding it in front of her she glared it. “This is fine. Come on then, tell me.”

“Can’t you just come back to the Cavern?”

The gall of the man, no boy, no man-boy. What was he? Oh screw it, if he wasn’t manning up now then he never would. “I don’t think that would be a good idea right now.” She heard an almost imperceptible sigh, which must’ve been Christina. “Just tell me what you’ve come up with.”

“Ok,” Nathan said. “We’ve figured out a way to extract the relevant Korean scientists and military officials, as well as their families, after the bomb plot is thwarted.”

Gail felt a sense of relief descend from the top of her head quickly down to her feet. “Oh that’s wonderful,” she said, slapping one hand on her leg.

“Yeah,” Nathan said, “but there’s a snag.” 

“A…snag?”

“Two snags actually. The first is that the extraction will be dangerous.”

Gail sat on her bed and looked at the cats grinning smugly from the safety of their picture. “And the second?”

“Have you ever used a flight simulator?”

“No.”

“Well, we’re going to have to learn to fly, and rather quickly I’m afraid. A crash course you might say.” Nathan followed this with a laugh.

“Fly what?” Gail asked. Nathan’s laugh had been that of a person chuckling at a joke that no-one else thought funny.

“Put your phone down on a flat surface and I’ll show you.”

She stood and walked over to her desk. Sweeping aside books on anatomy, and put the phone down. No sooner had she done so than it began to emit a curious noise, similar to the one their coffee machine made when it was winding up to pitch an espresso. Gail stepped back. What was the minimum safe distance for an exploding phone?

“Look,” Nathan said.

A conical beam of purplish light shone out from the phone’s camera. The effect was similar to a laser show she’d seen at a Christmas display in Dayton several years ago. The laser itself hadn’t been that impressive, but when a cumulonimbus of smoke had been released into it she’d clapped with glee. The smoke had been dissected, as if a laser scalpel had cut through it to examine the internal structure held inside. The light coming out of her phone had that same organic quality. The glow of the cone moved and shifted, as if the smoke-effect was trying to get out of the way for something greater. Then, in the middle of the cone, an image formed. She leaned in, and the image resolved. It looked like a squashed diamond that had been stretched out at one end, and had several fins sticking out at non-symmetcial angles. “Is that a plane?” she asked.

“High velocity stealth module,” Nathan replied.

“You’re just repeating that aren’t you.” 

Nathan chortled. “I’m sure we can come up with a better name for them.”

“Them?”

“There will be one for each of us.” 

“How big are they?” she asked.

“About the size of a Lear Jet, The Orb says. But way faster. Apparently they’re ultrasonic; although I’m not sure what that really means, apart from they’re damn fast.” His voice dropped to a murmur. “Christina needs to see you, can’t you come back?”

Gail considered this. The sweet-and-sour emotion took the opportunity to ask if this was a good time for it to come out? She pushed it firmly back into the wings. “Yes ok. But tell Christina I don’t want to talk about anything other than the Korean crisis.” In the background she heard Christina say, “But…” before stopping suddenly. She imagined Nathan planting his hand over Christina’s mouth.

“Fine. We’ll see you soon,” Nathan said, and disconnected. 

Gail picked her phone up and pocketed it. She suspected that Nathan was currently having a difficult conversation with Christina. 

Gail heard a creak from outside her door. She walked over to it and said, “I can hear you mother.” She unlocked the door and opened it a crack, small enough to prevent anything larger than a paperclip flying through.

Her mother peered in. Gail smiled what she hoped was her best warming welcome.

“Is everything all right sweetie? I heard you shouting at Nathan.”

Gail sighed. She would have to talk to The Orb about getting one of those privacy fields fitted around her bedroom. It was one thing to keep the world in, but quite another to keep your mother out. “Yes mom, I’m fine. Nathan and I were arguing about…homework. We’ve an assignment on North Korea for Social Studies.”

Her mother crow-barred the door wider with her foot. “Really? That’s interesting. Can I help?”

Gail mentally slapped herself on the forehead. She’d forgotten that her mother had studied politics at Boston College. “No, thanks mom. Nathan, Christina, and I have formed a study group. We’re doing it together.”

Her mother fiddled with a button on her cardigan. “Christina Jensen, that big girl?”

Gail’s eyes narrowed. “She’s tall if that’s what you mean.”

Her mother moved back a fraction and held her hand up. “I didn’t mean it offensively. She’s just, well quite imposing isn’t she?”

“She’s my friend.” Gail touched her face and added, “probably.”

“Yes of course.” Her mother put her hands in her pockets then took them out again. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Do you want anything to eat or drink? I could bring up some milk and cookies. Your dad brought back Oreos from the American Store in Malmö.”

As tempting as this was, Gail shook her head. “I’m not ten anymore mom.”

Her mother regarded her with a blank expression. “No, you’re not.”

“I need peace and quiet for a few hours to study. Can you manage that?”

The corners of her mother’s mouth turned down. “Yes, I can manage that.” She removed her foot, reached for the doorknob and pulled. The door closed quickly at first, but as the gap between it and the frame narrowed it slowed. Her mother stared at her, until finally the door closed. Gail put her ear to the door. She heard nothing outside. She pushed the locking button on the knob. She tried to do it silently, but there was no escaping the muffled click it made as she depressed it. Through the door she heard her mother sigh, then listened to her slippered footsteps as they flapped away. Gail imagined her mother wringing her hands, fretting that her only child was lapsing back into a state that would require traipsing around the internet looking for a psychiatrist who a) specialized in teenage problems, and b) spoke good enough English. 

Gail went to her closet, opened the door and looked at the back wall. Her clothes were still parted from when she’d exited the elevator. She sniffed and stepped into the vacant space, not having to stoop to avoid the hanging beam. She whistled the first bar of Yankee Doodle Dandy, trusting that The Orb would realize that this was what she wanted to use as her entry code. The elevator’s door slid down to reveal the subdued lighting within. She turned around and pulled her assorted clothes and coats together, like stage curtains closing.

Re-entering the Cavern, Gail saw Christina sat at the table doing her best impression of someone trying terribly hard to look like nothing bad had happened to them recently. The forced smile, the crossed arms, and the chin-welt all combined to produce an effect exactly the opposite of what was intended. Gail grimaced and marched to the table. Nathan stood up (bless his upbringing), but Christina remained seated as if her a*s was glued to the chair. The Orb hovered nearby. Perhaps it had been told to remain in the proximity in case it needed to deploy a forcefield to restrain Gail from any more fisticuffs. Gail took her seat.

Nathan sat down. He looked at Gail, who stared back at him. Then he turned to Christina, who said nothing. “Well,” he said, “let’s dive right in then.” He nodded to The Orb, which turned on the table’s projection system. 

The Orb said, “I have modified my original plan and divided it up into three missions, one for each of you. None of them are easy, however the most dangerous mission falls to you, Gail.”

Gail sat upright in her chair. Christina didn’t look surprised, so she figured that this wasn’t news on the opposite side of the table. Christina was chewing her fingernails with reckless abandon, and blood was welling from her left index finger. Christina started sucking it and winced. 

Gail said to The Orb, “I assume it’s the most dangerous because it’s the part you hadn’t included in Plan A. The part where we pull out all the people that might get executed when the plot fails.”

“Yes,” The Orb said. “However you must understand several things. Firstly, there is no way to know for sure how many people are at risk when the plot is foiled. Beyond the scientists and military personnel directly involved, and their immediate families, lie connections to friends and family that make practical calculations pointless. The stealth modules have a limited capacity. I will modify them to carry passengers, but the fifty-two people I have identified as primary targets for the North Korean government are as far as we can go. I am sorry, there just is not enough time to evacuate half the country to protect everyone.”

Gail wiped a tear from her right eye. “I get it. What else?”

The Orb said, “You cannot understand what life in North Korea is like. It takes months of social acclimatization to get escapees from the North ready for even basic life in the South. In a way, it is like extracting someone from your eighteenth century, and expecting them to function in the modern world.”

“So they’ll need some adjustment time, I get that,” Gail said.

“That’s not the problem,” Nathan said. “You remember that scene in The Matrix where Morpheus tells Neo that most people aren’t ready to be unplugged?”

Gail nodded.

“Well, it’s the same issue here. North Korea is all these people know. We’re talking about yanking the social rug out from under their feet and expecting them to thank us for it. The reality is that some of them are likely to not want to go, even if their partner or spouse is willing.”

Gail hadn’t thought about this. She was so used to the idea that anyone would want to come and live in the West. “Ok, so we have to take them by force. It’s the lesser of two evils right?”

“Yes,” Nathan said. “Although not by force, at least not in the way it’s normally stated. The Orb has come up with a way to…well…I guess ‘hypnotize them’ is the only way to say it.”

Gail turned to The Orb. “Is it safe?”

“Yes,” The Orb said. “There will be no residual side effects. It is not hypnosis as you would understand it. I will just manipulate the hypothalamus structures of the brains of anyone who does not cooperate. They will essentially go to sleep, however with motor ability unaffected. You might consider it akin to sleep walking.”

“Well ok,” Gail said. “I can live with that. It’s still saving their lives, whether they realize it in the moment or not. Once they get to South Korea and understand the alternative, I’m sure they’ll be grateful.”

“There’s one final thing,” Nathan said, “and you’re not going to like it.”

Gail felt the sickness in her stomach. “Tell me.”

Nathan sighed. “The Orb will make contact with the senior scientific and military leaders of the plot, and explain to them in graphic detail that we know everything about what they’re doing, and how we’re going to stop it. They’ll be in no doubt that the plot will fail. Don’t think because they live in North Korea they’re stupid. They’re smart people. They’ll know what drastic failure means to them and their families. The Orb will do everything to get all the people at a rendezvous point for you to collect them.”

Gail felt the ‘but’ exist before Nathan had opened his mouth to fart it out. Its presence was preordained by the sentence leading up to it. Like the rope being released on a guillotine, the but’s slice would condemn her. She decided to throw herself at it rather than let it own her. “But,” she said, “if people don’t turn up, I’ll have to leave them behind.”

“Yes,” Nathan said.

“No!” Gail yelled. “It’ll be a death sentence for them. Either they all come, or I don’t go.”

“Gail, be realistic,” Nathan said. “They’ll probably all be there. But if anyone’s delayed, or something prevents them from being there isn’t the time for us to go round them up.”

“Why not?” Gail said. “Aren’t the stealth modules invisible?”

“They’re so invisible we could hang out over the White House watching the President take a dump,” Nathan said. 

“Then we can find a few people in North Korea and get them out.”

“It is not that simple,” Nathan replied.

“Oh?” Gail said bitterly. She turned to Christina. “I suppose you support this?”

Christina had the decency to at least squirm in her seat. “The Orb says we don’t have the time, and I trust it.”

Gail turned to The Orb. “So this is your decision. Tell me why we can’t go save them all.”

A radiant ochre shimmer emitted from The Orb’s whole body. It said, “Gail please believe me when I say I do not state this lightly. It is not in my species nature to let life be extinguished. We value and treasure the miracle of existence as much as you do. However in this case I must insist that you agree to only bring those that make the rendezvous. The timing of these missions is already critical. It is absolutely essential that you are back at the Cavern before daybreak. If you did not have to deliver the people to the education center near Soul there would be a suitable margin of error. However this extra distance adds time that cannot be extended. You must be back here before the sun comes up.”

“And what,” Gail demanded, “happens if we get back after sunrise. Do we turn into pumpkins?”

“Please forgive me,” The Orb said.

For the first time since she had met The Orb, Gail thought she detected deep sadness in its voice. If it had been human, she wouldn’t have been surprised to see it start crying. “Forgive you for what?”

“I cannot tell you why you must be back. You must trust me. The consequences of not returning before daybreak are potentially worse than if the people involved stayed behind and faced execution. I have the power to take control of your ship and deprive you of agency at any time, however I hope you will take me at my word and accept this constriction. I know it is painful to you, I empathize and feel the pain as well. Yet I have to take account of variables that you cannot understand. My original plan avoided most of the dangers you will undertake, which is why I recommended it; yes, even at the cost of human lives. I reasoned that the possible execution of some people was better than the guaranteed death of millions. It seemed a reasonable price. However your compassion has enabled be to see a different path, and I have traced it to the best of my ability. I believe the plan is sound, however only if this one absolute rule is adhered to. Do you agree to it?”

Gail looked at Nathan.

“It won’t tell me either,” he said. 

She looked at Christina, and was surprised to find her eyes red and watering. 

“I’m so sorry.” Christina wiped her sleeve across her nose, then took a heavy breath. “I’m with Gail. If she won’t say yes, then I won’t go either.”

Gail was so surprised at Christina’s u-turn that she momentarily forgot what issue had led to it had been. She thought back to their fight in the cave. What had that been about exactly? She was fuzzy about the root cause. But the kiss Christina had given her wasn’t fuzzy at all. She could still taste raspberry lip salve. That Christina would side with her, even against Nathan and The Orb was something to be treasured. This very fact brought the whole issue into laser sharp focus for her. Christina, Nathan’s oldest friend and confidant through the toughest of times, was choosing her over him (and an all-powerful alien). She thought about the people they were going to save, both the few in North Korea, and the many in the South. She understood that they had to draw a line somewhere in the sand. In the end, she supposed, it was up to fate. It irritated her that The Orb would not tell them why they had to be back before dawn. However she did trust it. So putting it all together there was only one choice.

“Very well,” she said. “I agree. I don’t understand it, and I don’t like it, not one bit.” She stood up. “We take everyone who’s at the rendezvous, then skip town.”

Christina smiled thinly, The Orb’s glow dimmed, and Nathan sat down heavily in a ‘phew’ fashion. Gail resumed her seat and said, “So, shall we go over Plan B then?”

“Most of the hard work will be done by the waldos,” Nathan said. “At least for Christina and I. My waldos will dig down, extract the bomb, then place it in my module which will be waiting near the entry point.” He looked at Christina.

“Mine will attach themselves to spots along the tunnel’s supports where the concrete is weak. Once the bomb is out, I’ll detonate them and that’ll collapse the tunnel. The shaft that Nathan’s waldos mined will subside, and it’ll look like a regular sink hole.”

Nathan picked up the thread. “Once the bomb is onboard my module, and the tunnel is destroyed we’ll meet you at the rendezvous. Then we’ll transport all the people to the acclimatization center near Soul. Then we fly back to the Cavern at maximum warp so we can beat the sunrise.”

Gail said. “How do we get the modules in and out of this Cavern?”

“Construction of the stealth modules will begin as soon as you leave the Cavern today,” The Orb said. “The requisite minerals are being mined as we speak. Unfortunately you need to be absent during the construction process. It requires application of certain types of radiation that are lethal to humans. As to how the modules will leave and re-enter the Cavern, I will apply a molecular recomposition process to transport them to the surface. You can board them there, and leave them after the return trip. I will reverse the process to return them to this Cavern, at which point they will be dissembled and the minerals reinserted into the Earth.”

Christina raised her hand. “Sorry to be the dunce on the team, but what exactly is a ‘molecular recomposition process’?”

The Orb didn’t respond immediately. Gail got the feeling that it was searching for an appropriate translation.

At last The Orb said, “The closest vernacular that fits is to say that I will ‘beam them’.”

“Oh swell,” Christina said. “We should call you Scotty from now on.”

Gail was so excited she hoped she could keep all this a secret and not blab to the first schoolfriend who asked why they’d been absent. Absent? Damn. “Hey,” she said. “Has anyone figured out how we’re going to excuse ourselves for this caper?”

“Oh s**t,” Christina said. “She’s right. Popping down here for a meeting is hard enough for me. I’ve never spent a lot of time in my room. Now I’ll need to be AWOL from football training whilst we learn how to fly the modules, plus I have a game this weekend, plus the fact that I have two assignments that are already overdue.”

“Ah,” Nathan said. “With all the talk of nuclear war, I’d hadn’t though about those problems.” He looked at The Orb. “How long do we need to be away for again?”

The Orb said, “You will need stealth module training each night this week. Then the transference of the people should happen on the morning of the 25^th. I have calculated ten o’clock Korean Daylight Time as the optimal rendezvous time. Given the time zone differences, you need to depart at just after 3 AM local time, and must return by 6:10 AM to beat the sunrise.”

“And this is on Sunday?” Gail said.

“Yes,” said The Orb. “If you can find a way to be absent from your homes all weekend that will give us Saturday to review and prepare.”

“Well,” said Nathan, “at least it’s a weekend. All three of us scuttling school for two days would definitely be noticed.” He looked around. “Let’s split this problem in two. Firstly, the evenings this week. Any ideas on that?”

“Well,” Gail said, pointing at Nathan, “You and I can get away with ‘gloomy teenager’; locked in our bedrooms, never to be disturbed etcetera.” She looked at The Orb. “Can you simulate us being in our rooms?”

The Orb said, “Audibly yes. However if anyone enters the room I cannot hope to generate a holographic representation realistic enough to fool them.”

Gail huffed. “My parents wouldn’t dare. Anyway, I keep my door locked.” She looked at Nathan. “You?”

Nathan drummed his fingers on the table. “Same,” he said. “Anyway my dad always squirrels himself away after dinner to work on ship designs, especially now. I’m not sure he’d notice if the house was burning down.”

“Do we need to consider that?” Gail said. 

The Orb said, “I can easily detect any threats to your residences. I would notify the emergency services and also activate fire-safety protocols to prevent any serious damage. All looking natural of course.”

Nathan laughed, then said, “Of course.”

“Great,” Christina said. “But what about me? I don’t lock myself in my room for decades. I’ve got football training almost every night, and those assignments won’t write themselves. If I don’t get my grades up I’ll be grounded, and in the sort of way that will require house jobs to occupy my every waking hour at home. I’m guessing we’re all in that similar boat.”

Nathan looked at The Orb. “I assume you can fake our assignments with a suitable level of…” he glanced at Christina and grinned, “…educational accuracy.”

“Swot.” Christina stuck her tongue out at him.

“Yes of course,” The Orb said. “It will be a simple matter. I have already reviewed all of you educational submissions, and gauged your levels and style.” 

The Orb didn’t move, but Gail got the impression that it had turned to talk to Christina.

“If I may,” The Orb said. “I believe, Christina you are pretending to be less intelligent than you actually are. I cannot deduce the reason for this.”

Christina squirmed, and the others said nothing. Finally she said, “Look, if I get fantabulous grades my dad will insist I become a doctor or something like that. I don’t need A’s to play in the Women’s World Cup. Can we get back to the problem at hand? Faked assignments I am totally down with. But missing training is going to ring alarm bells with my parents and coaches. I’m the one who turns up when it’s minus twenty, and the pitch is half a meter deep in snow.”

Nathan looked at The Orb. “Any suggestions?”

The Orb said, “I have analyzed your planet’s complete sporting catalogue. It seems that the only viable reason for Christina to miss training is an injury.”

“You want me to fake an injury?” Christina said. “I’m not Oscar enough to pull that off. Eventually I’ll forget, and kick a ball.”

“I could,” The Orb said, “program your phone to stimulate certain nerves, inducing the symptoms of a severe muscle strain. Only in public of course,” it concluded hastily.

“What about at home?” Christina said. “Legit limping outside will do it, but I’m not a bedroom groundhog like these two. I spend most of my time watching Premier League replays. It drives my parents nuts. If I become a recluse, they’ll know something is up.”

“What if you come round to mine to work on school assignments each night this week?” Gail said. “You can say I’m helping you with your overdues.” 

Gail saw Christina blush, then nod. 

“Ok,” Nathan said. “Now what about this weekend? Christina’s ‘injury’ will keep her out of the game, but we need a way fo us all to be legitimately away for Saturday and Sunday.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “How about a camping trip?”

“Camping?” Christina said. “I mean I guess, but if we’re talking about a cover story with plausible deniability, my parents will never go for it. They know I hate camping.” She shuddered. “Spiders, ugh.”

“Ok, not camping then,” Nathan said. “Any other suggestions? We have to be out of our houses. A sleep-over won’t do it. We can’t have a parent come in and find us missing. They’d call the police and we’d be really in the s**t.”

Gail thought back to her days living in Boston. She remembered a night spent at the Franklin Park Zoo with her school. “Does Copenhagen Zoo have an overnight option?”

“Yes,” The Orb said. “This is a good idea Gail. I can reserve the three of you places for the night of the 24^th. The accommodations are excellent. I can assure you Christina, that the only spiders are those on exhibit.”

Christina didn’t look like she appreciated the joke, but said nothing.

“Can you sell it?” Nathan said to Christina. She nodded. “You?” He said to Gail.

“No problem,” Gail said. “The hardest part will be persuading my dad not to come with me.”

“Won’t the Zoo actually expect us to be there?” Christina said.

The Orb said, “I will cancel the tickets just before you are due to arrive. Covid-19 is still an acceptable excuse, even ten years after its zenith. Since you are close companions, symptoms in one are reasonable grounds for a group cancellation.”

“Do you want my credit card?” Gail said. “I’m happy to buy the tickets.”

“Actually,” Nathan said, “I was going to talk to you about that. Our friend here,” he pointed at The Orb,”comes with an additional benefit I don’t think any of us anticipated.”

“Oh?” Christina leaned in. “A better benefit than scrumptious pizza?”

“Well yeah,” Nathan replied. “Depending on your point of view I suppose.”

“What is it?” Gail asked.

Nathan turned to The Orb. “Your show,” he said.

The table lit up. A myriad of graphs, spreadsheets, numbers, and equations flew around. 

“Christ,” Christina said. “It looks like Yahoo Finance puked its guts up. What is that?”

“This,” The Orb replied, “is my quantum analysis of the totality of Earth’s financial positions. One of the first things I realized after my arrival on Earth was the importance placed on money by your species.”

“You don’t have money on Orbic?” Gail asked. “How do you pay for things?”

“That is a complicated question to answer,” The Orb replied. 

“But,” Gail said, “you can boil it down for us, right?”

A line of copper dots ran diagonally from left to right across The Orb’s shell. Then it said, “If I was to ‘boil it down’ as you say, the closest thing in Earth’s economic history that matches Orbic’s is the barter system. However, that is doing it a gross injustice.”

“Ooook,” Christina said. “That aside, what’s this got to do with us?”

Nathan laughed, and slapped his hand on the table. “Guess what?” he said. “We’re stinking rich!”

Christina looked at him, nonplussed. “I suppose we’ve conjured money out of thin air?”

“Actually no,” The Orb said. “Contrary to popular opinion it is not actually that easy to create money out of nothing, at least not at the levels required to perform the actions you may need. However, one of the tasks I performed shortly after my arrival on Earth was this analysis of all financial markets since records began, cross referenced against natural disasters, and other major and minor socio-political events. The result was this stable financial model, which predicts to within ninety-six percent accuracy the movements in all country’s stocks on a given day. In addition, there is an exponential growth factor to take into account which I still do not, as yet, fully understand.”

“A what what?” asked Christina.

Gail knew that Christina’s financial dealings were mainly limited to pulling cash out of ATM’s (or parents), and throwing her debit card at sullen waiting staff.

“It means that money makes money,” Nathan said. “It doesn’t know how, but the more money you have, the more money you get.”

“Indeed,” The Orb said. “It is an interesting situation. It is almost as if money takes on the characteristics of a life form, breeding in larger quantities the more it flows together under single control. I have sent details back to Orbic for analysis beyond the quantum level, which I do not have the facilities to perform here.”

“What’s our new net worth as of now?” Nathan asked The Orb, winking at Christina in the process.

“Assuming the shorts I placed on the expected fall in the value of several stocks on the NASDAQ perform as expected, the net worth of our operation now stands at just over seventy-five million dollars. I expect to be able to increase this by approximately one million dollars per week.

The Orb didn’t seem to have noticed that both Gail and Christina were staring at it in frank disbelief. 

Nathan laughed raucously. “You should see your faces,” he said.

“But…but,” said Gail, “where can we keep seventy-five million dollars?”

“You have to understand,” The Orb said, “that it is not what you would consider real money. It exists only inside banking computers, and they are simply advanced calculators with limited artificial intelligence to help them. I can assure you the money is legitimate. I have established a holding company called Orbic Industries, using profits from the five hundred Danish Kroner Nathan was kind enough to supply me.”

“Are you saying you’ve made that much money out of five hundred Kroner?” Christina said appreciatively. Taking The Orb’s lack of response as a taciturn agreement, she whistled. “My dad would probably be trying to marry you right now. Ferraris all round everyone?”

The Orb said, “I’m sure you realize Christina that no-one can have any knowledge of what we are doing. Such obvious displays of affluence would attract attention of the worst kind.”

“Duh,” Christina said, clearly displeased that The Orb had failed to get her joke. “I was only joking.”

“Ok,” Nathan said. “So now we know that money’s not a problem. Back to the plan for this weekend, and our fake trip to the zoo. I assume,” he looked at The Orb, “that you can fabricate SMS and social media posts to cover us?”

“Yes. I can even intercept calls from your parents and simulate responses from each of you. I have been learning your idiosyncrasies, and can replicate your speech with ninety-eight percent accuracy.” 

Christina stroked her chin. “That could be really useful.” She looked around. “What? You’ve no idea how hard it is to get my parents to let me go to parties.”

“You’ve been grounded too many times,” Nathan said.

“It’s ok for you, Mr. Responsible,” Christina replied. “You’ve got a record so clean it could be a nun’s dance card at a rave. I’m a paid up member of the ‘play hard, play hard’ club.”

“Ok children,” Gail said. “Let’s stick to saving the world. If the Zoo plan goes to s**t we’ll all just have to fess up, say we went to a party in the city together, and take our medicine. But I’m pretty sure our friend here,” she pointed at The Orb, “is going to do an awesome job covering for us. So let’s focus on the mission.”

“Nice pep talk,” Christina said. 

Gail rewarded her with a smile, which caused her friend’s face to both blush and light up at the same time. 

“I think,” Nathan said, “that all things considered this is a decent plan. The Orb says it will take a day to fabricate the stealth modules, so we can’t come down here until tomorrow evening.  After that, we spend the next few evenings familiarizing ourselves with the modules, training in them, and going over our roles. The Orb will make preparations during the day whilst we’re at school, and solidify relations with the North Koreans. Then, at the weekend, I suggest we eat breakfast at home then meet at my place on Saturday at nine. My dad will be leaving early for a company golf event.” He looked at Christina and winked. “Personally, I can already feel a sickie coming on for Friday.”

Christina rolled her eyes. They all knew that Friday was her favorite school day. The weekend was upon her and that meant game time. Gail knew that the school team was due to play a team from Sweden this weekend. Christina would hate to miss it. Bummer. No way to mask it. Bummer. 

Christina sighed. “Ok, well it is what it is. I will personally sacrifice my sporting prowess in favor of preventing some a******s from blowing up half of Asia.”

The Orb said, “In fact-“

Christina cut it off with a horizontal slice of her hand. 

“Ah,” it said. “Joke?”

Gail knew, that The Orb knew, that Christina knew, that the question was rhetorical. 

“Was it hard?” Gail said to The Orb. “Persuading the North Koreans to leave?”

“Actually no,” The Orb said. “I laid out their plan, and told them that it was going to be thwarted by advanced stealth tech. They assumed that the USA was going to prevent it, so I did nothing to dissuade them from that opinion. They took the relocation option without argument. The lead scientist actually seemed relieved. I deduce that the science team at least is not happy about it the plot’s consequences, although they do not have a choice of course. I believe neither leader will tell their co-workers or families about the relocation until they arrive at the rendezvous. This makes sense, if only from a security standpoint.”

“How long will it take to fly to Korea from here?” Gail asked. 

The Orb said, “The stealth modules are driven by an atomic propulsion system. They are capable of reaching mach fifteen, which is approximately eighteen thousand kilometers per hour. It is just over eight thousand kilometers to PyeongChang from Copenhagen, so you will complete the journey in just over twenty five minutes.” 

“Wow,” said Nathan. “My dad would love to get his hands on a drive system that powerful. He’d have it installed across the Maersk fleet.”

“Perhaps,” The Orb said, “in the future we might enable your father to come up with the idea himself. The bomb’s solar sling-shot process can be modified to dispose of unwanted radioactive material. Since your sun will, how do you say, ‘soak it up’, it is actually an elegant form of recycling.”

“Cool,” Nathan said. He looked at Christina, then at Gail. “Are we square on what’s needed?”

“Yep,” Christina said.

“Sure,” Gail agreed. “Although how I’m going to get anything done at school God only knows. We’ll have to behave like it’s business as usual.”

The Orb said, “I could implant a temporary engram block that would make you forget everything during school time.”

“No, no! I’ll bear it stoically I’m sure. I’d like to be able to think things through over the next couple of days in case we missed something.”

“Oh I’m sure we’ve missed something,” Christina said. She waved her arms randomly in front of her. “Every game we go over tactical plans beforehand but something always goes to s**t when we play.”

Nathan nodded. “My dad’s a World War II addict. He told me that General Eisenhower said something about planning being useful, but plans being rubbish.”

“Wise words,” The Orb said. “You would be well advised to think about things that could go awry on this mission. Over millennia we have had many missions, and many successes. However there have also been failures, and when we perform root cause analysis we typically find that the plan failed to account for some unpredictable variable. But you are all smart and capable, and you will achieve success because you can rely on each other and trust in me.”

“Damn,” Christina said. “It’s pep talk-tastic in here today.” She looked at Nathan. “Any motivational words you want to chuck in?”

Nathan looked at The Orb, back to Christina, then at her. Gail could see the depths in those hazel eyes. The love that he had for them all, The Orb included.

Nathan said. “You all know how I feel about you.” He turned back to look at Christina. “Since my parents divorced, and my mom and Fiona moved to California, you have been my sister.” Christina smiled and reached over to put her hand on Nathan’s arm. He turned to Gail, “We haven’t know each other for a long time, but I know that I can trust you with my life and that you trust me with yours.”

Gail felt tears well in her eyes. She said to him, “I knew the day I met you that you were meant for something special.”

Nathan looked at The Orb. “I still cannot understand why you chose me for the honor of becoming your friend. But I will always do my best to justify that selection with every ounce of my being.”

The Orb rose so that its base was above the height of the table. Gail felt a growing sense of warm belonging and protectiveness.

“My friends,” The Orb said. “I know that it is hard for you to understand some of my actions. I try to modify myself to conform to human concepts of reality. Perhaps, in the future, I will have the honor of tutoring you in Orbean Cosmology. For now, I rely on your trust that everything I do is for the betterment of humanity as a whole. Some decisions may not benefit the three of you, however I hope you understand that this is a good thing. It demonstrates my commitment to your species, not just your collective. I am sure that Nathan was the right choice as my partner in this adventure. And his choice of you, Gail and Christina to help him only justifies my choice of him. What you will attempt this weekend is a titanic task to place on three young shoulders. Each of you has different personalities, however they blend together to form something undeniable and formidable. My task is to guide and help you as much as I can. There are things I cannot do, either because I do not have the equipment or materials, because it is against my species’ way, or because there are aspects of my embassy that prevent certain types of interference. Humanity must find its own way in the dark, but I am the torch and you three are the power that makes it shine.”

Gail was weeping by this time. She fished a tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose loudly. She looked at Nathan and remembered the first time they had watched The Sixth Sense together. He had the same look on his face as when the big reveal about Bruce Willis’ character had come. Then she looked at Christina, and the shock of her expression electrified Gail’s soul. She was so used to seeing her friend wearing that ‘know it all’ look. This wasn’t a bad thing, Christina was the most confident person she had ever met. Her unwavering belief in her own skills, and outlook on life gave her the charisma of a natural leader. Everyone in the school looked up to her, including the teachers; even Mr. Priest so it was said. Now she wore a cherubic expression, with no trace of the force that drove her life. She appeared to Gail as her baby cousin had when they had visited her uncle and aunt in Boston last year. When Ella was placed in her arms, the expression of absolute trust and love in that face was what she saw Christina wearing now. It was delightful. 

“Well,” Nathan said. “I think we all understand how we feel. Let’s call it and take this with us. I have a feeling that waiting for tomorrow won’t be as bad a we thought if we can hold onto this.” He stood up and made a half-bow to The Orb. “Perhaps you could send us updates on the modules’ production. Just to give us something to look at?”

“Of course,” The Orb said. “Each of you will get regular 3D updates.”

“Great,” Nathan said. “Ok then, let’s head home and leave The Orb to it.” He got up and stepped towards the elevators. Christina rose and walked over to stand to his left.

Gail got up, moved to his right and put her arm around his waist. Christina did the same, and Nathan put his arms over their shoulders. Together they walked into the dimness that basked in the table’s light.