Recursion

Constantine said nothing.

“You’ve come here because of this, haven’t you?” demanded Mary.

Constantine remained silent. She gripped his arm.

“Tell them, Constantine. Tell them that I know. I’ve been watching and gathering information all the while, ready to drop back into the game. I’ve been out here on my own for too long. Let them know that; I’m ready to do what’s required.”

Constantine opened his mouth to speak, but was distracted. Three people wearing long grey overcoats had moved up to them so silently that Constantine hadn’t noticed their approach.

“Good evening, Mr. Storey,” said one. “Sorry it took us so long to find you, but, well, you’re shielded by the best. Us.”

Another took hold of Mary by the arm and firmly began to lead her away; Constantine couldn’t tell whether by a man or a woman; all he could make out was a smudge of a person. They must all be wearing some sort of baffling equipment, he realized.

“Hey, leave her alone!” yelled Constantine. “I was speaking to her.”

“Can’t take the risk, Mr. Storey. She’s drawing attention to you. That’s how our computers found you, by noting the dead spot that seemed to follow her around.”

“But she’s a ghost too!”

“Was a ghost. Was a ghost. Now she’s just an unemployed consumer, like so many others here.”

“Unemployed? But she works for DIANA.” He hesitated. “At least, that’s what she told me.”

“Not for ten years.”

Constantine was half led, half bundled away from the Source. A grey flier rested lightly on the ground nearby. They steered him toward it.

“But people ignore her. I’ve seen her move down the street and no one notices she’s there. She must be a ghost. What have you done to her?”

The grey figures did not reply; they just bundled Constantine into the flier. As the door closed, there was a faint shimmer beside him and Constantine found himself sitting between two tall women with short-cropped hair.

“Whew. It’s a relief to turn those baffles off. I start to feel as if I can’t breathe. Now, if Lee gets a move on in dumping that woman, we can soon get you back to the hotel and out of mischief, Mr. Storey.”

Constantine watched the third grey figure hand Mary something, then turn and move quickly back toward the flier. Mary watched him go, then looked at the object in her hand. A bottle.

As the flier rose into the air, Constantine watched her take a deep drink, then begin to head toward the buildings that lined the perimeter of the open space in which the Source sat. Late-night sightseers moved out of her way as she staggered past. The flier climbed until it was just higher than the surrounding buildings, still much lower than the branches of the Source, and then it began a long dive down toward the second level. Constantine caught a last glimpse of Mary moving through the sparse crowds. The passersby continued to pay no attention to her. An embarrassment, it was as if she wasn’t there.

As if she were a ghost.

Herb 2: 2210

Herb gazed upward in awestruck silence. He had never seen so many spacecraft: layer upon layer of silver-grey disks, rising higher and higher into the night sky. Stacks of silver pe

On an intellectual level, Herb had known that the sky was big, but those thousands upon thousands of ships floating above gave it a depth he had never seen before. A feeling of vertigo swept over him and he wanted to sit down on the soft, spongy road and hold on tight. Beside him, Robert Johnston stood gazing upward without any apparent concern.

“Impressive, huh?” he said.

“Oh, yeah. Very impressive. Where are we?”

Herb felt giddy: a man who had suddenly become aware of the cathedral vaulting that held up the sky. Johnston smiled delightedly and leaned closer.

“On a staging planet.” He placed one finger to his lips and whispered, “At the edge of the Enemy Domain, just beyond the wave of expansion.” His eyes slowly slid from left to right in an exaggerated survey of the twisted buildings that surrounded them. “I think we’re okay at the moment, though.”

Herb curled his lip at Johnston’s play-acting and began to walk along the soft road, looking all around. Now that he was getting used to the wonder of the night sky above, he had time to pay attention to his immediate surroundings. Hideously warped and melted buildings hemmed them in from all directions, leaning over above them like trees in a forest. They had a stretched-out look about them; they seemed too tall and thin to remain standing. Shadowy and lopsided drooping windows formed eyes that looked down upon them, silently pondering their presence. The air was warm and smelled of machine oil; from every direction there was a gentle hum that almost sounded like voices.

Everything about this place seemed wrong. Even the road felt strange beneath his feet; it seemed to bounce and give as he walked on it. Herb got the impression that at any moment it would suddenly wriggle and turn around on itself, a large black snake turning to see who was walking along its spine.

Johnston was following him. “What do you think of the Necropolis, then?”

“The Necropolis?” Herb came to a halt and looked around. He gave a thoughtful nod. “An apt name. What’s the matter with this place? It looks like someone took a picture of a city and then smeared it down a wall. What are we doing here?”

“Spying on the Enemy. We must be careful not to be seen.”

At that, Johnston began creeping forward on tiptoes, his hands raised close to his chest. Herb remained where he was.

“Come on,” Johnston called over his shoulder. “This way.” He continued his exaggerated movement down the road.

Herb sighed and began to follow. He wondered if he was dreaming. He had no recollection of arriving on this planet.

He remembered going to sleep on his ship, thoughts of Johnston’s descriptions of the Enemy Domain spi

Johnston had abandoned his exaggerated gait and was now walking normally, seemingly heading for the heart of the city. The buildings ahead loomed taller; they seemed to be draped with thick steel cobwebs that co

“What was that?” he hissed.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Johnston pushed his hands into his pockets and continued strolling, singing softly to himself as he went. Herb fell into step next to him, glancing around nervously. They rounded a corner.

Johnston broke off his singing unexpectedly. “Look!” he said, pointing upward, a cufflink made of four balls of multicolored metal peeping from the edge of his suit. Herb felt his stomach sink as he looked up.

A tower stretched up into the very sky, rising higher and higher above the rest of the city, dwarfing all the other buildings. A tapering needle of steel piercing the clouds of silver spaceships that hung silently above them. Herb wondered how it could remain standing; it seemed too thin to support itself. He had a sudden urge to run, convinced it was going to come crashing down on him-