Into the Unknowable Ch. 19

Chapter Nineteen
Intrepid - 3756 C.E.

As if things weren't already weird enough for Paul, they were about to get a whole lot worse. He was already fairly sure that it hadn't been such a great idea that the Intrepid should enter the Anomaly, however much Beatrice argued that it must be worthwhile if Mission Control had authorised it and Captain Kerensky had let it happen. All those senior officers, especially the Chief Science Officer, couldn't all be mistaken, could they? As Paul rarely spoke to anyone other than Beatrice he was almost prepared to accept that his doubts were misplaced.

But when Beatrice became decidedly unwell, Paul wondered whether it was his wife's loyalty to Mission Control and the senior officers that was misplaced. He'd seen no benefit at all from plunging into the Anomaly. Just where were the promised new discoveries? The bulletin boards were suspiciously empty of anything concrete, although they were full of descriptions of the weird Apparitions. In fact there were so many Apparitions that Paul had become rather bored of them. Another angel. Another dragon. Another giant centipede. What did any of this prove? There were several reports that described experiences similar to Paul's encounter with his doppelganger. The accounts lost most of their impact in the telling, but it reassured Paul that he hadn't gone mad.

"What's wrong, Beatrice?" Paul asked as his wife collapsed onto the sofa with a distressed expression on her face.

"I don't know," Beatrice admitted. "I just don't feel well."

"Is it something to do with the Anomaly?" Paul asked. Common sense told him that the Anomaly wasn't a very likely vector for viruses. On the other hand, it was associated with so much weirdness that Paul couldn't be sure.

"Maybe it is," said Beatrice. "I just need to rest."

Paul helped her to the bedroom which was normally a place for sex but now became a restroom. She lay on the bed and pulled the duvet up over her naked body.

"Do you want me to call Dr. Yoritomo?" Paul suggested.

Beatrice paused for a moment. "No," she said at last. "I don't think that will be necessary."

"Is there anyone else you want to see?"

"Other than Dr. Yoritomo?"

"Yes."

"I don't think so," said Beatrice. "Benoit Yoritomo is the only doctor I trust."

Paul nodded and returned to the living room where he'd been scanning the science bulletin boards. The daily announcements from Dr. Chang and Professor Penrose continued to be remarkably upbeat although it was difficult to see what was so interesting in the various reported discoveries. When Paul was bored with reading these accounts, he wandered into the kitchen to drink a cup of tea and was surprised to see that in the time since he'd last walked through the hallway a spiral staircase had appeared that was leading upstairs.

That was strange. Why would a villa with only one floor have a staircase?

Paul climbed the stairs with some trepidation only to emerge on the same floor that he'd just left with the same stairs still rising above him. He could see that it was the same floor because Beatrice was lying in the same bed and his possessions were in exactly the same disarray in the living room. It was almost as if Paul hadn't climbed the stairs at all.

Paul went up another flight of stairs and found the same situation on the floor above. He'd essentially returned to where he'd just left. He went up another flight. It was the same again. Then another flight. No change. Then three or more flights one after the other. Back where he started.

Perhaps in the other direction?

Paul went down a flight of stairs. He returned to where he'd been before.

Paul decided to make an experiment. He went to the kitchen, picked up an apple and placed it in a prominent position on the floor. He then went up the flight of stairs.

The apple was in exactly the same position on the floor above as it was on the floor below.

Paul went up another floor. The apple was still where it was.

What the fuck! This just didn't make sense.

And how was Beatrice?

Paul wandered into the bedroom where Beatrice was lying on the bed. She was now in quite a state. She was flinging herself from side to side and her perspiration was soaking the sheets. Her eyes had an oddly unfocused look.

"Shall I get you some tea?" Paul asked, not knowing what else to suggest.

Beatrice gazed at Paul with a slightly desperate expression. "Water," she said feebly. "I need water."

"Alright dear," said Paul who returned to the hallway and noticed with alarm that the spiral staircase had vanished although the apple was still where he'd left it.

Paul considered this while he poured out some cold water for Beatrice. He almost certainly wasn't on the same floor as where he'd started in terms of how many flights he'd gone up and come down and yet this was exactly where he'd started. Everything was in precisely the same state of disarray as he'd left it. Just what had happened?

Paul returned to the bedroom. "Here's the water you asked for," he said in a cheerful voice, but he was shocked by what he now saw.

Beatrice wasn't just ill. She was literally fading away. The contours of her body were fuzzy. She was almost transparent. She gazed imploringly at Paul with an alarmed expression.

"What's happening to you?" Paul asked.

"I don't know," said Beatrice. "Where's the water?"

Paul handed her the glass of water but her fingers weren't able to get a grip on it. They touched the sides but weren't solid enough to take a hold. Beatrice was even more desperate.

"Just tip it in my mouth, Paul," she commanded in a faint voice that was strangely reedy, while she bent back her head and opened her mouth.

Paul did as he was asked. However, a damp patch began to spread between her legs at exactly the same rate as the water flowed in. It was as if it hadn't passed through her at all.

"Put your arms round me, Paul," said Beatrice in a more pathetic and feeble voice than he'd ever heard before. "Tell me that you love me."

"I love you," said Paul with rare sincerity, but when he tried to wrap his arms around his wife they actually went through her as if she was nothing more than a hologram.

And then Beatrice began to flicker away. She became more and more indistinct. Her skin and flesh lost all solidity. Her hair was like a cloud of dust.

Then she scattered into discrete tiny particles that became ever more distant from one another as they lost shape and form. She soon vanished, but rather less abruptly than an Apparition, and all that was left was the damp spot where the water had passed through her body.

"Where are you, Beatrice?" pleaded Paul. "Please come back. Where have you gone?"

There was no reply.

Paul remained in the bedroom for several more hours. He couldn't bear to leave while there was still hope that Beatrice might somehow be mysteriously reassembled. Every now and then he pleaded for her to return. His emotions were torn between bewilderment and grief. He quite literally couldn't believe the evidence of his senses.

And why Beatrice? Why was it his wife who'd contracted whatever strange ailment that had killed her? What could Paul have done to save her?

Paul very rarely wandered away from the villa. He didn't see the need of it. There had been little incentive to go anywhere at all ever since Beatrice had become so much more of a stay-at-home woman.

However, now that Beatrice was gone, Paul was too restless to remain in the villa. Maybe there was someone who knew what had happened to his wife. Perhaps there was someone who knew how to bring her back.

Paul didn't have a plan of where to go. He wandered towards the research centre to see what was happening there. After all, there was a sense that this was the place where he was supposed to be. As a scientist he was supposed to be one of those conducting practical research on the Anomaly although now Paul was in its heart the absurdity of doing so only seemed that much greater. There really was no good reason for him being there.

In fact, the only thing that had ever been a fair recompense for his having been transported such an immeasurably long distance from Godwin was his relationship with Beatrice. And now she was gone, even that was no longer a comfort.

The walk along the gardens towards the escalator shaft was made fraught by the random appearance of the Apparitions. This was another reason why Paul hadn't wandered far from home since the Intrepid entered the Anomaly. Although the Apparitions were now almost routine, they could still be disconcerting. A ten metre long iguana waddled over the garden and clambered over the roof of a villa before it vanished. A white elephant wearing a top hat and spats danced around a maypole and then both elephant and maypole disappeared. A scantily dressed woman wielding a scimitar came striding out of the bushes, waved her weapon around her head and wandered into a villa from which a terrified occupant came running out.

Paul found the research centre eerily silent when he finally got there. There were very few other people to be seen as he wandered along the corridors and peeked into each room. The centre wasn't totally empty. There were some scientists doing research, but there was none of the buzz of activity he'd observed the last time he visited.

"Where is everyone?" Paul asked a tall thin woman with a shaven head and almost totally black eyes who was sitting on a bench. He was afraid for a moment that she was just another Apparition, but she turned her head and smiled at him.

"Are you wondering why there's hardly anyone here?" the woman asked.

"Yes, of course. Why isn't everyone studying the Anomaly and the Apparitions?"

"What's there to study?" asked the woman with a resigned smile. "You don't have to come to the research centre to see weird things. As to why they're here at all or what the Anomaly is composed of or what its purpose is... we don't know any more than we did before we crossed the threshold."

"So why did we enter the Anomaly?"

"You tell me," said the woman. "I had no idea it was on the scheduled itinerary. I don't think anyone else did. But I guess we couldn't really argue with Mission Control and the senior officers."

"Weren't there any scientists who'd protested?"

"One or two did," said the woman with a smile that was difficult to interpret given her opaque gaze. "Well, rather more than one or two. But nothing came of it. What I found weird was that the very people who were initially the most sceptical became those who were the most enthusiastic. I'd almost say they'd been brainwashed, except that mind-controlling techniques have been prohibited by the Interplanetary Union right from its foundation."

"It is very strange, though," said Paul.

"Isn't it just!" admitted the woman.

Normally when Paul happened to speak to a woman he was drawn to speculate whether the conversation could lead further. It was a natural inclination which in Nudeworld usually resulted in sex, but in the real world usually got nowhere at all. But Paul was grieving for Beatrice and such thoughts seemed entirely inappropriate. The woman described her own curious and bizarre encounters with the unknown during which Paul learned that what he'd experienced wasn't really that much out of the ordinary. Everyone had seen peculiar things and had disturbing encounters. There were doorways that led to strange places that shouldn't be on the other side. There were staircases that ascended into corridors inside other spaceships. There was even a skirmish between two heavily armoured groups that left behind corpses that refused to vanish. This battle was between a group of men dressed in tight black uniforms and giant birds whose rainbow-coloured uniforms were well matched by their feathers.

Paul wondered where he could go now. He could stay in the research centre, but there wasn't anyone to give him advice or consolation. He could return to his villa. Or he could go up to the bridge and discover whether the captain and the senior officers might know what had happened to his wife.

Paul occasionally viewed the senior officers' holographic diaries since the Intrepid entered the Anomaly. They were unwaveringly cheerful but never very informative. None of the officers seemed at all anxious about the kind of concern that troubled Paul. What would happen to the Intrepid? What would happen to the passengers? Was it possible for the Intrepid to escape the blank nullity of the Anomaly and return home? Were there any plans whatsoever as to what should happen now?

What most troubled Paul, of course, was Beatrice's welfare. Had she truly vanished? Perhaps Captain Kerensky had an answer. Perhaps the Chief Medical Officer or the Chief Science Officer had an opinion. Perhaps someone had something to say that could comfort Paul.

The corridors that led towards the bridge were curiously deserted. There was none of the bustle of activity that Paul associated with the part of the space ship where the crew worked. Paul walked past holographic displays that showed an absolute absence of anything in the space beyond.

A senior officer was walking towards Paul when he was within a few hundred metres of the bridge. It was Second Officer Nkomo and she also didn't appear to be at all well. She was staggering from side to side and occasionally leaned against the wall for support.

When Paul was within hailing distance, the Second Officer raised her head but her eyes were unfocused and her dark skin was peculiarly translucent. She seemed to have contracted whatever it was that Beatrice had suffered from.

"Are you alright?" Paul asked with concern as the senior officer stumbled in front of him. "Shall I call for assistance?"

Second Officer Nkomo abruptly pulled herself together. Quite literally. One hand was sliding out of a sleeve towards the ground as if it had become liquid rubber and her face was beginning to fade away. Then her appearance suddenly returned to normal.

"Of course not, Mr Morris," said the Second Officer. "I'm perfectly fine, but thank you for your concern. Is there anything I can do to help you?"

"I was just walking to the bridge," said Paul. "I was wondering how things were at the control centre."

"Everything's fine, Mr Morris," said Second Officer Nkomo. "As you know, we are all excited by the mission. There's a real party atmosphere on the bridge."

"I'm sure there is," said Paul, who knew from tone of the official communiqués that she probably wasn't exaggerating. "I was also concerned about Beatrice. I was hoping someone could help her."

"Beatrice, Mr Morris?" the Second Officer asked with a concerned frown. "She's your wife, isn't she? What seems to be the problem?"

"I don't know," Paul admitted. "That's why I've come here. She became unwell and then she sort of disintegrated. It was almost as if she'd turned to dust and floated away. It was very peculiar."

Second Officer Nkomo's face took on a thoughtful expression, although Paul fancied that it also betrayed a flash of real alarm. "I agree. It's not something that happens every day. What happened after that?"

"Nothing. She just vanished."

"Are you sure it was her?" the Second Officer wondered. "Are you sure you didn't just see an Apparition? We've had some peculiar reports of incursions by doppelgangers that have intersected the Intrepid. Was she, perhaps, one of these? It's possible that she wasn't the Beatrice you thought she was."

"I don't understand what you're saying," Paul admitted. "It was definitely Beatrice. It was as much her as you are Sheila Nkomo."

"Indeed, Mr Morris," said the Second Officer. "I'm afraid I don't have an answer for you."

"What should I do?"

"I suggest you return home," said Second Officer Nkomo. "It's the... It's the best thing you can... It's what... Er... Excuse me."

"You really don't look very well," said Paul as the Second Officer collapsed against the wall. Her nostrils widened and an ear began slipping down the side of her face. A clump of hair came out in her hand as she brushed it over the back of her head. "Are you sure I can't do anything for you?"

"No," said the Second Officer. "Please excuse me, Mr Morris. I think you may be right. I'm really not feeling my best."

An eyeball fell out of its socket and the Second Officer pushed it back in again without comment.

"Is this infectious? Can I catch it?"

"No," said the Second Officer who had an astonishing ability to continue the conversation despite her obvious distress. "I don't think it's infectious. Certainly not for humans. Don't trouble yourself about it, Mr Morris. I recommend that you return to your villa. There's nothing of interest for you on the bridge."

"Are you sure?"

The Second Officer stood upright. Her face was sagging like a reflection in a distorted mirror. Her costume had lost its contours and was merging with her skin. A black nipple jutted through a hole in the fabric.

"Yes, I'm sure," said Second Officer Nkomo. "If you'll excuse me..."

Paul watched as the Second Officer walked through a door which automatically slid shut behind her, but he couldn't think of a good reason why she would need to enter the service hatch.

Paul decided to take the Second Officer's advice and return to his villa. It was, after all, the only practical advice she'd given him. He was worried that the disease that had brought down Beatrice and had now infected Sheila Nkomo might have spread through the bridge, so perhaps he was better off somewhere else.

His journey home was not without incident. When he approached the elevator that would take him towards his villa he saw the dismembered remains of another woman. She was wearing the uniform of a senior officer just like Second Officer Nkomo, which was torn apart in the same way as her body. There was, however, no blood, no spilt entrails and no sign of violence. Her arm was laid on the ground separated by half a metre from her torso. One leg was leaning against the corridor wall. Her torso was rent apart across the breast. Her head was lying on one side on the floor and her eyes were still blinking.

Paul recognised the face. It was Chief Science Officer Petal Chang. She was the same woman who only hours before Paul had seen in her holographic diary enthusing about the mission's success. And here she was strewn in several disjointed parts about the floor. Even as Paul was looking at her, he noticed that her face was fading in the same way as Beatrice's had. The eyelids were blinking. Her hair was becoming ever more indistinct. And then her nose suddenly blew off. Paul was sure that if he stayed much longer he would see the Chief Science Officer crumble to nothing just as he had Beatrice.

Paul's walk across the lawns towards his villa was no less peculiar. There was no escape from the ever-present weirdness. A naked angel flew across the sky above and Paul couldn't help noticing the impressive penis tucked between the legs. An angle-poise lamp was hopping along like a kangaroo. A giant hedgehog waddled past with brightly coloured spikes. All the Apparitions vanished within seconds.

When Paul arrived home, the villa was exactly as it had been when he'd left. He hoped that perhaps he'd discover Beatrice lying naked on the bed begging him to make love with her. She would laugh off the incident of her apparent disintegration as if it had never happened. Unfortunately, the only evidence that Beatrice had ever been there was the damp spot on the bedsheets. All he'd discovered on his expedition was that whatever had killed Beatrice was also killing the senior officers. Paul was totally alone. He knew nobody at all who he could ask for help.