Over the Darkened Landscape Read online

  FAIRWOOD PRESS

  Bonney Lake, WA

  Over the Darkened Landscape

  A Fairwood Press Book

  November 2012

  Copyright © 2012 by Derryl Murphy

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or

  by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording,

  or by any information storage and retrieval system, without

  permission in writing from the publisher.

  Fairwood Press

  21528 104th Street Court East

  Bonney Lake, WA 98391

  www.fairwoodpress.com

  Front cover image & design by

  Antonello Silverini

  Book design by

  Patrick Swenson

  ISBN: 978-1-933846-35-4

  First Fairwood Press Edition: November 2012

  Printed in the United States of America

  eISBN: 978-1-61824-992-0

  Electronic version by Baen Books

  http://www.baen.com

  Also by Derryl Murphy

  Napier’s Bones

  Wasps at the Speed of Sound

  Cast a Cold Eye (with William Shunn)

  Publication History

  “Body Solar” first appeared in On Spec (1993)

  “Canadaland” first appeared in On Spec (1997)

  “Frail Orbits” first appeared in On Spec (1997)

  “Voyage to the Moon” first appeared in Realms of Fantasy (1999)

  “Last Call” first appeared in On Spec (2000)

  “The Cats of Bethlem” first appeared in Would That It Were (2001)

  “More Painful Than the Dreams of Other Boys” first appeared in Open Space (2003)

  “The Day Michael Visited Happy Lake” first appeared in Fantastic Companions (2005)

  “Clink Clank” first appeared in Thou Shalt Not (2006)

  “Northwest Passage” first appeared in Realms of Fantasy (1999)

  “Cold Ground” first appeared in Arrow Dreams (1998)

  “Over the Darkened Landscape” first appeared in Mythspring (2006)

  “Ancients of the Earth” first appeared in Tesseracts 12 (2008)

  For my sons, Aidan and Brennan. Every day they get further from childhood, grow more and more into young men, and every day is therefore filled with both regret and joy. Boys, you’ll always have my love.

  Introduction

  Julie Czerneda

  Being Canadian is a rather odd thing. Our love of this vast, beautiful landscape comes wrapped in an obsession with weather. Our civility, for we are admittedly civil and patient depending on how long the queue is at Timmie’s, goes hand-in-hand with a keen disdain for organized stupidity (especially from those we elect, but any group who wilfully misbehaves on or off the ice is fair game). At our core, though, is a strength derived from caring for those around us. Family, friends, community. Even when they drive us bonkers.

  All of which brings me to the collection of stories you’re about to enjoy. They span speculative fiction from hard SF to horror, Murphy’s craft sure-handed and determined regardless of genre. Like any skilled artist, he uses the medium of his choice to illuminate why we are as we are. He explores what’s possible at the interface between human and other, be it technology or monster. His protagonists range wildly—from H.G. Wells to a curious child, from a group of discarded astronauts to a woman waking from sleep. There’s a dog. A living ship. Magic here; starships there. What ties them together is how Murphy paints, all too convincingly, the evil we are capable of—and the good.

  As I read, however, it wasn’t only the imagination and ideas here that caught my attention. It was how Murphy’s nailed what it is to be Canadian—warts and glory—in a way I didn’t see coming.

  You can read these stories for what they are: flights of fancy, occasionally wicked, often poignant, and always entertaining. But if you’ve ever blinked away tears from a minus 20 wind, stood patiently in a queue, or shook your head at bureaucratic “wisdom,” (quite possibly all at once), you’ll feel at home here.

  And, if you’ve ever cared about those around you, your heart will, too.

  Julie Czerneda

  Orillia Ontario

  September 2012

  Body Solar

  Breathebreathebreathebreathebreathe . . .

  I can’t remember how to breathe, he thought. Panic began to set in, but he managed to fight it back down, turning it into a cool lump in the pit of his stomach, rather than a piercing starburst.

  There’s a breath now. He felt himself begin to relax. Remember what the lady said . . .

  The voice in his head seemed to become urgent. He turned his mind away from the new sensations and tried to concentrate on what was being said. Words and thoughts danced away from his grasp for a moment before he found the ability to focus.

  “Simon, this is Anna.” The voice sounded lovely, and familiar. He imagined himself frowning as he tried to place it. “We need to test all systems before you get too far away from us. Can you please try to take a breath?”

  A breath? With a shock he realized for the first time that he hadn’t been breathing. Fear started to override his somewhat dulled senses and he tried to take a great, shuddering breath, like a swimmer who had dived too deep and only just made it to the surface in time. Instead, he felt his chest lift very slightly and a small amount of air move into his lungs.

  It didn’t feel like enough, and he struggled for another. His body wouldn’t cooperate.

  “No, Simon,” said the voice in his head. “Don’t try to take another. Your body knows what to do now and will breathe when it needs to.”

  “Who is this?” He had tried to speak, but rather than hearing words from his mouth, it felt like he had spoken inside his head.

  “It is Anna, Simon. Dr. Schaum. Do you remember where you are?”

  His thoughts slowly stirred about for a moment, then as they neared the answer they seemed to pick up speed, making him think of the rats in Africa scurrying about when newslights were turned on them. When he managed to pin one thought down, it struck him as the right one.

  “Space.”

  His back felt warm. Kind of itchy, too. Turn my head, he thought. Then, I remember, it takes a long time. But I can wait.

  His eyes took in everything around him. Mostly, it was just blackness, punctuated by dots of light. Nothing but stars all around me. Stars and me and my sail.

  He hadn’t turned his head enough to see the sail, yet. Funny how he hadn’t thought to look at it before now.

  How long have I been out here?

  Eyes still seeing the black velvet with the pinholes, he tried to remember the name.

  Oh. “Anna?” There was no answer, but he didn’t feel hurried. He easily remembered that patience had never been one of his strong points, but he felt no anxiety now.

  A shock of recognition went through him. My arm. I can see my arm, stretched out, reaching up and to my side. His head was still turning, slowly, as he could gauge the rate by watching how long it took to move the view along his arm.

  “Mr. Helbrecht?” a voice spoke in his head. It didn’t sound like Anna, but he thought it best not to take a chance.

  “Anna?”

  Again, he waited. He could see his hand now, at the end of his arm. It looked funny, with the sail attached to it, like it was caught in the middle of metamorphosing from flesh to gossamer. And just beyond his outstretched fingers he could see where the sail broke into the vacuum; the optical distortion that made the sail look as if it were broken in two at the divide. Like looking into or out of water.

  A fish in a bowl, he thought. That’
s me. Except that my bowl is going places.

  “No, Mr. Helbrecht. This is Michel Giroux. Dr. Schaum is not currently monitoring this frequency. Are you in need of something?”

  “I don’t remember you.”

  The sail seemed to go on forever, shining from the light behind, a beautiful thing to see. He pretended he could see the little photons crashing up against it, forcing him faster and faster towards . . .

  Hmm. I can’t remember where I’m going either.

  That could wait. His head had turned enough that he could see the top of his shoulder now. It was covered with green, a sort of algae. That much he could remember.

  Ironically, he felt his body take a breath.

  “Yes, Mr. Helbrecht, I know you don’t remember me. I am new at this position. Now. Did you have a question for me, Mr. Helbrecht?”

  A question? I wanted to ask . . . No! I mean, “I wanted to ask how long have I been out here? And before I forget again, where is it I’m going?”

  If he watched closely and for some time, he could see the algae shift positions along his arm and down over his shoulder blade to where he couldn’t see.

  The sun felt warm on his cheek.

  “How do you feel?”

  Simon heard the voice, but he didn’t want to open his eyes. Instead, he grunted.

  “I’ll take that to mean lousy, which was expected. Do you know who this is, Simon?”

  “Anna,” he grunted. “Why do you always ask me that question?”

  She laughed, and the sound of her unforced humor drained a bit of the pain away. “You’ve gone through two years of sessions and restructuring, Simon. You tell me why.”

  He finally managed to pry open his eyes, blinking the lids to try to lose the gumminess, but she was nowhere around. Then he remembered his neural input. “Because I’m likely to forget all sorts of things while I’m sailing. So you are doing your best to at least imprint your name into my memory.”

  “Very good. Now, is your back itchy?”

  He paused for a moment to sort that question out. Then, “Yes, it is. Oh, I wish you hadn’t said anything! Now I want to scratch!”

  “Well, please don’t, Simon. The algal implant needs about three days to take hold. And if you can’t control your fingers we may have to strap your arms down.”

  Simon kept his arms down, trying not to think about the light tickling sensation of the huge mass of algae growing on his back. He had already spent an inordinate amount of money, over half of his personal fortune, and if any step of the procedure was unsuccessful he would lose his chance and forfeit the money spent. Many others had spent almost as much, only to lose out on the newest vacation of a lifetime because their bodies and psyches could not handle the stress of the transformation.

  Aside from some minor mechanical details, the algal implant was the second last stage in the process leading to his trip. It was also one of the single most important. Without it, he would have no air to breathe and no food, as it were, to eat.

  “Mr. Helbrecht, I’m not allowed to tell you how long you’ve been gone. Remember? We don’t want you getting hung up on time. You paid good money to take a trip where you didn’t have to worry about what the time was.

  “As for your destination, you are proceeding to a predetermined location approximately equal to one-point-five A.U. from the sun.”

  “Oh. Thank you very much. Can I talk to Anna now?”

  His neck had seemed to have reached its maximum extension. He tried to turn his head further but couldn’t.

  Happy he had seen this view, Simon started turning his head again. This time he would look down, to his feet and beyond.

  The man had said he didn’t have to worry about time. Certainly he wasn’t bothered by the length of time it took him to move his head, so he guessed this to be true.

  “Hello, Simon. This is Anna. How are you doing?”

  “Hello, Anna! I’m doing wonderfully, thank you! I don’t know how long it has been since I launched, but I think that for the first time since then I’m really and truly aware of things!”

  Off to his right, where his head was still facing, he saw a bright light that made him pause in his thoughts. It flared brighter than anything else he could see in the sky, and seemed to be lasting for a very long time. Only after it had decreased in size by a bit did he remember he had been talking to Dr. Schaum.

  “It’s very beautiful out here, Anna. I just saw a very bright light. Was it a ship, perhaps even your ship?”

  After seeing the flaring light and the shine of the sun reflecting off his sail, the rest of space seemed very dark. As his head slowly turned to look down, his eyes moved along his body. It was in shadow, lit only by the low light of distant stars and by the one dim light of a small box embedded in his otherwise naked belly.

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, Simon. I must warn you that we can’t keep this link up for very much longer.”

  “That’s all right, Anna. Hey! What’s this little thing on my stomach for? I can’t remember.”

  The light from the box was a steady, mesmerizing glow. The box was small, only a few centimeters by a few centimeters. He felt his body take a breath and watched as the box rose and sank slowly and not very deeply.

  “Yes, Simon, it was a ship. A barge boosting for the asteroids. You saw its fusion rockets.”

  “Oh.”

  The box eventually lost his interest. He focused his eyes beyond the box; first on his feet, then on the vacuum below. His mind experienced a brief moment of vertigo as he stared down into nothingness, but he quickly recovered.

  “That box, Simon, is your force-field generator. It helps keep you alive.”

  He felt like a freak. Standing in front of the floor-length mirror, his body had to be the most bizarre thing he had ever seen in his life. Perhaps, he mused, if things didn’t work out he could join one of those old-time circus side-shows that were now sweeping the continent. Or maybe hide away in some religious retreat.

  Simon was naked, standing and staring at his body straight on. A small gray box was on his belly, embedded in his skin so that it was partly inside his body and mostly out, fixed in place just above his belly button. He touched it with his hand; it felt warm, but not uncomfortably so.

  Then he raised his arms straight into the air and watched as the mutant algae slowly migrated from his armpits and around to his back. He then shifted a couple of the mirrors and watched all of his back, a brown and green carpet slowly but constantly changing positions.

  Next his gaze fell downwards along the mirror, to his buttocks. The only area along his backside where there were none of his life-giving little plant friends, but only because of the waste reclaimer. It looked for all the world like somebody had mounted a shiny metal helmet on his ass and crotch to function as a diaper. Which was essentially what had happened, except his wastes were undergoing drastic changes in composition, and this diaper took those wastes and changed them into something he could use.

  Finally, he looked at his right arm. Several dozen small yellow bruises marched up and down the length of his upper arm, signs of the time-delayed implants that would slow his bodily functions to help him survive his trip, although they could also contribute to the forgetfulness Anna had warned him about.

  “You ready for the last stage?”

  Simon turned around to look at Anna, who was standing on the other side of the force-field that kept him safe from contaminants. She had her hands in her pockets and was obviously making an effort to look into his eyes, and nowhere else.

  “Sure,” said Simon. “When do we start?”

  “Right away. I’ll get you to go place yourself in your body sling, and then we will be shutting off gravity and putting you to sleep.”

  He walked over and strapped himself in. “This is the last time I’ll see you, right?”

  “I should be on the ship when it picks you up. But yes, this will be the last time for some years.”

  “Mm. Then perhaps I c
an invite you to meet me back on Earth after this is over; I can buy you lunch in Paris or Frankfurt.”

  She smiled warmly. “I’d like that very much, Simon.”

  He returned her smile. “Until then, Anna. Thank you for all your help.”

  “You’re welcome, and thank you. I hope you enjoy your sail, Simon.”

  He tried to tell her that he thought enjoy wasn’t necessarily the best word to use, but he felt himself nodding off and so just went with the flow of sleep.

  *

  There was a lot that could be said for solitude. Since his last conversation, Simon had not tried to contact nor had he been contacted by Anna.

  At first he did talk to himself, at least within his head. Short little discussions, reminders to himself to do something or another when he finished this voyage; more often than not they were business related. But over time the need for that tapered off, and now he rarely did anything like that any more.

  Instead, he just was. Existence was enough. He was a part of the blackness that was in front of him, and of the light that he was slowly leaving behind.

  No more thoughts of home, of either his penthouse flat in the co-op in Bruxelles or of his winter retreat off the coast of Thailand. No more thoughts of business, the nano company he owned that he had left in capable hands while away. No more thoughts of family, his sister who he dearly loved and who had cried uncontrollably when he had boarded the railgun shuttle, and his brother who he despised and yet was saddened by the strength of that hatred.

  His awareness was limited, but in the few moments of reflection he did have he realized that that made it all the more complete. He was a piece of cosmic dust, being carried by the solar wind.