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Synopsis
What she chose to do with the idea, the spaceship, and all that free time, kickstarted a worldwide technological boom. Now, nine years later, it seems as if not a day passes without the announcement of a new breakthrough in something, be it quantum computing, nuclear energy, neurobiology, or some other esoteric corner of cutting-edge science.
The world is in the middle of a revolution of ideas, and the best part? Hardly anyone knows Annie’s involved at all.
Yes, everything seems to be working out just great…until the day another spaceship shows up in Sorrow Falls.
This new visitor seems just like the one buried in Annie’s garden: same design, same matte black hull, sitting in the same spot in the same empty field. But there are important differences.
For starters, if it’s truly a spaceship at all, it didn’t come from space; it just… appeared. Also, this one didn’t arrive alone. On the same day Sorrow Falls acquired a new spaceship, identical versions manifested in over a dozen locations across the world. All of them just sitting there, not doing anything.
At first.
Who sent these new ships? Why did they send them? What do they want? Annie—with Ed, and Violet, and the rest of the Sorrow Falls survivors—are going to have to figure that out, and fast. Because this time around, they don’t have three years to work with; they barely have three months before the end of the world.
Graffiti on the Wall of the Universe is the exciting follow-up to The Spaceship Next Door and The Frequency of Aliens.
Release date: July 25, 2023
Print pages: 496
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Graffiti on the Wall of the Universe
Gene Doucette
PROLOGUE: OFF TO SEE THE WIZARD
Sorrow Falls had been through a lot.
First came the invasion from space.
It wasn’t much of an invasion, consisting as it did of precisely one ship landing in an open field and then declining to get on with the invading part; it just sat there.
Sure, it was exciting at first, but the excitement wore off quickly. Then the town was stuck with an interstellar guest who refused to take the hint that it was time to move on, while its very existence turned a nice, quiet mill town into the most talked about place in the world, which nobody appreciated.
The ship’s arrival resulted in what amounted to a second invasion, i.e., when the U.S. Army showed up. But the army was really nice about the whole thing, and the people in the town were also really nice about the whole thing, so that ended up being okay.
When the ship got around to the second phase of its invasion—finally—things were not okay anymore. There were zombies. People died. The world nearly ended. And the army did not come out looking great, although everyone in town agreed they did the best they could.
Another couple of years passed, and the army invaded again, and it was also very much not okay, because the U.S Army that showed up this time wasn’t the polite version everyone had gotten used to. True, about half of those polite soldiers from before ended up dead, but their three-year occupancy had left most Sorrow Falls residents feeling generally positive about the armed services as a whole.
These new soldiers, though…they were angry. And rude. And more than a little delusional, shouting about monsters and shooting at things that weren’t there. Unfortunately, they also shot at things that were there, like town residents and livestock.
By the end of that day there were more deaths—although like the first time, a decent number of the dead were soldiers—a nuclear bomb had been set off in the sky above the town, and there was significant property damage all over the place.
The aftermath did not play out the same this time around, because while it ultimately turned out there had been a second alien invasion in the middle of all that, it was very much an invisible invasion. There was no spaceship on the ground at which animosity could be directed, and in fact the only spaceship anybody could have pointed to as being involved in any capacity was the one annihilated by that nuclear bomb. No, the aggressor this time, per every streaming internet video—and there were thousands—was the army itself. So, while it was technically true that, like the before, the army’s rank-and-file were victims, literally nobody saw them that way.
There were lawsuits, of course. And the federal government, in a sincere effort to improve its public image, promised to cover the cost of all repairs. They even sent a team from the Army Corps of Engineers to fix the damage done to Main Street by one of their tanks. This went poorly, because the last thing a place that had just been invaded by the army needed was for more army people to show up in large numbers for any reason at all.
Videos of the engineering team rolling across the bridge to Sorrow Falls, only to be met by the sheriff politely telling them to turn right back around again, went viral. Shortly after, the town council adopted an informal measure that told the U.S. government, effectively, thanks
for the offer but just send money; we know a guy.
Thus began a new phase in the psyche of Sorrow Falls: tactical xenophobia. Everyone in town remained unfailingly polite, but they were considerably less interested in hosting people passing through, “just to see the place.” If you were visiting, hopefully it was because somebody invited you. Otherwise, your eggs were going to be cold, your directions—unless they were directions for leaving town—were going to be incorrect, and there wasn’t going to be anyone willing to take a picture of you standing in front of something historic.
It wasn’t personal; it was just that, collectively, Sorrow Falls had had enough of all this nonsense, thanks.
This was the where the town was, mentally, when Evan Wilders made his first and only trip there, two years after the army’s last invasion. Fortunately for him, he had been invited, by Annie Collins, no less, who was only the most famous person in Sorrow Falls.
As for why he’d been invited? He had no idea.
“Table for one?”
The waitress asking the question looked barely out of high school, and the question seemed modestly judgmental, prefaced as it was by her looking him up and down and concluding that he was somebody who would of course be dining alone.
“I was told to ask for someone named Beth?” he said.
“Oh! Sure,” she said, her demeanor changing entirely. “Wait right here.”
It took about two minutes for Beth to emerge from the back. Evan spent the time panicking quietly.
It had been a supremely weird couple of days.
Evan had been hearing rumors for months—well, reading rumors technically, as this was online chatter—about people in various scientific disciplines getting phone calls from Annie Collins. In the boards that he followed, HELP I GOT A CALL FROM ANNIE COLLINS WHAT DO I DO was a popular start to a lot of threads.
Ninety-nine percent of the advice that followed was useless, because the internet was a terrible place and Annie Collins was a particularly polarizing figure, online and everywhere else. It had only been a couple of years since practically everyone in the world became convinced she was giving them nightmares, which wasn’t nearly long enough for people to get past that. Even when it wasn’t true.
The one percent of good advice was, essentially, YOU SHOULD CALL HER BACK.
Exactly none of the threads said what happened after the original poster called her back which, presumably, at least some of them did; no posts along the lines of I CALLED ANNIE COLLINS AND HERE’S WHAT SHE SAID existed.
When she reached out to Evan it wasn’t a call; it was a text. It read: CALL ME, from a number his own phone identified as belonging to Annie.
This was alarmingly brief. Evan’s own family texts requesting that he contact them came with more information, which of course they did, because if you send something that abrupt the recipient is just going to assume something is wrong.
That’s what Evan
thought, certainly. So, he called her, not bothering to first start an online thread or even to discuss it with someone in his own orbit of friends, family, and classmates. He just took a couple of deep breaths and hit the call button.
“Evan Wilders?” she said. “Hi, it’s Annie Collins. We need to talk. Can you get to Sorrow Falls?”
“We…can talk now,” he said, confused. Evan was standing in the hallway outside of a physics lab on the MIT campus where at any time there were a half dozen people in earshot so, practically speaking, they could not talk “now” and expect privacy on his end. But this was the quickest way he could think of to get more information from her.
“Has to be face-to-face,” she said. “You have a friend with a car, right?”
He did have a friend with a car. Her name was Jia and there was a possibility she and Evan were dating. He hadn’t quite worked that out yet.
“I do,” he said.
“Borrow it, head on up and we’ll talk. But just you. It’s her car and I’m sure she’ll want to drive up with you, but please come alone.”
Annie told him what to do when he got into town, and hung up. There was no working out what day he’d make it up there, just: get to Sorrow Falls, head to the diner and ask for Beth Weld, who evidently had the power to summon Annie.
The entire exchange was unnerving, but the most unnerving part, he decided later, was that Annie knew his friend was a woman. It could have been a guess, but it sure didn’t feel like it.
The drive wasn’t a major commitment because he was already in Massachusetts, and getting the car was no trouble at all once he told Jia why he needed it, but he had no idea why he’d been invited to what was apparently a private audience with one of the most famous people in the world, and it looked as if the only way to find that out was to follow Annie’s instructions.
The whole thing was exciting, if more than a little terrifying. And in the two hours it took to get from Cambridge to Sorrow Falls he decided it was also probably a big mistake.
“Oh, hey, Evan Wilders, right?” Beth Weld asked, on emerging from the kitchen. “You’re a little early.”
“The drive wasn’t as…why, what time were you expecting me?” He hadn’t given Annie an arrival time or even an arrival day.
Beth smiled, but didn’t answer the question. She handed over a menu, stepped around the front counter and led him to a booth in the back of the diner.
“Sit,” she said. “Relax, if you can. I’ll send Tina by to get your order in a sec. Annie should be here soon.”
Not I’ll let Annie know you’re here, he noted. Annie would just…arrive.
“What do you mean, if I can?” he asked. “Do I look nervous?”
Beth laughed. “You all do. I don’t know why; Annie’s a sweetheart. Can I start you off with some coffee?”
Twenty minutes and one greasy (but surprisingly palatable) breakfast later, Annie Collins manifested.
That was how it felt. One second, he was looking down at the eggs he couldn’t find the appetite to finish, the next second there she was. All that was missing was a puff of smoke.
“Hi!” she said. “Glad you made it!”
He stumbled out of the booth and shook her hand. “Hello, Ms. Collins. Thank you for, um, it’s nice to meet you.”
She sat in the booth. “You are early, Evan. You don’t mind if I call you Evan, do you? And please call me Annie. Whenever someone calls me Ms. Collins I think I’m in trouble.”
He sat down and stared at her for an uncomfortable five seconds, because he simply didn’t know where to start.
“Why…why do you say I’m early?” he said, finally. “We didn’t arrange a time.”
“No, I know. I mean I didn’t think you’d make it here before tomorrow at the earliest. And wow, you made great time. You must have left before sunrise.”
“It felt appropriate to get here as soon as possible,” he said, “so that I can sleep again.”
Annie laughed. She had an engaging laugh. Just like the everyone else, two years ago Evan was convinced Annie Collins was giving him nightmares, and the horror show version of her still existed in his head, creating a real disconnect now that he’d met her. About the only thing that synced up between the two versions was that both managed to keep him up nights.
“I’m sorry about that,” she said. “I prefer to have these meetings in person. Not as many people listening in, this way. You understand.”
He did not understand, but he nodded anyway.
“Also,” she continued, “I’m sure you told a couple of people that I reached out. I’m totally cool with that, but now that we’re sitting down, I need a favor.”
“Uh, all right.”
“Whatever happens, going forward, I’d appreciate if you kept my involvement out of it. I like to keep these consultations on the down-low as much as possible.
Like, it’s not top secret, but don’t put my name on the masthead or anything. You understand?”
“Not at all.”
She smiled. “Everyone says that.”
“I’m sorry…Annie?” he said. “I think you must have the wrong Evan Wilders. I never…I mean I’m not looking for a consultant. I don’t even have a company and I can’t…I can’t pay you, so…”
“Calm down, calm down, it’s okay. Take a breath.”
She waved to the waitress, who brought over a cup of coffee. “I had to teach myself to like coffee,” she said, taking a sip. “Now I can’t get through the day without it.”
Annie put the coffee down and her hands on the table. “I’m not interested in money,” she began. “I mean, sure I am, but I also just sold my life story so, let’s just say I’m set in that regard. As for you: you’re Evan Wilders, you’re twenty-four years old, and you’re a graduate student at MIT. Your concentration is particle physics and right now you’re reviewing raw data from CERN. Do I have all of that correct?”
“Y-Yes. That’s right.”
He went from thinking she had the wrong guy to thinking she was playing a very involved prank.
“Great!” she said. “Then let’s move on.”
“How did you know about the CERN data?” he asked.
She ignored the question. “Last week, you discovered something in the data. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“About the data you can’t possibly know I was looking at.”
“Actually, not the data. The idea you had about why the data happened to be the way it was. We can talk about the data if you want, but I’m not a physicist, so a lot of it will probably go right over my head.”
This was definitely a prank. “You asked me to drive out here to talk to you about data you couldn’t know about and don’t understand in order to discuss an idea I had that you couldn’t possibly know about or understand?”
“Oh, no, no, no, I understand the idea really well. Not to brag but I might understand it better than you do. At least right now. Otherwise, you wouldn’t need me to give you this nudge.”
“Nudge.”
“You’re not taking it seriously and I think you should,” she said. “It’s an important idea.”
“How do you know I had any such idea?”
She took another sip of her coffee.
“I’m not going to tell you that,” she said. “I’m also not going to tell you how I know
about the CERN data, or how I know the Honda you drove here belongs to a girl named Jia and that Jia does think you’re dating so you better get aboard that train before it leaves the station if you get my meaning. You’re going to have to accept that I know these things so we can move on.”
“Can you read minds?”
“Nobody can read minds, Evan. They’re too messy. Look, you drove out here because even though you were sure this was a mistake, there was a part of you that hoped it wasn’t, and that this was going to turn out to be an important conversation. You were right; it may end up being the most important conversation of your life. Now tell me what you saw in the data.”
“I…I found a discrepancy in the quark flavors,” he said.
“Good. What kind of discrepancy?”
“Under certain initial conditions the outcome looked non-random.”
“Go on.”
“That’s all. I brought it to Dr. Banks, but he dismissed it because the sample size was too small. And he was right. Besides, I’m… Annie, I’m just a graduate student.”
“I’m a twenty-one year old college dropout with a GED,” she said, “yet here we are. You’re selling yourself short. What’s the rest of the story?”
He sighed heavily.
“There’s nothing else,” he said. “Nothing I can prove.”
“You know what? I’m going to call my friend Beth over here and have her pour a pot of hot water over your head if you don’t cut it out. Tell me about the idea.”
“I can’t possibly verify it without…”
“I can get you all the data you need with a couple of phone calls, Evan. But you have to prove to me you’ve got it first. Tell me the idea.”
“All right, all right. If it’s legitimately non-random—and I promise you it is not…”
“Stop qualifying it.”
“Right. Sorry. If it’s legitimately non-random… What I began to wonder is if there was a way to force a quark into being a particular flavor.”
Annie laughed. “Sorry, I love it that you guys call it flavors. Like, was whoever came up with the naming convention really hungry? Sorry, I won’t do that again.”
“But you understand what they mean?” he asked.
“Yeah. They’re what
: up, down, bottom, top, charm and…?”
“Strange.”
“Hilarious,” she said. “And you’re right. I mean you’ve got it. Or you’re getting there.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Your idea. It’s correct. How much data do you need, to prove it’s not random?”
“I, um… a lot,” he said. “More than currently exists, I believe.”
“Ooh, that’s tough. But you’ve worked out how it’s done already, haven’t you? What you really need is a chance to prove it.”
He had transitioned from terrified to mystified. “How do you know any of this?”
Annie turned around and made a gesture to Beth, who nodded.
“I already said I’m not going to explain,” she said. “I brought you here to say you’ve got it right and you have to go prove it. If that means a trip to Switzerland, like I said I can make some calls. This is an important idea, Evan; I don’t want you to give up on it.”
Beth came by with a pen and a scrap of paper and—thankfully—did not pour a pot of hot water on Evan’s head.
“Here, I’ll prove it to you,” Annie said, as she wrote something on the paper. “I know you didn’t just consider the possibility that this idea of yours might be correct. You worked the math on the assumption it was and came up with the conversion rate. Am I right?”
“You are, but again…”
She held up the paper. On it was written his equation. “Is this it?” she asked.
He gasped. There was no way for her to have this. He’d spent hours working it out on a whiteboard, but once he finished he simply erased it. There was no photograph of the proof in existence and he was alone in the classroom the entire time. It was simply impossible for her to have reproduced the final equation.
“Evan,” she said. “This is what you came up with, right?”
“Y-Yes, but…”
“Great.”
She pulled the paper
back down and wrote another equation on it. Then she slid it across the table.
“You’re almost there,” she said. “Have another look at the data and try again. Once you’ve figured out how to arrive at the second equation, you’re where you need to be.”
“Where did that come from?” he asked.
She smiled. “That is part of a much bigger idea.”
His head was spinning. Like everyone, he knew the story was that Annie Collins interacted directly with an alien, and that alien was an idea rather than a corporeal being. Also like everyone, Evan assumed that story was just not true.
“What…kind of idea?” he asked. He couldn’t bring himself to utter the word alien. “Is it your idea or…? Or can you not tell me that either?”
“It wasn’t originally,” she said. “But I’m learning to make it my own.”
…[A]nd in tech news, another Drake Lansing jam is hitting the stage today. The project is hush-hush and the product is un-to-the-known, but the buzz is fierce! A who’s who of deep pockets will be there for the curtain drop, but not MoneyBuzz!
All we know is, it’s happening! And from what we’ve heard, the tech! Is! Wild!
We’ll drop more on you as soon as we have it, gang! But as with everything Drake Lansing: expect to be wowed!
WINNIE WINS, FROM MONEYBUZZ NEWS
They put a spaceship on it.
Annie knew it was going to be a weird sort of morning when she got her first look at the new logo for InstanTech, on an enormous sign on the side of the highway. As the most visible portion of the company’s new corporate campus, the size of the sign seemed somewhat reasonable, provided the goal was to flag down low-flying planes and perhaps also the international space station. Otherwise, it was a bit too large.
It also didn’t make a ton of sense, given what InstanTech actually did. Sure, the company could at some time in the future establish a tangential connection to space travel, but it wasn’t like they were designing rocket ships.
Then again, they didn’t put a rocket ship on the logo. That was the part that really got Annie’s attention. Even after the arrival of an actual alien ship in Sorrow Falls some fifteen years ago, the default design motif for spacecrafts trended toward flying saucers and phallic rockets, mainly because both implied motion, something their only example of a real extraterrestrial vessel was not known for.
This was one reason the InstanTech logo was so curious: they clearly used the Sorrow Falls spaceship as a template.
Annie had a lot of words she could pair with Shippie, but aesthetically pleasing wasn’t among them. It looked like a cross between the Apollo 11 lunar lander and the cap on a steam pipe. And again, it was mainly known for inaction… right up until it did something. That something included the world nearly ending and a lot of deaths, so it was fair to say this was also not a good association for a company to make in its branding.
Another reason it was curious was that InstanTech was nowhere near Sorrow Falls, or even Massachusetts. The corporate campus was in Brevard County, Florida, spitting distance from Merritt Island and the Cape Canaveral NASA headquarters. Which, once more, would make sense if InstanTech had anything to do with space travel. But they didn’t.
She suspected that the reason a logo featuring Shippie was staring back at her from the highway was that InstanTech decided to emphasize their association to one Annie Collins. Which was a no-no.
“Is that what I think it is?” Cora asked. She was looking at the same thing Annie was. It was hard not to, as it was the largest object on that side of the road.
“Pretty sure, yeah,” Annie said.
“They aren’t supposed to do that, are they? Publicly.”
Cora Blankenship had been in Annie’s orbit ever since she was assigned to guard Annie during her secret service days. Then Cora’s bosses and a modest contingent of the U.S. armed forces attempted to kill both Cora and Annie one afternoon; that was sort of a deal-breaker for Cora. She quit and created her own private security firm. Annie was her first client.
This put Cora in the room for a lot of otherwise private conversations, including several with Annie and her lawyers. She therefore knew that one of the conditions for speaking with Annie Collins, in her capacity as a private consultant, was that the consultation was to remain confidential.
“Ballsy, I’ll give him that,” Annie said. “But it’s cool. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t mind the association. Besides, the base agreement was a handshake deal.”
“I thought you made everyone sign a disclosure.”
“I started doing that after the vitamin fiasco, but my consult with Evan was before that.”
“It was that long ago?”
Annie laughed. “Definitely not long ago. Not for this. They’re about ten years ahead of
schedule. But that’s Drake for you.”
The driver got them off the highway at the next exit, meandered through a neighborhood that looked entirely made up of warehouses, and then went in through a gated entrance directly beneath the sign and up to the main building.
“Why are you here?” Cora asked, as they rolled between the legs of the sign.
“I was invited,” Annie said.
Cora made a barely detectable sour face. It remained amusing to Annie that Cora Blankenship was capable of any expression; she excelled at neutrality. Annie often wondered if Cora was more expressive with her girlfriend, or if Lanie just learned to read Cora’s incredibly minute micro-expressions.
“You know what I mean,” Cora said. “You’re invited to public launches all the time. Unless you’ve been going behind my back, this is the first one you’ve attended.”
“I dunno, I guess I think this one’s special.”
“You mean Lansing is special.”
“I do not mean Drake Lansing,” Annie said. “I mean the tech. And you’re fired.”
“Oh no,” Cora said neutrally. “Not again.”
A man named Bryce met them at the red-carpeted entrance. Bryce was an energetic early twenty-something holding a clipboard and a walkie-talkie. He spoke and moved in a manner that suggested he was powered by at least one non-legal stimulant.
“Ms. Collins!” he shouted. They were five feet apart. “Mr. Lansing will be so pleased. Follow me!”
Bryce speed-walked away, up the carpet and through the revolving door that led to the main lobby. They jogged to catch up, and happily so. It was August, and Florida in August was evidently disgustingly humid—it was Annie’s first time in Florida in any month—so the opportunity to get right back into air conditioning was just as appealing as anything else she had to look forward to at that particular moment.
Bryce took them past an unfinished lobby area to a large room with auditorium seating, a stage, and a dozen video screens. In the center of the stage was a free-standing rectangular object under a cloth covering. Beside that object, barking commands at underlings, was Drake Lansing.
Between having a name that sounded like it was cribbed from a romance novel, and a handsome—albeit creepily intense—face, Drake Lansing was exactly the sort of charismatic front man a new tech company like InstanTech needed, to get off the ground: one part visionary, one part carnival barker. He was not the man behind the science, but he was the man the man the science needed in order to succeed.
Drake had a habit of flirting with Annie whenever they were in the same room. She remained undecided as to whether or not this was charming.
“We have you right up front!” Bryce said, leading them forward with frankly alarming enthusiasm. Annie stopped at the edge of the auditorium to get a decent look around before proceeding, something Bryce didn’t notice until he was nearly to the stage.
“Wow,” Annie said.
“Yes,” Cora agreed. “I was about to suggest I sweep the room before leading you down but to be honest, if there’s an assassin here they’re better than I am.”
“How reassuring.”
“Not sure you pay me to be reassuring.”
“I just fired you, so, not sure I pay you at all,” Annie said.
Judging by the company they were now keeping, Drake had an awful lot riding on
this launch. Annie spotted five of the ten wealthiest people on the planet—all the ones who could legally travel to the U.S.—surrounded by some decently high-end security. She also saw the head of NASA’s Mars program, two three-star generals, and a cluster of international dignitaries. What was left was a motley collection of media reps, industry heads, and people Annie couldn’t pin down but who all fit into the category of “random nerds.”
It was a sad truth of Annie’s life that her mind never wandered far from apocalyptic what-if scenarios—staving off two alien invasions before age twenty will do that to a person—which was why the first thing she thought of when looking at who she was sharing the room with was, how much of the world’s economy would crash if a bomb went off right now?
But what was really interesting (and/or alarming) was that everyone in a roomful of people accustomed to being stared at was now staring at her. Not creepily—not everyone turn and stare on three—but one and two at a time.
When the head of the second-largest bank in the country, a Saudi prince, and Germany’s economic minister are all looking at you like they can’t quite believe it’s really you…well, it either means you’re doing something very right or something very wrong.
“Annie?” Cora said. Annie had evidently frozen in place.
Bryce surfaced in front of her, looking cross. “It’s this way, Ms. Collins,” he said.
Annie ignored him. To Cora, she said, “it’s been a while. I forgot what it was like."
***
The trip to Florida marked Annie’s first time outside of Sorrow Falls in nearly two years. There were a number of reasons for this, but the biggest one was probably that nobody in the town treated her like a famous—or infamous—person.
She remembered, in the three years after the ship landed in that field, how nearly everyone who became famous because of it cashed out with book and movie deals, and then left the area for a place with bigger houses, better weather, and nicer golf courses. Which made the ones who didn’t leave, a curiosity for the young Annie Collins.
Like Billy Pederson. Billy was the guy credited for discovering the ship. (He wasn’t actually the first—Annie, Rodney and Rick were—but he was the one everybody knew about.) He tried to parlay that into a movie career that didn’t work out, but he did okay for a couple of years as the kind of midlevel celebrity who scores guest spots on reality shows.
Then he moved back to Sorrow Falls. Annie couldn’t understand why he did that, up until she was famous enough to relocate to wherever she wanted, and did not. Now she understood; sometimes you just needed to be around people who knew you before the rest of the world got a chance to.
Granted, this didn’t work out well for Billy, who died on the night of the zombies, but whatever.
Nowadays, the media, when they talked about Annie at all (thankfully not that often) treated her like a mysterious recluse cut off from the outside world, which wasn’t at all true. She didn’t leave the town very often, but that didn’t mean she was cut off.
It did mean that on the rare occasions when she left Sorrow Falls, she invariably ended up surrounded by people who couldn’t quite believe it was really her.
This did not encourage her to get out more.
“Annie!” said a familiar voice from halfway across the room. It had been years, but she knew that voice immediately.
“Dobbs?” Annie shouted back. Dobbs was pushing his way to the end of an aisle in the “random nerds” section of seating.
She met up with him halfway down the stairs. They hugged for a long while, and then she pulled back to get a decent look at her old friend.
“Dude,” she said, “if you hadn’t called out, I wouldn’t have recognized you at all. Look at you!”
He was still Dobbs around the cheeks and eyes, but practically nowhere else. He’d lost a lot of weight—basically the options were that he’d either become a health nut or he’d contracted a fatal illness—and he’d developed actual fashion sense sometime in the past seven-or so years since she last saw him. He had also managed to lose his glasses.
Dobbs blushed—he always seemed to do that around her—and did a turn. “You think?”
“San Diego is treating you well. It’s still San Diego, right?”
“I’m still in San Diego, yeah. Still consulting, too.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Collins, we really have to get you to your seat,” Bryce said. “We’re on a very strict schedule.”
Annie sighed, annoyed. “Dobbs, come sit with me,” she said.
“I’m afraid we only have two seats reserved at the front,” Bryce said firmly.
“He can take mine,” Cora said, adding, “hi Dobbs.”
“Cora!” Dobbs said. “I didn’t see you! I…”
“Really, Ms. Collins,” Bryce said.
Annie was about to offer a firm rejoinder to Bryce until she realized that everyone else was already sitting down. They really were waiting on her.
She grabbed Dobbs by the elbow and headed to the two vacant spots in the front, while Cora drifted to the back of the room.
The rest of the front row was taken up by NASA people. Annie assumed the entire seating arrangement was worked out in detail ahead of time, which meant Drake thought it important to position Annie, A: up front and, B: surrounded by astronauts. When accepting the invitation, Annie imagined she’d be watching from an offstage wing somewhere; this was obviously naïve of her.
But, it was too late to turn back. Besides, running into Dobbs made the discomfort from the attention she was getting easier to tolerate.
“What are you doing here?” she asked in a hushed tone. The stage remained a flurry of activity, as things were not quite to Drake Lansing’s liking just yet, so they had time to talk.
“Templeton-Barker sent me to find out if this is a fire or just a lot of smoke,” he said. “Up until a couple of minutes ago I had no clue why they thought I was the guy to make that call.”
“What happened a couple of minutes ago?”
“You walked in.”
Annie laughed. “They couldn’t have known I’d be here.”
“Sure,” Dobbs said.
“I’m serious. InstanTech didn’t advertise it. They knew I wouldn’t allow it.”
“Because you don’t want anyone to know when you’re involved. I’m probably not supposed to know even that much about your business model, am I?”
“It’s not a detail I share, no.”
“The problem is, while I was sitting here waiting for the show to begin, everyone else was waiting for you,” Dobbs said. “Look around: Do you really think Lansing didn’t drop your name to fill this room?”
Annie nodded. “I see your point. I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything else from him. What is your inside knowledge about me supposed to get you?”
“No idea,” he admitted. “I don’t think my bosses know either. But I’ll tell you one other thing I know now that I didn’t five minutes ago: if you’re a part of this, it’s legit.”
“Aww, thanks.”
“And, we’re probably about to be invaded by aliens.”
She punched him in the arm. “Shut up. That’s only happened twice.”
The house lights faded, and the low murmur of conversation petered out. A spotlight fell on the large rectangle in the middle of the stage. Drake Lansing, who had vacated the stage only moments ago, returned under a second spotlight, and everyone applauded as if he hadn’t just been up there.
Drake took a few seconds to walk around the edge of the stage and clap for various members of the audience, including Annie, who stuck her tongue out at him. Then he pulled the sheet off the rectangular box with a flourish, revealing a device that was already familiar to Annie: it was called an Entanglement Platform, and she had a
beta version of it in her living room.
The beta didn’t look like much: just a tall column with squared sides holding up an embedded video screen, with a pinhole camera, in front of a keyboard. It was awkward: too tall to sit in front of and too short to stand at. ...
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