The Prayer Machine Read online

  Richardson tightened the armband. The shot went in. Neil sighed. Now, his voice came more slowly. ‘I’m through the door … I can see … just an endless corridor. Curving round slightly left … shimmering a bit, funny sort of lighting in here.’

  ‘What colour?’

  ‘Sort of like rubies. My voice seems empty … I mean it’s echoing up and down the corridor. When it comes back to me it … I don’t know … the words come back in the wrong order. Sort of backwards. Oh.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s not a corridor now. It’s changed.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘There’s a sort of deep rumbling coming along the tube.’

  The nun said quietly, ‘There was no thunder that time.’

  Richardson said, ‘I know, Sister. Try not to interrupt.’

  Neil said, ‘You people are so glib! Thunder! Earthless Quakes! You’re missing the truth, somehow … the ruby lights are dazzling. Long thin pencils of solidified light; almost as if it’s made of steel. Can’t see properly. Wait a minute. Yes I can! Everything’s gone inside out. Christ, what the —’

  ‘Can you explain what you mean?’

  ‘The universe is folded up inside me, can’t explain it, there’s nothing outside me. I’m wrapped round the universe. Infinity has entered my mind.’

  ‘What about space? Are you in space?’

  ‘No. Space is in me. But they want me to go back.’

  ‘They?’

  ‘They want me to go back to you and change something.’

  ‘Change what?’

  ‘Go away. It’s them I’m talking to now. Distorted … garbled! … I said your voices are garbled, running at the wrong speed, don’t you understand? It’s too close to the speed of light! … Careful, careful … Yes! That’s a bit better. What’s that you say?’

  Richardson was about to intervene. Sister Ann Marie shushed him with her finger to her lips.

  And Neil suddenly seemed in agony. ‘No! I won’t go through. If you want to reach me, you’ll have to chance the hole in the doughnut yourself!’

  Richardson murmured, ‘There’s your classical schizophrenia.’

  The nun said, ‘Are we really interested in classics? He is in a situation which is very real to him. How do we know what is real?’

  Richardson glared at her angrily. ‘Is reality a large shot of TNA?’

  ‘Let us listen.’

  ‘… All of you — Stop shouting! Stop panicking! I can’t do it. Only you can. From your end of time … God. Voice? Are you still there?’

  Richardson tried to sound reassuring. ‘Yes, I’m here.’

  ‘There are millions of them! But all of them so old! Can’t make out what they want. They’re all shouting but the words come back-to-front … reversed. They’ve got it inside out. The hole of the doughnut is on the outside. Einstein, Einstein, fold it back before I go crazy!’

  The nun said tensely, ‘We must bring him back. This is enough!’

  Richardson said, ‘Too right … Neil? Come back down the tunnel! Do you hear?’

  Nothing.

  Richardson and the nun shared a look.

  She said, ‘Try again.’

  ‘Neil …’

  *

  ‘ … !Lennut eht nwod kcab emoc.’

  Neil did realize, at this point, that he had to try and search for a new sort of reasoning, but you had to somehow use a clock to measure distances and a tape measure to estimate time. Ever since that second injection — and something in him still vaguely remembered it — he had been conscious of the Voice, aware that in some way he was in contact with a handful of people in an operating theatre. How many? Who? … An image of a nun, but no ordinary nun, someone very pretty, someone very longing, and her lips moving, saying things or unsaying things, he could no longer tell which, to that Voice. At that time the other voices, voices from his infra-mind, had been reversed. Then something had swung around, the tide had turned, leaving him almost drowning in a time-vortex, till the Voice from the theatre ran backwards …

  Norton.

  notroN.

  … It had faded altogether, this voice, yet at the same time the last syllable seemed fixed in the universe, then the universe had sucked itself in, and the ruby-coloured light had glowed inside him, as if it must be coming out through his eyes … Rubies. What had rubies to do with this?

  He tested his infra-mind and spoke. ‘Rubies are used in lasers.’ Yes! That made sense. There seemed nothing wrong with that.

  On the other hand, why had he completely lost contact with that man nosdrahciR? Why did he feel so panicked? — uniquely, spacially isolated?

  He began to run further along the tunnel and the screaming voices were still shouting for him to go back to notroN and change it all, but what? And anyway he had no power to return, he was committed, and had to run toward the distant hole, a dark, distant hole …

  A black hole?

  He ran but the scenery wouldn’t move past him. And he could still hear the crowds but could see no one, could not see those terrorized, aging people, but what kind of aging was this? How could they sound so old when their voices were so youthful?

  Then, abruptly, there came a voice that was absolutely clear. It said, ‘Now hold it at that intensity. Yes! It’s almost perfect in shape, the true torus.’

  Again, Neil tested his brain. What was a torus?

  Torus … torus …

  ‘Doughnut!’

  ‘Hey! He said something! What’s he trying to communicon?’

  Another voice, still very sharp and distinct. ‘Careful, though. Be very careful what you say to him.’

  Suddenly, a girl’s voice. ‘Why?’

  ‘We can’t know where he belongs yet. According to my records his condition has been induced. And the approach path to here … not the norm.’

  The girl said, ‘He must have been a Phrenoid at one time, or we wouldn’t get through to him at all …’

  Another voice, crisp, techno-precise, like that of a NASA controller during count-down. ‘Laser power seventy-five per cent output. And constant.’

  ‘Good … good.’

  Neil found the tunnel had widened; but the walls seemed to have no substance. Not at first. Only gradually did his environment solidify. And as it did, the girl whispered through the halo of ruby-coloured light. ‘Why did they send you?

  The voice sounded normal, even sensual. But — significantly — it also sounded vaguely familiar. Neil tested his own. ‘It was my idea. An experiment.’

  ‘To find out what?’

  ‘The nature of hallucination. According to classical theory, you’re a hallucination yourself.’

  ‘And you believe this?’

  ‘I find it very difficult.’

  ‘So you don’t subscribe to such classical explanations?’

  ‘I have openly challenged them.’

  She asked the next question in a peculiar tone of voice. ‘And how old do you think I am?’

  ‘I can’t see you.’

  ‘All the same — guess.’

  ‘From your manner, your voice … about twenty-two.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I think you’re probably very attractive, very much my speed.’

  ‘Speed? What is this speed?’

  ‘A colloquialism. My kind of girl. I can see you in a tight pair of pink slacks, all curves and a lot of life. Tight at the waist — you know? — terribly compulsive.’

  ‘You are certainly uninhibited.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s the drug.’

  ‘Which drug?’

  ‘TNA. You mind my being frank?’

  She laughed, ‘I’m more flattered than you can possibly know.’

  ‘I can’t be the first person to say it.’

  She said wistfully, ‘If they can get that torus set up perfectly you’ll be able to see me.’

  ‘Frankly I can’t wait.’

  She began, ‘I wish …’ then stopped. She stumbled over the words. ‘Forget it …
You realize we can’t let you through?’

  ‘Through what?’

  ‘The centre of the doughnut.’

  Neil said, ‘That sounds distinctly Freudian. You’re a Freudian dream.’

  ‘If I am I certainly have a problem.’

  ‘Why can’t you let me through? Is there some rule against it?’

  ‘It’s nothing to do with rules and regulations. It just wouldn’t happen.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because even though you’ve been given the drug, you’re not genuinely schizophrenic.’

  ‘It’s an odd sort of club to have to belong to.’

  ‘Classical theory,’ she said, ‘isn’t wrong about everything. Unless you are a psychotic you can’t fully enter the lifeworld accessible only through your subconscious mind.’

  ‘Then I’ll go back for some more TNA. If they give me enough of the stuff I should be round the twist in no time.’

  She said sharply, ‘Twist? Why did you say “twist”?’

  ‘Sorry … another expression of the real world.’

  ‘You don’t mean the twist of Möbius?’

  Neil was startled to have one of his own theories confirmed by a dream image. ‘Yes, since you mention it.’

  ‘You understand the Möbius theorem?’

  Neil said, ‘In three dimensions only, yes. Or you can state it in two. When I was a lecturer I used to demonstrate it. You take a long piece of paper, give it a half twist, and glue the ends together so that it’s a circle. Then you hand the scissors to a student and tell him to cut it down the middle, explaining you want two loops for your original one. Of course, the student falls for it. Then he gets very surprised to find that instead of creating two rings he’s merely made the first ring twice the length. Then you ask someone else to draw the progress of a simple drawing of an animal — I usually suggested a donkey —’

  ‘— Why a donkey?’

  ‘Because people think they’re stupid.’

  She said, ‘They are not. They simply do not like to be pushed around. Go on, anyway.’

  ‘Well, of course you can’t do it. When the donkey has completed its journey it arrives back upside down.’

  ‘And what happens in four or five dimensions?’

  Neil said, ‘The same in principle.’

  ‘Which is why it might be very dangerous for you to have another dose of TNA-1.’

  ‘You mean I’d permanently be in the unreal world of the psychotic?’

  She said carefully, ‘If you choose to put it that way. You would certainly be regarded as a Phrenic here.’

  ‘Why couldn’t I be cured “here”, wherever “here” is?’

  She scolded, ‘In classical theory that is utter nonsense. I don’t exist.’

  ‘Want to bet?’

  She paused. ‘If you did come back here, you’d have to be met at the PONEM by a very clever doctor.’

  ‘PONEM?’

  ‘It’s a mnemonic. Civilization never tires of mnemonics, does it?’

  ‘What’s it stand for?’

  ‘Point Of Neutral Effective Mass.’

  ‘Now you’ve really got me thinking!’

  ‘How has this made you think?’

  ‘Well … ruby lasers … a spot between positive and negative mass. Uh. Until recently no one thought that negative mass could exist in our own universe.’

  ‘Indeed? The problem — surely — is how to reach such a neutral point?’

  ‘Exactly. Which is what has always been the nub of my theory on Schizophrenia.’

  ‘It sounds farfetched —’

  ‘Until you remember that the Quantum Theory is pure schizophrenia. Practised not by Man but by Matter.’

  She said gravely, ‘If you do decide to try and come back, you’ll have to consider a third danger: You can’t stay permanently in a PONEM. It’s extremely difficult for our technologists to hold the torus stable. You could get lost in space/time — literally forever.’

  ‘So what would that imply in my real world of operating theatres and doctors who administer TNA?’

  She said, ‘You’d go rigid. A state of catatonia. And like that you would lie there indefinitely …’

  A male voice interrupted from somewhere. ‘We’re going to step up the laser power to ninety per cent. It won’t hold long; but I just want to check whether you can see each other. Clare?’

  Neil heard the rustle of her clothes as the girl moved away a little. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Yes … that’s better. I can see you. But can he?’

  Neil said, ‘No. Only a blur.’

  ‘Both of you: step closer to the torus … a bit more … hold that. Hold it!’

  It was Neil who saw her first.

  And it was a shock.

  He knew that she noticed it, and he couldn’t bear the remorse, and the naked tragedy which was her face.

  He was looking at a biddy old lady of something like seventy. She had drooping shoulders and a prominent adam’s apple, bulbing from a timeworn neck which was pocked and latticed with sagging lines.

  The white hair, high on the brow, had been gradually falling out; and the little screwed-up face squinted at him sideways like an old woman peering up from her knitting.

  Her voice, so totally unmatched with her body that the sound of it disorientated Neil’s whole nervous system, was pristine young. But now the sadness was an ache on his ears. She said, ‘Are you sure you really want to stay? You were right. I really am twenty-two. Don’t blame yourself for betraying your feelings.’

  He managed, ‘You’ve made up my mind about something: I shall come back, Clare. I want to know how it happened.’

  ‘Then you’ll have to believe in your theories to the hilt. You’ll have to follow them where they lead you. To others they won’t seem rational.’

  He said shakily, ‘Nor did the Uncertainty Principle of the Quantum. But it’s true.’

  She said, ‘There’s work for you to do — your end, and mine. Not just for me. But for all the others.’

  ‘How many are there?’

  She said urgently, ‘It’s time for you to go. Quickly. The PONEM’s going unstable. They can’t hold it … Go back!! reverof deppart teg ll’uoy rO’

  *

  ‘What? What’s that you say?’

  Richardson turned round and took out his fears on the nun. ‘Sister! This whole thing is utterly irresponsible! We’ve lost him!’

  Ann Marie didn’t lose her head but made sure the mike was picking up the murmurings that now came from the patient. ‘He spoke aloud.’

  Richardson said grimly, ‘Yes — backwards.’ He turned to the patient. ‘Neil! Come back! Down the tunnel!’

  The answering voice was curiously constrained. The lips barely moved. ‘Which one?’ Sweat on the brow in beads. Pulse very fast. Respiration shallow and rapid. ‘… Suppose I go down the wrong one? Möbius curve in space. You understand? … Spacially I might end up on the wrong surface! Annihilation through never having existed!’

  Richardson shouted, ‘Don’t be a fool! To us you exist. Not just to yourself. You are lying on the operating table.’

  ‘I am groping through a labyrinth of interconnected tunnels!’

  The nun said, ‘If we’ve erred I shall never forgive myself.’

  ‘Who bloody cares if you forgive yourself?’

  ‘I shall pray.’

  Richardson said furiously, ‘Don’t call me, I’ll call you. Have you met this problem before? … Oh yes, you did, didn’t you?’

  She said, ‘We don’t know what problem we met because the patient wasn’t lucid.’

  ‘And you think a man who talks backwards about being lost in a system of tunnels is lucid?’

  ‘As far as his mind is concerned, he is.’

  ‘My God, what are we tampering with?’

  The nun said evenly, ‘Or what is tampering with us?’

  Dr Jane Schuber on talkback, ‘You are panicking the patient, both of you. Address yourselves to him, not each ot
her.’

  Richardson resumed, ‘Neil, don’t move until you can tell which tunnel my voice is coming from.’

  ‘There’s too much echo.’

  ‘Then follow the ruby lights.’

  Neil spoke back more quietly, this time. The effect, though, was spine-chilling because you could not get away from the conviction that he was Not There. Not on the operating table. Only the voice, the racing pulse, the dangerously high blood pressure … these belonged in the operating theatre. The rest — the soul — did not. Neil said, ‘I seem to have heard your voice, millions of lightyears away. You go out and around and you come back. But never the same. Voice, who are you?’

  Dr Schuber came up on the speakers. She said emphatically, ‘On no account tell him. He must not reach consciousness until you have guided him out of there. Otherwise he will come out insane.’

  Richardson didn’t argue but spoke softly in the patient’s ear. ‘You’ve only got to want to come back, Neil, and you’ll find your way.’

  Ann Marie said under her breath, ‘He’s not sure he wants to. He’s not sure where he belongs.’

  Dr Schuber picked this up from the mike. ‘Neil! It’s no good being indecisive where you are now. If you can’t help yourself you can’t help anyone.’

  ‘Oh God! If you’d seen what I’ve just seen!’

  Jane Schuber said, ‘You’ll have to get back here to tell us about it. You’re no good stuck between them and us!’

  A pause.

  ‘I feel … very … tired. My feet! They’re giving under me. No. That’s not it. They’re not walking on the surface of the floor. They’re walking below it. It’s like a bog … a quagmire. And yet it’s solid concrete.’

  The nun whispered rapidly, ‘Wrong tunnel. Tell him to try again. Quick. We’re running out of time. He’ll be out of the trance but still psychotic.’

  Neil said sharply, ‘What’s that about running out of time? Who spoke? Was it Clare?’

  Richardson said, ‘Just do as I say. Go back to the junction of the tunnels.’

  ‘But everything’s dragging me down.’

  Through clenched teeth Richardson rapped, ‘Make the effort! You must!’

  The tape spool unwound five more revolutions.

  Neil said, ‘Got it! My own footprints!’

  ‘Follow them. Fast. Then look for the crack in the open door.’