OUTSIDE PELION.
Crossing the bridge, Non waved to his dad. Currently, he just had Icosian, a feedbag and a surcingle around his horse body, so he wondered what else to pack when he got to his parent’s house.
“You were prepared to back me up? I appreciate that, Dad!”
“I don’t trust him, son. Telegrams for you.” Lagen gave Non slips of paper as they walked together.
FROM COMMISSIONER FICHET: AFTER YOUR MELD, LET’S TALK ABOUT RUMBLER. ARPANET IS FINE.
FROM ARIESTA: I’M AT THE ATHENS BOOK FAIR TONIGHT WITH CHYRON. I BROUGHT YOUR PREP CRATE.
FROM CEPHEID: ENJOY THE ATTACHED DIGITAL COPY OF WORMHOLES. COULD WE CHAT ON YOUR JAUNT TO LARISSA?
FROM CHYRON: MY SYMPATHIES, EXEMPLAR. AT THE BOOK FAIR WITH ARIESTA, JOIN US IF YOU'RE FEELING UP TO IT.
A small group met them at Bint’s Bargains. Non accessed Arpanet to send a message.
TO COMMISSIONER FICHET: ON ORDERS FROM LERNEA, I ARRANGED THE ON-AIR MISTAKES THAT GOT RUMBLER FIRED. SHE HAD A NEW JOB PLANNED FOR HIM. MY STAFF RECORDED THE MURDER, ATTACHED. THE CIRCUITRY IN THE CLOAK CONTROLLED RUMBLER. THE ROBOT WAS INNOCENT. I’LL RIDE THE LARISSA FERRY TO ATHENS SOON.
Ᵽ I’M STILL LOCKED OUT. I CAN STAY WITH YOU FOR NOW IF YOU DON’T MIND.
As a delivery reward, Bint gave Non a neatly folded used plastic grocery bag. After swallowing an urge to complain, Non put it in his feedbag and handed over the medical case.
“For Swee’s tab. Onex hit Swee with traps, then catapulted him off his mountain. Swee’s a mess but recovering. Turns out Swee expected his sword and satchel, not the whole cart of stuff.”
“Onex used xanthan gum darts!” said Bint. “Strong gelling agent! Fantastic against regenerators! Greedy blood loves-LOVES gelling agents! In stock and on sale!”
“I’ll get three,” said Officer Song. “Just in case.”
“We could have used those guns,” said Lagen.
To Non’s surprise, Cepheid dropped a saddle on his back. His father buried his face in his hands and moved away as Cepheid tightened the girth belt and vaulted onto his back.
“We’ll talk on the way. To Larissa! Hyah, Non!”
Non decided to allow it, then started off, the rest following.
“Your psiquad fractal reduces energy costs by 7%,” said Cepheid. “That’s huge, Non. We’ll use it tomorrow in a big way. I sent images and a diagram to your staff.”
║ DISPLAYING DIAGRAM OF THE BOLTYSH ASTEROID’S SHALLOW TRAJECTORY FROM BYZANTIUM TO ALEXANDRIA.
Hadrian Gate [https://i.imgur.com/IoEmKFF.png]
Boltysh impact. 29 hours. Calamity scale 4. 1GT FeNi, 640m, 19 km/s.
Non recalled a trip to the midpoint, Hadrian’s Gate. “That looks bad. Is that real?”
“The Boltysh impactor lands near Byzantium tomorrow. A ripple effect of TASC moving the moon. Such a mess. I can’t believe no one has been arrested. So, where should portals go?”
Non watched a 3D simulation of the impact burning everything within 100 kilometers. ‘Terrible graphics, but horrifying! She asked about portals.’ “I’m guessing you can use portals yourself?”
“No, no, I keep my focus on the science,” said Cepheid. “Where to place the portals?”
“The obvious solution is to place a pair of portals where the path impacts the atmosphere. Does the exit portal matter?” Non brought up Wormholes, mentally thanking her for the copy, then found energy costs.
1. Traversal mass/energy.
2. Wormhole distance.
3. Wormhole size.
4. Wormhole gravitational curvature variation (often elevation).
5. Wormhole time difference (theoretical).
A facing page discussed spherical wormholes and ellipsoidal portals. Lateral, rotational, and angular differentials all increased portal energy costs. ‘Yes. Vectors will fix the possible doom. Trust the math.’
Ñ̰ WHAT ARE MY PORTAL ENERGY COSTS SO FAR?
║ 2.7♇. FREE DAILY USAGE 5♇, WITH ♇ AS THE PLANCK ENERGY UNIT, ABOUT A LIGHTNING BOLT OR TANK OF GAS.
“I’m back to the obvious solution,” said the equitaur.
Cepheid patted his upper shoulder. “No shame in that.” She slid her hand down his back. “What are these slots at the bottom of your torso?”
“Nostrils for my horse body,” Non said, feeling the probing. “Also called the horso.”
Cepheid pulled her fingers away. “Sorry. Torso and horso? Right. Any other solutions?”
“Maybe place hydrogen bombs on Boltysh for an early deflection?”
“That would create a cloud of nickel particles. The Great Dying, 250 megayears ago, started with an influx of nickel in the atmosphere, which caused exponential growth of methanogens and triggered the Permian–Triassic extinction event,” said Cepheid.
Non looked over his shoulder to look Cepheid in the eye, curious. “Am I being graded? The portal team should set up on Hadrian’s Gate and use landmarks, surveyors and spotters for exactness.”
“The primary team has two lead surveyors, Marie Tharp and Agent Culpeper. Agent Bug, AKA Grace Hopper the COBOL-D, has programs processing real-time aggregate measurements.”
He looked up Marie Tharp, who mapped the ocean floor. As a boy, he’d seen her famous map in National Geographic with her boss Bruce Heezen listed first. Bruce dismissed her theories of plate tectonics and continental drift as “girl talk” before publishing her work without credit.
“Want to join the impactor team, Non?” asked Cepheid. She waited as her steed thought about it.
“I’m honored, Cepheid, but I should decline. At this point, error handling is critical. I’d measure my confidence in my confidence measures as very poor. I’m not good with crowds. I’d just get in the way.”
“You reached the obvious solution quicker than most and listed your limitations. Good attributes for an agent,” said Cepheid. “I’ll let it go. I’ve never had a chance to talk to a taur. If you don’t mind me asking, do you have two hearts?”
“Many of my organs are doubled. Also, the frogs of my hooves pump blood with each hooffall, as with most horses. Early chimeric races used simple solutions. The genetic problems got fixed thousands of years ago. Still, Central Character Control has checked my genetics multiple times since my follicles are special. All mammals have a pilomotor in each follicle, but mine include rotators and chromatophores.”
“Are you stronger than a horse?”
“No, but I have more endurance than an Earth horse and a bit more speed. Full horses on Icarus have me beat in all three areas, since species with high utility get more research.”
“Sounds like you’re a walking science experiment.”
“I can make crazy patterns. I also volunteered for aequorin fluorescent proteins when they won the Nobel prize in 2008, but it was a compatibility study, not an actual activation. But human genes have also gotten either tweaks or natural randomization.”
For several minutes, Non took Cepheid’s pattern requests. He imagined spelunking and glowing. A beautiful word, aequorin.
Aequorin equine [https://i.imgur.com/w4g7a4R.png]
║ LARISSA ARPANET IN RANGE. SHOWING REAL-TIME FEED.
A map appeared, centered on Hadrian’s Gate, with locations of landmarks, spotters and surveyors marked across a 2000 kilometer range. The Boltysh impactor data slightly changed.
“Watch the tracks, then stop at that gyro place past the sign.”
Non Sequitur approached the giant Staff of Asclepius (one snake) and Caduceus (two snakes) flanking the road. ‘Brother Chyron sent me a picture from here. He has snakes named Asclepius and Caduceus. Do my measures work? Railroad tracks are 1.435 meters apart, standard gauge.’
Welcome to Larissa, Home of Hippocrates.
◊ Apeon’s Gyros had the right smell for a good, cheap, fast food shop. His new Information Overload ability showed a take-out menu. He dismissed that, then stopped to let Cepheid dismount. She waved the stagecoach onward and flagged Lagen to stop.
Commissioner Fichet stepped out of the gyro shop with two large bags, accompanied by a tall, strong human in a blue riding outfit.
Cepheid addressed the gathering. “Non Sequitur, this is Commissioner Fichet. If you’re the groom, could you get the saddle? Detective, this is Lagen Cruciger, Non’s father. Lagen, I apologize for the saddle. Could you take it to the coach service after we give the news?”
The groom in blue obeyed and removed the saddle as Cepheid spoke.
“The news? Fine,” said Lagen, reluctantly.
Non let the tall human brush him down. “What news?” He nodded to a hoof check.
“Non Sequitur, you’re now a technical agent for the Galactic Core Corps,” said Cepheid. “You can pick an agent name. Agent Culpeper is your supervisor in the Matters of Time and Space division.”
“How much does it pay?” asked the newly conscripted Equitaur Agent.
“Darby Vassall once asked me the same question,” muttered the groom.
“1♇ per day per diem and coverage for expenses,” said Fichet. “Salary if promoted.”
“Cepheid, does this imply you’re an agent?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m just an advisor and recruiter. I’m the computer and theory gal.”
“What will I do?” asked Non. ‘I could be Agent Ñ̰! A single letter agent name! Rotational symmetry!’
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“In calamity zones, you’ll get a timer and a list of nearby agents,” said Fichet. “Welcome to the GCC!”
“I’ll be Agent Ñ̰,” said Non as he put Ñ̰ on a screen. “Nyah with an undertilde for gravitas.”
“Agent Ñ̰,” said Lagen, adding gravity to the name. “Congrats, son. Still on those squiggles?” He took a moment, letting the question stretch on, as he shared a wink with his son. Earth personality added or not, Lagen knew his son. “I’ll be on the boat to Athens.” Lagen shouldered the saddle and trotted off.
“The video you sent of Lernea’s murder helps a lot. Thanks for coming clean on getting Rumbler fired. That on-air screw-up didn’t ring true,” said Commissioner Fichet. The detective set down his bags, then made eye contact with Non, smiling dangerously before asking a question.
“Did you know Rumbler was a sector of Sagittario?”
Ᵽ WHAT‽ HOW DID FICHET KNOW THAT?
“That’s very interesting,” said Non, doing his best to appear noncommittal as Fichet spoke. Picoid flew down from a roof and landed on the taur’s shoulder, peering imperiously at Fichet.
‘You have the poker face of a mime. Should others be hearing this?’
“I know! And get this. Right now, Rumbler’s personality is in an ivory-billed woodpecker. The bird on your shoulder, I’d bet.” Fichet offered Picoid a handful of nuts from a raincoat pocket. “You’re agitated. Would a meal help? I find a good meal relaxing. Non, would you like a bean gyro?”
Ᵽ YLEM! HOW DOES HE KNOW?
Non winced at the mental scream. “Rumbler, now named Picoid, hopes you’ll explain.”
“Mental bond through your item?” Fichet pulled out a notepad with his free hand. “Icosian?”
“Rumbler asked me to keep the sector aspect secret,” said Non, letting the tall human work on his tail. ‘Why is Picoid so scared?’
Picoid looked at Fichet, Cepheid, Non and the groom, then ate an almond sliver.
Fichet pulled a hotel ticket from his pocket. “Yesterday, I verified your story about a minotauress in Tripoli. SheTaurus. Also known as SheTaurus the Thesaurus Minotauress. A sister of Magnetaur. This morning, we tracked SheTaurus to the Athens Overlook. Miss Dap’s room.”
The delivery to the no-taurs owl came to mind. “I brought crates to Miss Dap yesterday.”
Fichet nodded, pulling out a checklist. “Do you still have the manifest for that?”
“It should be at my parent’s house with my Note to Self.”
“You slept there, right? Should be an entanglement.” Fichet stroked a hand over Non’s back. “Here!”
A portal to home appeared. Grassleaf looked through on the other side. “Excuse me?”
“Ah, my apologies for the surprise portal, sir, looking for a manifest, should be with Non’s things.”
The mayor glared, then picked up papers at the top of Non’s little area. “Here’s the manifest.” He handed it through the portal.
Non wondered why Grassleaf was there, or whether he could get his other stuff.
“Thank you so much, sir.” Fichet closed the portal while scanning the book list, then continued.
“Last night, someone held Miss Dap underwater in her room’s bathtub until she drowned. Her murder may be related to the Lernea case.” Fichet looked up from the book list. “Your twin brother Chyron is there. At the book fair. Gotta say, it gave me a start to see you there. Also, we confiscated a signed copy of The Canterbury Tales from your book cart.”
This was too many things for Non to react to. Miss Dap was murdered?
Fichet turned to a scowling Cepheid. “My apologies for investigating a murder when I’m supposed to help ferry people for the Boltysh impactor. But it gets weirder. Non sent me a message this morning. If I may? This goes to the highest levels.”
Cepheid agreed to listen. “Please go on.”
“Thank you. As I helped to catalog clues in Miss Dap’s room, I got a message from Non. He sent a video of Lernea’s murder. I watched it with others on the case. Then, the avatar of Sagittario itself appeared right in our room. Huge black ball, identical to Rover, the destroyer.”
As Non listened to Fichet’s story, he could feel Picoid’s growing horror.
“Everything in the room vibrated. I honestly thought I would die. ‘Be Not Afraid,’ it screamed into our minds. My nose spurted blood as others screamed. All this sudden chaos and it demanded that we stay calm. Sagittario must not use this avatar very often. Anyways, the big black orb tells us that someone used Rumbler’s ID, 841, to access the rare creature relocation list. That ID was also used to send a message from Miss Dap’s smashed laptop. That ID, 841, was attached to Rumbler’s memory of Lernea.”
Non felt Picoid trembling with terror on his shoulder.
“That message gave Sagittario my location.” Fichet offered the nuts again. “If you can’t calm down, I’ll let others handle this. Take another.”
The woodpecker took a seed, then pressed his head to Fichet’s hand. ‘Begging?’
“Rumbler, you’ve been a lost personality for six eons. Six thousand years. You’re called the Defector Sector and overdue for something called entanglement duty. Your transfer got noticed.”
Non patted the woodpecker’s back. “Don’t worry so much, Picoid. You know, yesterday, I wondered how a large police force amassed in Lerna Springs. It was portals.”
“Oui. The Athens group contacted me in Paris,” said Fichet. “But portals can hurt. See this patch on the elbow of my coat? A fractal zone scrape hurt me to the bone. J’étais à l’hôpital, ah, for a week. This morning I saw Dap’s body. Then your portal update. Then your video. Then a black hole avatar.”
“Then messages with me,” said Cepheid. “Sorry, I didn’t know the big guy was with you.”
Ᵽ ASK HOW MUCH TROUBLE I’M IN.
“Always a delight, Cepheid. Before it left, Sagittario asked a hypothetical question. What do you do for someone that reduces portal costs by seven percent? Maybe a favor?”
♫ REMINDER: YOU GAINED A FAVOR FROM SAGITTARIO, LATE LAST NIGHT.
Non wished he’d gotten an earlier reminder. “Is Rumbler in trouble?”
Fichet answered simply. “Yes.”
“I’ll use that favor right now to help Picoid.”
“Excellent! Let me change a status item.” Fichet poked at invisible screens.
♫ YOU HAVE GAINED A FAMILIAR: PICOID. AKA RUMBLER OR SECTOR 841. RANGE LIMIT: 1 KILOMETER
Fichet poured the nuts into Non’s hand. “That should do it. Rumbler, Picoid, Defector Sector: you’re not in trouble now. I’ll send you files for the Herculean group case. Here, have a gyro. Cepheid, did you still want that portal to Hadrian’s Gate?”
“I do,” said Cepheid, stepping to the portal Fichet opened.
◊ PORTAL TO HADRIAN’S GATE. THIS PORTAL USES THE PSI-QUAD SUBSTITUTION SYSTEM, CURRENTLY UNDER EVALUATION.
Past the gateman, he saw a human female with a Marie Tharp nametag at a vast table map chatting with a kobold in full uniform. Wait, no, the COBOL-D: Grace Hopper, according to Information Overload. Every label had a name. Solomon Golomb and Richard Feynman talked to a large screen where Benjamin Banneker and Duracotus adjusted a telescope.
Ᵽ THANK YOU. THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU.
Non stashed away the gyro while fighting his inner fanboy. He wanted to meet every scientist, programmer and mathematician there. But his worthiness doubts persisted.
Cepheid gestured. “Want to meet the impactor team?”
“I want to say yes. But I’d interrupt the mental flow without any benefit.” He waved to people he knew, Conway, Berlekamp and Guy. Conway politely waved back to odd non-human.
A lady labeled ◊ Bluma Zeigarnik helped Fichet with the bags. “A pleasant interruption often helps.”
“When I got here, I didn’t believe I’d done anything special. Thanks for bringing psi-quad to our attention, Non.” Cepheid stepped through the portal to talk to Marie.
A woodpecker familiar radiated relief as the equitaur and groom stood alone.
“If you wish, you can still go,” said the tall man, brushing Non’s equine body with practiced grace. With a strong jaw and a straight nose, he exuded an air of quiet authority. His silver hair, neatly combed back, framed clear blue eyes that took in the world with a measured gaze. As he deftly handled Non’s pelt and mane, it was clear he understood the language of horses. His practical clothing and shoes reflected the elegance of a man who values both form and function. Dangling from his belt, a well-worn field compass bore testimony to a life spent charting the unknown.
“Are you a surveyor? You haven’t been near another horse in days,” said Non, tapping his equine nose. “That would be odd for a groom.”
A faint smile played at the corners of the man’s lips. “Surveyor and your GCC supervisor. I’m Agent Culpeper.” After a firm handshake, he extended two slim books toward Non. “I’d like you to read these two books, Portals and Agent Intro. You can guess the content.”
Non skimmed them, then added them to his feedbag. “I’ll take a look. You obviously know horses well.”
Culpeper’s eyes took on a hint of wariness. “Trying to figure me out? I dislike portals and love riding. A tragedy. Avoid contact for two days. Assist Fetlock in Athens if you’re headed there. If you see a bank, get a GCC credit card to recharge your staff.” Culpeper traced a pattern on Non’s front. “I hope you’re not touch-averse. Horse grooming often calms me. And an equine employee? That’s a first.”
“It calms me, too,” admitted Non. “I found out about a new murder and that I’d hosted a fugitive.” He gestured to the gate. “Many friends of mine have died in the last week. The Hadrian Gate base shouldn’t be next on the attack list. I likely couldn’t help anyways.”
Non looked back at the portal. So many great minds, so many luminaries in their fields. And there he was, feeling like a misfit puzzle piece. His gaze fell on the portal, the proof of his contribution.
“You want to be over there. I can see you working out the felicific calculus. You wouldn’t stay with the high tier group. You’d work on side problems after you explained how you found this psi-quad.”
”How can similar triangles surround a point? I wrote a program to solve it.”
“That’s it? We hadn’t solved that? Similar triangles around a point?”
“Apparently not. For example, the 4-5-6 triangle divides into five similar triangles in a weird way. Like this.” The taur put up a diagram. “I’m still working on surrounding a point in space with similar tetrahedra.”
[https://i.imgur.com/ANBz8F0.png]
Culpeper stared at the solution. “How often we strive to pluck stars from the heavens, whilst sweet apples hang low upon the bough. You constructed the 4-5-6 triangle and bisected two angles. The rest follows. I could have found this a long time ago.”
“The challenge lies in extracting nontrivial simplicity from the combinatorial explosion.”
The old surveyor shook his head. “You underplay your utility and overplay your danger, Non. The impactor plan was down to per-myriad changes when you suddenly dropped a 7% improvement on us. Update your Agent page and fill in the blanks. Read the books. Be aware of your flaws. Your record mentions notification aversion and the Eurion constellation.”
“That’s a pattern on Earth currency that prevents copying. If I try–”
“Try to fix it. Another flaw: Equivoque. I don’t know what that is.”
“Equivoque means wordplay, but starts with equi- as in equine. It’s a word with two Q’s!”
“Of course it is. I hope the bird’s worth it. I’ve never heard of Sagittario offering a favor before.”
“I only had it for a few seconds.” Non shrugged. “Not sure what I’d ask for anyway.”
“Thus the profundity to take so little from the proffered hand of Providence. Thanks for humoring an old horse fancier. Welcome to Matters of Time and Space. I must return to my task at hand,” said Culpeper as he spun on his heel, walked through the portal and closed it.
♫ AGENT OF THE GALACTIC CORE CORPS. COMPLETE AGENT PAGE FOR AN UPGRADE. SEE NOTIFICATIONS IF YOU CAN.
║ SHOULD I ADD CULPEPER’S REQUESTS TO YOUR TODO LIST?
Non grabbed for food. Information Overload offered a nutritional analysis. “I reduced energy costs for the galaxy by 7% and all I got was this lousy gyro. Sure, Tycho, go ahead with the ToDo list.” He ate it. Surprisingly good, actually!
Past an ice house, Non saw the docks, where the ferry awaited. Behind him, up the road, he saw the railroad tracks. His distance measure, from 32.42 meters away, showed the railroad tracks at 1.435 meters apart. ‘Measure twice, Cut once. This staff rules at measuring.’
Ᵽ ARE YOU OKAY, SIR? I SEE YOU’RE USING THE NEW MEASURABILITY ABILITY.
“Reality testing. Try predictable results, such as reading, looking at the time, or a measurement. Then the pinch test. Yes, a bit of pain. Assess your surroundings. The trees, town and buildings look real. Gravity works fine, and my hands heat up when I rub them together, so friction works. The social interactions seem real. The bicolor hairs on my arm look real.”
Non found he could reach into his right equine ear. Long ago Mama Naga told him to leave his ears alone. Long ago Earth mom waited with annoyance as an ear doctor extracted pieces of a Tinkertoy from deep inside his bloody ear. The memory check felt very real.
Ᵽ WHY DID YOU DO THAT?
“I was five. I was trying to turn myself into a robot. 8 Man. Didn’t work. Tell me something real.”
Ᵽ I’M UPSET YOU GOT ME FIRED, BUT GRATEFUL IN RETROSPECT. THAT’S WHY I STUCK WITH YOU THIS MORNING. NOW THAT YOU’VE SAVED ME FROM ENTANGLEMENT DUTY, I CAN’T RECALL EVER FEELING MORE GRATITUDE FOR ANYONE. STILL, GIVING UP A GC FAVOR FOR ME WAS LIKELY DUMBER THAN RAMMING THAT STICK INTO YOUR EAR.”
Non swished his tail agitatedly. “You’re welcome. What’s entanglement duty?”
Ᵽ EARTH’S WORMHOLE REQUIRED 26 THOUSAND YEARS OF FOCUS TO SET UP ENTANGLED PARTICLES. A PORTAL TO ANDROMEDA WILL NEED 2.5 MILLION YEARS OF CONCENTRATION. ALL ATTEMPTS SO FAR HAVE LED TO DISSOLVED SECTORS. I’M THE LONGEST SURVIVOR, WITH A HALF MILLION YEARS OF FOCUS TO CONNECT TO WHAT’S NOW CALLED PEGASUS III, A SMALL GALAXY IN THE LOCAL GROUP. I’M CERTAIN I CAME CLOSE TO DISSOLUTION.
Non shuddered as he imagined staring at a particle for just a day. “Horrifying.”
Ᵽ I FEEL TOO BROKEN TO SURVIVE THE BIG JUMP, SO I’VE HIDDEN SINCE THE START OF THE BRONZE AGE.
“I feel better about my choice. What should we do next?”
Ᵽ YOU COULD READ FICHET’S NOTES OR THE AGENT BOOKS. ARIESTA WANTS TO TALK TO YOU. YOU’RE SCHEDULED TO REPRESENT THE LIBRARY AT THE ATHENS BOOKFAIR. YOUR BROTHER IS THERE. YOU COULD JOIN THE IMPACTOR TEAM, LEARN PORTALS, CLEAR OUT YOUR NOTIFICATIONS OR PATCH THINGS UP WITH YOUR FATHER LAGEN. YOU COULD VACATION AND PLAY GAMES. MELD TIP #1: RESPECT THAT YOUR EARTHSELF DIED. MELD TIP #2: RELAX.
“Dad has good insight. I should run and catch the boat,” said Non.