To the West, not too far from the Nameless town, on the edge of the Tontla bog, there was the town of Tontla. Well, mostly only the locals called it a town, this was because the few taller buildings made of prefabricated concrete panels, which for the most part stood empty. And also because of the cobblestone streets lined with one and two story wooden buildings. According to the most recent surviving papers it was barely a township. But this did not stop anybody going around as if it was a town. Not the locals, not the mayor and not those who pulled peat from the bog of Tontla and pressed it into bricks for burning.
Usually, Tontla felt like a quaint and quiet town in the lost county where almost nothing happened. If Valgepalõ felt like a real big town and the Nameless Town was something between a sleepy township and a town, then Tontla felt like a town still asleep. The people were more local and set in their place than in the Nameless Town. This was expressed by the lack of people on the streets, even on the hottest of summer days, as well as by the fact that most locals preferred to get around on foot, on bicycles and motorcycles. There were few cars on the streets and usually if any were on the streets, then they had likely been there over five years without moving. With flat sun-bleached tires. This did not mean that the locals had no cars, of course they did, but most had them in their garages for years now or were becoming one with nature in the corners of their yards.
But today something was different. In the morning it did not get bright outside. Sky was covered in dark clouds and although there was no rain, anybody looking at the sky could sense that soon, the trap doors would open and three months worth of rain would fall in three hours. But this was not the only unusual thing about this day. In addition to the weather, the town was also full of cars. And not just cars. Big cars, unknown and strange to the locals and never before seen. At least in these numbers.
Although Tontla was a quiet town, they were still not that removed from the world that they did not know what went on in the neighboring Nameless Town. How in there either due to the Institute or Luiga, the amount of such land yachts has grown. On the edge of Tontla from the Park of the Edge a man with sharper eyes could even see what exactly the people in the Nameless Town were driving. But to see with one’s own eye similar things happening in Tontla was something else.
As such, almost all locals used their gazes to follow the big machines glistening with chrome, as they silently passed by. As if to try and make sense what they were seeing. Yes, the general shape, four wheels and the sound of a gasoline engine betrayed what it was in purpose, but this in now way helped to understand what it actually was. Or what kind of thinking would come out with a passenger car whose hood and trunk put together almost exceeded a Moskvich in length.
Also, all these massive vehicles gathered on the widest street of Tontla, the Church street, right before a bar named Fire Tail. Fire Tail was much like the Stunned Lamprey in Valgepalõ or Leopold’s bar in Nameless town. With the difference being that while latter were dives at the end of the world where the dead and people who had not yet realized they were dead drowned their sorrows in vodka, Fire Tail was something else. Fire Tail was like a… real bar. Of course here too one could get beer, vodka and something to eat. But the aura was warm, mostly due to fire burning in the half circular fireplace. People ate and drank, laughed and talked loudly among themselves. The place had activity and a party, as if outside the bar nothing was suspiciously wrong.
It all felt strange, considering how quaint and restrained the locals were and how many inhabitants Tontla had. Next to that, the air in the Nameless Town was like a stale smell of the crypt and in Valgepalõ like cold rot. But Tontla, Tontla was alive. At least tonight and in this bar.
And that’s why among the jovially minded locals, one could easily tell who were not local. Quiet and almost anti-social people who, although sitting around the large circular tables in the middle of the bar, were still seemingly cut off from all the other customers.
Around one such table five youngsters were sitting. Two young men and three girls. All five were slightly bent over the table, to discuss secret matters only fit for discussing in a noisy bar.
“You know what I am talking about, don’t you?” Siim asked. “You also feel that something is in the air, don’t you?”
“Of course we feel it.” Johannes replied. “Are we not here because of it? There’s nothing happening in Valgepalõ, in Tontla everything has already happened and in the Nameless Town… well, we would need to hear what they are discussing on the next table...” He glanced at a side, finding another large table where the Mayor and the rest were sitting.
“We know what they are talking about.” Tiina said. “They have a plan to go and see the witch. People have talked about it for a couple of weeks now. And my grandfather said that going to the witch will make everything happening here at least a hundred times more weird.”
“More weird or more dangerous?” Kadri asked.
“More weird.” Tiina repeated. “Ne never said anything about danger. Well he said nothing other than it would be dangerous to go look for the witch if you are not the one inviting it or taken along somebody not part of inviting it.”
“I am aware that city folk who have not lived here and haven’t become used to the strangeness here go mad, quickly. For some strange reason. Just one meeting with anaks and a person can be fitted for a strait jacket.”
“Still, the Mayor and the rest want to go to the witch.” Kadri said. “So what are we going to do?”
“We?” Viivika asked. “We’re gonna witness it all. Going to the witch is not as easy as lifting a receiver and saying hello. The witch must be invocated, called out to. And I believe Mariann said that there is a lot in common between summoning witch and calling out the devil. I wasn’t on that meeting but I think you all were.”
“I think.” Kadri said, hesitating.
“Oh, I can remember now!” Siim exclaimed.
“With his stout body he almost laid on the table, making it creak.
“To be honest about everything, I must start at the beginning.” He said, smiling. Trying to fill his voice with mystery.
“Oh no! Don’t you start...” Johannes sighed, but it was too late. Siim was on a roll.
“To narrate it like Mariann narrates. “Cold and dark rain was crackling on the vinyl roof of an old factory limo...””
*
Cold and dark rain was crackling on the vinyl roof of an old factory limo. The vehicle itself was standing at a familiar place on the northern edge of the Nameless Town which once had been a location for the airfield. A bright day on the other side of the tinted side glass has become night without any notice. The cold breath of the rain was trying to get in through every cracked seal and if there had not been little yellow lights or the radiators for the standing heater, sitting in the car would have been quite similar to sitting under the eaves.
“I have waited for so long for some real rain.” there was excitement in Mariann’s voice. “Cold and black. When every drop hitting the skin is like a drop of liquid ice.”
Mariann lazily reclined on the back seat of the limo, covered with brown velour. Her combat boots resting on a small folding table in the middle of the cabin.
“You may have been waiting it, but I am still cold.” Kadri said, trying push herself deeper into the seat cushions in the opposite corner of the back seat. “The radiators may be hot as hell, but I am still cold. It’s like its autumn.”
“Autumn.” Mariann said pensively. “This is not autumn. I don’t even know what season it is right now, or whether it can be considered a season at all. The rain is almost a daily occurrence, the temperature is falling, you can find white frost in the mornings, but trees still have leaves and nothing is growing yellow. Only every day, the colors in the nature are getting duller or the light is transforming in such a way that we can no longer tell the colors apart. In any case, the Weather Station is clearly malfunctioning.”
“You called us here!” Siim raised his voice.
“You found something new didn’t you?” Tiina asked.
“I did not call you here.” Mariann said. “This is the one thing you are constantly mistaken in. You are the ones who have called me here. I am the witch here, not you. And the mortal always come to the witch looking for immortal knowledge.”
“Is the witch not mortal?” Johannes asked.
“She assuredly is.” Mariann said. “But the mortality of the witch is different from the mortalities of others. But this is not what I wanted to talk about. You are invoking me, and I am not invoking you. You come on a moonlit night to the crossroads looking for the sign of the witch. And do so every time I have something to say.”
“I can put my hand on my heart and swear that I have never gone, a black goose in a burlap sack, to a crossroad to call out the devil!” Johannes said.
“Do not touch things you are not willing to part with!” Mariann warned him. “That is the first rule in conversing with the supernatural. And also the reason why bring a black goose along. At least according to the theories about not murdering cats. Second, why do you think that everything is so straightforward?”
“What do you mean?” Kadri asked.
“What day is it today?” Mariann asked.
“Thursday.” Tiina said.
“Is it dark outside?” The girl in black continued.
“It is, but...” Kadri said but was cut off by the girl in black.
“It is dark, thus it is nighttime. And as the fabric of the world is much thinner here, then the whole of the Nameless Town is one great big crossroad.”
“What about the moonlight?” Johannes asked.
“A moonlit night means a full moon and not a cloudless sky.” Mariann said. “Better wonder about how the rain started just as you stepped out of your car. And how it herded you into this one by slowly getting stronger and colder in the right direction. And how it is trapping you here with this downpour that just goes on. Not leaving you any other viable chances but to sit and listen what I have to say.”
“That we invoked you? And the rain?” Tiina asked in a skeptical tone.
“Is it really that hard to believe?” Mariann asked. “And is it not a better thing to believe than the alternative theory?”
“What alternative theory?” Siim asked.
“That neither you or I have an an ounce of control over this. That some third party is aware when I have learned something new and has arranged for me and you to be here so that I could convey the new information, before it is lost from my thoughts as I either forget it all or start to think it stupid.”
“Do you forget, really?” Kadri asked.
“You really think that on every one of our meetings I am honest to reveal everything I know?!” Mariann asked laughing. “Of course not! I only tell of what is currently on my mind and what feels right at the time.”
“And what is it that feel right to you today?” Tiina asked.
“The fourth route.” Mariann said. “That’s what interests you above all, isn’t it? The fourth route and the Lake of Forgetfulness.”
“You know where it is located?!” Kadri grew excited. “You know how to get there?”
“I know what it is.” Mariann said. “How to get there, that is something for yourselves to find. Whether my information is of any use to you is also for yourselves to figure out.”
“We already know what the Fourth Route is.” Johannes said. “It is a road out of the Nameless Town. A way back!”
“To assume that the way here and the way back are the same is the most naive thing in the world.” Mariann said. “And in this region it is an elementary and maybe even a fatal mistake. Let me educate you a bit.”
She produced a yellowing newspaper and a pen.
“Just like one cannot speak of this place in singulars, one cannot speak of the Fourth Route in singulars. In very simple terms, we are talking of two sections of the Fourth route side by side.”
She drew two parallel sections of road on the newspaper.
“The first one, where we are located now, and the second one, where you came from. But as the arrow of time is uni-directional, one can get from the second one to the first one but not the opposite. To get from the first to the second one, you need the Fourth Route, or the third Fourth Route.”
She drew a third section of road next to the other two.
“If these two are the Fourth Routes of past and present, then this third one is the Fourth Route of the future. That’s the place you need to reach.”
“So we need to get in our car and drive to the Fourth Route.” Johannes said. “And we can drive from we are right now,” he pointed to the two side by side sections. “to here.” He pointed to the third section.
“You don’t see the problem?” Mariann asked.
“I don’t see any problems with that!” Johannes said. “If we came from the first section, unwittingly slipped into the second section where we are now, then continuing onward, we should get to the third section.”
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“It won’t work.” Tiina said. “I cannot say what is wrong about it, but it will not work like this.”
“The thickness of the world fabric is different,” Kadri said, leaning forward. “We slipped from first into the second because the world fabric is very thin between them. But to get from the second to the third, we have to jump over a much thicker fabric.”
“Girls, you are both right.” Mariann said. “Kadri being right has something to do with a thing that comes a little later. But it is true that things are not as simple as they seem to Johannes. First, do you know what a roadway is? What is the purpose of a road?”
“To get from point A to point B?” Siim asked.
“Correct.” Mariann smiled. “But also incorrect. On this paper we have three different dimensions of the same road. Only in the first dimension is the purpose of a road to take from some place to some other place. Here, where we are now, things are not as simple. Here the place you end up traveling on the road has nothing to do with where the road starts or ends. The road is a thing existing for its own sake, without a beginning or a destination. If you yourselves don’t have a destination to reach then you might drive the whole eternity without leaving the starting point. This is the role of roadways on this fabric of the world. To only connect places where a person truly wants to reach.”
“So there is no problem?” Johannes asked. “I am here, let’s call it the world fabric of the present. And I want to reach here, the world fabric of the future.”
“How do you tell one apart from the other?” Tiina asked.
“You have hit the nail on the head.” Mariann agreed. “How do you differentiate the present from the past or the future on a linear scale?”
“The present is happening, the past has already happened, the future has not yet happened.” Johannes explained.
“That’s not linear.” Siim noted.
“The past cannot linearly transform into present and then the future, that is impossible.” Kadri said. “Our of sense of time does not work like that.”
“Exactly that.” Mariann said. “Again, it is about the arrow of time. When continuing onward in the present, one cannot get to the future. Just like when standing in the present it is not possible to slip into the past. Meaning that if you are traveling along a road in our world, you are not able to distinguish where you are from where you were or where you you will end up. And thus you will never get anywhere. The only way to cross the present is a jump. You only become of the past if you end in present, or die. You only become of the future if you begin in the present or you are born.”
“So what is the solution to this situation?” Kadri asked. “Is there no way to get back?”
“There is. And that’s why you need to find the Lake of Forgetfulness. Finding the Lake of Forgetfulness and it’s existence is the secret of the Fourth Route and the reason the Fourth Route is so hard to find. The true Fourth Route. In the easiest terms, to reach the Fourth Route, one must turn off the road.”
She pointed at the newspaper with the drawing.
“If the first dimension is a Fourth Route that takes from the capital of Estonia to the capital of Latvia, and the second dimension is the Fourth Route by which one can reach Reval, Perno or Riga, but the road itself does not originate from anywhere nor end up in anywhere, then this here on the side would be the fourth dimension. In the fourth dimension, there is no Fourth Route. I am saying ‘on the side’, but you can think of it as being located above it, laid over it.”
“The fourth dimension?” Kadri asked. “so that means...”
“That there lies a third dimension between them.”
Mariann drew a fourth section of the road in a free place and then drew a sloppy circle around it.
“This is what people mean when they talk about the Fourth Route.”
She also drew a T-intersection and a small rectangle above the roof of the T.
“Everybody have a habit of talking about the Forth Route, but as they have never been there they cannot pay attention to the right thing. Here, the road is not at all important. The Fourth Route takes you nowhere and it is not possible to use it to get anywhere. It is the end, just like Alex Snewahr once said. From this place, only a road back exists.”
“Back to where?” Tiina asked.
“Back to the Sixth Route.” Mariann said. “To reach the third dimension of the Fourth Route, one must drive on the Sixth Route until it meets with the Fourth. On the crossing of the Fourth with the Sixth Route, with the facade straight towards the Sixth Route, there is a roadside bar. Coffee and tee taste like pee and ass water. I won’t even try to explain how the burger tastes. But you can be sure that when you reach there, you will drink and eat, because it is the last bar, ever.”
“What’s so special about that bar?” Johannes asked.
“You still cannot see it, can you?” Mariann asked. “On the first dimension, the road takes you somewhere. On the second, it does not, but you can still reach places. You can slide, from first to second because the fabric is thin. On the third, you can no longer even reach places, but you can be present. You need to jump from second to third. On the fourth there is no presence either, there is nothing. You need to turn off the road in the third.
“This final bar in the world has one other noteworthy aspect. Namely, the whole back wall of the bar is covered in mirrors from floor to ceiling. When one looks at the mirror with the right mindset and from the right angle then one might notice a door in the mirror wall. A door which at one moment looks like a reflection, and on the other it no longer does. A door which turned from reflection into reality only for the chosen ones. That door takes one forward to the fourth dimension, here.”
She pointed at the last section of the road.
“Where there is no road. No bar. Where there is nothing.”
“That’s the end of the world...” Tiina said, but her voice was almost drowned out by Kadri’s shout.
“That’s the Lake of Forgetfulness!”
“Yes. That thing here finally is the Lake of Forgetfulness. And the bar one can reach the Lake of Forgetfulness is the last bar in the world. Bar at the end of the world. On the other side of the bar, the world has long since ended.”
“So to get back, one must go and visit the end of the world?” Siim asked.
“Yes,” Mariann said. “That is the order of things right now.”
“And what would be the place we would be returning to?” Kadri continued. “The beginning of the world?”
“You may think of it like that. But that would be incorrect. Visiting the end of the world would allow one to return to the beginning. But it is not the beginning of the world. It is the beginning of the end of the world.”
“WHAT?!”
“The beginning of the end of the world.” Mariann repeated.
“The end of the world begins from where we come from?!” Tiina asked.
“No, the end of the world starts where you want to return to. The place you come from and the place you want to return to are different places, but identical in major aspects.”
“Does this mean that everybody who have come here, stayed here and later returned from here, have gone back to the beginning of the end of the world?” Siim asked.
“Yes.”
“The Russians who came here, built their bases here and eventually left, they to went back to the beginning of the end of the world?”
“Yes.” Mariann repeated. “It seems to me you are misunderstanding something. The beginning of the end of the world is not a singular moment or some noticeable event. It is an unremarkable process the duration of which is unfathomable compared to the human existence. Secondly, why do you think that the ending of the world is something you are able to witness in any way meaningful or even comprehensible to you? The world may well end without a single person noticing. Without the life of a single person changing. It is quite possible that the world has long since ended and we re just not aware of it yet. We cannot comprehend when the beginning of the end of the world became the end of the world.”
“This is complete bullshit!” Johannes leaned back, crossing his arms on his chest. “Mariann, you have been telling your scary stories for so long that they have finally broken your mind!”
“It may seem bullshit. But nevertheless it is an interesting perspective on the whole matter. Perspective which is only possible thanks to the fact that the world is so misshapen as it is. Our empirical experience creates our perspective on the world. But the bar at the end of the world, the Lake of Forgetfulness, never mind the lost county itself, have opened a completely new empirical experience and created a completely new perspective on the world. Whether we admit to it or not.”
*
“That was a very nice story, Siim.” Johannes said. “I cannot really say if Mariann really said something like that..”
“..or whether the whole second part of the story is at all important at this point.” Tiina added.
“But the key part is correct. That’s like in the folk tales gathered by Kreutzwald. On a Thursday night, with a full moon, one must go to a crossroad, take along a black goose and bleed it out on the crossroad.”
“But Mariann said nothing about a goose. She mentioned a cat.” Tiina said. “Johannes told about a goose.”
“That’s the other side of the folk tale. If one cannot get their hands on a goose, a cat will do.”
“And what happens next in the folk tale?”
“Supposedly the devil will appear and ask you what you want.” Siim said. “But I don’t think it really works that way. Because they, at that table over there,” he nodded his head towards the other table, “are right now discussing how exactly one meets the witch.”
“But you assuredly know already, how?” Tiina asked.
“Yes, I do.” Siim smiled. “Mariann once told something about the rituals being connected with the rhythms found in the...”
“..world.”
Everybody sitting around the table flinched to that voice, allowing a few glasses to tumble over. That was because that last word of the sentence was not said by Siim, but instead somebody who at this moment could well have been the old devil herself: Mariann.
“As Siim said, the rituals are connected with the rhythms existing in the world.”
Mariann grabbed a chair from the next table and sat down. She grabbed the pitcher of beer in the center and unceremoniously downed more than a quarter of it.
“There are many rhythms in the world. Some we can see and many we can not. The sun rises, the sun sets, there are 24 hours in a day, that is one rhythm, Winter and summer solstices, spring and fall equinoxes is another example of natural rhythms. In some languages the Moon is a month is a moon because the orbit of the moon and the length of the month is very similar. Same for the names for the menstrual cycle.
“It really surprises me you have not figured out the crux of the matter. When a folk tale says that first you need to go a sacrifice a goose on a moonlit night and then return two weeks later, what do you think, at what time would you be returning?”
“New moon?” Johannes asked.
“New moon.” Mariann repeated. “Why do you think that is?”
“Because without the moon, it it dark in the night and the forces of darkness...”
“Really?” Mariann incredulously asked. “That is your explanation? That!? It like I am in the church listening to deacon who has read the bible but not understood a word of it and cannot even give serious answers to the simplest of questions. Let me tell you then. What is moonlight?”
“Sunlight reflected by the Moon?” Tiina said.
“Correct. Light reflected by the Moon.” Mariann nodded. “Light consists of photons, massless elementary particles which always travel at the speed of light. But the Moon is not a mirror. It does not reflect all light that falls on it. And on the other hand it also reflect something that is not light. Something that is not at all on the world fabric familiar to us. The answer why it is like that, is quite simple.
“Space. It is not completely cold, as the temperature of our universe is about 2.7 Kelvin above absolute zero. In science, this is know as cosmic background radiation. But there is a theory claiming that cosmic microwave background or background radiation are really photons from some other universe. According to that theory, the ‘other universe’ meant the universe preceding the Big Bang. However in my opinion, this may also be a subsequent universe or even a multi-verse.
“However, this theory is very good at explaining the specialty of light and moonlight. Light can penetrate the world fabric. But direct sunlight falling to earth is somehow wrong. Whether it is the frequency that is wrong, the temperature, too energetic, whatever. It does penetrate the fabric of the world, but that is all. But the moonlight is just right, it not only penetrates the fabric of the world, but can also carry information.”
“What information?” Johannes asked.
“Light information. Your eyes can see because the light reflecting off the surfaces in the world reaches them. So, when you’re at a crossroad on a moonlit night and you bleed a goose or something else suitable, the light reflected by the moon, reflects off you, penetrates the fabric of the world and whoever lives on the other side of the fabric can see what you are doing as if from behind the wall of an aquarium. And since some of them certainly have something to say about bleeding out a living creature on a Thursday night when the Moon is out, as soon as possible they will come over to see what the fuck you are trying to do.”
“But what if it is a moonlit night when the Moon is covered by clouds?” Tiina asked. “I think you said that it doesn’t matter?”
“It doesn’t.” Mariann said. “I am calling the radiation being reflected off the moon light, but that does not mean that it was a light visible to the human eye. Electromagnetic spectrum is big and wide, and the human eye can detect but a very small section of it.”
“Why two weeks later?” Siim asked. “I haven’t managed to figure that out yet.”
“Again, light.” Mariann said. “Which is strangely also the reason why all sorts of ghostly apparitions happen in the dark and during night time. Sunlight and the visible light reflecting off the Moon possess such faculties that they either cannot penetrate the world fabric or the light that gets caught by the world fabric is strengthening it, making it harder to pass through for both electromagnetic energy as well as objects. With moonlight, this is much less of a problem and transfer of information is possible. However if there is no moon..”
“The it is clear!” Siim exclaimed.
“When others go to meet the witch might we also go and meet the witch?” Kadri asked.
“In theory, yes. In practice, no. Only those invoking the witch or those the witch invites to meet her may go. If the witch has nothing to say to you then she doesn’t want to see you. If you have nothing to say to her, then also she has no reason to see you. Generally, those living over there have a very bad opinion on those living over here, including us. Thus the consequences of wasting the witch’s time may be quite dire. Also, even if the witch had anything to say to you, it would be of no use.”
“How so?” Siim asked.
“You think the things I say and truths I speak are hard to understand?” Mariann smiled. “The witch speaks in riddles that are many times harder. I am at least trying to explain you things in the simplest of language and the most ordinary of words. But a witch is like a woman in all male jokes: she says something simple and not only supposes but demands that you understand what she said in all the available meanings, hints, theories and contexts. As people generally cannot do that, those over there are mad at the fact that people over here can no longer think and live their isolated small and pointless lives.”
“What do you think about going to the Center Station?” Johannes asked.
“Going to the Center Station?” Mariann asked, grinning. “Going to the Center Station is suicide, even on days when witches are not moving around.”
“But you have seen the Center Station?”
“I have seen the Center Station, I have been to the Center Station. But that does not mean that I have gone there nor that I would want to find myself there again. I can understand what you want. While everybody else is going to meet the witch, you want to do something cool and stupid. The Center Station is neither of those things.
“If you want to do something cool and memorable, then there is a thing I can recommend. When people go to call out the witch today, come along and make a note of what time exactly the sacrifice is made. On Thursday night in two weeks, return to the crossroad by that time. I guarantee you, after that you will lose all desire for adventure for a long time, doesn’t matter if it takes place during the day or night.”
“Okay...” Johannes slowly said. “We will take it into consideration.”
“You said that Center Station is suicide. Can you tell us more about the Center Station?”
“I can, a bit.” Mariann agreed. “Center station is nothing alike a big complex in the middle of the forests or some abandoned lands. Center Station itself is a relatively compact nuclear power station with six gas core reactors and the control station. The Center Station has two purposes: one, to feed the stations dependent on it. And two, to keep these stations in optimal state using simple cybernetic feedback loop. The power of each reactor is used to feed one of the complexes in the area. There are: the Weather Station, the Temporal Station, Spatial Station I, Spatial Station II, the linusk at the Irradiating Woods and the other linusk on the Fourth Town.”
“What’s a linusk?” Tiina asked.
“Same thing a linac is, just in Russian. From the words linyenoy uskoritel. Or linear accelerator. The Weather Station keep the weather in this area in check. Temporal Station keeps the time. Without it, the anomalies resulting from numerous past experiments would twist the time pattern into a knot so complicated that human life would either be impossible or sheer hell and torture. Spatial Station I keeps our little corner of the world in one piece, Spatial Station II keeps our corner of the world synchronized with the outside world. The linusk at the Irradiating Woods lies directly north of the Nameless Town, under the woods, in a long tunnel. The Irradiating Woods themselves have gained the name from an accelerator explosion which released and inordinate amount of radioactive waste all over the forest. Before the accelerator under the Irradiating Woods was constructed, the Fourth Town had their own. But there was an incident in that one too. An explosion which destroyed the whole facility and the town attached to it. The remains of the town lie to the South, on the other side fo the Southern Forest.”
“Wait just a minute!” Johannes loudly objected. “If the Fourth Town was destroyed along with the accelerator, why direct the energy from the reactor at it?”
“Because the energy from the reactor is not keeping the accelerator powered in the present, but in the past. Should the flow of power be stopped in the present the past will change. History will change. It is something akin to the limit set by the speed of light, because of which we don’t see distant heavenly bodies as they are now, but as they were millions of years ago. One cannot exceed the speed of light, but one can go around it. Same thing with traveling in time, at least in semblance.”
“What’s a cybernetic feedback loop?” Kadri asked.
“The Center Station collects data from all the branch stations and according to that regulates the output of the reactors and the balance between the branch stations. The core of the thing consists of the eighth Strela built in 1956.”
“So what is it that makes the Center Station so dangerous?” Johannes asked. “Radioactivity?”
“What makes Center Station dangerous is the same thing that makes the whole lost county dangerous. Only the scale is much smaller, but also much more intense. If you look at the existing maps, then the whole of Center Station is only this much.” Mariann ripped a small corner piece from a folded napkin. “But when you get anywhere near Center Station, you will see that it is a massive area.”
She opened up another napkin on the table.
“The funny thing is that both perspectives are valid. Surrounding the Center Station lies the circular kickback field caused by the generators at the Spatial Stations which in some areas compresses space and in other areas folds it on top of itself. This is why outside this fold, the area of the Center Station seems much smaller than inside the fold. How the state of things reached such a point, that I cannot explain. But I can say that there is no place this spatial fold can be be traversed without incurring deadly consequences. The only relatively safe entrance, if one disregards the radioactivity, is the accelerator tunnel under the Irradiating Woods.
“The Weather Station and the Temporal Station have similar problems. The output of the generators primarily creates two kinds of fields. An action field, which is deliberate and which can be directed and from which useful work can be extracted. And a reaction field one must simply live with. The initial mathematical models proved that the reaction field cannot be avoided nor mitigated. And thus, the fields created by all four remaining stations create an impassable wall that surrounds the Center Station.”
Silence fell around the table. At that moment, nobody had anything to ask. The silence was finally broken by a voice from the radio on the wall, which replaced the music that had been playing.
“Do not try to attempt to adjust your radio receiver. Everything is just fine and tonight I, Allan Helde will join you. As a warning to anybody listening: what you are about to hear now is no fantasy. It is not a forgotten science fiction novel by the Strugatsky Brothers, it is not a radio play. It is not even a poor attempt by the radio presenter to narrate his own horror stories. What you are about to hear is a true story. A story from the world which surrounds us every day, of the hidden corners within it and of the mysterious events that have happened to your very neighbors. Welcome to the Nether Lighthouse.”
“What’s that?” Johannes asked.
“Some local man from the village hosts a radio show.” Siim said. “Considering how many strange things happen in these parts, it is no wonder somebody makes a radio show about them. On some nights I have listened to it. Sometimes it gives me quite a fright if I listen to it alone.”
“Gives you a fright? In this place? Really?” Johannes asked.
“Yes, really.” Siim said.
“I apologize, but I will be leaving you now.” Mariann said. “In conclusion I can say forget about the Center Station, forget about the Irradiating Woods, forget about the witch. Anything else you can do. But if you want something certain and safe, then go to the crossroads on a Thursday night two weeks after the witch is invocated and… I cannot say you won’t regret it, but at least it will be interesting.”
With these words, Mariann stepped away from the table and disappeared into the bar crowd.
Immediately she was replaces by two unfamiliar people. A woman in her thirties and a middle-aged man.
“I’m sorry.” The man said. “I just want to ask you one thing. Do you know that girl who just left?”