The Eyre Affair_ A Novel - Jasper Fforde [282]
THURSDAY NEXT,
Private Diaries
CONSOLIDATED USEFUL STUFF was situated in a large complex on the airfield at Stratton. There was a guardhouse, but I had coincidence on my side—as I walked into the security building all three guards had been called away on some errand or other, and I was able to slip through unnoticed. I rubbed my arm, which had inexplicably twinged with pain, and followed the signs toward Mycro Tech Developments. I was just wondering how to get into the locked building when a voice made me jump.
“Hello, Thursday!”
It was Wilbur, Mycroft’s boring son.
“No time to explain, Will—I need to get into the nanotechnology lab.”
“Why?” asked Wilbur, fumbling with his keys.
“There’s going to be an accident.”
“Absolutely impossible!” he scoffed, throwing the doors open to reveal a mass of spinning red lights and the raucous sounding of a klaxon.
“Heavens!” exclaimed Wilbur. “Do you think it’s meant to be doing that?”
“Call someone.”
“Right.”
He picked up the phone. Predictably enough, it was dead. He tried another but they were all dead.
“I’ll get help!” he said, tugging at the doorknob, which came off in his hand. “What the—”
“Entropy’s decreasing by the second, Will. Are you using Dream Topping in any of your nanomachines?”
He led me to a cabinet where a tiny drop of pink goo was suspended in midair by powerful magnets.
“There she is. The first of her kind. Still experimental, of course. There are a few problems with the discontinuation command string. Once it starts changing organic matter into Dream Topping, it won’t stop.”
I looked at my watch and noticed that there were barely twelve minutes left.
“What’s keeping it from working at the moment?”
“The magnetic field keeps the nanodevice immobilized, the refrigeration system is set below its activation temperature of minus ten degrees—what was that?”
The lights had flickered.
“Power grid failure.”
“No problem, Thursday—there are three backup generators. They can’t all fail at the same time, that would be too much of a—”
“—coincidence, yes, I know. But they will. And when they do, that coincidence will be the biggest, the best—and the last.”
“Thursday, that’s not possible!”
“Anything is possible right now. We’re in the middle of an isolated high-coincidental localized entropic field decreasement.”
“We’re in a what?”
“We’re in a pseudoscientific technobabble.”
“Ah!” replied Wilbur, having witnessed quite a few at MycroTech Developments. “One of those.”
“What happens when the final backup fails, Wilbur?”
“The nanodevice will be expelled into the atmosphere,” said Wilbur grimly. “It is programmed to make strawberry-flavored pudding mix and will continue to do so as long as it has organic material to work with. You, me, that table over there—then when someone comes to let us out in the morning, the machine will get to work on the outside.”
“How quickly?”
“Well,” said Wilbur, thinking hard, “the device will make replicas of itself to carry out the work even faster, so the more organic material is swallowed up, the faster the process becomes. The entire planet? I’d give it about a week.”
“And nothing can stop it?”
“Nothing I know of,” he replied sadly. “The best way to stop this is to not allow it to start—sort of a minimum entry requirement for man-made disasters, really.”
“Aornis!” I shouted at the top of my voice. “Where the hell are you?”
There was no reply.
“AORNIS!”
And then she answered. But it was from such an unexpected quarter that I cried out in fright. She spoke to me—from my memory. It was as though a barrier had been lifted in my mind. The day on the Skyrail platform. The moment I first set eyes on Aornis. I thought it had only been a glimpse, but it wasn’t. We had spoken together for several minutes as I waited for the shuttle. I cast my mind back and read the newly recovered memories as my palms grew sweaty. The answers had been there all along.
“Hello, Thursday,” said the young woman on the bench, dabbing her nose with a powder compact.
I walked over to her.
“You