Timeline - Michael Crichton [144]
There was no response.
The outgoing message was played again.
Again, there was no response. The crackle of static, but nothing.
Gordon was staring at Stern, his face expressionless. Stern said, “There could be a lot of explanations. . ..”
“Of course there could, David.”
The outgoing message was played a third time.
Stern held his breath.
More static crackling, and then, in the quiet of the laboratory, he heard Kate’s voice say, “Did you guys just hear something?”
Marek: “What are you talking about?”
Chris: “Jeez, Kate, turn your earpiece off.”
Kate: “But—”
Marek: “Turn it off.”
More static. No more voices.
But the point was made.
“They’re alive,” Stern said.
“They certainly are,” Gordon said. “Let’s go see how they’re doing at the transit pad.”
:
Doniger was walking around in his office, mouthing the words to his speech, practicing his hand gestures, his turns. He had a reputation as a compelling, even charismatic speaker, but Kramer knew that it didn’t come naturally. Rather, it was the result of long preparation, the moves, the phrasing, the gestures. Doniger left nothing to chance.
At one time, Kramer had been perplexed by this behavior: his endless, obsessive rehearsal for any public appearances seemed odd for a man who, in most situations, didn’t give a damn how he came across to others. Eventually, she realized that Doniger enjoyed public speaking because it was so overtly manipulative. He was convinced he was smarter than anyone else, and a persuasive speech—”They’ll never know what hit ‘em”—was another way to prove it.
Now Doniger paced, using Kramer as an audience of one. “We are all ruled by the past, although no one understands it. No one recognizes the power of the past,” he said, with a sweep of his hand.
“But if you think about it, the past has always been more important than the present. The present is like a coral island that sticks above the water, but is built upon millions of dead corals under the surface, that no one sees. In the same way, our everyday world is built upon millions and millions of events and decisions that occurred in the past. And what we add in the present is trivial.
“A teenager has breakfast, then goes to the store to buy the latest CD of a new band. The kid thinks he lives in a modern moment. But who has defined what a ‘band’ is? Who defined a ‘store’? Who defined a ‘teenager’? Or ‘breakfast’? To say nothing of all the rest, the kid’s entire social setting—family, school, clothing, transportation and government.
“None of this has been decided in the present. Most of it was decided hundreds of years ago. Five hundred years, a thousand years. This kid is sitting on top of a mountain that is the past. And he never notices it. He is ruled by what he never sees, never thinks about, doesn’t know. It is a form of coercion that is accepted without question. This same kid is skeptical of other forms of control—parental restrictions, commercial messages, government laws. But the invisible rule of the past, which decides nearly everything in his life, goes unquestioned. This is real power. Power that can be taken, and used. For just as the present is ruled by the past, so is the future. That is why I say, the future belongs to the past. And the reason—”
Doniger broke off, annoyed. Kramer’s cell phone was ringing, and she answered it. He paced back and forth, waiting. Trying one hand gesture, then another.
Finally, Kramer hung up the phone, looked at him. He said, “Yes? What is it?”
“That was Gordon. They’re alive, Bob.”
“Are they back yet?”
“No, but we got a recorded message of their voices. Three of them are alive for sure.”
“A message? Who figured out how to do that?”
“Stern.”
“Really? Maybe he’s not as stupid as I thought. We should hire him.” He paused. “So: are you telling me we’ll get them back after all?”
“No. I’m not sure about that.”
“What’s the problem?”
“They’re keeping their earpieces turned off.”
“They are? But why? The earpiece batteries have plenty of power to go thirty-seven hours. There’s no reason to keep them off.” He