Genre: Science Fiction
Archetypes: The Reclusive Genius | The Tomboy
Theme: Discovery
* * *
On the day the war was won, a most curious hole appeared in what used to be the town's grammar school. The entire school compound had been reduced to rubble, and a crumbling red brick wall two-and-a-half stories high was the only indication that an imposing structure had once stood there. The hole was located at the bottom part of the wall and was no bigger than the lid of a diesel barrel. It was perfectly round and blacker than a starless night sky.
Despite the wall being only twelve inches thick, the hole stretched endlessly inward, with no end in sight.
No one knew exactly what had created the hole, but they reckoned it had appeared during the chaos and confusion of the zeppelin raids. It was only when the smoke had cleared and survivors were torching the enemies' despicable green-and-maroon banners in fire pits that a toddler spotted the anomaly, climbed in and was a few feet into the tunnel when it was snatched away by its terrified mother.
The townspeople had no clue what it was, but they knew someone who might. The police chief sent for Sparrowhawk at once.
The willowy olive-skinned young man stood in front of the hole and stared at it for a good one hour, buttoning up the front of his trench coat then unbuttoning it again every ten minutes or so. But the bystanders knew better than to question the eccentric ways of the man of science, so they waited patiently just beyond the cordoned-off area around the wall.
Finally, Sparrowhawk turned to the chief and said, "It's a wormhole."
The chief stared at him. "You don't expect me to believe there's an actual worm in there, do you?"
Sparrowhawk shook his head. "No, a wormhole connects two separate points in the space-time continuum. A shortcut of sorts."
"Oh? Where does it lead to?"
"That's what I'm going to find out. Get me the longest rope you can find, a flashlamp, a phonograph and two of your men — preferably those who don't have families of their own."
Before the chief could protest, a badly-dented chrome hovercar cruised up the street and came to a halt a few meters from the yellow police line. A statuesque woman in a black suit and with slicked-back hair stepped out. The crowd parted to let her pass.
"How did I know I'd find you here?" she said wryly to Sparrowhawk by way of greeting.
The young man gave her a curt nod. "Madam Mayor."
"Well, we can't have all these people standing around here when we've got a town to rebuild." There was a twinge of annoyance in her voice. "You're going to have to take your science experiments elsewhere, Sparrowhawk."
"With all due respect, Madam —"
"Oh, to hell with pleasantries. We all know how you hate my guts."
Sparrowhawk smiled humorlessly. "Just so we're clear, I hate your machismo approach to problem-solving, your dreadful lack of imagination and utter short-sightedness. But I have no issue with your guts." He pointed towards the hole. "Aren't you the least bit curious? This could lead to another planet, another galaxy. Even an alternate dimension."
The mayor snorted. "Unless that alternate dimension is filled with food, clothing and medicine for my people, that hole is just like any other hole in this country — either useless or a hazard. Chief Somerset?"
"Yes, Madam?"
"Destroy the hole or else bring this entire wall down. Immediately." The mayor turned on her heel and headed for the hovercar.
"And if it takes us to the past?" Sparrowhawk called after her defiantly. "What if we prevent the war from ever happening?"
The woman met Sparrowhawk's glare. "Destroy it," she repeated then left.
"You heard the mayor," said the chief to his men. "Sorry, Sparrowhawk. Sparrowhawk?"
The young man was already well into the hole, crawling on his arms and knees.
"What in the world? Get out of there!" shouted the chief as the townspeople broke through the police line to watch in sordid fascination what would become of the man. Cheers and admonitions reverberated inside the narrow tunnel.
Sparrowhawk soon lost all sense of time. He must have been crawling for an hour or two... or a day and a half. Just when his arms and legs started to go numb, the tunnel widened. He stood up to his full height. Behind him, there was only a pinprick of light; before him, pitch blackness.
No, there was something in the dark — a dim figure undulating like waves. What was it, a pulsar? A parallel-world beach?
Sparrowhawk cursed.
Thousands upon thousands of green-and-maroon banners stretched out as far as the eye could see, and the air was thick with the hunger of predators who had been lying in wait for far too long.
