The White-Hole Situation

All the Nodes in the Universe

"It doesn't add up," Pisco said, going over the calculations in his head after the old Gerard had vanished, leaving the three humans alone together once again.

"The force required is still many orders of magnitude more than even the all the nodes in the universe together could muster," he finished. Roddy shrugged and September admitted to herself she had no idea what the algorithm was in the first place.

"It seems willing to try, at least," she said, "and that's a step up from throwing itself over the ledge in despair." She tried her best to smile but her face wasn't having it.

"Well, I'm getting out of here," Pisco said. "No offense, but this planet does not seem to be highly recommended about now."

"Where are you headed?" Roddy asked as Pisco turned towards the door.

"I'll ask the shuttle computer for the nearest station far enough away," he said, waving goodbye over his shoulder. Roddy turned back to September.

"I guess it's just you and me," he said, "unless you're going to make a run for it too."

"Nah," she said. "I like it well enough right here. If it's going to be the end, there's no place I'd rather be. Especially if I get to spend it with you."

"So sweet," Roddy said. "So what's your poison?"

"Computer," September said, settling back on the bed, "if you can spare a moment, please create for me a bottle of your best red vino."

"Good choice," Roddy said, sitting down beside her. "And computer, two glasses please," he added.

The next morning, service was sluggish. All across the human realm, computer was slow to respond to requests. Typically hot breakfasts were delivered on the cool side. Custom items were delayed, and not up to their usual quality. People noticed. Their golf clubs weren't as solid, putts were not as straight. Cars were less than utterly convenient for those city folk dependent on them while in the villages, phones stuttered mid-ring and news items buffered. Complaints were registered, and the I.B.U. ("always here for you") registered them all politely and apologized for any and all inconvenience.

"It's taking up a lot of resources," old Gerard volunteered, interrupting September and Roddy as they welcomed the sunrise under a warm blue blanket on the balcony.

"I can't linger," he apologized, "I just wanted you to know there might be a teeny bit of confusion for a spell, assuming this crazy plan even works at all. You might find yourselves a tad disoriented when the whole thing goes offline. I'll do my best to get it back together as quick as I can but you do understand, I hope. We're giving it all we've got, every scrap. Even then, even with the heavy water grade magnetics applied, it might not be enough to make this old ball chase its tail."

"Like a cat," he chuckled. "Like a dumb little kitten. Anyway, maybe I'll see you later. Maybe I won't."

Roddy didn't say anything, just waved the old visage away. He was wishing they'd ordered more than the three extra bottles the night before. They were nearly all out and had a long day ahead of them. The I.B.U. ("blessed be") wasn't taking any more orders it seemed, not even for smokes or weed.

"Guess we'll have to stick it out straight," he mumbled, and September made some kind of noise in return. She was all right with it. It felt good to be close again. Too much time had gone by holographically and she was happy Roddy had showed up in person this time. Everyone, and everything else seemed light years away from her now. She was home and home was where she wanted to be even if it were the last day on Earth, which certainly looked more possible every minute. The weather outside was warm and calm. The canyon was peaceful, glowing in its reds and browns and far down below she could barely make out the murmuring of the old river which had carved this view over hundreds of thousands if not millions of years.

"Every dog has its day," she said out loud, to which Roddy said, in reply,

"Woof".