The War of Immensities Read Online Free PDF
Author: Barry Klemm
“It’s the coma, you
see, Mr. Burton. Shock, or something. We aren’t sure. Really,
nothing about her injuries suggests a comatose state, but that
happens sometimes. We are monitoring her condition. As soon as she
regains consciousness, if she remains stable, you can take her
home.”
“But what is
this coma?”
“We don’t know.
But she’s responding normally in all other ways...”
“That isn’t
good enough, doctor.”
“Damn it, Mr.
Burton! She got blown up by a volcano and survived a bloody
helicopter crash! She’s damned lucky to be alive at all!”
The young man
reared back in shock and Barbara Crane had an arm around him,
leading him away while offering angry little glances back at
Felicity. “Just bear with us, Mr. Burton, and I’m sure everything
will be fine.”
Her thoughtful
hand propelled him out the door but Barbara did not follow. Instead
she turned and walked back toward Felicity, frowning deeply. “Nice
bit of client relations, Fee.”
“Oh, shut up,
Barbara.”
That wasn’t
really intended either. She was thinking about something else.
“That makes three of them.”
“Three of
what?” Barbara asked in a fine display of calm.
“That
girl—Christine Rice—and the other girl from the helicopter crash
and the black woman. All three are comatose when their injuries
don’t justify it.”
“Whereas
plainly your own condition almost does, Fee. I don’t know how you
keep going.”
“It doesn’t
make sense...”
“It will in
time. You’re wasting your energy trying to solve something like
this in your present condition.”
“It’s not my
condition that’s important.”
“Come on, Fee.
You know the score. You’re losing your temperament. Next your
efficiency.”
“Yes, all
right. I suppose I was a bit over the top.”
“Go home.
Sleep. Do not set the alarm. Have two full meals. Spend at least
three quality hours with your husband and each of your children.
This will all still be here when you get back.”
*
When the
telephone rang, Jami Shastri lifted the receiver with some
trepidation. It had been just six minutes since she emailed her
report to MIT.
“What in the
name of the four and twenty virgins is this nonsense, Miss
Shastri!”
“It’s only a
prelim...” Jami began. She held the receiver several inches from
her ear as the thundering voice boomed at her.
“It’s not a
preliminary anything, young lady. It is mature garbage.”
“Professor,
please listen.”
“Why? Don’t you
think you’ve made enough idiotic statements for one day?”
“That is what
the data...”
“Fuck the data.
This is garbage. You ought to be thankful that no one has seen it
except me, for which I am anything but thankful. Did every word of
my hard-wrought lectures pass straight through your aural passages
untouched by neuronal stimulation?”
“I do know how
strange it looks, Professor...”
“Thank God for
that!”
In these
circumstances, Jami found it hard to work out if the usual first
name basis applied. If she was Miss Shastri, he was Professor
Thyssen, she supposed.
“Will you
please calm down and listen to me, Prof...?”
“No. I will
not. Let me shout a few things first, if only to restore my sense
of proportion. Honestly, Jamila, how could you make these sorts of
errors?”
“There are no
errors, Harley. I checked and double checked. Glen checked and
double checked.”
“Glen let you
send this?”
“No. He
suggested I smash the machines and pretend there was no data
available.”
“Wise of
him.”
“It isn’t my
fault if the data doesn’t add up, Harley.”
“You do realise
that you managed to place three unrelated epicentres within five
kilometres of each other, occurring simultaneously.”
“That’s
right.”
“And you
suggest that these three independent earthquakes each measured
exactly 6.3 on the scale and caused all three volcanoes to erupt
simultaneously.”
“That’s how it
happened.”
“Which means
there has to be a
see, Mr. Burton. Shock, or something. We aren’t sure. Really,
nothing about her injuries suggests a comatose state, but that
happens sometimes. We are monitoring her condition. As soon as she
regains consciousness, if she remains stable, you can take her
home.”
“But what is
this coma?”
“We don’t know.
But she’s responding normally in all other ways...”
“That isn’t
good enough, doctor.”
“Damn it, Mr.
Burton! She got blown up by a volcano and survived a bloody
helicopter crash! She’s damned lucky to be alive at all!”
The young man
reared back in shock and Barbara Crane had an arm around him,
leading him away while offering angry little glances back at
Felicity. “Just bear with us, Mr. Burton, and I’m sure everything
will be fine.”
Her thoughtful
hand propelled him out the door but Barbara did not follow. Instead
she turned and walked back toward Felicity, frowning deeply. “Nice
bit of client relations, Fee.”
“Oh, shut up,
Barbara.”
That wasn’t
really intended either. She was thinking about something else.
“That makes three of them.”
“Three of
what?” Barbara asked in a fine display of calm.
“That
girl—Christine Rice—and the other girl from the helicopter crash
and the black woman. All three are comatose when their injuries
don’t justify it.”
“Whereas
plainly your own condition almost does, Fee. I don’t know how you
keep going.”
“It doesn’t
make sense...”
“It will in
time. You’re wasting your energy trying to solve something like
this in your present condition.”
“It’s not my
condition that’s important.”
“Come on, Fee.
You know the score. You’re losing your temperament. Next your
efficiency.”
“Yes, all
right. I suppose I was a bit over the top.”
“Go home.
Sleep. Do not set the alarm. Have two full meals. Spend at least
three quality hours with your husband and each of your children.
This will all still be here when you get back.”
*
When the
telephone rang, Jami Shastri lifted the receiver with some
trepidation. It had been just six minutes since she emailed her
report to MIT.
“What in the
name of the four and twenty virgins is this nonsense, Miss
Shastri!”
“It’s only a
prelim...” Jami began. She held the receiver several inches from
her ear as the thundering voice boomed at her.
“It’s not a
preliminary anything, young lady. It is mature garbage.”
“Professor,
please listen.”
“Why? Don’t you
think you’ve made enough idiotic statements for one day?”
“That is what
the data...”
“Fuck the data.
This is garbage. You ought to be thankful that no one has seen it
except me, for which I am anything but thankful. Did every word of
my hard-wrought lectures pass straight through your aural passages
untouched by neuronal stimulation?”
“I do know how
strange it looks, Professor...”
“Thank God for
that!”
In these
circumstances, Jami found it hard to work out if the usual first
name basis applied. If she was Miss Shastri, he was Professor
Thyssen, she supposed.
“Will you
please calm down and listen to me, Prof...?”
“No. I will
not. Let me shout a few things first, if only to restore my sense
of proportion. Honestly, Jamila, how could you make these sorts of
errors?”
“There are no
errors, Harley. I checked and double checked. Glen checked and
double checked.”
“Glen let you
send this?”
“No. He
suggested I smash the machines and pretend there was no data
available.”
“Wise of
him.”
“It isn’t my
fault if the data doesn’t add up, Harley.”
“You do realise
that you managed to place three unrelated epicentres within five
kilometres of each other, occurring simultaneously.”
“That’s
right.”
“And you
suggest that these three independent earthquakes each measured
exactly 6.3 on the scale and caused all three volcanoes to erupt
simultaneously.”
“That’s how it
happened.”
“Which means
there has to be a