Free Manifestations by David M. Henley Page A

his hand.
     
    ‘Yes, sir.’ The Lieutenant saluted and then shook the Colonel’s hand.
     
    ‘I hear you have a mysterious entity that has destroyed a whole city. What do you have to say for yourself?’
     
    Campsey stuttered, ‘But, sir, I —’
     
    ‘At ease, Lieutenant. If we can’t joke about the end of the world, what can we joke about?’
     
    ‘Sir?’ The poor man was confused. He looked down at his clipboard to see if there was anything written there for him to say. The Colonel let him off the hook.
     
    ‘This all looks very good. Let’s check the perimeter and then I want to visit the thought room.’
     
    Turning around, he caught Quintan Crozier grinning and Pinter swiftly claimed the man to be his personal aide. The pilot’s face fell as the command came down the line.
     
    Pinter: Get my bags, Crozier. Quick smart.
     
    ~ * ~
     
    Lieutenant Campsey, Airman Crozier and Colonel Pinter boarded an open-topped hover and programmed it to guide them around the boundary line.
     
    Their first stop was where the unitracks had been demolished. Across the ravine the mass had stopped advancing and now probed the air and dirt with its yearning black tentacles.
     
    Services was progressively clearing land from all sides, excavating a series of canyon-deep trenches with remote dozers. The beast somehow sensed the machines if they went within a hundred metres.
     
    ‘So it can see?’ Pinter asked.
     
    ‘We don’t think it can see, visually. Stealth drones can approach quite close, so we think it is hearing them, or feeling the vibrations through the ground. It may be picking up the radio control signal, or the electricity, or heat.’
     
    ‘Then it has senses. Can it feel?’
     
    ‘Does it feel pain, you mean?’
     
    ‘Yes. Cut it to see if it bleeds, tickle it to see if it laughs. That sort of thing.’
     
    ‘That is outside my purview, sir.’
     
    ‘Of course. We’ll schedule some tests immediately.’
     
    ‘What kind of tests?’
     
    ‘Oh, the usual. We’ll throw things at it to see what happens.’
     
    ‘And if that doesn’t work?’ Campsey asked.
     
    ‘Then we’ll try something more extreme. Don’t fidget, Crozier. If you have a question, ask me.’
     
    ‘I was just wondering if that is the best way to engage with an unknown and hostile mass,’ Quintan said.
     
    ‘I may not look it, Crozier, but I’m an old man. I like the direct approach, I’m not planning on dancing with the thing.’
     
    ‘But attacking is aggressive.’
     
    ‘Yes. But twelve hours ago it took four million lives. What do you call that?’
     
    ‘But...?’
     
    ‘Yes? Speak freely,’ Pinter prompted.
     
    ‘We don’t even know what this thing is.’
     
    ‘That’s the beauty about the unknown. You never know.’
     
    ‘You’re enjoying this?’ the airman asked.
     
    ‘Immensely. Enigmas are good for the soul.’
     
    ‘And what if firing at it achieves nothing?’
     
    ‘It can’t achieve nothing. If we hurt it, then we can consider it alive. If we don’t, then we treat it like pollution and clean it up.’
     
    ‘And if it is alive?’
     
    ‘Then we try to communicate.’
     
    ‘You’re going to talk to it?’
     
    The Colonel shrugged. ‘If we can. Don’t forget that the only animal on Earth we have ever been able to talk with is ourselves, but we learnt to control them anyway. I just want to know what it wants. Carry on, Campsey. Continue the tour.’
     
    They proceeded to where the land met the sea and stood on the headland to look through the waves.
     
    ‘It doesn’t seem to behave any differently underwater,’ the Colonel observed.
     
    ‘No, sir.’
     
    ‘Is that interesting?’ Quintan asked.
     
    ‘Very much so. Tell me, is it still expanding?’
     
    ‘Its coverage isn’t, but its volume seems to be. Results are inconclusive.’
     
    If it is an animal, Pinter thought, then it is either feeding or resting. ‘And we don’t know how far underground it