A New Rhythm Is Called For

By Rob Morris

The image of Ra'Jel was typically annoying to an already annoyed Renee Palmer.

"I sense that events of long standing will very soon come to a proper conclusion. Instead of dwelling on these settled matters, you should prepare for that struggle."

But Renee was having none of it.

"Alright, so we beat the Atavus—again. We're even finding ways to kill them. But this battle we just won should never have been fought, because they should have never been in there!"

Ra'Jel's effort to calm her was cut off as she kept on.

"This was a brand-spanking-new anti-Hybrid Vaccine manufacturing facility – and top secret to boot. The plant's personnel were screened. The President had me secretly re-screen them and the screeners as well. No one had contact with Sandoval, who is locked out of every government facility and whose picture is with every contractor—who I also screened. Point being, there is just no way in Hell a secret facility that just opened putting out a product that is itself less than six months old could be fully taken over by Hybrids, the cure already compromised."

The image revealed a new capability.

"If I agree to fully calculate how such a thing is possible – and since it did happen, it is obviously possible – will that calm your essence and permit you to focus on the last of Howlyn's schemes?"

Renee knew the arrogant being was right in this, and that they were also apt to give at least some answer, however frustrating and vague.

"Fair enough."

The image of Ra'Jel's head began to move in a symphony/cacophony of images that were part of the pondering and calculation process. Renee knew there were factors and variables being weighed and discarded on perhaps a global scale. What she didn't know was if she would get any real answer at all.

"So strange. So very strange."

Ra'Jel (or the image thereof) came out of the trance looking confused.

"Your discomfort was logically arrived at."

Renee shook her head.

"You're saying I was right?"

Ra'Jel nodded.

"Partly. My calculations told me what I already knew. Given time, the Atavus could have easily accomplished all that we witnessed in that facility. Yet they were not given time. Even if they could have learned of the facility's existence, the screening and secrecy would have at best placed one operative set to infiltrate at a near future point – certainly not the nearly complete takeover you thwarted. Truly, this is a non sequitur of the highest order. Those hybrids were there, and they had already fully transformed the vaccine – a process that is again possible, but not in a short timeframe. Neither of us can deny the infiltration and its depths. They are fact. But if we accept that they are capable of such feats, then the conflict is already lost to us."

Renee took in the implications.

"But then why aren't they already in charge? And don't tell me that they are, because if that were true, then Howlyn would, well—howl in triumph. Maybe some one-time secret Atavus power? They held it back in case of a big gamble or like that. This would be a goal worth using up a luck coupon."

Ra'Jel appeared to gain insight.

"Not—not a luck 'coupon'. That would indicate something that is used at a time and place of a holder's choosing. More like a floating field of absurd good fortune. The fields of probability that guide much of our paths, when they sense finality to a sequence of events, especially ones of long-standing, can create a bubble of sorts that sadly does tend to adhere to those of base and primal instincts."

Renee got much of what was said, but felt compelled to hear it clarified.

"So someone like the Atavus can just suddenly have a one-off, nearly supernatural run of good probabilities going their way, just out of nowhere, when things start to near a head? Is that a Taelon discovery?"

Ra'Jel showed that there were still surprises.

"No. A Human one. The Taelon had contact with an ancient Incan philosopher. He told our people of how he developed this idea. It seems he had contracted to a corrupt civil servant to overthrow the lawful ruler of the Incas, when the ruler proved shallow and immature. As the dethroned – and disabled by some means we were unable to fully translate – ruler fled with his guardian, the fugitives gained what seemed an insuperable advantage over their pursuers. Yet when they reached what seemed sure safety – the future philosopher and the corrupt civil servant were waiting right there for them. However, this confused and alarmed not only the pursued, but the successful pursuers, who were forced to admit that there was no way they could have accomplished what they obviously did. Just like the Atavus. Forgiven by the restored ruler, this man spent the rest of his life encoding the ins and outs of this anomaly – while also, oddly enough-running a restaurant."

Renee asked one question more. Something pulled at her memory in this story.

"What—was this philosopher's name?"

Ra'Jel paused to recall.

"Men called him-Kronk."