Meanwhile, tests were being done for smallpox, bubonic plague, and a range of other diseases. Blood samples had been flown in Canadian Forces jets to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention in Atlanta and to the level-four hot lab at the Canadian Science Centre for Human and Animal Health in Winnipeg. The results from the first round of cultures came in at 11:14 A.M. No pathogens had been found in Ponter’s blood yet, and no one else who had been with him—including all the others now quarantined at St. Joseph’s—were showing any signs of illness. While other cultures were being tested, the microbiologists were also looking at blood samples for unknown pathogens—cells or other inclusions of kinds they’d never seen before.

“It’s a pity he’s a physicist rather than a physician,” said Reuben to Mary, after the press conference.

“Why?” asked Mary.

“Well, we’re lucky we have any useful antibiotics left to offer him. Bacteria build up immunity over time; I usually give my patients erythromycin, because penicillin is so ineffective these days, but I actually gave Ponter penicillin first. It’s based on bread mold, of course, and if Ponter’s people don’t make bread, then they may never have stumbled on to it, so it might be very effective against any bacteriological infection he brought with him from his world. Then I gave him erythromycin, and a bunch of others, to combat anything he caught here. Still, Ponter’s people probably have antibiotics of their own, but they’re likely different from those we’ve discovered. If he could tell us what they use, we’d have a new weapon in the war on disease—one that our bacteria don’t yet have any resistance to.”

Mary nodded. “Interesting,” she said. “It’s too bad the gateway between his world and ours closed almost immediately. There are probably lots of fascinating trade possibilities between two versions of Earth. Pharmaceuticals are surely just the tip of the iceberg. Most of the foods we eat don’t occur in the wild. He may not care for wheat products, but the modern potato and tomato, corn, the domestic chicken and pig and cow—all of them are forms of life we essentially created through selective breeding. We could trade those for whatever foodstuffs they’ve got.”

Reuben nodded. “And that’s just for starters. There’s doubtless lots more to be done in terms of trading mining sites. I bet we know where all sorts of valuable minerals, fossils, and so on are that they haven’t found, and vice versa.”

Mary realized he was probably right. “Anything natural that’s older than a few tens of thousands of years would be present in both worlds, wouldn’t it? Another Lucy, another Tyrannosaurus Sue, another set of Burgess Shale fossils, another Hope diamond—at least, the original uncut stone.” She paused, considering it all.

By the middle of the day, Ponter was clearly feeling much better. Mary and Louise both looked in at him, covered by a blanket, lying on the bed, as he slept quietly. “I’m glad he doesn’t snore,” said Louise. “With a nose that big …”

“Actually,” said Mary, softly, “that’s probably why he doesn’t snore; he’s getting plenty of airflow.”

Ponter rolled over on the bed.

Louise looked at him for a moment, then turned back to Mary. “I’m going to have a shower,” she said.

Mary’s period had begun that morning; she’d certainly like a shower herself. “I’ll have one after you.”

Louise headed into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Ponter stirred again, then woke. “Mare,” he said softly. He slept with his mouth closed, and his voice on waking didn’t sound at all raw.

“Hello, Ponter. Did you sleep well?”

He raised his long, blond eyebrow—Mary still hadn’t gotten used to the sight of it rolling up his browridge—as if he thought it a preposterous question.

He cocked his head; Louise had started the shower. And then he flared his nostrils, each the diameter of a twenty-five-cent piece, and looked at Mary.

And suddenly she realized what was happening, and she felt enormously embarrassed and uncomfortable. He could smell that she was menstruating. Mary backed across the room; she could hardly wait for her turn at the shower.

Ponter’s expression was neutral. “Moon,” he said.

Yes, thought Mary, it’s that time of the month. But she certainly didn’t want to talk about it. She hurried back downstairs.

Chapter 28

Adjudicator Sard had an expression on her lined, wise face that conveyed, “This had better be good.” “All right, child,” she said to Jasmel, who was still standing next to Adikor in the Council chamber. “What other explanation, besides violent action, is there for your father’s disappearance?”

Jasmel was quiet for a moment. “I would gladly tell you, Adjudicator, but …”

Sard was growing more impatient than usual. “Yes?”

“But, well, Scholar Huld could explain it much better than I.”

“Scholar Huld!” exclaimed the adjudicator. “You propose the accused should speak on his own behalf?” Sard shook her head in astonishment.

“No,” said Jasmel quickly, clearly realizing Sard was about to prohibit this outlandish notion. “No, nothing like that. He would simply address some points of technical information: information about quantum physics, and—”

“Quantum physics!” said Sard. “What bearing could quantum physics possibly have on this case?”

“It may in fact be the key,” said Jasmel. “And Scholar Huld can present the information much more eloquently …” she saw Sard frowning “… and succinctly than could I.”

“Is there no one else who could provide the same information?” asked the adjudicator.

“No, Adjudicator,” said Jasmel. “Well, there is a group of females in Evsoy engaged in similar research, but—”

“Evsoy!” exclaimed Sard, as if Jasmel had named the far side of the moon. She shook her head again. “Oh, all right.” She fixed a predator’s gaze on Adikor. “Do be brief, Scholar Huld.”

Adikor wasn’t sure if he should rise, but he was getting tired of sitting on the stool, and so he did. “Thank you, Adjudicator,” he said. “I, ah, I appreciate you allowing me to speak other than simply in response to questions posed.”

“Don’t make me regret my indulgence,” said Sard. “Get on with it.”

“Yes, of course,” said Adikor. “The work Ponter Boddit and I were doing involved quantum computing. Now, what quantum computing does—at least in one interpretation—is reach into countless parallel universes in which identical quantum computers also exist. And all these quantum computers simultaneously tackle different portions of a complex mathematical problem. By pooling their capabilities, they get the work done much more quickly.”

“Fascinating, I’m sure,” said Sard. “But what has this to do with Ponter’s alleged death?”

“It is, ah, my belief, Worthy Adjudicator, that when we were last running our quantum-computing experiment, a … a macroscopic passage of some sort … might have opened up into another one of these universes, and Ponter fell through that, so—

Daklar Bolbay snorted derisively; others in the audience followed her lead. Sard was once again shaking her head in disbelief. “You expect me to believe that Scholar Boddit vanished into another universe?”

Now that the crowd knew which way the adjudicator’s sentiments were leaning, they felt no need to hold back. There was out-and-out laughter emanating from many seats.

Adikor felt his pulse quickening, and his fists clenching—which was the last thing he should be doing, he knew. He couldn’t do anything about the tachycardia, but he slowly managed to force his hands to open. “Adjudicator,” he said, managing as deferential a tone as he could, “the existence of parallel universes underlines much theoretical thought in quantum physics these days, and—”

“Silence!” shouted Sard, her deep voice thundering in the hall. Some audience members gasped at her volume. “Scholar Huld, in all my hundreds of months as an adjudicator, I have never heard such a flimsy excuse. You think those of us who didn’t go to your vaunted Science Academy are ignoramuses who can be fooled by outlandish talk?”