And yet, perhaps because he had a weird psychic talent of his own, Clarke was not without an understanding of the place. He knew it was real because Harry made use of it, and also because he was here; and he knew that on this occasion at least he need not fear it, for his talent had not prevented him being here. And so, even in the confusion of his near-panic, he was able to explore his feelings about it, at least able to conjecture upon it.
Lacking space it was literally nowhere; but by the same token lacking time it was every-where and -when. It was both core and boundary, the interior and the exterior. From here one might go anywhere, if one knew the route – or go nowhere forever, which would be Clarke’s fate if Harry Keogh deserted him. And to be lost here would mean lost forever; for in this timeless, spaceless non-environment nothing ever aged or changed except by force of will; and there was no will here, unless it were brought here by someone who strayed into this place, or someone who came here and knew how to manipulate it – someone like Harry Keogh. Harry was only a man, and yet the things he could achieve through the Mobius Continuum were amazing! And if a superman – or god -should come here?
Again Clarke thought of The God, who had wrought a Great Change out of a formless void and willed a universe. And the thought also occurred to Clarke: Harry, we shouldn’t be here. This isn’t our place . . . His unspoken words dinned like gongs in his brain, deafeningly loud! And apparently in Harry’s, too.
Take it easy, said the Necroscope. No need to shout here.
Of course not, for in the total absence of everything else, even thoughts had extraordinary mass. We’re not meant to be here, Clarke insisted. And Harry, I’m scared witless! For God’s sake, don’t let go of me!
Of course not, came the answer. And no need to feel afraid. Harry’s mental voice was calm. But I can feel and 1 understand what it’s like for you. Still, can’t you also feel the magic of it? Doesn’t it thrill you to your soul?
And as his panic began to subside, Clarke had to admit that it did. Slowly the tension went out of him and he began a gradual relaxation; in another moment he believed he could sense matterless forces working on him. 1 feel. . . a pull, like the wash of a tide, he said.
Not a pull, a push, Harry corrected him. The Mobius Continuum doesn’t want us. We’re like motes in its immaterial eyes. It would expel us if it could, but we won’t be here that long. If we stayed still for long enough, it would try to eject us – or maybe ingest us! There are a million million doors it could push us through; any one of them could be fatal to us, I fear, in one way or another. Or we could simply be subsumed, made to conform – which in this place means eradicated! I discovered long ago that you either master the Mobius Continuum, or it masters you! But of course that would mean us standing still for an awfully long time -forever, by mundane terms.
Harry’s statement didn’t improve Clarke’s anxiety. How long are we staying here! he wanted to know. Hell, how long have we been here?
A minute or a mile, Harry answered, to both of your questions! A light-year or a second. Listen, I’m sorry, we won’t be here long. But to me, when I’m here, questions like that don’t have much meaning. This is a different continuum; the old constants don’t apply. This place is the DNA of space and time, the building-blocks of physical reality. But. . . it’s difficult stuff, Darcy. I’ve had lots of ‘time’ to think about it, and even I don’t have all the answers. All of them? Hah! I have only a handful! But the things I can do here, I do them well. And now I want to show you something.
Wait! said Clarke. It’s just dawned on me: what we’re doing here is telepathy. So this is how it feels for the telepaths back at HQ!