Jacob's ladder

“Should we bring her back?”

“I don’t know if that’s possible. If she refuses, we may generate a deadlock which could kill her or leave her an invalid.”

“Better wait and see what happens. We haven’t reached one half of the critical time.”

“Lydia must have a plan. If we wait, perhaps she’ll solve the problem by herself.”

“Perhaps, though I haven’t the faintest idea what I would do if I were in her place.”

“Let us trust her, she seems relaxed. Let’s keep watching.”

Blatsov looked ironically at Lydia.

“All those instructions were unnecessary. When I overpower the world, that boy will fall again in my hands.”

Lydia did not answer. Once Luis was free, she seemed to have lost all interest in Blatsov. The man in black made a grimace, decided to pay her in the same coin and looked at the screen, following Luis until he arrived at the exit of the gorge, where two men were waiting. One of them hugged him, and then they spoke for some time, Luis obviously trying to convince Charles that they should follow Lydia’s instructions. After a long discussion, he seemed to have made his point, for they started walking and disappeared from the screen.

Three hours later, Lydia seemed to come out of her absorption, looked at Blatsov, who by then was wearing the virtual reality helm and manipulating the controls, coughed to attract his attention and asked:

“What are you doing now?”

The man in black heard her, but did not react for some time, retaliating for the long silence of his prisoner. Soon, however, unable to resist the opportunity of bragging and exhibiting his power, he took the helm off, looked at Lydia in triumph and said:

“I’m sending orders to my armies. For reasons I won’t explain, Nikomakos has decided that the invasion should start in the realm of the Turkish Empire. It hasn’t been easy to coordinate thousands of automata at such a distance. Obviously we are using the radio, for the enemy cannot intercept our messages, we are decades from its discovery.”

“How did Nikomakos get into our program?”

“Do you think that I’m going to tell you his secrets?”

Lydia didn’t answer, just kept staring at him.

“It wasn’t easy,” continued Blatsov. “Your protections are very good. Nikomakos had to cross three well-designed firewalls, but he did it. He is the king of hackers.”

“Of course, Nikomakos is not his real name.”

“Of course! It’s his war name.”

“Why did he choose it? It looks Greek.”

“It is Greek. Of course you, as everybody else, don’t know the classical languages. Nikomakos means he who fights for victory. The name is very good, although he’ll have to change it soon: when he attains victory, he won’t have to fight for it any longer.”

“What about Blatsov? What does it mean?”

“Nothing. I chose a Russian-looking name. It reminds me the Russian word blasty, which means power.

“It rather reminds me the scientific name of the cockroach.”

Blatsov fulminated Lydia with a look of hate, but she ignored it and continued asking:

“Have you read The consolation of Philosophy, by Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius?

“I see that you aren’t as ignorant as I had thought! You are trying to get good marks, aren’t you? You didn’t have to mention all of Boethius Christian names. No, I haven’t read that book.”

“Your case is very well described.”

“Ah! What’s my case?”

“Boethius classifies men into four types, according to their main temptation: pleasure, money, glory and power. You are a typical power-maniac case. To enjoy power, you are ready to loose everything else, even the other three temptations.”

“The same as Napoleon, I knew that long ago. I’ll get power here, nothing will prevent me. Don’t think that you’re going to deceive me. I’m cleverer than you are; the proof is: you’ve fallen in my trap.”

“Perhaps, but you are obsessed. Fixed ideas obfuscate intelligence.”

“Don’t try to work against me, if you value life and your physical integrity.”

Lydia kept silence for a minute, then changed the topic.

“I’m surprised at something you haven’t done.”

“What?”

“You’ve never been interested in Jacob’s ladder. Why? You’ve had it at your reach several times, but did nothing to grasp it.”

“Ah, the amulet! I’m not superstitious, that’s my advantage against Napoleon. I know that you gave him the amulet to make him win the battle of Waterloo, but then Luis took it away again. I don’t know why you did it that way.”

“We wanted to study the effect of an instantaneous change on the history of the world. Napoleon had to win that battle, but then everything should get back to normal. You and your automata have spoiled the experiment.”

“I’m worth a thousand Napoleons! Soon I’ll confront him directly. If so, you’ll see him a puppet in my hands. A few days ago, his armies were defeated by mine. He’ll soon fall in my power.”

“Remember that this is not the real Napoleon, just a simulated character. If you defeat him, it doesn’t mean that you would have defeated the real Napoleon. Our models are not perfect. And as we give them some freedom to chose, they won’t always act as their prototypes.”

“Your models are the best in the world. No team can compare with yours, as the true Napoleon cannot compare with Nikomakos. We have progressed since his time.”

“I don’t think that you are as clever as you think. Despising Jacob’s ladder was a big mistake. It is not an amulet. It is rather more than that.”

“Oh, yeah? What is it?”

“It is an antenna through which we can send energy and information from the real to the simulated world. Through it, when he put his hand on Luis’s shoulder, we suggested Napoleon the convenience of launching his attack without awaiting for the ground to dry. You didn’t think of that, did you?”

“No, but it won’t be of use to you any longer. I don’t know who has the antenna now, perhaps the boy, perhaps Philippe, but they are far from here. Your team won’t be able to use it to hinder my plans.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

“What do you mean?”

“So you think that Jacob’s ladder is far from here. I know that Luis had it on him when we were in your armory. He can have left it there. What would my colleagues do with an antenna giving them free access to your weapon store? They’ve had almost four hours.”

Blatsov became paler than usual, stood up, hastened out of his headquarters, pushed the watchers away and opened the door to the armory. Before getting in, he hesitated, as though fearing what he would find inside. Then he went in, followed by Lydia.

“There’s nothing wrong here,” he said after looking around and sighing in relief.

“Are you sure?” asked Lydia.

Blatsov did not answer, but seemed doubtful and walked among the rows of weapons looking at right and left. Lydia took advantage of his distraction to get near the atom bomb. She extended her hand down, opened her fingers, let Jacob’s ladder fall in the groove, and leaned against the wall, pursing her forehead in the deepest concentration. An ominous humming filled the armory. Blatsov stopped and turned towards her.

“Woman, what are you doing?” he asked in a desperate voice.

Lydia did not answer. She had no time. It was three in the afternoon, Tuesday August 22nd, 1815: exactly forty eight hours since she had entered the simulated world.

Just then, Luis and his companions were many kilometers away, on their way to the Spanish border. Suddenly, the ground trembled below their feet with such violent oscillations that they had to hold one another to remain standing.

“An earthquake!” exclaimed Charles.

“No!” said Pierre pointing back. “Look at that!”

At the other side of the mountain, in spite of the mass of rock in between, they could see, reflected by the clouds, a light brighter than the sun’s. A long deafening thunder rumbled for several minutes. A jet of thick black smoke rose like a basalt column till the upper layers of the atmosphere, where it spread aside, as though it had collided with an obstacle, taking the shape of a huge mushroom.

“That was an explosion,” shouted Pierre, “but I’ve never seen any so large!”

“Nor I,” said Charles. “I don’t think there are enough explosives in the world to do that!”

“This must be the big bomb Blatsov spoke about,” explained Luis. “Lydia has made it burst to destroy him and save us. I imagined that she had a plan, when she insisted on taking my place and asked me for Jacob’s ladder, but I had no idea that the bomb would be so powerful. The cavern must have been totally destroyed.”

“What? You no longer have Jacob’s ladder?”

“No, she asked for it and I gave it her. I think she wanted it to make the bomb burst. Now Jacob’s ladder doesn’t exist, but Blatsov isn’t there either. We are safe, we don’t have to flee any more; we can start again.”

“Shouldn’t we go back and see if something can be saved?”

“Lydia forbade it. Whatever happens, don’t come back here, she said. She knew what was going to happen: she had thought it out before Blatsov let me go free. It may be dangerous to get back, I don’t know. I’ve explained before, we must go to the Spanish border by the shortest way and get back to Salamanca.”

“All right,” said Charles, “let’s go on. I cannot understand what this woman, Lydia, has done: she has given her life for us! Anyone could do that for a friend, for a son, but she scarcely knew us, it’s incredible!”

“I don’t think Lydia is dead,” whispered Luis.

“Nobody can survive such an explosion,” protested Pierre.

“For a human being, it’s impossible, but Lydia was an angel and angels can’t die.”

“Why do you think that?”

Luis explained the reasons which had made identify Lydia with an angel and Blatsov with an infernal being. Charles and Pierre shook their heads incredulous, but found no arguments and decided to let the boy believe whatever he wanted.

The next day they crossed the border into Spain. The country had suffered almost no harm from the fights that had ravaged Center Europe. Fernando the Seventh was still reigning, in spite of Napoleon’s return, and he had been able to maintain order. Charles was well provided with money, for he had kept most of what he had when they were separated in Ciudad Rodrigo, so they hired a carriage and traveled comfortably to Salamanca. Considering themselves safe, they made easy steps and took their time to see the landscape and enjoy their freedom.

The news from the North was reassuring. When Nikomakos’s army of automata exhausted their power supplies, they had stopped working and apparently were all dead, a few days after defeating Napoleon’s army. The emperor had retreated to Paris and finally surrendered to the Englishmen, who sent him to St. Helen Island. Austria had been ravaged, but it was not the first time it had suffered the effects of war. Czar Alexander had been murdered by a fanatic, but another czar occupied the throne in Russia. When they arrived in Salamanca, things were starting to get back to normal.

Charles took again possession of his old job, as teacher of French in the university. Pierre stayed at his service, while Luis studied languages and literature. His thirst for adventure was satiated and he had decided to follow what had always been his vocation. One night he saw Lydia, although he never knew whether it had been a dream, his imagination or reality. She told him that she was alive in spite of the explosion and was again in the place from where she had come. Luis never dared tell his friends, but felt much happier after this experience.