He pulls the car over and parks it underneath the yellow glow of the streetlamp, turning the radio off so as not to be disturbed. The area is run down, ripe for redevelopment. Across the road a couple, arm in arm, wander haphazardly, drunk probably. Good for them. He envies their unknowing, wishes he could be like them.
Too late for that, now.
Knowledge, once given life, is hard to suppress.
For several hours late into the night he watches. There is a weak spot here. One of the seekers, a woman as they so often are, located it a few days ago when it was only tiny. But it kept moving around and so he was allocated the task of keeping an eye on it. So here he is.
In his coat pocket the familiar metallic device vibrates with energy. It can also feel the weak spot. Somewhere close.
He gazes out of the window and catches a sparkle of light on some old telegraph wires that criss-cross the road. Unused in years they are a reminder of when conversations still travelled via copper. A pole several yards away is the focal point for many of the cables. His eyes trace out the route of each wire, some go to the semi-detached houses with unkempt gardens on this side of the road, some to the small row of boarded-up shops on the other.
There is a sparkle of light along one of the wires again and he frowns trying to locate the source. There are no flashing neon lights here and no traffic whose headlights can cause the effect. In his pocket the small device hums louder - it, too, is disturbed. The bracelet on his wrist, symbiotically linked to the device, is also warm.
Checking for any other late-night pedestrians and, again, for anyone sneaking a peek through their curtains, he leaves the safety of the car and walks towards the telegraph pole.
There! He detects the sparkle of movement along the wire. But the wire itself hasn't moved and there is no wind to cause any movement. His fingers feel for the main switch on the device. Better to be ready, just in case.
For several minutes he watches the wires but they remain dark. He rests his free hand on the pole and frowns again. Surely there is something here, though, not having seeker talents, he is not certain what it can be.
He is afraid because, when they do break through, they have been known to devour everything close by within seconds. He'd better be cautious.
Then something resolves itself and he focuses up towards to the wires. They sparkle again, almost pulse with faint light. In his pocket the device is getting excited once more and he grips it as if to suppress its eagerness.
His eyes follow the pulses of light – they originate at a house far along the road, travel the wire to the pole and then off again towards a shop across the narrow road. Then, instead of following the pulses, he focuses upon one spot on a wire directly above him.
Against the dark of the clouds the shimmering light is brighter and he thinks he can distinguish regular patterns. Both his bracelet and the device in his pocket seem to vibrate at the same frequency. Maybe it is tuning into the light through him, using him to interrogate its meaning. If so, then such meaning is totally lost to him.
For minutes his gaze is locked upon the wire, and his neck begins to complain about the angle at which he holds his head. He wants to stop staring but cannot. He is being held there. But who or what is controlling him - the pulsing light in the wire or the device in his pocket?
Then the light stops and he is free.
In his pocket the device is muted again and his bracelet begins to cool.
On the way home he fondles the device - avoiding the main switch, of course. At one point it springs into life again for a second and a thought flashes into his head.
Could the light have been thinking?
YOU ARE READING
Eight Excerpts From A Secret Inter-Dimensional War
Science FictionThis story was originally published in a magazine called The Hub in their Winter 2007 edition.
