Jubilee Year: A Novel (Erelong Trilogy Book I) - An Extended Sample

Chapter 24: A GOOD MEMORY

When Penny invited Storm to Franchette's, he thought the request came from her mother. It was Michael who ushered him into the front office. Once they were both inside the room Michael closed the door.

There was little time to brace for the onslaught he was sure would be coming his way. Dragging Michael's only child through a protest in Sydney was bad. Sharing a hotel suite with her was probably worse.

"Penny tells me you have an extraordinary ability to memorize long sequences of numbers," Michael asked sitting on the edge of Franchette's desk.

Storm wriggled in his chair. It looked like he had dodged one bullet only to have Michael fire another his way. "She promised me she wouldn't talk about it."

"Do you find the subject embarrassing?" Michael asked with raised eyebrows.

"I didn't want her to talk about it, that's all," Storm said, his discomfort increasing.

"Why would you want to hide such a talent?" Michael said. "It's not like you've been asked to put it to any great use so far."

"How would you know?" Storm growled, forgetting all about the retribution that might be still to come from Penny's father.

Michael saw caution and confusion in the boy's eyes. He needed to win Storm's complete trust. There was very little time to get people to listen. The time he needed to save them was about to run out. It would take a worldwide alert. "I am sure she would have mentioned as much to me when she told me about your gift," he replied hurriedly. "Look, Storm. My daughter can't keep a secret even if her life depended on it. There are things I have wanted to tell her, but I never have. Do you realize scientists like me would give their right hand to have your ability?"

He carefully poured two cups of coffee from the pot on the tray Penny had set down on his desk. Without asking he spooned sugar into both cups and stirred them noisily. He gestured to the plate of biscuits and was pleased to see Storm take one.

"How good are you at remembering things?" Michael asked.

"Pretty good," Storm replied with a shrug.

"Only with numbers?"

"I can memorize photographs," Storm replied. "Other stuff as well."

"What about sequences of numbers and letters?" Storm took the hot cup offered to him. "Anything—once I make the effort."

"How long before you forget?"

"I don't ever forget," he replied. "I can't," he added quickly.

Michael took a sip from his cup. He was trying his best to relax the boy. On reflection, perhaps coffee was not the best way to go about it. "You must be getting cramped for space in your head," he said.

"You would think so," Storm replied, swallowing the last of the biscuit. It looked like Penny's father had asked him over to perform tricks. He was disappointed.

"Sounds to me like you have a photographic memory. Is that what it is?" Michael prodded.

"I can bring up a page in my head from any book I've read like it's still in front of me," Storm told him.

"Do you know how you do that?"

"I think each memory has a compartment," he said with a shrug. "They don't get muddled and they can't get wiped."

Michael sipped his coffee. This wasn't his field of knowledge, but he had read books on the subject. Even a few journal papers. He recalled studies of children who had suffered deep and re-occurring trauma. Their brains were found to have compartmentalized. Yet, Storm didn't appear to be suffering the psychological damage found in those children in the studies he had read. He was at least as stable as the majority of Michael's acquaintances and colleagues.

"How well do you know your way around Canberra?" Michael asked.

"If you show me a map, I should be fine."

Michael set down his cup and gazed steadily at the boy. It was time to get right to the point.

"Storm, I would like to ask you to run an errand for me. I want you to take a message to a friend of mine. He's an astronomer just like me. No, that's not right. He's a better astronomer than I am. He's actually my old teacher."

"Why don't you go yourself?" Storm asked.

"If I did, I would place my old friend at risk. So would sending him an email or a letter."

"Yeah, but then what about me?" Storm asked with a wry grin. "Wouldn't you be placing me at risk?"

Michael was manipulating the boy. The truth was that Canberra was a virtual enclave. One employing an extraordinary level of high security to protect its secrets and those who kept them. It was indeed a risky undertaking for Storm. It didn't matter now. There was too much at stake. He had to get the boy to agree. The mission was too important to abandon. Far too many lives were at stake.

"No one will know," he said awkwardly. "That you can carry it all in your head is beautiful. If you are stopped and searched, what will they find? I'm not saying there isn't any risk involved for you. There is always a risk in undertaking a challenge. I don't think you have much to worry about. And—you will be doing it not only for science but for everyone!" He added the last in the hope he was not sounding as desperate as he felt.

"Sounds like it's worth doing, I suppose," Storm said, not entirely convinced. "Who did you say would be searching me?"

"Ah, airport security. The police might... You know how paranoid they have become in Canberra."

"I guess so," Storm said.

He was actually relieved Michael had not invited him to Franchette's to interrogate him over the trip to Sydney.

"Sure! I don't mind doing that for you."

"Okay then!" Michael said slapping Storm on the back. "This is a coded message I am giving to you. If it was otherwise, then I definitely would be placing you at risk."

"Cool. A code. I got you."

"I am going to give you the message tonight. I need you to leave for Canberra as soon as you can, within a couple of days. It's urgent."

"I can leave first thing tomorrow if you like," Storm said. He was excited by the prospect of doing something different. Something useful. "I'll ring the farm and tell them I'm sick."

"Shouldn't you give at least a day's notice?" Michael asked.

"I guess," Storm said.

"Very good! Then you leave the day after tomorrow. I will book the bus and the plane."

Michael took a sheet of paper and a pencil and began writing.

"The man you are delivering the message to is Professor Samuel Blenker. This is his address and phone number." He stared at Storm. "How long does it take you to remember all this?"

"Already done."

"Okay," Michael pointed to the characters he had carefully written at the bottom of the paper. "This is the content I want you to give him. Each number and letter must be in the correct sequence. Including the spaces between each character. It must be exact."

Storm looked at the paper. "Is that all?"

"That's all I have for you," Michael said. "Are you sure you have memorized all of it?"

"Test me if you want," Storm told him.

Michael turned over the sheet of paper. "Tell me what I told you."

When Storm finished reciting the message, Michael pulled a metal waste bin from under the desk and shook the contents out onto the floor. He folded the paper Storm had finished with into a thin strip and held a lighter to it.

When the flame was about to lick his fingers he dropped the burning stub into the empty bin. He grunted in satisfaction when he saw the blackened residue curl up. He glanced at Storm with a grim face. "Doing prison time doesn't reflect well on you—or my daughter. Do try not to get yourself arrested this time."