File: 113/50/05/wtf/Continued
Source: LinkData\LinkDiary\Peter_Vincent\Personal
<LinkDiary Running>
Discussion took about ten seconds. It wasn’t as if we were exactly spoiled for choices.
‘You do realise that my father is quite mad?’ I said.
‘Mad or not, I think someone should make some sort of a record of what happened here today,’ Alpha said.
‘You want to spend the last few minutes we’ve got left obeying my father’s stupid paradigm theory?’
‘It’s either that or sit here and wait.’
We made our way across the crater and I looked up to the silos towering above us. There were more ‘ghosts’ gathered around them, some of them kneeling, all of them staring intently at the concrete structures.
I was about to turn away when I saw that one of them was looking our way.
My mother.
She raised her hand in acknowledgment, and I gave her a solemn nod.
Then I noticed a figure standing next to her.
An old man with a mane of black hair.
The man I’d seen and heard just after my LinkDiary crashed; who had been shouting about memories and holes. The man I’d thought was a goblin man from the poem my mother had read to me, and who’d later appeared in a dream and delivered just enough vague and cryptic clues to lead us here.
Here he was, standing next to her, by the silos.
I thought again of invisible connections that linked everything together. I thought about tech-guys and alien programmers and how they might be a little more clever than my father had given them credit for when it came to fixing systems that were going to be a problem.
Maybe they would fix things before they got out of hand.
Maybe they had already been, done the job, and gone.
I looked at the man and he made a circle with his thumb and forefinger.
I wasn’t sure if it was an ‘OK’ sign, or a snake eating its own tail.
I decided that it really didn’t matter.
I gave a replica of the symbol back, and then we hurried down the tunnel.