Spirits in the Wires by Charles de Lint
I listen to them brainstorm, but even with all the research I’ve been doing lately, they soon get so esoteric that they lose me. After a while I turn to Holly who’s sitting beside me, Snippet asleep on her lap.
“Are you following any of this?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Even though we used my computer to initially set up the site, I was always just one of the content people. Back in those days, all I did was collect the material and pass it on to one of the others to format. I’ve since learned to do HTML, but I don’t really understand it.”
On the other side of Holly, Claudette turns around and grins.
“That’s because you never tried,” she says. “And besides—”
“I had you all to do it for me,” Holly finishes.
It’s obviously an old joke between them.
I listen awhile longer, then go out onto the fire escape for another smoke. When I return, the conversation’s in another lull. Raul and Tip are studying the picture of Jackson Hart on Aaran’s laptop. Estie’s loading the data from her floppy discs onto Holly’s old 386. Everybody else is just sitting around, looking tired.
I try not to let my frustration show, but none of this seems to be getting us anywhere. I want to say, let’s just get on with it. Hook the damn computer up to the Internet and let’s go.
Except I don’t know where to go any more than the others do.
That’s when Bojo clears his throat.
“I don’t know much about computers,” he says, when he’s got everybody’s attention, “so correct me if I’m heading down the wrong road here. But this virus that got sent to the Wordwood site—does it work the same way that a virus you or I could get would work?”
There’s a moment’s silence, then Estie shakes her head.
“Not really,” she says. “This is something that only affects computers.”
“The software, to be precise,” Tip adds. “You know, the protocols that tell the hardware how to work and where to look for information. It doesn’t physically affect the hardware, except that your operating system doesn’t know where to find it anymore—depending on how the virus was set up, of course.”
Bojo nods. “I was just thinking, when someone gets sick among my people, we use herbs and cures … the way your doctors will prescribe antibiotics. So I thought if a computer virus worked in the same way, maybe there might be some sort of an antivirus we could send to the Word-wood site to combat the virus that Hart created to bring it down.”
The computer experts among us exchange glances.
“Maybe,” Estie says slowly. “If we knew what the virus was …”
“We’d need to get into Hart’s computer,” Claudette says. “But what are the chances of that? The police have probably impounded it by now.”
Raul nods. “Or at least sealed off his apartment because it’s a crime scene. We’d never be able to get in.”
“I think I can help with that,” Aaran says.
Everybody turns to look at him.
“I mean, so long as the police really haven’t taken it away.”
“I thought you hardly knew him,” I say.
“I don’t. But his landlady seems to like me, and if I told her it would help us bring him back, I think she’d let us in.”
I look at Estie. “What do you think?”
“It’s hard to say without actually seeing what he’s written,” she says. “But I like this a lot better than trying to sort out mystical mumbo jumbo. At least I understand programming languages.”
“So some of us can work on that,” I say, “while the rest of us can work on trying to set up some kind of communication with the spirit that runs the site.”
“And if we can’t get it to come to us,” Robert says, speaking up for the first time, “maybe we can go to it.”
His words hang at the table for a long moment, and everybody just looks at him.
“You’re talking about a place, right?” Robert asks. “Am I hearing this right? You’re saying that this spirit’s got its own place, out there in the wires somewhere?”
“I suppose …” Estie says. “I mean, there’s the Wordwood site.”
“And that’s on the Internet? Or at least it’s in some computer connected to the Internet?”
“Well, logically …” Tip begins, but then he laughs. “What am I saying? There’s nothing logical about this. You’re right. The files that make up the Wordwood site should be housed in a computer somewhere. But that’s where the site got really strange. Not only did it develop this personality of its own, but it also disappeared from the computers where we were storing it.”
“And took up residence out on the Internet somewhere?” Robert asks.
“I don’t see how that’s possible,” Claudette says. “It’s got to be housed in a physical computer. There’s no physical place for it in the wires or satellite feeds or however people access the Web.”
“Tell that to the people that have disappeared,” Estie says.
Claudette nods. “Point taken. Not understood, but taken.”
Something starts niggling at the back of my mind. A conversation I had, maybe. I’m not sure what. I start to think out loud, hoping to catch the memory unaware.
“The way I see it,” I say, “is that these spirits might use the Internet as a means of getting from one place to another—travelling pretty much the same as the data we send—but they exist somewhere else. And if I had to guess, I’d say it was between.”
That’s not quite it, but I can almost taste myself coming up on that elusive memory.
“I don’t follow that,” Estie says.
“Between is where magic is strongest,” I explain. “The spaces between one thing and another. Not day or night, but dusk or dawn. Not the land on either side of a river, but the bridge that connects them. The boat that will take you from one side to the other.”
“So you’re saying that the Wordwood site exists someplace in between the routes we use to connect our computers to the ISPs housing Web sites?”
I nod. And now I’ve got the memory that had just been out of reach.
“And what’s more magical than the spiritworld?” I say. “Just before Saskia disappeared, she was telling me about a conversation she had with … with a friend of ours. It doesn’t matter who. But this friend believes that the Wordwood site exists in the spiritworld. Or at least that it can be accessed through the spiritworld. I don’t know how I could have forgotten that.”
“The spiritworld,” Ciaudette repeats.
I see Geordie giving me a puzzled look. I want to tell him that Saskia was talking to my shadow, but that’s something I don’t even want to start to get into with this group. They’re all looking at me with varying levels of confusion.
“Not the spiritworld, Master Riddell,” Dick says. He blushes when everyone looks at him, but gamely goes on. “The spiritworld isn’t between. But the borderlands are.”
Bojo nods. “And the borderlands can take you anywhere—so long as you know what you’re looking for.”
“These are actual places?” Estie asks.
“Oh, yeah,” Robert tells her. “You don’t get more actual. Some people will even tell you that this world we’re living in is just one echo of what you’ll find across the borders.”
After telling his own story, Aaran’s been sitting quietly through all of the various conversations we’ve been having around the table. But he leans forward now, his gaze fixed on me.
“And is that a place you can take us?” he asks. “We can go there and get these people back?”
“I can’t,” I say. “But I know people who can cross over. The big problem’s going to be figuring out where to go once we do cross over. You can’t begin to imagine how vast the spiritworld is.”
Suzi laughs. “I can’t even imagine it.”
That wakes smiles from many sitting around the table.
“You don’t have to go looking for more people to bring into this,” Robert says. “W
“Now wait a minute,” Claudette starts. “I can’t believe any of you are taking this fairy-tale nonsense seriously. What we need is a real solution to—”
But Raul puts his hand on her arm.
“Let’s hear this out,” he says. “I’m willing to listen to anything that offers up a chance of getting Benny back.” He turns his attention to Robert. “You can do this? You can get us into this place?”
Robert nods. “Like Bojo said. I don’t know much about computers either. But I know the spiritworld. I figure between those of us who’ve got some familiarity with the place, we won’t be shooting completely blind.”
He looks to Dick who gives a sad, negative shake of his head.
“Not me,” he says. “I’ve no sense of direction and I’ve never gone very far into the borderlands.” He shoots Holly an apologetic look. “Hobs hardly ever do.”
Robert’s gaze travels on to Bojo.
“I’d need more to go on than guesswork,” he says. “Christy wasn’t exaggerating,” he adds, looking up and down the dining room table. “It’s a big place. Anything you’ve ever imagined, exists somewhere in there. And that goes for everyone who’s ever lived—they might die and travel on, but the places and people they imagined stay behind. There are worlds upon worlds upon worlds in there. They’re not all hospitable. And they’re mostly dangerous. And the borderlands are even more confusing for those who don’t know exactly where they’re going.”
“I might be able to call up the right door,” Robert says. “Everything’s got its own signature, and I’ve been hearing enough about this place that I figure I can find a piece of music that’ll get us close, if not right to where we want to go. Though it’s not something I care to work on for too long.”
“Why’s that?” Estie asks.
Robert shrugs. “Let’s just say that there are all kinds of spirits over there on the other side of the veil separating this world from the otherworld and not all of them have taken a liking to me. They know the sound of my Gibson. They know my signature—the way I pull a tune from its strings. I play too long and they’ll come sniffing around. And when they come, we’ll be in a whole mess of new trouble.”
“You get us close,” Bojo says, “And I’ll take us the rest of the way. I don’t need music.”
“Just like that,” Claudette says. “We’re just going to up and step into Never-Never Land, following you like you’re the Pied Piper.”
“You’re mixing up your fairy tales,” Holly says.
“You know what I mean.”
“Once we get there,” Tip asks. “Can you bring us back again?”
Bojo hesitates, but he nods. “Like someone once said, there and back again. But only so long as you do what I say and stick to the paths I take you on. Take even one step off the way I lay out for you, just to look at a flower or pick up some bauble that catches your eye, and I might never be able to find you again.”
“Though something else might,” Robert says.
“Why are you trying to scare us?” Tip asks.
“Because it’s dangerous” Robert tells him. “Truth is, I’d just as soon none of you go, but once we get there, we’re going to need at least one person that’s familiar with this spirit.”
“But none of us are really familiar with it,” Estie says. “None of us know what it really is. I’m not trying to back out of this,” she adds. “It’s just… we know computers. We know this world.” She looks at her friends. “None of us know about spirits and … you know, magic.”
“You’ve talked to it,” Robert says.
He’s not asking a question, but Estie and the others nod in response all the same.
“So that’ll be a job for one of you,” Robert tells them. “To recognize the spirit and put your case to it. The others are going to go to Hart’s apartment to see if they can figure out a way to undo his virus.”
“What about Saskia?” I ask. “And the other disappeared?”
“If we’re right,” Robert says, “and this spirit’s made a hidey-hole for the Wordwood site on the other side, then I don’t figure it takes much guesswork to expect we’ll find them there, as well.”
“You said none of the people from these other mass disappearances ever came back,” Holly says.
“That’s right. I did say that. But I also said that shouldn’t stop us from trying. And who knows? Maybe some folks did escape before, but they just didn’t want to go around talking about it after. Time was that every big story didn’t have to end up on the news. Some people like to keep things to themselves.”
“Or maybe they turned the radio dials in their heads way down,” Holly says, “and just made themselves forget.”
Robert smiles. “Maybe so.” He looks around the table. “So now you need to decide. Who’s coming with us, who’s going to Hart’s apartment, who’s staying to hold the fort. Those of you who are going, you’re going to need travelling gear: good footwear and at least a couple of pairs of socks. Clothes that can take some hard living. Bedding. Water. Food. Don’t forget a hat.”
“What about weapons?” Raul asks.
“Bring what you want. But I’ll warn you, keep it simple. A lot of things made in this world don’t work the same on the other side. It’s iffy in the borderlands, but if we have to go into the spiritworld itself, you’ll find no use for a compass, or a walkie-talkie, and you can just plain forget about your fancy automatic pistols and the like.”
“You really think we can do this?” Geordie asks.
“I don’t know,” Robert tells him. “But at least you’ll be doing something. The way it stands now, you don’t know how to bring all these people back from wherever they’ve been taken—at least not from this end. But maybe, if we can get you to the right place, you can work it out from the other end.”
I stand up.
“What time is it?” I ask.
Raul looks at his watch. “Almost four-thirty.”
I didn’t realize we’d been talking that long. No one says anything for another long moment and then I realize something.
“Why’s everybody looking at me?” I ask.
Robert smiles. “The troops need a general.”
“I’d think you’d be better suited than me.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not good with people.”
“What makes you think I am?”
“You can be,” Geordie puts in. “I’m with Robert on this.”
Holly agrees, which has Bojo and Dick nodding their assent. Then one by one the others agree as well, even Aaran.
I sigh. I don’t feel prepared for this. It’s not like I’ve got a military mindset or have ever coordinated anything more than a book signing before. But then I think of Saskia. Lost somewhere. Counting on me.
“Okay,” I say. “Here’s how we’ll do it.”
I divide us up into teams.
Dick’s too nervous to come across into the spiritworld—that’s easy enough to tell. I know he’d come if Holly was going, but with Bojo and Robert, I figure we already have the experts we need for the trip, so I have him stay at the store with Holly and Geordie. Geordie protests until I tell him that I’m counting on him to be our backup.
“If anything goes wrong,” I say, “you know people to contact.”
“Like Joe.”
I nod. “Just don’t go borrowing that stone Wendy uses to cross over. You won’t know where to start looking for us.”
For the trip into the otherworld, no one argues when I say that Bojo and Robert will be coming with me. It’s only when I include Raul that the questions arise.
“But he wasn’t part of the original group,” Claudette says. “Not that I’m saying I want to go. But don’t we need one of the f
“I don’t think we’d be able to stop him from coming,” I say.
“You’ve got that right,” Raul says. Then he looks at the others. “And maybe I wasn’t in at the beginning, but at this point I’ve logged as much or more time on the site than any of you.”
I see something in his eyes and I guess Estie does, too.
“Whose voice does it use to talk to you?” she asks.
“My grandfather’s.”
She nods. “I hear my cousin Jane’s inflections.” She looks around the table. “She died in a car crash when she was eighteen. Drunken driver.”
“Abuelo—my grandfather,” Raul says. “He’s dead, too.”
“Why do you think the Wordwood uses the voices of dead people to talk to us?” Tip asks.
“It’s not using those voices,” Robert says. “That’s just the way you’re hearing them. Spirits like to make a quick personal connection to you. I don’t know how they do it, but they’re good at sounding like someone you once knew—especially someone you had feelings for.”
The rest of them I send off to accompany Aaran. Estie’s the real computer expert—so I don’t doubt that she’ll be doing most of the work—but I wanted her people to outnumber Aaran and his new sidekick Suzi, just in case Aaran has a change of heart. Naturally, I don’t say that. But I don’t have to. Estie’s group leaves first and as soon as they’re out the door, Holly turns to me.
“Do you really trust him?” she asks.
“You mean Aaran?”
She nods.
I shrug. “Yes and no. I think he’s genuinely appalled at what he’s done.”
“Yeah, but how long’s that going to last?” Geordie says.
“I don’t know. He’s never been one to sustain any one thing for very long. But I don’t think he’s actually evil. He’s just what he’s always been: self-centered and more than a little mean-spirited.”
“And this Suzi?”
I shake my head. “I really don’t know about her.”
I find my gaze going to Robert, who’s finally taken his guitar out again and started to play.
“There’s something about her,” he says, “though I couldn’t tell you what. She’s just more here than most people you meet. That doesn’t mean she’s dangerous or supernatural or anything,” he adds when he sees our worried looks. “Just means she’s living now instead of carrying around the baggage that most of us do.”