“Henry, what does this mean? Is there a link between what’s happening here, and whatever happened to Venus?” She tried to make out his face, on the pillow beside her, in the dark. “Is the Earth under threat, like Venus?”

He was silent for a while.

Then he said, “You know, what we’re doing, in the lab, isn’t really science any more. We’re scarcely documenting.” He looked at her and grinned, sheepishly. “It’s kind of an emergency situation. I’m worried about the quicksand growth, which doesn’t seem to be self-limiting. We’re focusing on looking for ways to disrupt its growth. It’s fairly easy, if you catch it early. Just flood it; the reaction with water under pressure stops the formation of the crystal structure. And hide it from the light. Solar ultra-violet seems to trigger the process: kick-starts it, before the energy density gets high enough to self-sustain. We think some kind of supra-molecules are forming there, trapping photons to rebuild themselves: change molecular shape, separate charges… But they are fragile. Hell, if you catch it early enough, you can just kick it apart. But—”

“What?”

“Once it gets into the mantle, out of our reach, there will be no way of stopping it.”

And it’s growing, she thought, every day spreading a little further down the flanks of Arthur’s Seat, and into its rocky heart. And then—

Kaboom, she thought. Like Venus. That’s what Henry is thinking now.

Breach of quarantine; infected rock.

And she remembered a walk up Arthur’s Seat, a vial of dust, scattered on basalt.

My God, she thought.

Mike.

Later, when Henry was asleep, she got up and looked into Jack’s room. The boy was sleeping, his hair spilled on his pillow. She felt torn. She wanted to hold him, as if he was a baby again. But she knew she mustn’t wake him.

Already, she found her tentative acceptance of what Henry had said was slipping away.

Denial, she thought. I’m in denial. Well, maybe. She just didn’t want to believe in this stuff. Not with Jack in the world.

She went back to bed.

14

She was woken by thunder. Henry was already gone.

She lay in her bed, still only half-awake, the flat morning sunlight already warming the outside of her drawn curtains.

Thunder.

She thought it over. Like giant footfalls in the distance. Like a door slamming deep underground.

Thunder, on a morning that was obviously clear and calm?

Was it more than that? Had something actually jolted her awake?

She reached for her watch. Not long after 6.00 a.m.

Jack stood at the door, in his Hibs soccer-strip pyjamas. “Mum?”

“Go back to bed. It was only thunder.”

“Granddad’s up. He says it was an explosion.”

“Where’s Uncle Mike?”

“I don’t know. Should we get dressed?”