By Brian Biswas

Note: Part One of "The Expansion of Space" appeared in AntipodeanSF Issue 319

A week later Max moved into Alice's apartment. She made it clear that it was her abode and she was allowing him to stay only on a trial basis. She would be up at the crack of dawn and wouldn't return until evening so it would be Max's responsibility to have dinner prepared. Furthermore, he was to do the grocery shopping and the laundry. Max wasn't working, so he had nothing against this arrangement. Alice laughed when she added she was lucky to have found him. But she often had a mischievous look and he never knew whether to take her seriously. 

During the day Max spent his time reading and taking care of the apartment as Alice had instructed. He enjoyed watching the fish tank for long periods of time. Another unusual fish soon joined the speculated goldfish and the salamander-like creature. This one was eel-like, long and slender, with wide dorsal fins and green-and-blue pectoral fins. It was covered with downy-white, hairlike filaments which undulated as it drifted across the tank. He'd never seen anything like it. 

When Max asked Alice about the new arrival, she told him she'd acquired it on one of her recent travels and that its mate would be arriving soon. She didn't tell him the name of the species or where the purchase had been made and he didn't ask. He had a hunch as to what was going on and to tell the truth he wasn't sure he wanted to know. 

Most evenings their discussions extended late into the night. They usually involved astronomical topics, and her knowledge about the subject seemed limitless. But she had questions as well. For all her scientific knowledge, she seemed ignorant about human history and was constantly peppering Max with questions about culture and politics. Questions he often found amusing.

For the most part, though, their talks concerned scientific topics. One conversation stuck in Max's mind. It was a Friday evening in early December. The wind was howling, the naked branches of the elm trees grating against the windows. They'd just finished dinner when he popped the question that had been bothering him for weeks: 

"The universe is expanding," he said. "That I know and understand. But doesn't that imply that we are expanding as well?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Space is expanding, correct?"

"Yes."

"The atoms which make us up are part of space — exist in space, do they not?"

"Of course."

"Then the distance between the atoms must be expanding; that is, we ourselves are expanding."

Alice laughed. "First you say we're shrinking because the cosmos is expanding, now you say we're expanding because the cosmos is expanding. Which do you mean?"

"I guess I really don't know," he said, gazing at her quizzically.

"I'll tell you how it is," she said, "though I don't think my explanation will satisfy you."

She took his hand and led him to the couch in her living room. He heard the tick-tock of the grandfather clock in the hall. The timepiece was encased in a cabinet made from stained cherry that had been etched with an intricate design depicting the planets and the stars.

"From the point of view of the universe we're expanding," she explained. "From our point of view, we're contracting. In other words, we're both expanding and contracting and at the same rate. The effects cancel each other out, but they are happening."

"So shouldn't we be dizzy all the time?" Max meant it in jest, but she didn't laugh.

"We aren't. And that's because we don't notice what's happening. The effect is rather small."

He frowned. "What you say might be true," he said. "Nevertheless, I don't like it."

"I didn't think you would." She smiled. Candlelight danced across her pretty green eyes. 

Max looked over at the fish tank. He saw that the axolotl seemed to be watching them, or him. Alice continued, "Have you considered the possibility that it's not the universe you're preoccupied with, it's something else?"

"Like?"

"Me, perhaps?"

Max felt his cheeks redden.

"My dear," she said with a sigh. "It's rather obvious, isn't it? You're falling in love with me!"

Max sighed. Alice could be so disarming.

"But this discussion will have to wait for another time," she continued. "Tomorrow I'm off to the Twelfth International Conference on Astrophysics. I'll be gone a week."

Max looked around the room. He'd only moved his things in the month before and wasn't sure how she'd feel about his being there alone.

"You can stay, of course," she said. "Only one thing I insist on: don't open the closet."

"Why not?" he asked. "I'd love nothing more than to study that black hole."

"I'm sure you would," she said. "But without me to guide you — well, the thing is rather dangerous. If you were to get too close . . ."

"I promise I'll be careful."

"I insist," she said. "I'd never forgive myself if something were to happen to you."

Max nodded. "Okay." 

One week turned into two, two into three, three into four — and Max grew concerned. He called the physics department and inquired as to her whereabouts. He was told she was unavailable. Upon further inquiry, he was informed that she'd attended a conference in northern Chile, but that they weren't aware of her plans afterwards. He hung up and was about to call the police to report Alice missing when he wandered into the living room and found her flopped on the sofa thumbing through a magazine, her red, leather suitcase on the floor. 

"When did you get back?" he stammered. "I was worried sick."

"The conference went on longer than I expected," she replied. "Sorry about that."

And that's the way life went — for the next several months. There were more conferences and what she said were critically important observing sessions at Palomar and Lick. Max asked for details on the latter, but they were not forthcoming. "Boring, scientific measurements," she said with a shrug. How she equated critical observing sessions with boring measurements was beyond him.

Their six-month anniversary arrived but once again Alice was absent. Max recalled her telling him she had an important paper to deliver at Arecibo. And something about that bothered him. Like a splinter under a fingernail. She'd been to a half-dozen conferences in the past six months, yet he'd never seen registration materials or even conference proceedings. She'd never asked him to look at one of her papers nor had she practiced any of her talks in his presence. True, he was a layman and probably wouldn't have understood a thing; still, he was a former linguistics major and could have offered advice on sentence construction and even critiqued her manner of presentation. He was slouched on the couch in the living room in front of a roaring fire. Already on his third drink, he was mildly inebriated. He couldn't forgive her this time: today was a special occasion!

The next day Max went see Dr. Ned Whistle, a clinical psychologist who had expertise in marital issues. 

"The black hole is the key," the doctor said, stroking a dark goatee. "Her life seems to revolve around it. It would be wise to confront the issue." His brown eyes twinkled and his big voice boomed, ricocheting off the walls in his office.

"She made me promise not to look at it," Max said.

Dr. Whistle sighed. "Has it occurred to you that she said that because she wants you to do precisely the opposite?"

"I took her at her word. I've never had reason to doubt her."

"You've much to learn about women," Dr. Whistle replied. "My advice is to open the closet door when you get home. I think you'll see what it is she wants you to see." He paused, then added, "But if you want my opinion the only thing you'll see is a sixty-watt bulb."

It was then that Max realised the man had been amusing himself at his expense. He left the office in a huff, shooting the secretary an angry look as he passed.

When he got back to the empty apartment, he fixed dinner, ate, then headed up to bed. It had been an exhausting day. The only conclusion he'd come to was that he needed to come to a conclusion — and soon. The stress of their relationship was tearing him apart.

When he opened the bedroom door, he was shocked to find Alice inside. She was standing in front of the closet, unpacking her suitcase. When she saw him, she smiled.

"Alice?"

"Sweetheart!"

"When did you get back?"

"Just now."

He frowned. "I've been downstairs. I didn't see you come in." 

"Then it must have been a while ago. It was an exhausting trip. I've lost all track of time." Her face looked peaked, her eyes cloudy.

Max's heart thrummed. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." It was a subtle movement, but he caught it: a backward flick of her right heel, to shut the closet door.

Alice told him the visit to Palomar had gone well. Her group's research into galactic superclusters was yielding results none of them had anticipated. They'd asked her to stay an extra week and she could hardly say no. Caught up in the excitement, she'd forgotten to call and let him know.

All well and good, except that Alice had told him she'd be delivering a paper at the Third Annual Conference on Galactic Superstructures at Arecibo Observatory in Puerto Rico, not doing research at Palomar in sunny California.

She smiled. "Forgiven?"

Before Max had a chance to reply, he heard squeaking noises coming from the closet. Short, staccato bursts. "What's that?" he asked. 

She didn't miss a beat. "It was a surprise, but . . ." She opened the door and pulled out a metal cage. Inside was the oddest-looking rodent Max had ever seen. It was about the size of an opossum, with a sleek coat of jet-black fur, enormous pink ears, and a long fluffy-white tail. "A South American spiny rat," she said. "One of my collaborators presented it to me at the conference. They're quite valuable."

"I'm sure they are," Max said.

Moments later she was in his arms, showering him with kisses. He'd never been able to resist her and, after two weeks alone, was unable to now. 

***

"There's one thing I don't understand," Max said to Alice that evening, as they snuggled on the sofa. "What's with the elaborate setup in the bedroom? The canister filter, the pipes that vanish into the closet?" 

She brought a finger to her lips. "Later." 

"And what's up with the aquarium in your living room? That salamander. It's a Mexican axolotl, isn't it? A government-protected species. What's it doing here?"

"It's not an axolotl."

"What is it?"

"It's similar to the salamander found on Earth, but —" Max didn't like the way she was looking at him. And the faraway look in her eyes caused his heart to skip a beat.

"Stop," Max said. "I don't want to hear any more." 

"Oh, honey," she said, drawing him close and nestling her head against his chest. "One day there will be no secrets. . . ." 

It was a night to remember. Alice's talent as an astrophysicist was eclipsed only by her talent in bed. She left Max exhausted, so exhausted, in fact, that he didn't wake until noon.

And, of course, she was gone.

He sighed, rose from the bed, and dressed. It was Wednesday, the tenth of April. She'd told him she'd be attending an all-day seminar that included astrophysicists from abroad. There was to be a banquet at six; she wouldn't be home until nine.

He looked at the closet door. The opportunity was there for the taking. Perhaps it was as Dr. Whistle had suggested, perhaps Alice wanted him to look inside. He had his hand on the knob and had given it a quarter turn when he changed his mind. He couldn't go through with it. He'd made a promise and it was a promise he would keep.

Back in the kitchen, he turned on a gas burner. He cracked an egg into a bowl and heated up the frying pan. He took a slice of bread, cut a hole in the middle, put the bread in the pan, and plopped the egg inside. It sizzled.

His eyes glazed over as he watched the egg cook. His mind must have been playing tricks for he could have sworn he was looking at the Andromeda Galaxy. The yolk resembled the central core, the egg white the spiral arms. The bread represented the fabric of space. And the heat rising from the frying pan was nothing less than cosmic energy.

It was then he noticed the note next to the phone on the kitchen counter. "Dearest," it began. "Have to leave in a hurry. Palomar called. Something big has come up. Love, Alice."

On a whim, Max picked up the phone and dialed the airport. Alice always used Delta. The woman on the other end of the line told him there was one daily flight to Los Angeles and that it left at 11 p.m. 

That was ten hours from now.

And that was when it hit him. 

Alice told Max more than once that he wasn't the brightest star in the sky, and though he'd always laughed, he realised now that she wasn't kidding. He'd been duped, to put it bluntly. The oversized image of the Andromeda galaxy on her bedroom ceiling, her frequent absences when she was mysteriously out of touch, her sudden and unexplained reappearances. And that elusive "black hole" around which her life seemed to revolve. No, she wasn't smuggling endangered species, but she was acquiring them. And the reason why was terrifying. "Andromeda is her home!" he cried. It was an exclamation of triumph, for he had reasoned it out. He rushed up the stairs, charged across the bedroom — nearly tripping in his haste — and threw open the closet door.

What had Max imagined he would see? A portal to another world? Or to another time? What he saw was something quite different. Something so strange and horrifying he shuddered uncontrollably. Astrophysics be damned!

It was pitch-black, just as he'd remembered, an endless, yawning abyss. The light from the bedroom reached the threshold and then abruptly vanished. It was as if the closet was walled off from the rest of the room by an unseen or unknowable force.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, a low moan escaped his lips. There was a blinding point of light within the closet. The black hole. Nothing alarming there. It was what surrounded the hole that held him hostage and left him quaking like a child. Wrapped around the circular monstrosity was the image of his beloved Alice, her body stretched to the point of absurdity.

Max backed away, sobbing hysterically, and slammed the closet door. And then he fled the apartment in terror, without bothering to collect his things. He hailed a cab, which, as luck would have it, was passing by. "Get me out of here!" he cried to the bewildered cabbie. "Anyplace at all. Just go!" Looking back, he was surprised that the cabbie threw open the door to let a wild man enter, much less drive him to a place of safety. 

***

It took months for the horror of that day to abate, but eventually Max was able to collect his wits. He re-enrolled at Columbia and obtained a bachelor's degree in the spring of 1960. Unfortunately, no job offers were forthcoming and he found himself back home with his parents. They encouraged him to go overseas for the summer to forget his troubles. His father, a prominent Wall Street banker, was able to obtain a position for his son in London as a teller at a bank with which he did business. Max enjoyed the town immensely and ended up staying a year, first as a teller and eventually working his way up to an assistant accounts manager, acquiring a reputation as a man who was both honest and fair. As luck would have it, he found himself back in New York City one day negotiating an important deal. On a whim he looked up Alice's apartment. He half-expected the building to have vanished. He'd convinced himself that Alice was an alien, an alien who had constructed her Earthly abode as a stopping off point for planetary investigations. Was she really from Andromeda? He could never be certain and in the end it didn't really matter. She was who she was. She came from where she came. He wondered how often things like this happened. Probably more than one might think.

When he reached West 145th Street he was surprised to find the building still standing. He made inquiries and feigned interest in renting the place. The landlord showed him the apartment the following afternoon, leading him through dusty rooms Max knew all too well. He spoke of financial deals in London and other places, trying to maintain a calm demeanor. When they entered the bedroom, he could restrain himself no longer. He rushed to the closet door and yanked it open. Alas, the closet was empty; a bare bulb hung loosely from the ceiling. The landlord flicked the light switch but the bulb did not illuminate.

"Must take care of that," the landlord muttered as they withdrew. 

Max left town the next day, returning to London where he resided in Notting Hill. He retained an interest in astronomy and one day threw himself into the study of relativity. The laws governing the relative motion of one object with respect to another. He learned that time and space were subject to the same laws. And he nodded knowingly when he read that inside a black hole our physical laws do not apply, but others do. 

So what did happen to Alice? Had she returned to Earth? If not, would she ever? Max sighed, realising that even if she were to return one day, and emerge from the black hole like a golden phoenix with the knowledge of the ages, it would be too late for him.

Max's mind is porous, he struggles not to forget. Even as he recalls those days, the passage of time distorts and will ultimately displace the memory of the subtle features that once composed his beloved's face.

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