Everyone laughs. The boy appears overwhelmed, but also titillated. “Show us! Show us!” the cries continued. Then, another older girl said she would only give him back his suit if he masturbated.
“What does that mean?” asked the captain.
“You will see,” responded the lieutenant.
He tries to hide himself by shaking his head saying, “No! No!” but instead he reveals himself. His firmness draws gasps from the crowd. “Do it! Do it!” Drifting inward, he starts touching himself. Around him, voices chant, “Cum! Cum! Cum!” The boy wakes up in his bed covered in his fluids.
The captain, astonished, said, “So this is pleasurable, but these beings are also very interested in power. They are captivating, quite mysterious! Was this last one from one of their more primitive groups?”
The lieutenant responded, “No, actually I believe it is from one of their more advanced, but we have no evidence that this is an actual ritual. We are just starting to gather our samples. They have many dream stories concerning this activity of sex. There appears to be uncertainty related to it, especially amongst the younger ones.”
The captain stared into space for a moment, deep in thought. “They are much more interesting than one would expect.” He started to pace about the bridge and then turned abruptly and looked directly at the lieutenant. “I have read of such things in our history. We, too, once possessed such similar phenomena, but that was before, when we had…” The captain walked away, sat down behind his desk, and for some time said nothing.
Then suddenly he turned to the lieutenant. “Launch every probe we have to that planet’s surface. Make sure all probes remain in stealth mode. Contact the envoy to the Supreme Council. Tell him we have something important to convey, tell him it should be Elgert who should hear this first and to keep it confidential. I know Elgert; he will reward us. No – no, wait… Tell no one. Not a word of this to the crew! Send a secure message to the Supreme Council along with a sample of your preliminary findings. And make sure there is an encrypted note to Elgert’s envoy to keep it quiet. You have done well, lieutenant. We will both benefit from this.”
* * *
Ever since the message arrived with knowledge of a planet whose inhabitants create stories while they sleep, Elgert eagerly awaited more data. The full council was scheduled to meet shortly, and he wanted to include as much information as possible for his report. His assistant came into the room and informed him that the ship’s captain had arrived. “Show him in immediately.”
The captain came in and transferred the data onto the overhead virtual display unit. It showed an image of the planet and its inhabitants. Elgert saw the earth. He saw its seas and mountains, its deserts and green fields. He saw children playing in parks and people dying painfully in wars. He saw humanity in all its beauty and all its horror, from the aboriginals on the plains of Australia in their loincloths to the sophisticated ladies on the streets of Paris in their jewels and furs. He watched them embrace with tenderness and slaughter with indifference. He watched their most ardent acts of kindness and their most hateful moments of cruelty… and he watched them dream.
“It’s true then… They really do this,” he murmured.
“Yes,” replied the captain. “About many things. They are often vivid and colorful; their lives are riddled with emotions. It drives them, and they dream about it all. And what’s more, they constantly discard them and make new ones.”
“And you have more examples of them?” asked Elgert.
“Yes, of course,” said the captain. He proceeded to show Elgert the boy in the pool and the other samplings.
“Very interesting. We’re due to meet shortly, and I will present this information to the Council. Our Minister of Culture, Allaceia, will be particularly intrigued by these.” Already anticipating the monetary benefits of the “dream stories,” Elgert’s mind began crafting a plan.
We will have to control the benefits of this discovery without violating federation laws of non-contact or exploitation of primitive worlds, and we must keep this all hidden from the prying eyes of The Prime.
If the dreams could be gathered in open space, their mission could be justified as the salvaging of abandoned waste products. We don’t necessarily have to say outright that we are gathering these dream stories. We could easily write it all off as some form of communication. After all, Eldern is renowned for its intergalactic research.
Yes… that’s it! That’s the answer! But we need an excuse to occupy this planet and the space around it. What could that be…?
“Are these beings aware of our discovery of them?” inquired Elgert.
As if on cue, the captain spoke again. “No. However, there is a problem.”
“Yes, what is it?
“There is a possibility that the planet will collide with an asteroid in 48 of their years.”
“What is the probability of the impact?”
“It is almost impossible to determine at this time given all the variables that are in play, but according to my ship, our best guess is a 20% likelihood.”
Hmm… one-in-five, well, I need not mention that, but this is the answer.
“Thank you, captain. You have done well in bringing this to me, and it will not be forgotten. But for the moment, your presence is no longer needed. Please leave the report, and most importantly, keep this confidential.”
Elgert pondered, federation members are not allowed to interfere with any primitive planet’s destiny, and our council may not see all the potential rewards at first, but if I explain this as research and the need to preserve life, it could be seen as altruistic, even mandatory. I will impress upon them that it is our duty to divert the asteroid. We will brand ourselves as its temporary protector…. It will be a perfect excuse. I will start like this and then tempt their greed. Yes, that’s it, just a temporary intervention. Once we send a few of our own down to Earth to prove compatibility, we can quietly develop a means of gathering the dreams in space. These dreams are priceless!
Elgert finished his thought process as Allaceia and the administrator, Dronin, entered the meeting room. Allaceia had served with Dronin since her nomination to The Supreme Council. The Council was in charge of all political decisions, and he was sure they would agree with his plan once they understood what treasures Earth held. The Council listened attentively as Elgert laid out his scheme.
After a moment, Allaceia spoke, “You understand that this not only dangerous, but it may have unknown impact on our way of life, and possibly many other worlds as well. When our population sees these beings dream, who knows what will happen?”
“Of course, I understand. That is why we must proceed with the utmost caution. There are risks, but the potential rewards are endless. Additionally, given the asteroid trajectory, it becomes our responsibility to protect the planet,” replied Elgert with a grin.
“Please continue,” said Dronin.
“I propose we send two of our kind to develop there, taking the form of humans. We will have to have a full explanation prepared for the Federation if asked. Our interest in the planet must be seen as a purely philanthropic exercise. The impact of the asteroid is many of their years from now; therefore, we have ample time. Our agents will live amongst these humans, learn their customs, and absorb their manners. They will appear, to all who know them, human. I propose we will take them from your lineage, Allaceia. They will be blessed with your intelligence and diplomatic abilities. Since there will be two of them, twins, with Class AAA status, they will have abilities worthy of Council seats. They will claim the planet and guide it to its destiny as a future colony, I mean ally, of Eldern. It will all be explained to the federation as an act of altruism, for which they tend to make exceptions, and we will just ‘forget’ to mention that these humans create these sleep stories. Aren’t we due for an act of such sacrifice anyhow, Allaceia?”
“It sounds risky, especially with such primitive beings,” said Dronin.
“Yes, but it will work. Al
laceia’s offspring will mature into beings with abilities that will allow them to meet and overcome any and all situations they encounter on Earth. And, as for the Federation, our convenient omission of the fact that the human’s dream could always be explained as an oversight. Besides,” replied Elgert, “by the time any protest could be launched, it would already be too late.”
“We know little of that world, of their society, of the effect it will have upon our agents. They might grow into strangers rather than agents of Eldern. And once they are living beings, they will have their own free will. It is a grave risk…” said Allaceia.
“Yes, but a risk worth taking! They will appear to be human, of course, and we will make them as attractive as possible, by human standards, so to be easily accepted. They will live amongst them and learn about their culture. We will allow them the freedom to feel a part of the human world. We can continue to monitor for the effects of fallout. We know what type of aberrations to look for. We will create a simulated environment in which they may thrive. Within it, we will educate them, prepare them, and allow them to reach their full potential,” explained Elgert.
“This could blow up in our faces. How will you evaluate their development?” asked Dronin.
“We will have one of them in the portal at all times while the other walks freely on Earth. Therefore, half the time, one is always with us. In their early years, the earthlings will think there is only one of them, since the other will be hidden. So, we will be continually monitoring them,” stated Elgert.
“I still think it is risky,” said Alleceia.
“Yes, it is a risk, but a small one. The danger is minimal, and in the end, it will work. That’s all that counts. Besides, I have faith in your lineage,” replied Elgert.
“Should they be identical?” asked Dronin.
“Yes, they will be identical, especially in their early years. As they grow older and become individuals, we can allow them distinction, as we will want their personalities to differ,” said Elgert.
“Specialization always leads to a better appreciation for a planet’s diversity,” said Dronin.
The Council considered the proposed plan for a few moments; Elgert’s report on Earth and its history was at the forefront of their minds. Allaceia, despite her concerns about the development of her offspring, and amidst the uncertainties of a foreign unknown, finally relented and agreed with the tactics.
“Shall I give them names, then?” asked Allaceia.
“Yes, why not? You are their mother,” answered Elgert.
“I have examined their literature, and I will take names from their culture,” proclaimed Allaceia. “One I will call Mark, after the Roman Mark Anthony who fell in love with the princess Cleopatra. He was calculating and brilliant, but then he sacrificed his kingdom for the love of a woman. He shall be our romantic, seeking the meaning of love. The other I will call Jason, from Greek mythology. He will be our adventurer, the seeker of the Golden Fleece. He will peer into the dark side of these beings.”
“Your reasoning is sound, Allaceia. The pods can be sent immediately, but the journey is long. They will open in 1950, earth time.”
“Ready the transports, then.”
Chapter 6: The Subway
Mark walked with his head down, avoiding eye contact with people as usual. The honking horns in the streets were deafening. Has Gabriela changed me? His feelings for her over the last few months had developed so rapidly that his mind was swimming. I feel so overwhelmed when I am near her. Is this what these humans live with? His thoughts were traveling at lightning speed. Did I make a mistake making this appointment? He knew he needed clarity and hopefully control. Maybe this doctor can help. All he knew is that he yearned to be near her, to touch her, to hear her voice, to feel her heartbeat upon his chest. Why is this happening? I wish I understood more.
The entrance to the subway was congested; there were panhandlers blocking the steps. He made his way down the stairs and onto the crowded platform. Columbia students were talking of academic subjects. Three young hippie-looking girls giggled about last night’s trysts with their boyfriends. On a wooden bench in the middle of the platform, a homeless man slept beneath a blanket, his stench mingling with the smell of cheap wine, staining his coat. A police officer nudged him with a nightstick as he passed, and a group of teenage boys in the corner laughed at the spectacle. It was 1969. It was an inspiring time – a time of experimentation, a time of pleasure. It was a time when rules seemed to matter little to a world turned over on its head.
These humans never stopped fascinating him. But today, the platform cacophony of sights and sounds, were more an annoyance than a pleasure. The atmosphere was filled with a swirl of human emotions flying through the air in what was to Mark a torrent of energies, frantically jumping forth like sparks from a burning campfire, a kaleidoscope of thoughts and feelings bombarding his mind. It baffled him how humans would lie to each other about the silliest things, even to their closest friends, and how they often seemed so mentally distant as they pushed themselves up against each other’s bodies in the subway cars. They remained faceless, isolated in a crowd, and yet they increasingly busied themselves within the networks of their own lives. For all their strange, paradoxical behavior, Mark still found humans forever surprising, constantly naively beautiful; every day they enchanted him more.
Playing games and testing his abilities at mental manipulation became a daily pastime on the train, an unending source of pleasure. He would often construct suggestions, implant them into some unsuspecting mind, and watch the ensuing reactions. He might create a deep-seated attraction in a young girl’s mind for a stranger. Then, he would observe her eyes as she pined away, watching her new true love jump on the express train, never to be seen again. Or he would suggest to the mind of a busy businessman that he had left the gas on in his house, and then relish in the anxiety, witnessing the panic, as he would flee to rush home. What silly games! He often thought. But I might as well practice what powers I have. Who knows how I’ll need to use them.
Besides, these minor amusements paled in significance to the games Mark and Jason had played when they were children. Jason had once gone so far as to compel the preacher’s wife to seduce their school principal in the rear of the church. Jason had practiced his abilities of suggestion from an early age, and he had developed them into an art. Not only was the school principal thirty years older than the preacher’s wife, but he was fat, almost consistently unshaven, and always had bad breath. Mrs. Shulster, on the other hand, was a beauty with blue eyes, a fetching southern accent, and healthy blonde curls that bobbed and bounced in the most affected manner intended to disarm the men she dealt with as the church’s first lady. She was also supervisor of the school, a position she often abused, dispensing a cruelty for which even at a young age the brothers, especially Jason, had no patience.
One day she found herself naked, reclined and sweaty, succumbing to an uncontrollable lust with the principal behind a thin curtain in the rear of the church. The debauchery devised by Jason was cruel even by his standards, and afterward, he allowed her only to recall the event in full during an occasional dream. She would never be sure whether the tryst had been real, but it would always haunt her. Mark eventually admitted he enjoyed watching her squirm in her seat whenever the principal walked into the room, or when his eyes found hers. To this day, the preacher’s wife never understood how it was possible that she had found herself sitting in a pew next to all the prim ladies without any underwear beneath her stiff dress. The principal, for his part, could never quite wash the smell of her off his clothes. The brothers had hated them both, and never had a moment’s remorse. They granted themselves these silly pleasures, thinking of them as learning exercises, for their time living amidst humans passed ever so slowly. Mark had been seeking what these beings were flush with, what they took for granted, this irrational torrent they call emotions. Maybe one day I will even be able to dream. Could I imagine such a thing?
When he first saw Gabriella on campus, the logic of his mind disappeared as if he were the cream in a hot cup of coffee. It was like this from the start, when he glimpsed her in the hall or heard her voice in a crowd. The shock of learning that she was his advisor’s wife did little to dissuade his infatuation; her ambiance overwhelmed all, the aroma of her being dimmed all reason. He wanted her in his life. There were many other younger women at Columbia, but not for Mark. He remembered when they first spoke at a faculty party; she was talking about Balzac, making light of the French amorousness. She never spoke to him directly, but it didn't matter. After a few minutes, he barely listened to her words. Her fetching smile and the twinkle in her eye communicated everything. He read her thoughts; she was interested. He was far too timid to pursue, but he knew his time would come.
Is it possible to exist like this, with these sensations? He needed advice; he needed help. Why he had asked his advisor, her husband, for the name of a psychiatrist seemed perfectly logical to him. For who knew him better than he, and somehow, he thought that there was a continuity of purpose within his request; a circle of sorts, but even as the folly of these illogical thoughts found their conclusion, it all seemed in some way to make sense. Maybe it has to do with proximity, all he knew was that he needed clarity. Jason does not have these feelings or even a warm thought for a human, but he’s different… Maybe this psychiatrist is also different. I have learned he is a loner, like me in many ways.
Mark knew in some degree that he would have to reveal himself to this doctor, let him see that he is not human. He was concerned about this revelation, but he was desperate.
Mark left the subway, searched for the address crumpled in his pocket, and walked to West 72nd Street. The appointment was in The Dakota, one of the most prestigious buildings on the Upper West Side. He took the elevator to the 6th floor where he saw the name Dr. Matthew Abernathy, Psychiatrist, M.D. PhD, written on the first door as he stepped out. He went in, not noticing the secretary at first, too preoccupied with how he would attempt to explain himself.
Soteria- The Crisis Forge Page 3