by Ron Rayborne
“I’m going to miss ya, bro,” he told Tom.
“And I, you.” They shook hands, then hugged. Brothers.
“You take care of yourself,” Paul told him.
“You, too.” Tom turned to walk out.
“You ever need anything, you know where I am,” Paul called out after him.
“Yeah,” Tom said. I’ll know where you’ll be, an eternity away. He was leaving Paul to this life of pain, and it made him sad. At the door, he paused, noxious fumes from some undetermined location assaulting his nose. No one noticed anymore. He turned, waved, then walked out onto the busy street toward Karstens’ waiting car.
At the Institute, Tom was loaded with equipment and given an hour’s instruction on how to use them, then another hour on what to expect and how to survive. No one actually believed that he would succeed, but if determination alone was a survival quality, then he might. Maybe.
The following day, the Institute was to be commandeered by the new man. A government physicist whose strong suit had been nuclear weapons. He would be arriving at precisely 3:00 PM, at which time Karstens would make his speech, then step down as head of the Institute. Of course, there were other plans, and plans within plans. A very tangled web. Seven o’ clock in the morning, then, was set for launching, Nineteen hours from now, Karstens thought as he looked at his watch. It was fantastic how many people were in on the subterfuge. What were the chances that all of them could keep such a secret quiet for nineteen hours? Karstens took half a handful of antacids. We’ll see.
The plan was to all but trip the access to Q power until the last minute. A single button strike would send terawatts of energy streaming their way at lightning speed. A moment later, a government specialist would notice the drain, but by then it would be too late. In the meantime, Nameless would keep the Blacksuits at bay. There was no telling how many of them were in on his conspiracy. Cameras were loaded with concocted video. Audio recorders with fabricated sound. It would serve as cover, at least until someone discovered that it was a loop.
After everything went dark, Karstens would be rushed to a secret bunker, and there kept safe until the shooting stopped. Just a matter of days, Nameless suggested. The plan seemed hasty, rushed, but it was all he had. It would have to do.
That evening, nine hours before launch, Tom and Karstens had time for a last meal together. They ate it in a small, private restaurant a little ways from the Institute grounds. The place was meant for entertaining important people. As such, it was more luxurious. It seems to be rote with Karstens, this discussing of business over food, Tom thought. Tonight, though, didn’t feel like business. It felt like a send-off. Tom’s last meal in human society. It frightened him. No more civilization. It would be Karstens’ last such meal, too, though he said nothing of it. They ate in silence for a while, big, heaping meals. Tom wondered where it was all coming from. And wine, though not too much for Tom. The attendants seemed subdued. Were they in on it too? Tom worried that someone would spill the beans, imagined at the last moment a horde of police running in and arresting everyone. He couldn’t wait to get it over with. His leg shook with nervousness.
“Easy, my friend. Don’t worry,” Karstens said.
“Where have I heard that before?” Tom countered. Karstens looked at him, then down again without replying.
“I’m sorry, Bob,” Tom said, feeling guilty. “You’ve been a good ally through all this. Heaven knows, without you, I’d have no chance of finding her.”
“Without me, you’d still have her,” Karstens corrected. Silence. Then, “Again, I am so sorry this all turned out as it has. I wish I could do more.”
“You did all you could. That’s all anyone can ask,” Tom replied. “And you saved my life.”
Have I? Karstens thought.
“There is a chance that, at some point, we can bring you back, you and Julie. I just don’t know when. It’s all very mercurial right now. If you can stay alive and in the vicinity of the Strong Box, and if we can launch again, we’ll look for you.” Tom thought about that. It added a new component. Come back. Come back to ... what? Then he thought, Yes, we’ll have to, this is our world, Julie’s and mine, not some tangled, prehistoric jungle. Civilization. Hostile it might be, but it was all he knew. Besides, then they’d be set. No more worries. It gave him hope.
“Thank you,” Tom said.
“This is going to be the last time I see you. So I want to wish you luck.”
“What? Why?” Tom asked. “You’re not going to be at the launching?”
“I’m being sequestered tonight. Got to go with a new group for a while. Least until things settle down. So you’ll be on your own, so to speak.”
“I can handle it,” Tom said.
“Yes, I know you can,” Karstens paused, took another gulp of his drink, whiskey. “Tom, I’ll tell you what I told Julie, though she already knew it. This is not going to be easy. You’re going to have a whole world to yourself. Well, you, Julie, and Dietrich. To a lot of people, that’d be a dream come true.” Tom knew that he meant himself. “I want to show you something.” Karstens took a small viewer from his vest pocket and opened it, showing Tom the same video he’d shown Julie.
“My God! Is that it?” Tom asked incredulously.
“That’s it. That’s where you’re going,” Karstens answered wistfully. “Doesn’t look too bad, does it? If you can survive, not just Dietrich, but everything else, you might like it. But it’s going to take a revolution in the way you think. Nothing is going to be recognizable to our world. Nothing normal. Nothing you’re used to. It looks exquisite, but don’t be fooled, you’re going to have to get tough real fast. There are no rehearsals. My advice: treasure it, go with it, love it — but never lose respect for it. Ever. Be careful and don’t take any unnecessary risks. Can you do that?”
“I have no choice. I’ll do my best,” Tom replied, shaken by the images on the screen. Karstens nodded.
“I can’t believe we messed that up,” Tom said.
“Well, in all fairness, this was before our time. The world Homo sapiens inherited was cold and icy. Maybe that’s why we developed such an adversarial relationship. After that, though, after the thaw, it wasn’t much different.”
He closed the little viewer. Turned it around in his hand. Sleek, glossy, compact. Able to do all kinds of wonderful things. “Do you mind a little philosophy, Tom?”
“Go right ahead,” Tom replied, unsure what to expect.
“Some people believe in the story of the Garden of Eden. That Adam sinned and was kicked out because of that. But that’s wrong. We were never forced from the garden. No, we left voluntarily. You see, somewhere in our remote past, we made a choice, an exchange. That world of uncertainties, primitive fears - and unimaginable beauty, we traded for lives of security and comfort. That tree of lore. And here’s the apple,” he said holding the little device out for Tom to see. “Convenience. Security. Predictability. But with the gain in knowledge, we sacrificed something deep in our souls, a vital part of ourselves. It's something we've tried, futilely, ever since to regain. I’d trade it all back in a heartbeat.”
Karstens continued, “Instead of respecting the earth, instead of cherishing it, we treated it like a big supermarket from which we could just rip whatever we needed, whenever we needed it, without regard for the consequences to other species, our future, or the biosphere as a whole. All the world’s resources on a one-way trip to the dump. Meanwhile, we longed for an imaginary paradise, an invisible pie-in-the-sky. How ungrateful.
“In our arrogance, we overestimated the resiliency of the earth and underestimated our ability to impact it. When you look at the biosphere from space, the actual size of it, you can see that it’s really quite thin, comparable in thickness to the skin on an apple! Yet, within that razor-thin space, we’ve heaped indignity upon indignity, using our ingenuity to destroy. Everyone vying to see who can be the biggest, most insensitive asshole.”
Karstens paused here, took a d
rink, then said, “I should qualify that. While there’s plenty of blame to go around, it’s not the average Joe and Jane who are the culprits, in my estimation. They didn’t ask for this. Most were just trying to survive and feed their families. No, it’s those in power, corporate and political, who conspired to deceive, to maintain the status quo, just so they could keep their gravy trains running as long as possible, who I hold responsible.” Another sip. “In any case, here we are.
“There’s a wise old Italian saying,” Karstens added, “‘Feather by feather, the goose is plucked.’”
A shaft of light, red in hue, flared out, reflecting a small overhead lamp. Then a brilliant blue, followed by green, then yellow, orange and violet. Tom looked down to his right. It was coming from his open jacket pocket. Karstens looked at him oddly. Tom reached in and withdrew the color rock. He set it on the table between them. It flashed in a moving rhythm of color that danced around the room. Karstens eyes went wide.
“Any idea what that is?” Tom asked, picking it up and handing it to him.
“An opal, but unlike any opal I’ve ever seen!” Karstens looked at it closely. It seemed to be dimensionless, to take one into itself. Drawing the soul. Benevolent. “The play of color is magnificent! Where did you get it?”
“I found it. In Nevada,” Tom answered, himself in awe over the light show the opal was delivering.
“Nevada. Nevada.” Karstens thought. Then he stuck a finger in the air, “Ah, was that in the Virgin Valley?”
“Yes, how did you know?” Tom asked.
“Well, apart from my day job, I’m a bit of a rock collector.” He turned the stone over and over in his hand. “Wow.” Pausing, he added, “Are you aware that the opals from the Virgin Valley began their formation in the middle Miocene? As I remember, at the time it was a large hill-locked lake. When surrounding trees died, many accumulated within. Then volcanic ash covered them. Hot water seeped through the ash layers to the trees, slowly replacing the wood with biogenic silica. The result was opals.”
“I didn’t know that,” Tom replied.
“The middle Miocene. Kind of a coincidence don’t you think? I don’t really believe in coincidences, though.”
“So what are you saying?”
“Not sure, except that, maybe you were meant to have this.” He handed the opal back to Tom.
“Why?” Tom asked.
“A charm, perhaps.”
“What, like one of those old rabbit’s feet?”
“I know; it’s nonsense. Still, there’s something about this one that seems, well, different.” They both stared at the precious stone a while longer. Finally, Karstens pulled his eyes away and looked at his watch.
“Look at the time; it’s eleven! Man, I’ve kept you too long. You’re going to need sleep. You’ve got a journey ahead of you.”
Tom re-pocketed the gemstone. Fear crept back into his veins. “Can I ask you a last favor?”
“Anything.”
Tom pulled a small folded sheet of paper from a shirt pocket and slid it to Karstens. “This is a list of the people who have been there for us over the years. Our friends. Good people. If we don’t come back, could you please give our earnings and possessions to them? It’s the least we can do.”
“You got it,” Karstens agreed. He took the small square, stood, and reached out his hand. Tom took it.
“Good luck to you, my friend. Give my regards to Julie.” He forced a smile.
Tom, his voice trembling, said, “I will.”
With that, Karstens turned and walked out of the side door, Tom out the front. Both to an uncertain fate.
Strapped tightly in the Strong Box, Tom felt wide awake. He’d been offered the same relaxant given Julie and Dietrich, but declined, wanting to be at his peak should the Neanderthal be waiting for him. Though he was assured that the box could only be opened from the inside, he wasn’t taking any chances. Next to him, under a tie-down, was a gun. If Dietrich planned to kill him, it wouldn’t be without a fight.
Holding the opal in his hand, he said a sad goodbye to the world of man, the only world he’d ever known, and to the brave men and women at the Institute, all risking their lives just to help right one wrong. A last, symbolic act.
Voices calmly spoke commands. Gave stats.
Tom’s heart raced. He tried to compose himself. Just then, Karstens’ voice came over the speaker.
“How’s it going, my friend?” he asked. Tom jumped.
“Bob? I though you were...”
“I’m not at the Institute. I’m speaking to you from a remote location. But they allowed me this moment.” A sudden deep rumbling as the accelerator was switched on. A vibration. It unnerved him. He swallowed.
“How long did you say this will take?” Tom asked.
“No knowing, though we think it shouldn’t be long, something like four to five minutes. Transport in time at the speed of light. There’s a lot of people who wish they were in your shoes right now. Science and all. You know, discovery.”
Then the countdown. The box began to shake. Decibels rising. Suddenly, there was a different sound. Shouting. Someone screaming orders.
“STOP!” A sound of crashing and fighting. “STOP HIM!” Then a loud staccato report, like gunfire.
“Thomas Pine, we salute you!” Karstens yelled out.
“Three. Two. One.”
“GOOD LU...” His voice disappeared.
A sudden jolting, violent explosion, then a feeling of accelerating, of rushing. Tom slammed his eyes shut. Fast! Incredibly fast! Horribly fast! Faster than anyone had ever gone before! Time, he knew at once, has two states: “solid” and “liquid.” Like energy. He had stepped off the solid, stable like the earth, and into the liquid, ever in motion, like the sea. The opal began to glow, sending out rays of color. A pressure, crushing pressure on every cell of his being. He felt himself screaming. Odd, that sound, as if coming from outside himself, as though from someone else. Pulling, pulling, stretching him, like taffy, into infinity. Surely he would be torn apart. But somehow the opal was protecting him, his undrugged mind. He didn’t know how, he just knew. Still, even with that, the box around him seemed to be shaking to pieces. How could it withstand this terrible shuddering? Horrified, he kept his eyes squeezed tightly closed against his imminent destruction. Julie and Dietrich must be dead. No one could survive this. Yet, still he accelerated, and his thoughts became elastic, whisper thin. Gossamer. The dull thundering of the launching rose to a shrill pinpoint of sound, then disappeared, as did Tom.
Chapter 12
Stillness. Quiet. Nothing moved. Tom, eyes closed, head lolled to one side, was motionless. The opal, still in his hand, had returned to its normal gleam. But his hand relaxed and the gemstone threatened to fall. To the edge of his fingers it rolled.
And he awoke. Caught it. Picked up his arm. So weak. Looked at the stone vacantly. Beautiful. He loved it. He stayed there, just staring at it. Babe in a new world. The stone seemingly looking back at him. Finally, he put it in his pocket. He looked around without comprehension. Except for a small white light over his head, everything was dark. Made darker by the light. Shadows. Then, barely cutting through the darkness, he noticed some other lights, small, flickering. Greens, reds and yellows. What were they? What did it mean?
His head slumped back in the rest and he drowsed, slept. Then, slowly, a thought began to impress itself upon his unconscious mind. Like a mosquito it was, tiny, but persistent. Wake up. Get out. He swatted at it. Shooed it away, but it only grew stronger. Eventually, he opened his eyes again. Harder to breathe. The light above his head seemed dimmer. Except for one tiny, pulsing red light, the others had all gone out. It was dark. The air thick with his breathing. Oxygen diluted with carbon dioxide. He needed to do something. But what?
An image began to form in his mind. Someone, calling him. Calling his name. He looked at her.
Julie. He awoke, his lethargy fading. Julie. A pause, then Tom sat bolt up. JULIE! Now he remembered. It
all came back. He had time traveled! “Holy ...” He’d made it! He was here! He looked around, but all was blackness. The air was thick. A feeling of claustrophobia came over him. He was in the Strong Box. Had to get out. But how, where was the door? The control lights were faint now. Panic overtook him. He strained to see, trying to remember. Feeling for the release, he unstrapped himself and jumped up. Crap, he couldn’t remember where the door was or how to open it! Feeling his way, he stepped to the wall and fumbled about, barely able to see. Switches. Lights that had died. He walked completely around the inside of the box, but nothing felt like a door. Fear grabbed at his chest. To come all this way only to die because he can’t find the exit. He ran around the inside, pounding, clawing like a caged animal. NO!
Then, gasping, he remembered something his father once told him when he was a boy. Don’t stop thinking. When people are afraid, they stop thinking. Willing himself to calm down, he looked up at the last tiny light, reached for it. It was movable. He pointed it at a wall of the box. Nothing but wall. At another. Instrumentation. At the third. An outline of something in the wall. A prominence. The door! He ran for it and felt for the button in the middle of that prominence, pushed it. Nothing. No power. As if the ages had drained it away. Oh, God.
Wait! He remembered that he’d been shown a manual release, just in case. It was to the left of the door. A big lever. Grabbing for it, he held it and began to pull up. Stuck, it wouldn’t budge. Had it been damaged in the transport and now hopelessly jammed? Bending low and placing both hands and a shoulder under it, he heaved upward, straining, growling, then, slowly, began to rise. There came a sound of metal groaning and Tom feared that the handle would snap. Still, up he went, holding his breath, then bellowing, while gradually straightening himself. Hope shot through him as the lever rose. Then, suddenly it was up and the door creaked open, but just a bit. Light shone in, a long shaft that fell on him, as did a warm breath of air.