Not that it would matter one iota if the sensational news of the contents of this segment of the Great and Lesser Libraries got out, in which case it would likely be the end of all his kind.
What Faux Sarmiento had stolen was devastating to the Collective if read, understood and believed, but even so the game wasn’t over yet. Chances were that this “Alan Sarmiento” had not read any of the materials yet; that was almost certain. Translations would take an immense amount of time given the sheer volume and complexity of the ancient and arcane languages and rare dialects involved. And the likelihood was that nobody could crack the complex written “Common Tongue” of his forbears.
Over a thousand years ago, although nobody was quite certain when or where, the People, or Gens as they called themselves, had decided to use a new language for its communications. Their new written “common tongue” would be modeled after other complex and expired languages, seemingly making translation difficult and keeping their many secrets safe. But that was then, and this is now, he thought, as the advent of computers and specialized software could likely break this or any other “code” quickly. Then all their secrets would be laid bare for all to know. This was an existential threat, and Enzo was chilled at the thought that this could indeed, one day soon, come to pass.
Of course, even when translated, the history of his people would read like a fictional account of a non- existent race. The one hope to which he and his brother clung was that, even fully exposed, nobody in their right mind would likely believe any of the fantastic nonsense that their written history would reveal. It was far more believable that space aliens lived among us than the Gens of the Collective.
In times past, when the scientific method and rationality were less the norm, his people would simply have been rounded up and put to death en masse as abominations of nature. Today, most Gens still believed that it was no different today. Except that without scientific proof, the Gens were like Bigfoot – a scary tale for campfire monster stories. Cryptids like the chupa cabra, the Yeti and “nessie”.
If ever confirmed, the peoples of the world would certainly unite against them as a perceived threat to the natural order commanded by God Almighty in the Torah, Bible and Koran. Then they would identify, round up, and eventually kill every member of the Gens species.
Then, when humanity was finished with the Gens Collective, they would turn their blood lust back on each other.
Business as usual for the species homo sapiens.
Chapter 9
He had noticed her in the lobby standing next to another attractive girl and speaking to a reasonably tall, but somewhat unremarkable man with longish brown hair, geek framed glasses and a slightly unkempt appearance. He couldn’t take his eyes off her but didn’t want to appear to be a creepy stalker. He wanted to meet her but wasn’t quite sure how.
She was tall for a woman, maybe 5’10”, intense and athletic looking. She had white blond hair, very Nordic looking, with Swedish blue eyes, maybe bordering on a dash of light grey. She wore little makeup, if any at all, and had a scrubbed clean fresh look that reminded him of another girl he knew back home. She too was uniquely beautiful, smart and tough, yet feminine and only occasionally vulnerable. She was someone to be reckoned with and taken very, very seriously.
The woman gazed intently at the man in their three-part conversation and he hoped that the man’s interest was in the other shorter attractive woman, who carefully followed every word the guy had to say. As the doors to the auditorium opened, he waited for her to find a seat. When her female companion got up to continue talking to the tallish man a few rows away, he found his courage. He was less than accomplished at meeting women; he would just dive in and hope for the best.
“Is anyone sitting there?” the guy said, pointing to the aisle seat at the back of the auditorium. He looked like any other geeky freshman who had showed up late for another boring lecture. She barely glanced at him but indifferently motioned that the seat was open.
“You come here often?” he continued, a slight smile crossing his lips. He settled himself in the seat and leaned his head towards her, expecting a curt response to his somewhat cheesy line.
“Really? Is that your ‘A’ game?” She didn’t even glance up and the tone of her question was far more derision than query. The pretty girl busily texted someone and couldn’t even be bothered to look over at the guy now comfortably seated next to her. She had heard every conceivable line, she thought, and was practiced at ignoring unwanted attention from men.
“No, I was just curious if you knew anything about the guy who’s speaking today. I hear he’s a real up-and-comer in archeology circles.” He seemed friendly but not really her type.
“Nope, can’t say I know anything about him. I have zero interest in this lecture today, and, well, that’s about all I really know.” She was pleasant, even if her manner seemed less so.
“So why are you here then?” He seemed engaging and harmless enough, so she answered him.
“See that girl over there?” She pointed to the other girl, now a few rows away, chatting up the guy who now seemed more interested in the empty stage than his conversation with her. She was cute and curvy, and if there was a “parity scale” of good looks, he was way out of his league. “Well, she’s my roommate, Allie, and that’s the guy she’s been trying to hook up with for the past couple of months. She asked me to come with her to this yawner lecture, so it didn’t look like she was trying desperately to run in to him here today. You know, by ‘accident’.” She glanced over at her new seat mate, wondering why she was explaining any of this to him.
“But she is, isn’t she?” he asked. “Trying to run into him, I mean. Right?”
“Yeah. Of course, she is. The guy she likes, Bill, wants to meet the guy who’s speaking today, and he thinks this may be his only chance. Not sure why he doesn’t just email him but there you have it. After the lecture there’ll be some small talk with the Department Chair, then everyone goes out for beer and Bill thinks he can corner this guy. Not sure why. Something to do with computers and algorithms and artificial intelligence, I think. Not my field.”
“So, Bill wants to meet this guy speaking today and your friend Allie wants to go out with Bill. Complicated.”
“And, I’ll bet you a nickel that Allie bags her boy by this weekend. She always gets her way.”
“Well, keep your nickel, ‘cause if I looked like him, he’d be crazy not to. You ladies have no idea what power you hold over the male of the species. If they were on the Serengeti and he was a male lion, she’d probably go for a guy like the one over there.”
The girl smiled and looked over in the direction of a tall grad student, dressed in khaki’s and a blazer. Very preppie and very serious looking.
“You don’t have a clue about women, do you? She isn’t planning her wedding.”
He seemed amused by that thought, and appreciative of her wit, but didn’t say much more.
She broke the silence, “So what are you going here?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Are you a student here?” She was beginning to think he was a bit of a dullard.
“No. I just dropped in for the lecture.”
“From where?”
“I live up in BC, on Vancouver Island. Small town called Barrows Bay. I was invited, so I thought I’d come down and have a look. I know a couple of people here at the University. Sounded like fun.”
“So, you work up in ... Barrows Bay? Never heard of it.” She thought if this was his idea of fun, there must not be a lot to do in Barrows fucking Bay.
“Kinda. I work with my brother and my Dad, but mostly I do little projects now for different folks. Keeps me busy and I like the quiet.”
“So, you’re not a student then?” Great she thought, a high school grad.
“No, not anymore. I’m pretty much finished up with school now, so it’s off to the real world I go.”
“What do you do in
Barrows Bay, if I can be so nosey?” She was thinking fast food, maybe restaurant work. He had a nice smile but still he didn’t seem all that bright.
“Computer work. Mostly theoretical but some practical stuff.”
She looked at him and was just about to call his complete and utter bullshit when a smattering of applause erupted just as an older man took the stage.
“Hello everyone, for those who don’t know me, my name is Dr. Abraham Horowitz, and I’m the Chair of the Department of Anthropology here at the U. Today we have a very special guest and I know that those of you who study archeology, or have any interest in the subject, have all read about this young man who has accomplished so much in such a short period of time.”
The pretty girl was beginning to feel her eyes roll back into a part of her head normally reserved for the loci of pain from attending just this kind of lecture. She began to plan her escape, probably when the lights dimmed for the speaker.
Her new friend leaned over and asked, “Are you staying? Looks like you’re getting ready to bolt.”
“Oh, I am. As soon as the nerdy guy gets on stage. Allie is now officially on her freakin’ own. Done my job, now it’s time for some serious relaxation. It was nice meeting you though. Enjoy the lecture.”
“Now, for those of you who are not familiar with our guest speaker, he graduated from high school at the age of twelve, from Cal Tech with a BA in Infotech at age fourteen and received his Master’s in Applied Technology from Cal Tech at age sixteen. I hear he just wrapped up his doctorate late last year, but I’ll have to ask him more about that when we welcome him on stage.”
The guy leaned over to the girl and asked, “If I can introduce Bill and your friend Allie to this nerdy guy, would you have dinner with me tomorrow night? Somewhere nice?”
“Probably not, but just how do you think you’re going to arrange that for them?” she said, her head motioning over in the direction of Bill and Allie.
“Because I know him. The geek. In fact, we’re pretty close friends.”
“You know this prodigy guy, do you? Sounds a little made up to me. Nice try though. Very creative.”
“No seriously, I know him. This is one of those win-win-win, you know you win a thousand times kinda deal.”
“Now please give a warm welcome and nice round of applause for today’s speaker, Mr. Adam St. James. Adam, where are you? Please come down.”
The nerdy guy stood up as if he were about to leave, then turned to the stage and shouted, “On my way, Abe. Just trying to get a date. Give me a sec.” He turned back to the girl, and said, “So, how about it?”
She was as surprised as anyone there, conscious that the lights were now shining on them and that everyone had turned to get a better look. “You’re him?” pointing to the program she was handed coming in. “You’re this Adam St. James guy?”
“Yes I am. But, please, don’t embarrass me. I wish you would just say yes.”
“Yeah, sure ... I mean yes, of course. Now go. Go! Everyone’s staring.”
He started down the aisle, and suddenly stopped and turned back. “I’m sorry, I was distracted and forgot to ask. What’s your name?”
“Hannah; my name is Hannah Parker.”
Chapter 10
“Hello”. Hannah’s soft voice sounded distracted as if she were reading something important and only answered the phone because it rang and was within reach.
“Hannah, its Adam. You’re still up, I see.” He tried to sound confident and nonchalant, as if their last conversation had been about how dinner was last night. Nothing wrong here, nothing to discuss, just normal chit chat.
This was the problem, of course. Too much forgetfulness and willful ignorance of promises made. Too many instances of ‘I’m sorry’, ‘I forgot’ and ‘I promise it’ll never happen again’. Adam was impeccably faithful to Hannah but maddeningly unreliable with his time and attention to her.
Only two weeks earlier, Hannah had called Adam to remind him that he had promised to be with her in Seattle for her parent’s 30th wedding anniversary, this Sunday past. She had carefully explained that, as her boyfriend of many years, he needed to show some real interest in her life, her family and her priorities. This was important to her and she knew how much her parents really loved Adam. They had already begun to count the grandchildren, she thought, and baby names could only just be around the corner.
But her parents weren’t dating Adam; Hannah was.
“Yes ... Adam.” She exhaled slowly, and not in a good way. “What do you want?”
“Just hear me ...” She cut him off, in the direct and forceful way that was Hannah. A sweet, sensitive girl in many ways, but tough inside. When her mood changed abruptly, as it could, she was formidable. Adam recognized that tone immediately.
“Yeah, yeah I know. You’re sorry you forgot, you were traveling, you were handling an emergency, you were saving the whole fucking planet. Blah, blah, blah. Now, what do you want, Adam? A simple question.”
“I want to see you. Tonight. That’s what I want.” His voice was not hopeful. Silence on the line, seconds passing like hours. “Please, Hannah,” he finally said. “I got tied up in Tucson and couldn’t get away. I’m so sorry; I really am.”
“And you forgot your cell or maybe you broke both of your hands and couldn’t dial the fucking phone. Or maybe you were hospitalized and in a fucking coma and you just made a miraculous recovery. What’s the stupid excuse this time?”
Adam had heard this version of Hannah before. He didn’t enjoy this Hannah, version three point pissed off. He preferred Hannah 1.0, the version in which she still loved him.
“I said I was sorry for missing dinner. I know I promised. But if you’d let me explain, I don’t think you’ll be anywhere near as mad at me. Please, it’s not like we can’t have dinner another night.”
“Dinner with Mom and Dad. That’s all we missed?”
“Wasn’t it?”
Silence.
“OK, Audrey’s in an hour. You’ve got five minutes with me, then I leave.”
“Why don’t you pick me up and we can talk on the way over to your place? I’m at the airport.”
“Do you need a ride, or do you want to talk?” she said. “I’m not your fucking car service and there is zero chance you’re staying here with me tonight. My offer is Audrey’s in an hour ... now 57 minutes. Take it or leave it.”
Adam hoped this wasn’t the real Hannah, his Hannah, but it sure sounded like her. This was “unhappy Hannah”, the kind of unhappy that is cold, unforgiving and distant. He couldn’t detect whether this was “I’ve moved on from you” Hannah, but he had to find out right away just how badly he’d screwed up this time.
A kind of emotional panic set in. The thought of losing his girlfriend over a silly dinner party was crazy. Hannah knew how much he loved her. Didn’t she? He was sure he had told her – at some point. But there were so many more times when Adam simply didn’t understand what Hannah wanted.
From him.
Hannah was a virtual carbon copy of her Mom in almost every respect. Allison Andrews Parker, “Ali”, was smart, driven and successful and a fully engaged part of her Pacific Northwest world. She loved sports, the outdoors, her husband, her dogs but most of all, her daughter. Her heart was immense and when she met Adam, she couldn’t have been more delighted for her Hannah. Ali knew immediately that her daughter was in love, smitten, but could clearly see the outlines of the heartache to come. Adam was a good kid; a smart kid and he had a kind and generous heart. But there was damage inside, she thought, and she could not gauge what that meant for her child. She held out hope but kept her emotional distance. If their relationship was going to work out, they would have to find their own way.
“Hannah ...” he began.
“56,” was all she said, then hung up.
Hannah didn’t meet Adam that night. Adam hustled up his luggage at SeaTac, then caught a cab for the local bistro they
both enjoyed in downtown Seattle. When he arrived, she wasn’t there. So, he waited.
After an hour or so, the bartender walked over to his table and asked if he was Adam St. James. Nodding yes, the bartender said that a woman named Hannah Parker had just called to say she couldn’t make it and she was sorry. So very sorry. Maybe another time; she’d call him if she had any available time.
“Shit,” was all Adam had to say. He gathered up his luggage and headed for the taxi stand not relishing the short drive back to SeaTac. “Shit, shit, shit” were the only thoughts in his mind, as the finality of the exchange with Hannah began to sink in.
He could hear his brother Rod saying, as he had a hundred times before, “You fucked up bro, you better make it right. If Hannah’s the one, you had best figure it out. And quick.”
Adam didn’t really understand what ‘making it right’ meant in the context of human relations but as the gloom settled over his heart and mind, he was sure that he could figure this all out if he only knew how. Adam was rarely obsessive, but this was different. He decided that if this was his punishment, he could bear it. Hannah would change her mind, forgive him and then love him again as she had dozens of times before. He just needed a new plan – one to figure out what he needed to do. He drew a blank, a big blank, then tried to put it out of his mind.
Adam felt crushed, confused and sad, all at the same time. He loved Hannah; wasn’t that enough? Surely, she knew that. Didn’t she?
He spoke to the cabby and asked him to turn around and take him downtown to the toney Inn at Wharf 88. He was going to fix this, starting first thing in the morning. He would visit with Hannah’s Mom and Dad first, if he could, then decide on a “Hannah” plan of action. He vowed to himself that he would see her and not take ‘no’ for an answer. And that would be that.
Discovery Page 6