Majestic

by Unknown

  Willy shook his head. “No, probably best we conserve energy down here. Who knows how long we’ll need it for?”

  Helen shuddered at that comment. Willy wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “It might not be too long, dear. Don’t worry—we’re together, and for now we’re safe.”

  Willy turned to Wyatt. “In that vision you had, did you have any sense as to how soon?”

  Wyatt shook his head. “No definite time, Dad. Just a feeling that it was close, very close.”

  John stretched his legs out and rested his feet on the coffee table. “What do you think of this CERN plan, Wyatt?”

  “It’s crazy, John. Hard to fathom. But, when I think of how far society and science have come, maybe it’s not so crazy. Science seems to have cracked the ceiling over and over again with unbelievable innovations. We take them for granted—a lot of them we use every single day. But, we seldom try to understand how they work. When we do think about them, our brains just get scrambled.”

  He pointed at Willy. “And you saw my dad up there in the crypt—how he looked, what he did, how fast he healed from that gunshot. That’s right out of a science fiction movie—but, it’s real, that’s how he is. We know what caused it many decades ago. It happened to Allison’s dad, too, along with dozens of others. If those aliens are that far advanced, perhaps we’re more advanced than we know, too.”

  John nodded thoughtfully. Then, he whispered, “Very soon, this big ball we live on may transcend time and space. Back to 1963. Mindboggling.”

  “No, it won’t.”

  They all turned their heads at the sudden intrusion of a new voice.

  Allison stood at the entrance to the living room, arms hanging loosely at her side, one hand holding her cell phone.

  Wyatt rose from the couch. “What? What are you saying?”

  Allison let out a long sigh.

  “I’m sorry. The plan won’t work. CERN has completed their tests on the wormhole they have in quarantine. Don’t ask me to explain the science or the logic, because even I don’t understand it. But, in a nutshell, if the wormhole is set loose within the Earth’s crust and mantle, the planet will collapse within itself. It won’t transcend time; it will simply contract into a tiny ball of dense matter.”

  John poured himself another scotch. “Do you want one of these, Allison?”

  She walked over to the bar and grabbed a tall glass. “Yes, absolutely.”

  He poured and she took a long sip; then gasped as the warm burning liquid did its soothing deed.

  Wyatt wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Was it the cardinal who gave you this news?”

  “Yes, then I talked to a couple of the scientists at CERN as well. They’re frantic. They thought they had this figured out, but new tests and calculations told them it would be planetary suicide.”

  “Why didn’t they do these tests earlier?”

  “Wyatt, they thought they had more time. When these earthquakes began rolling around the Pacific Rim, panic set in. Everyone realized they had little time left. And, then, Gargantuan became strangely invisible. Even the Vatican’s Lucifer telescope couldn’t see it. The fact that it began cloaking itself told us that it was closer than we thought, and more imminent than we thought.

  “You and I deduced that ourselves when we saw Willy’s arrangement of the sculptures in his studio. He had the Earth, Sun, and Gargantuan arranged in a way that told us that Gargantuan had suddenly accelerated its pace along its own orbit. In essence, racing towards us. Then, your vision told us the calamity was coming. You couldn’t tell us when, but you were left with the feeling that there wasn’t much time left.”

  Wyatt looked over at Willy. “Yeah, Dad was doing those things without realizing why. I guess he was getting magnetic signals that became stronger the closer the thing got to us.”

  “Exactly. Anyway, after the quakes started rolling around the Pacific and Lucifer lost sight of Gargantuan, Cardinal Valenti ordered that the pace at CERN be sped up. They pulled out all the stops, realizing we didn’t have the luxury of time any longer. And, they concluded that it just wouldn’t work. The science isn’t solid.

  “The transcendence idea itself was solid and calculated down to the exact year and month, but the stability of the wormhole was the red herring. It turns out that it can’t be controlled through the Earth’s mass. In fact, once it’s no longer contained, the resistance of the planet’s mass will cause the wormhole to expand—at an astonishing rate.

  “If it just kept its size constant, it would have been okay. But, it won’t—it will expand and just keep on expanding until the Earth collapses. It’s the resistance of the Earth’s mass that the physicists hadn’t properly considered in their calculations. They made a huge mistake.”

  Senator Hartford leaned forward on the edge of the couch and drained his glass.

  “So, that’s it, then. We just wait down here and see what happens.”

  There was an eerie silence for a minute or two, as John’s ominous statement sunk in.

  Allison walked to the center of the room and faced them.

  “No, there is a Plan B. It’s a long shot, but, at least it’s a plan.”

  Wyatt looked into her beautiful blue eyes for a sign, searched for some of that famous confidence, the take-charge attitude he’d come to know and love.

  It wasn’t there.

  Her mesmerizing eyes were no longer mesmerizing.

  They were just worried, bloodshot, and blinking rapidly. Whatever this Plan B was, it clearly wasn’t something that was giving her any joy.

  “Tell us, Allison. Just spit it out.”

  She folded her arms across her chest and took a deep breath.

  “What I’m going to tell you is the only hope we have left to still do what we’d planned to do. Again, we want to go back to 1963, before Kennedy’s assassination, to convince him about the perils facing Earth in the future.

  “Convince him to begin preparations to build CERN decades sooner, and share with him the alien reverse engineering that is available to us today that wasn’t available back then. By using the hard drives on our laptops, we can provide enormous amounts of advanced scientific information that can enable that to happen.

  “We can also show him and his advisers videos of what life will look like in the future, the technological advancements that have been made. We’ll even be able to show him historical videos of himself, to help make the case that we are indeed from the future.

  “We’ll show him the Zapruder film. He’ll be able to watch himself being assassinated. And, the news reports—he’ll see Walter Cronkite crying on air as he announced his death. All of this will force him to take us seriously.”

  Senator Hartford, voice slightly slurred from the scotch, interrupted her.

  “All that’s fine and dandy, Allison. But, you just finished telling us we can’t go back. So, what’s the point?”

  She took another deep breath, an extra-long one this time. When she replied, Wyatt detected a slight choke in her voice.

  “That’s what Plan B is. A handful of us might be able to go back. A different concept than what was planned before. Instead of a transcendence of time and space for the planet itself, it will be actual time travel, just as we all think we understand the concept to be.”

  Wyatt clasped his hands behind his head. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Hear me out. The wormhole can’t traverse laterally through the Earth’s crust and mantle due to the resistance of the planet’s mass. But, it can be routed upwards, through the surface, and a short distance into the atmosphere. A few thousand feet. No resistance.

  “It’s been under quarantine, as you know. CERN has calculated the exact sequence and strength of proton bombardment, faster than the speed of light, that will be needed to propel the wormhole into sending an object back in time to the exact era we want—down to the month and year. It will be September, 1963—two months before the assassination.”

  Wyatt glanced ar
ound the room. Everyone’s expression looked exactly like his felt. Shocked. Puzzled.

  Allison continued. “I know this is hard to grasp, but we’re going to have to just trust the science. It’s possible. They’ve done it before, on a smaller scale—object transfer. And, it worked.

  “This time it will be a bit larger. An airplane. And, it will have to be at a specific height, at precise coordinates, directly over the CERN complex in Geneva at an exact moment in time. The wormhole will be released upwards through the surface of the Earth and timed to intersect with the plane. Both the plane and the wormhole have to be coordinated exactly. If they’re out of sync in any way, the opportunity will be missed. A one-time shot, because there’s only one wormhole in quarantine. It’s the only one we have.

  “There’s a huge risk. Just like that Germanwings jet that I told you about, Wyatt. That jet was sucked in to the side of a mountain by the enormous magnetic pull of the Large Hadron Collider at CERN, which was reactivated on that very day and time that the jet went down.

  “It was reported in the media as a suicide by the co-pilot, but that wasn’t the truth. There’s a chance that the LHC, which will be needed to propel the wormhole upward, could cause another magnetic disaster. This plane could crash into a mountain, instead of traveling back to 1963.”

  Senator Hartford stood. “This is just one plane you’re talking about. How does this affect us? We’re down here.”

  Allison cleared her throat.

  “The plane can’t be big. It has to be a certain size, like my Gulfstream. I’ve volunteered my plane.

  “The President and the Pope put out a call for volunteers amongst the few who know about all of this. No world leader wants to chance it and, naturally, with the risks involved, very few have the stomach for it. It’s kind of like volunteering for a one-way trip to Mars. Some wackos lined up for that Mars opportunity, but those aren’t the types we need, nor are they in the know on this. Very few are. You folks are in the know only because you know me.

  “Every world leader who knows about this is choosing to stay behind, to maintain order and coordinate a military response, if one is viable, against the inhabitants of Gargantuan. And, a defense may not be viable at all, if the kind of cataclysm that Wyatt saw in his remote viewing episode comes to pass. The aliens from Gargantuan will then simply come in to mop up after the carnage.

  “Of course, if we’re successful in going back and changing the future for the better, none of this is going to happen in the present.”

  Wyatt muttered. “For God’s sake. I’m getting a headache trying to process this.”

  Allison grimaced and nodded.

  “I understand, Wyatt. Let me finish, then we can discuss. I’ve volunteered my plane and myself as one of the guinea pigs. Cardinal Valenti will be accompanying me, as well as several brilliant scientists from CERN. Together, we’ll have a strong contingent of scientific knowledge and data. We need a politician as well—someone who knows his way around Washington, someone who will know the right things to say to get us through the doors of the White House.”

  She pointed at John. “Senator, I’m enlisting you. I’ve always thought of you as someone who could save America, so now’s a good opportunity for you to step up and do just that. There would be no greater accomplishment than this. Being president wouldn’t come close to the impact you’d make if we were successful with this…mission. You can decline, if you wish—I would understand, believe me. But, I hope you won’t.”

  Allison’s eyes passed slowly from Wyatt, to Willy, and then to Helen.

  “I want you to go with us, too. There’s just enough room on my plane for all of us. The alternative will be to stay here and take your chances. I hope you won’t. But, you know the risks of taking this flight—I’ve been totally honest about that.

  “We could get sucked into a mountainside, or this wormhole could go rogue and take us virtually anywhere. We’re hoping the science is right and that we’ll be back in 1963, but, let’s face it, this concept is bizarre and for the most part untested.

  “We could literally end up anywhere, at any historical point in time. I admit, it’s scary to think of.

  “We could even just vanish into a puff of cosmic vapour.”

  Chapter 54

  The bedroom was dark.

  Even with the light on, it was dark.

  The absence of windows had a powerful psychological effect. The drapes hanging on the wall pretending to cover a view that didn’t exist only fooled the mind for a few minutes.

  The darkness was a psychic one—claustrophobic, smothering.

  There was a way to escape to the great outdoors, but one had to climb a metal ladder embedded in granite rock in order to do it.

  There was no easy stroll out to the backyard or the front porch. You couldn’t just lean over the fence and wave at neighbors—or crack a smile while watching happy children bicycling along the sidewalk.

  Decisions used to be easy.

  What to eat for dinner, what time to get up in the morning, which newspapers to read. Choosing a video to watch in the evening. When the next party would be, and the theme. Who to invite.

  Inane little events like Helen’s next date at the beauty salon, which usually coincided with Willy’s appointment at the barber. They’d always planned simple things that way, so they’d have as much time as possible to spend together.

  Willy’s hair was always finished before Helen’s, of course, and he’d wander down to the salon and wait for her in the lounge. There were always magazines to read, albeit just fluffy, girly stuff, not the sports or car magazines that populated the rack at his barber’s.

  But, he never minded. Because he was waiting for her.

  The stylists always made a fuss over him. He had to admit he enjoyed that, while at the same time noticing Helen beaming with pride at her charming husband being the center of attention.

  The routines they took for granted.

  Until now.

  Going to church on Sundays, meeting the guys afterwards for coffee at the local café, trudging out to his studio to sculpt another masterpiece, traveling to Lake Louise in February of every year to compete in the annual Ice Magic festival.

  Many times he’d reflected that perhaps his life wasn’t so meaningful anymore, had lost its purpose. He’d never confessed those feelings to Helen, because she would have taken it personally. And, it never had anything to do with Helen at all, but she wouldn’t have understood. Willy rationalized that it was probably something everyone his age thought about. Looking back, taking stock, wondering what else…or more…they could have done.

  Was anyone ever satisfied? Was there really such a thing as contentment? Or, was that an illusion, too, just like all the other things he was now sadly aware of?

  The weather extremes were an illusion, because they weren’t just naturally occurring things like he’d always believed they were. The traumas the Earth had been experiencing were being caused by the powerful magnetics of an intruder—an intruder that probably wanted to confiscate the planet and everything on it.

  And, Gargantuan itself had been hidden for years by another illusion.

  Chemtrails.

  Those fake clouds that suddenly appeared out of nowhere, birthed from streams of chemicals from the nozzles of specially-equipped planes, and then insidiously spread into “clouds.” An illusion that no government official ever had to explain, because hardly anyone ever bothered to ask. And, if anyone had asked, they would have been lied to anyway.

  Illusory clouds whose primary purpose was to hide the approaching monster from outer space.

  Earthquakes rolling around the world, and volcanoes blowing their tops, weren’t being caused by normal Earth gyrations. They were being caused by the approach of Gargantuan. But, normal crisis preparedness still continued in the affected cities and towns, just as if the events were not out of the ordinary at all.

  Illusions.

  The CDC clinic down in Atlanta had been an ill
usion. It existed for one purpose only—to suppress the altered DNA of victims like Willy, and to cause them to rapidly age. To hide the effects of what had happened to them during their military service for their country.

  Majestic 12. Another illusion, designed to protect the naive public from knowing the truth. Created in 1947 by a president who considered himself a great man because he’d made the decision to annihilate 200,000 innocent Japanese citizens.

  The very first, and still only, leader in the world to have ever used nuclear bombs.

  His presidency was an illusion—it wasn’t a great legacy as the American people were led to believe. Just like Pearl Harbor was allowed to happen by his predecessor to anger Americans enough to draw the country into a war that Roosevelt wanted, Hiroshima and Nagasaki were unnecessary slaughters by Truman.

  To this day, very few Americans knew that the Japanese had offered surrender days before the bombs were dropped. But, with the Russians poised to invade Japan, America didn’t want them to have a foot in the door. The war had to appear to the world to have been ended by the U.S.A., not by their reluctant ally. The surrender was ignored. The attack was an illusion.

  Because, “to the victors go the spoils” and, decades later, the Americans still had their massive military stamp on the Far East solely because of the horrific weapons known as “Fat Man” and “Little Boy.” And the victors always got to write the history books.

  All illusions.

  Majestic 12 had ordered the deaths of dozens, if not hundreds, of influential people over the last sixty years to keep secrets hidden. Most of the deaths were disguised as accidents, of course, or death by natural causes.

  All illusions.

  CERN was an illusion.

  A massive multi-billion-dollar undertaking that had been presented to the world as just a giant physics experiment. When, in actual fact, it was designed for something entirely different. A noble pursuit, no doubt, but one that also attempted to play God.

  And, after all this time and money, its intended purpose—to cause the planet to transcend time and space—wouldn’t even work. All it might be capable of doing, was to send a small planeload of brave, desperate people back in time. They were Earth’s last hope.