The Adventures of Tremain & Christopher BoxSet

by Terry Marchion

  Maybe.

  His eyes bright with excitement, he made a few coordinate calculations, flexed his fingers and then paused, hovering just over his keyboard.

  What should he say? What should the first words be - uttered out of the blue, hundreds of years after the colony ship Mayflower left the bounds of Earth? What could he say to speak to history, to this momentous occasion?

  He shrugged, typing out the word:

  Hello!

  The transmitter made a fleeting, whining sound as it cycled and sent the message. He waited, hands clasped, his unblinking eyes only inches away from the screen.

  Nothing.

  Well, maybe it should take a few minutes. Who knows if there’s anyone listening anyway? He stood up to pace again. Just as he moved away from the desk, there came another whirring from the transmitter. He scurried back to the computer.

  Hello . .?

  He barked out a quick triumphant laugh. His hands flew across the keyboard.

  With whom do I have the pleasure of typing?

  He hit the enter key with a flourish. He didn’t have long to wait for the reply.

  This is Eldon Woodring. Who is this?

  Well, now we’re getting somewhere. Mr Woodring must be someone important. That must be why that name sounded so familiar.

  Who I am isn’t the issue, really . . .

  Tremain’s cursor hovered as he mused how to best reveal the reality of the colony when another message popped up.

  Where are you, Australia? I’m either picking up a wild signal or someone is pranking me.

  Tremain erased his original message and typed:

  I am quite a bit farther away than Australia. I am not above a good prank, but I assure you, this isn’t one.

  He hit the enter key and his message shot away.

  Then you’re really from . . . out there?

  Tremain frowned. Did he not know about the Mayflower? Was it all forgotten?

  I’m not sure what you mean. Where do you think I am?

  Tremain’s frown, already growing, became deeper. Something began nagging at him. Eldon Woodring … red flags flashed in his mind.

  How do you know English?

  Now Tremain sat bolt upright. Alarm bells rang loud and clear. He riffled through the folders next to him until he came to one labelled “Mayflower”. It was chock full of information about the ship, including a transcript of a particular message.

  The message.

  The one that by its very existence became the catalyst for the Mayflower’s launch. He found the papers in question and quickly scanned from the top.

  Oh no.

  Each thread from the transcript was identical to the conversation he was currently having. No wonder the name seemed so familiar. He’d read it many times while scanning this transcript. Gulping hard, he heard the whine of a new message and knew immediately what the screen would read as the words appeared in front of him. He let out an involuntary groan.

  Hello? My radar dish is directed at deep space. Do you realize what this means?

  Tremain’s face lost all color. Oh Lords yes, he knew, but not in the way Mister Eldon Woodring was talking about. He typed in the next message. He had no choice.

  I am beginning to think I do. This may seem like an odd question, but what year is it?

  Tremain rubbed his face and groaned once more as the answer came quickly.

  What year? Why would you want to know that? It’s 2022. Is that important?

  It was important as it was the exact answer on the transcript. Tremain quickly typed in the reply:

  You truly wouldn’t understand if I tried to explain.

  He ran through the rest of the communication mechanically, not even paying attention any longer as each reply he received matched the transcript before him to the letter. As the last message was sent, he disconnected the cables from his tablet, sat back and sighed, his eyes wide with shock and realization.

  He hadn’t just made contact with Earth, he’d made first contact. History had chronicled what happened after.

  The transcript had been brought to the SETI institute where they analyzed the signal and where it had come from, using the newly coined Woodring data. After months, an announcement came, stating that the signal originated from a small cluster of stars in deep space, beyond the Orion Nebula. Using the latest large array deep space telescopes, they found a planet in orbit around one of those stars, one which at first blush, seemed to be habitable as it sat nicely within the goldilocks zone where water existed in a liquid state.

  A few years later, an even larger grouping of telescopes had launched with the defined purpose of obtaining a direct image of the newly discovered planet. The multiple images were digitally combined to reveal cloud patterns, continents and most importantly, the confirmation of liquid water. Spectrographic analysis of the light showed an oxygen rich atmosphere, but no signs of advanced, intelligent life. A referendum was announced. A ship would be sent.

  A manned ship.

  Many had argued for robotic exploration first, but the distance would mean no answers for hundreds of years. The firm decision was made and the Mayflower was commissioned.

  People from all over the globe applied for a berth as a colonist. The research into deep sleep hibernation was given a boost by many of the world’s governments, along with the added funds to research faster, more efficient propulsion systems.

  The Mayflower launched twenty-five years later. It was, at the time, the most ambitious project humanity had ever undertaken: to colonize another planet.

  Tremain glared at his monitor a few minutes longer, then shook himself and stood up. He tidied his pile of papers, burying the Mayflower folder and disconnecting all the cables from the transmitter.

  How . . . why do I get myself into these situations?

  If he hadn’t created the transmitter in the first place, he never would have tried to contact Earth, meaning the Message would never have been received and the colony ship would never have been launched. But the ship had been sent, meaning the message had to have been received in the first place, meaning this was all meant to be?

  Oh, my poor head hurts, he thought as he gathered his things and headed towards the lab exit. A sudden idea came to him as he locked the door.

  What else have I done or have not yet done that is going to come back to haunt me?

  The Purloined Pictograph

  Chapter 1

  “Isn't it exquisite?”

  The exclamation echoed through the atrium as Christopher walked in from the ever bustling lobby of the Hawking labs building. He half ran, one hand holding tightly to the straps of his backpack, the other grasping a purple and gold ribbon around his neck, at the end of which hung a gold medal.

  First place at the Science Fair!

  It was his favorite event every year with this year’s being his favorite of all, for obvious reasons. He strode over to where his uncle Tremain stood conversing with a short, rotund man, the source of the booming statement.

  Professor Hollis Perlmutter, Dean of Archeology at Capitol University, stood sweating in his tweed suit, a throwback to the good old days, he would say. An object perched delicately in his meaty palm. Tremain towered over the older man, his arms crossed, chin cradled in one hand as he studied the article held before him. He happened to glance over as Christopher approached them.

  "Christopher!" Tremain turned and gave his nephew a pat on the back. "You've come at a good time. Look what Hollis here has brought."

  Christopher squeezed himself between his uncle and the Professor, who wiped at his forehead with a well-used handkerchief, and caught his first look at the object of admiration.

  It was a shard of stone with symbols carved on its face, jagged all around, apparently having been broken from a larger piece. The symbols were very interesting in and of themselves. A part of a hand, followed by a vertical line, a swirl, and then a grouping of lines in a bursting pattern. Christopher thought it must be a flower of some sort.
/>
  Perlmutter was practically bouncing. His bushy eyebrows arched, his brown eyes were bright and ablaze with excitement. The man was almost vibrating. Christopher held back a giggle.

  "One of my graduate students found this." He exclaimed. "See how it appears to be from a larger carving? I can't wait to get the funding together to mount a full expedition!" He chuckled to himself. "Nothing like this has ever been found!" He produced the ever-present handkerchief and mopped his forehead. "We've looked, you know, always searching for some sign of the lost tribe, but we've never found anything before now.”

  The lost tribe, Tremain knew, was the term given to the group of people who had lived in the Earth-like habitat area of the Mayflower, the first and only colony ship to bring humanity to New Earth centuries ago. After an almost catastrophic accident, while hundreds of colonists slept in cryogenic chambers, some crew members made the decision to live in the habitat section.

  Over the course of generations, while the ship slowly made its way to its destination, they became a separate society unto themselves with their own customs and traditions, not even realizing they lived their lives onboard a space ship. A short time after planet-fall, they broke away from the main colony, choosing instead to continue living their own simple way, the modern technology and vastly different way-of-life being too much for them. The colony government, such as it was at the time, gave the newly dubbed Mayflower tribe every comfort they needed and let them go.

  They were never heard from again.

  Perlmutter shook the pictograph in front of them. "This is the first! The first!" He chuckled again, tucking the piece of stone into a clear, plastic container. He sealed it and placed it in his blazer pocket. "Young Jenkins was exploring some uncharted regions, too many of those for my tastes, you know. Digging for a subject for his thesis, no doubt." He gave a barking laugh at his own joke. "Found a veritable trove of artifacts. I can't wait to explore this!"

  He sang to himself as he left the atrium, heading for the lobby, his "Brum, brum bruuuum" in time with the bounce in his step which caused his considerable bulk to jiggle this way and that. Christopher laughed a little as he watched.

  "Be nice, Christopher." Tremain chided, none too sternly. "Hollis may be a bit anachronistic, but he is a good friend. And," he said, turning to the lab door, "is a brilliant man in his field." He took a sideways glance, noticing the new ornament hanging around Christopher's neck. "Hold on, is that a medal?" Tremain stopped, holding it in his hands. Christopher beamed.

  "Yup. Science fair. I won gold."

  Tremain gave the medal a playful yank.

  "Which one was it? You had a few ideas, if I remember correctly."

  "The quantum light bulb experiment." It was, to Christopher, the easiest to perform.

  He had set up a stand with a light switch attached to a battery for electric current. The switch was, in turn, connected to a circuit board. On the other side of the room stood another platform which held a similar circuit board, but with a light bulb affixed to it. He held a signal jammer which, once activated, eliminated the possibility for the bulb to be lit by any other means. No wi-fi, no electrical current, no radio waves, etc. The only way the bulb could get the current needed to light was by quantum linking, which the circuit boards conveniently were. One flick of the switch and the light bulb blazed as predicted.

  The judges were amazed. It was much more advanced than the baking soda and vinegar volcanoes, the Old Earth dinosaur terrariums, the make-your-own-tornado exhibit, or the bug or rock collections they were used to seeing. He won hands down. Tremain beamed.

  "Perfect. They were blown away, I'm sure." He opened the lab door to see one of the interns standing there, a small, dark haired girl of about twenty, staring out at the atrium. Her eyes focused on something only she could see. "Don't you have something better to do, Leesa?" The girl blinked, as if just noticing them and with an exclamation of surprise, hurried out of the lab. Tremain shook his head. "Can't find adequate help these days. I have to pull new students from the University. They're less than useful sometimes."

  Christopher set down his pack.

  "Uncle, That artifact Professor Perlmutter showed us. How could it have come from an uncharted region? Haven't we charted the entire planet?"

  Tremain sat down at his desk and kicked his feet out in front of him, lacing his hands behind his head.

  "Well, yes, using satellites, we have indeed mapped much of the planet." He thought for a moment. "But mapping and exploring are two different things. The gross shapes are mapped; major bodies of water, landmasses, etc, but actually getting down into the nitty-gritty of the areas, that just hasn't been done on a grand scale yet. Until Hollis and his group of graduate students, that is." He chuckled to himself. "I haven't seen him this excited since he first wore that tweed suit." They laughed at the thought. "But think about it, Christopher, it's been many, many years since those people left and practically vanished. They've almost become a myth. Finding some sort of sign of them at long last is a good thing. Maybe we can make contact with them once again, who knows what they’re like now?" He rubbed his face. "But now that pictograph was pretty interesting. It makes me wonder what the rest of the carving looks like." He stood and walked around a bit, stretching. "Not only that, but if Hollis is able to find it, piece it back together, will we be able to read it?" He gazed out into the distance. Christopher saw that his uncle's curiosity was piqued. He smiled to himself. Tremain was many things and voraciously curious was at the very top of that list. It made him not just a good scientist, but a great one. Christopher's gaze took in the room as his uncle sat lost in his thoughts.

  The lab exhibited the usual piles of equipment, the in-progress experiments and the clutter that seemed to always be there. Christopher noted the transmitter, one of his uncle's newest inventions, in one corner. They had given it the test run of all test runs a few months ago, and lived to tell the tale.

  Aside from a short, scary trip to literally the middle of nowhere, they had actually found themselves on the Colony ship Mayflower and had met members of the tribe living in the bowels of the ship. After they returned, Tremain made sure to install safety measures to ensure the machine could be used without fear from that point on. Christopher noticed there had been some physical improvements too. A casing of sorts now wrapped around parts of the platform. The cables that usually hung around and over the top were now tied back neatly. The whole thing looked more like a big box with a side missing. A box with translucent walls, that is.

  It looked cool.

  Next to it, on a workbench, was something new to him, it being a couple of days since he'd visited the lab. Walking over to the bench, he examined the objects that had attracted his attention.

  A collection of small silver blocks sat scattered over the work area, about an inch square on all sides, smooth and slightly slick to the touch. Christopher picked one up and shook it. It made no sound, it was solid. But it was so light, it practically floated.

  "I see you've found something I've been playing with." He turned to see Tremain, walking over to him, smiling.

  "Aren't we too old to play with blocks, uncle?" Christopher laughed.

  Unperturbed, Tremain pulled his tablet from his pocket. He unrolled it to its full size.

  "Those aren't just any old blocks. Watch." He tapped a few icons and the entire pile jiggled.

  Christopher jumped back as some of the blocks shifted, changed form and morphed into a small chair. The look on Christopher's face made Tremain laugh out loud.

  "What the heck are they?" Christopher asked, bewildered. Tremain twisted his fingers on his tablet and the pile changed again, becoming shaped more like a person. As the features resolved, Christopher could see it was a near duplicate of himself.

  "They're my latest invention of sorts. Quantum locked objects. I'll have to come up with a fancier name than that, but that's what they are. All it takes is a little current and they will form almost any shape I want them to, within reaso
n."

  Christopher tapped the figure before him. It was solid.

  "But . . . how?" He stared at the mannequin as he walked around it. "They were blocks before."

  Tremain nodded.

  "Yes. The default state is small blocks. That way I can see them. But you noticed how little mass they had? That's due to the amount of space between the actual nano particles. Don't want to lose them, now do I?" He reset the tablet and the mannequin became a pile of blocks once again. "They'll come in handy for some project or other, I'm sure. The beauty is they can be configured to almost any shape. I'm working on refining it so we can have walls made of the stuff. Can you imagine, a push of a button and you have a table and chairs. Or a couch. And,” he was warming to the subject, "If we can somehow incorporate the smart material with this, there will be no end to the possibilities." He sighed, his eyes bright with excitement.

  Christopher picked up another block. He had to admit it was a pretty cool invention. He had a hard time imagining what life would be like with it.

  "You should call them nano-blocks,” Christopher noted.

  "Nano-blocks." Tremain scratched his chin. "I think you may be onto something there. That's catchy." He walked over to a work bench and picked up a hand-held gadget. "I've also been working on something else. It might help Hollis in his expedition, but it's not quite ready yet." He tapped a few more icons on his tablet and handed it to Christopher. He pointed the face of the gadget at the wall. "Once I pull the little trigger here,” He tightened his grip, there was a click, "now look at the tablet."

  Christopher saw an image of the lab wall.

  "It's the wall of the lab."

  Tremain shook his head.