EXOSKELETON II: Tympanum

by Shane Stadler

  Will pushed Denise’s wheelchair, and they lagged behind the rest of the group as they made the walk. When the others turned a corner ahead of them, Denise stopped the chair and stood, favoring the injured leg. She grabbed Will’s arm with one hand and the side of his neck with the other. She pulled his head down and kissed him on the lips.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” she said, looking into his eyes. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  They stared into each other’s eyes until a voice rang out.

  “Keep up,” Jonathan said, sticking his head around the corner.

  Will smiled as Denise settled back into her chair.

  “We’ll continue this later,” she said, blushing.

  “How long are you in that thing?”

  “I get rid of the chair tomorrow morning,” she said in a tone of defiance and with a serious look in her eye. “The wounds are small – only fragments – but they want to make sure I don’t start bleeding again. I can walk now if I need to.”

  Will laughed.

  “I can,” she said.

  “I know,” he responded, still chuckling. There would be no arguing with her.

  He rolled her around the corner and arrived at their destination a minute later.

  They entered the room, and Will took a seat opposite Captain Grimes, who sat at the head of the rectangular table. Denise, and then Jonathan, sat to his right, and Daniel and Sylvia to his left.

  Grimes started. “We need to get you up to speed quickly,” he said. “We’re going to rendezvous with the North Dakota in 30 minutes.”

  “The North Dakota?” Will asked.

  “A submarine,” Daniel added.

  Will nodded. He knew where this was going.

  “You’re aware of the beacon?” Grimes asked.

  “Aware,” Will replied. “That’s all.”

  “Then you know as much as we do,” Daniel said. “I could give you the full rundown, but I think we should go over what you are going to do.”

  “We’re under time pressure?” Will asked.

  “Yes,” Grimes said. “We just attacked the Chinese fleet. We might be going to war.” Grimes’ forehead crinkled, furrowing his brow. “We have taken a big gamble. The Chinese know we have you, and they know our next step. If they’re going to attack, it will be soon. We have to move.”

  Will was confused. Why take a risk for a complete unknown? “Up to this point, the beacon has only made noise,” he said, directing his words at Daniel and Sylvia in addition to Captain Grimes. “What are you not telling us?”

  Grimes shook his head and nodded to Daniel.

  “There’s not enough time,” Daniel said. “We’ve explained everything to Jonathan and Denise, and we’ll share it with you when you get back.”

  Will looked over to Denise and Jonathan.

  Denise grabbed his hand and looked into his eyes. “You have to trust us, Will.”

  Jonathan nodded in agreement.

  “Okay,” Will said and turned to Daniel. “What you want me to do?”

  12

  Wednesday, 10 June (7:13 p.m. EST)

  This was it, Will thought. He hoped that there was a purpose for all of it – the humiliation, loss, and pain he’d experienced in the past two years. And also for the people who had lost their lives along the way – including those he’d killed.

  It was his second time on a submarine. The first was during a visit to the Chicago Museum of Science and Industry as a kid. That one was a German U-boat. Based on what he’d seen of the North Dakota, modern submarines had come a long way.

  Captain McHenry arranged a private quarters for him and they were in position near the beacon within an hour. It was odd to him how people could act as if they knew what was happening, and how to proceed, even though they clearly did not. Maybe that was what leadership was about. He didn’t know what to expect, and he certainly didn’t know what to do. All he knew was that it was time.

  He separated and passed into a room of sailors staring at computer monitors. He then penetrated the hardened steel of the hull and emerged into cold darkness. Now in the water, the image of the submarine was clear in his perception even though there was no light. To the right, perhaps 1,000 yards off, was the silhouette of another.

  The depth of the head of the beacon was greater than any distance he’d separated before. On his way down, the cold currents seemed to flow through him, and he noticed how they changed direction as he approached the sphere. He examined the beacon’s surface; it was smooth, off-white, and flawless.

  Time was limited – he was already exhausted – so he had to push on. He pressed into the surface of the sphere but met strong resistance. It was as if he was still in a rigid state – the form that he assumed to interact with the physical world. He concentrated on assuming the non-interacting, softened state and tried again. It was as if he were pushing his way through a thick wall of stiff gelatin and getting stuck somewhere in the middle. He struggled through more than a meter and emerged in the interior of the sphere.

  It was empty – no water, but he sensed air. A soft white illumination soothed him and a sensation of comfort engulfed him. It was a feeling he’d never before experienced. It was as if his body, now a great distance away, no longer tugged on him. His “separation fatigue” was no longer worsening. He wondered if it was what death felt like and, just for an instant, worried that might actually be dead. The feeling was soon displaced by curiosity.

  The sphere was much larger than it seemed from the outside, perhaps the volume of a high school basketball gymnasium. A white pedestal extended vertically from the direction of the beacon’s stem and terminated at the center of the sphere. Although the contrast was subtle, the light inside the sphere seemed to focus on the end of the pedestal.

  He descended to the pedestal. It was of the same texture, and composed of the same material, as the shell of the beacon. Its top surface was flat, horizontal, and circular, with a diameter of about a meter. Mounted to a pivot at its center was a black lever, a half-meter in length, which resembled the hand of a clock. The lever was thick at the pivot, maybe four inches wide, but tapered to less than an inch at the end. The tip pointed to an open, black circle, about the size of a silver dollar. If the open circle were located at the ten o’clock position, then at the two-o’clock position was a solid black circle. A thin arc connected the two, suggesting the lever could be turned from the empty circle to the solid one.

  What was he supposed to do? What would be the consequence of turning the lever? It could be a booby trap – a bomb, or nuclear device. He frantically searched the entire sphere, including the pedestal and the location from where it emerged. There were no crevices, scratches, or imperfections of any kind. It was as if the entire beacon were cut from a single piece of material. It seemed that the sole purpose of the structure was to house the switch.

  Being an experimental physicist, it was against his nature to flip switches without knowing their functions. Such behavior often resulted in smoking electronics, and costing a great deal of money and time. Nonetheless, he knew he had to turn the lever. There might never be another chance. His conversation with an old physics professor came to him once again: if it were possible, humans would eventually do it, even if they destroyed themselves in the process. The professor was right.

  He grasped the lever and pulled it in the clockwise direction. It didn’t budge.

  Surprised, since in other instances he’d even been able to tear through steel with little effort, he grasped the switch again and turned with all of his might. It moved a few millimeters. He pulled again – it moved a few more degrees along the arc. Again, and again. The final turn spanned a few centimeters and aligned the end of the lever with the solid circle.

  The pedestal immediately lowered away from him, slowly at first, then faster. He quickly realized that the ceiling of the sphere was moving towards him. The entire beacon was descending. He had to get out.

  He moved to the ceiling, softened his state so
that he could pass through the beacon’s shell, and pressed upward. The material caused significant resistance and, as he emerged from the outer surface, cold water rushed upward and through him. The beacon was dragging him downward. Struggling, he completely freed himself from sphere, but not before it had dragged him another 100 meters below the North Dakota. The connection with his body was weaker than it had ever been.

  As he ascended, he looked back just as beacon lowered into the seabed. As its spherical head pressed into the floor, sand and rock fell around it, filling in the void it had created. When everything settled, the area was indistinguishable from the rest of the ocean floor.

  Will returned to his body. He opened his eyes and looked into the face of a medic who held a stethoscope to his chest.

  “You okay?” the young man asked.

  Will closed his eyes.

  “Sit up,” the medic said and shook him. “You’ve been out for two hours.”

  Will sat up and opened his eyes. “Anything happen here?” he asked.

  A voiced boomed in from the doorway. “The beacon retracted into the floor,” Captain McHenry said, out of breath. “Nothing else, as far as we can tell.”

  Will had expected something more, although he had no idea what.

  “Did you get inside?” McHenry asked.

  Will nodded. “Yes.”

  “What was there – what did you do?”

  “It was an empty sphere except for a lever – a switch,” Will explained. “I pulled it.”

  “What?” McHenry asked. “That’s why it retracted?”

  “I think so,” Will replied.

  McHenry turned to the medic. “Is he all right?”

  The medic responded with a nod. “He’s exhausted. Heart rate is high.”

  “Let him rest,” McHenry said and turned to Will. “We’ll surface and deliver you to the Stennis in about an hour.”

  McHenry and the medic left.

  Will laid back, put his head on a pillow, and closed his eyes. As he fought through fits of nausea, he pondered what had just happened. He’d separated his soul from his body and actuated a device that seemed to be from a source beyond humanity.

  Two years ago, he’d been living the life of a professor, concerned with menial tasks like grading exams and cutting the lawn at his small house. And then, without warning, he’d been plunged into a darkness he could never have imagined: the Red Box. The experience had liberated him from the confines of the physical world, and his perception of his own existence had fundamentally changed.

  But the fundamental questions that constantly churned in the back of his mind nagged now more than ever. What was his purpose? Why did he exist?

  Perhaps now an answer would reveal itself.

  CHAPTER XV

  1

  Thursday, 11 June (7:55 a.m. EST – Weddell Sea)

  As he showered, Will contemplated the events of the previous 48 hours. The memory of the men burning and screaming on the deck of the Chinese carrier haunted him. Thoughts of the future were foreshadowed by the possible consequences of pulling the switch in the beacon. What had he done? What had he become?

  As he walked to meet the others, he tried to distract himself from the anxiety. He appreciated the stark differences between the USS Stennis and the Chinese carrier: the former was cleaner, more modern, and larger. It was also operable. The aroma of the food coming from the mess hall was intoxicating. He got in line and loaded a mountain of scrambled eggs, bacon, and potatoes onto his plate.

  He sat on a bench next to a large, rectangular table. Everyone else was already there. Denise, now promoted to crutches, sat to his right, and Jonathan to his left. Daniel and Sylvia were sitting directly across from them, along with someone he didn’t recognize. The gaunt man was probably in his nineties, and looked morbidly ill.

  “My name is Horace Leatherby,” the man said to Will. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I regret not being able to see you before your encounter with the beacon.”

  “Pleasure to meet you,” Will said and shook his hand. “I hope you’re feeling better.”

  Horace shrugged. “I think I’ve improved.”

  “You actually saw the inside the sphere?” Daniel interrupted, eyes wide.

  Will looked at the small man, took a bite of food, and nodded: no verbal response.

  Daniel looked to Jonathan.

  “Will, these people have been studying this thing from the beginning,” Jonathan said, nodding towards Daniel’s side of the table. “Daniel started investigating Red Wraith months ago.”

  “And what have you learned about Red Wraith, exactly?” Will asked.

  “That you were its only success,” Sylvia answered before Daniel could respond. “You’re able to separate, a fact confirmed by your actuating the beacon.”

  Will took a bite of bacon, chewed slowly, and stared at her.

  “You disabled the aircraft carrier,” Sylvia added.

  “It turns out that the predecessor to Red Wraith, the Nazis’ Red Falcon project, involved more than just developing separation abilities,” Daniel said. “I’d think you’d want to know the reason for it, considering all of the horror you’ve been through.”

  Will made eye contact with Daniel. “A reason? If it’s something other than making monsters to wage war, I’d like to know.” He was starting to think he was a monster.

  “It was about the beacon from the very beginning,” Daniel responded.

  “Explain,” Will said.

  Over the next two hours, and a full carafe of coffee between them, Will learned the most disturbing and fascinating things: a strange message on a stone discovered in the pyramids of Egypt, Hitler’s secret base, and the beacon. It was a message on the stone that had inspired Red Falcon and Red Wraith. And the ultimate objective of Red Falcon – a concept that eluded the creators of Red Wraith – was to get inside the beacon and flip that switch.

  Will became more amenable to the idea of cooperating, and explained the details of what he’d seen and done inside the beacon. His report was short since there wasn’t much to explain: an empty sphere and a switch. “I turned the switch and the beacon retracted into the sea bed, nearly dragging me along with it. That’s all. The question now is whether something else has happened of which we’re unaware.”

  Daniel nodded. “It might have initiated something.”

  “Like a war with China,” Will said.

  “Don’t think so,” Sylvia argued. “Thackett informed us that the Chinese are standing down. The President threatened major retaliation if they attacked. Besides, it’s too late. We’ve already actuated the beacon. The world didn’t end, and we haven’t acquired some new, devastating power.”

  “The perplexing thing is that the Chinese, and probably the Russians, knew more about Red Wraith and the Beacon than we did – until recently, that is,” Daniel explained. “We were just lucky to happen across the tunnel and the Nazi base, and to secure the waters around beacon, before anyone else did.”

  “The Chinese knew about it because there were leaks. Big ones. And the main contractor involved in Red Wraith, Syncorp, moved its operations to China,” Will said and looked to Jonathan. “Hopefully the names I gave you will help to finally dismantle this thing.”

  Jonathan nodded. “We have people working on it already.”

  Will shook his head. “In the end, the Nazis organized the torture of thousands of people because of a cryptic message they found on an artifact?”

  “Their interpretation of the White Stone could be the sole reason for the Holocaust,” Daniel said.

  Will flinched. “The Holocaust?”

  “And possibly the cause of World War Two,” Sylvia added. “Hitler was a fanatic about the occult and religion. When the Nazis discovered the White Stone in the early 1930’s, Hitler became obsessed. It instigated the founding of a new Nazi institute by Heinrich Himmler in 1935, called Ahnenerbe, meaning ‘inherited from the forefathers.’ The purpose of this new institute was to research the
archaeological and cultural history of the Aryan race. They searched for things like the Holy Grail and the Holy Spear, thinking they had some powers of divine origin, similar to the White Stone.”

  “Researchers from the Ahnenerbe Institute had deciphered parts of the outer rings,” Horace explained, “giving the location of the beacon, and told them what to look for – or listen for, in this case. They sent a vessel –”

  “ – the Schwabenland,” Daniel interjected.

  “Yes,” Horace said, “the official mission of which was to explore new whaling waters, but the real mission was to locate the beacon.”

  “They found it, of course,” Daniel said. “Hitler was emboldened – this was before the war – and they looked for a place to build a hidden base to conceal their prolonged presence in the area.”

  “They found the ideal location,” Sylvia added and looked to Will. “You should have seen it.”

  “Hitler must’ve believed he’d had an advantage, prompting him to start the war prematurely,” Daniel continued. “He thought the beacon was a source of great power – power they’d have in time to win the war. It was a gamble he lost.”

  “The problem was that things didn’t go well in the separation experiments,” Sylvia explained. “The infamous Dr. Josef Mengele was tasked with the initial experiments. He failed, and then concluded they needed to intensify their experiments.”

  “Hence, the concentration camps – the Holocaust,” Will said, shaking his head. “And for what? The remote chance that the beacon would give him the world?”

  “You know it’s not over, right?” Daniel asked.

  Will made eye contact with Daniel and then looked into his empty coffee cup. “Yes,” he said and looked back to Daniel’s eyes. Will twisted in his seat. “That thing was beyond our technology and had a purpose beyond making noise.” He readjusted himself again and scratched the back of his neck near the hairline. Of course it had a purpose.

  “Even the material of which it is composed is beyond our understanding,” Daniel said. “It can only mean one thing.”