Io Deceneus: Journal of a Time Traveler (The Living Universe)

by Florian Armas

  “You really are that old!” I shook my head, trying to throw off his magical influence. 167... don't be stupid…

  “And how did it happen that you knew this?”

  “No idea,” I replied without thinking. His gaze shamed me. “It’s like the Latin in my dream.” He nodded, like a teacher encouraging a kid after a good answer. “I don’t feel any field.” Of course, I am not a ‘clairvoyant’. Such a nice evening, and I have found nothing better to do than meet this impostor.

  “A deaf man doesn't sense again the world of sounds until he is cured. The one born with this condition doesn't even know that that world exists.” I am not deaf. He means something else; be patient. “Be patient, that time will come, if you have the will.” Is he reading my mind? My hand made an uncontrolled gesture. “Don't be afraid. There is nothing to fear.”

  His last words generated another knee-jerk reaction from me: “Is that field dangerous?” Later, looking back, I tried to understand how he had tricked me into staying for a whole evening’s talk – roughly every minute, I made the decision to leave and each decision was overturned by his next unexpected question or statement. Such a sucker...

  “Knowledge: knowledge can be dangerous, dangerous for you or for others interacting with you, therefore again dangerous for you. Always treat it with respect.” You are contradicting yourself. “But never fear to learn, only understand the consequences. The highest rationale of being a human is to understand consequences. You will never be the same, you cannot unlearn things, there is no turnaround, yet, you will never forgive yourself if you lose this chance.”

  “Are there any rituals, blood sucking, animal-killing?” Blood... Why did I ask this? Who in the hell are these guys? But knowledge, that could be interesting.

  “What comes to you now is the future, not some dark ancient ritual. You have to contact the Gate.”

  “What’s the Gate?” The question came out spontaneously from my mouth; I had lost all control over this strange conversation. What? Who? Who cares?

  “The Field’s guardian. You have already met a representation of her, the lady in the castle.”

  “Look, it’s ... mnh, aahh ... too strange.” He smiled, and I wanted to leave, but something inside me pushed for another question. “What’s a Faction?” The latest dream was leading my mind.

  “Who told you about Factions?” His face changed, getting older that I could think being possible.

  “A young lady in a dream.”

  “The Gate has to deal with this; time is passing faster than I thought.” Tension surfaced in his voice like cracks opening on an eggshell being hit by a knife.

  “Can we stop?” I did not like the tension in his tone. “I will call you...” Next week ... next year... Just wait. He smiled while I backed away, as if running from a poisonous snake. I went home determined not to meet him again and to keep away from that Gate – whatever it was. Honestly speaking, some parts of me liked the game, but I was too afraid, so I put it aside. I had no dreams that night.

  *

  Today I sold my car. I had to pay three thousand dollars to cancel the contract. Luckily, I still had those thousands. “It’s the recession,” the dealer said. I believed him. The bills for the car and house were more than my unemployment check. I still needed to eat so I had to sell my car together with many memories and many expectations. A sad day with no dreams.

  *

  My neighbor lost his job too and moved in with his parents. It was rainy, a good excuse to stay home but, to be honest, it was more about trying to re-enact my dreams in a safe place. What else was left for me? The glass of wine that started my white-wolf dream was also there. I tried with both hands, half-empty, full, empty, with the left eye, the right one, both open, both closed, with no success, yet the process was enjoyable. I should change my profession: wine taster ... romantic. But ... who would hire me?

  “You don’t need that glass.” I turned around to see the owner of the pleasant voice. I saw no one, decided there was no voice and slipped back into my reverie.

  “Use your mind.” I drank the wine in one shot. I have to see that doctor again.

  “Chemo does not work, neither does alcohol.”

  “Who are you?” I burst out, before recalling that I was alone in the garden.

  “Your new life.” I really have to see the doctor.

  “Leave!” There is no one here. “Vanish!” That old man was a fool. No, you are the fool.

  “Sure, drown all your dreams in a bottle. You are too weak; I cannot train a sponge.”

  “My new life needs a job, not hallucinations,” I answered, and cursed myself for being unable to ignore the unwanted invasion. I want nice dreams, not nightmares.

  “This is exactly what I bring to you: a job. It is not for alcohol filled sponges; I warn you.” Thrown in my face, the ‘alcohol filled sponge’ did an unexpected thing: it calmed me.

  “Can I ... see you?” A monster cannot have such a nice voice. A human shadow materialized, on the other side of the table: no eyes, no mouth, nothing, just a white emptiness that was more chilling than the most vicious mask. “Are you a ... ghost?” My mouth clenched. I went for the bottle and grabbed nothing; my hand simply passed through it.

  “You do not need that.” The bottle vanished, and my mind was suddenly clear. “Better?” The voice was amused. “Ghost is too irrational; a notion born from fear, not from knowledge. You have to learn how to master the fear inside you.” Her voice became a whisper, filled with mysteries. “It is important.”

  “Yes, it is important,” I breathed against my will, suddenly feeling that something strange was happening to me, enhancing my status.

  “I am not really here; I just created a link between your world and my own space.” She reached her hand over the table, and eyes opened in the face of the faceless form. I closed my hand around hers, and our eyes met for the first time; deep violet eyes she had. After a while, her palm dissipated, yet a strong invisible grip held my hand until her palm materialized again above the table. I mechanically massaged my fingers, a ritual gesture meant to push away an invisible malefic presence; there was no pain. “You liked the touch of my skin, you dreamt of ... more,” she smiled at me, and I blushed. “I can offer you many choices.” Her look morphed slowly from one form into another: famous actresses, childhood girlfriends, my grandmothers no longer alive ... “Stop it,” I whispered. Her shape changed again: hot violet eyes on a cold human face. What the hell are you?

  “Are you the Gate?” I reluctantly asked, and she nodded. “That old bastard made the call without waiting for my confirmation.”

  “The dreams cannot lie, and The Field cleared the path.” Cleared… I lost my job because of your ‘clearing’. “You were nothing more than a slave in a cubicle; I offer you a real life – one time chance.” I am not a slave! “Slavery has many forms. You really want this but are too scared to make a decision. It is always easier for you to postpone the decision to some unknown future, which actually means not deciding at all but – don’t protest – you will describe it to yourself as a ‘decision’ to postpone because it sounds a lot better and gives you the feeling of being in charge.” She can read my mind… Is she really an alien? What’s the alternative? “Your thoughts are recorded in The Field as they are enhancing The Universe. Advanced civilizations have ways of reading some of them too.”

  “I can enhance The Universe. Me?” I skipped the ‘advanced civilizations' for obvious reasons.

  “Do not take it personally; every human subject is unique, and every thought is transferred by coherent quantum vibrations of the neurons’ microtubules into The Field. The Universe is constantly redefining himself based on all these personal experiences.”

  “Why are you telling me all these things?”

  “The human mind hates uncertainty, because subconsciously it implies danger; educated decisions need information, but I have to recognize that you are asking questions beyond your own level of civilization.” I
am beyond…? Is an alien giving me good marks or I am inflating my own ego? The spheres appeared from nothing, around my head. Dark blue, somber, they matched her eyes. “Each sphere is a dream of yours. Atlantis,” she touched a sphere after each name, “Crab Nebula, Genghis Khan…” After her touch, the dreams reverberated inside my mind and stayed there; it was like riding many horses and space ships at the same time. Can I really do such things? “You have to master a temporal storm.” Temporal storm? I can't master my life... “You will learn that too. Do not worry, the name sounds more daunting that it is.”

  Is this a game? A quest? Find the reward and go on to the next level? I could feel the pressure building in me. Why did they choose me? 'You will never forgive yourself if you lose this chance.' Is Batranu right? I was connected to many strings moving according to a hidden plan, in a fragmented way that was disconcerting, and those strings were weaving a tapestry of an unknown, frightening future. Why me? I pressed on the chair and swallowed, her eyes sinking deep inside me, raising the pressure.

  “Once you agree, there are rewards: vacations, in any place, in every possible past.” She smiled, like an adult parading a candy in front of a child. With ‘vacations’ the trap was complete; the only one who didn’t realize this was me. Why me? And what could I do? Run? Close my ears? She had direct channels deep into my mind and power to influence it. What if I take the vacations and then leave? “We will take the loss for not being able to correctly evaluate you, but there will be no repercussions.” Stupid! I have to control my thoughts. I have to control… How…?

  “I am not interested,” I forced some sort of negotiation.

  “We have three ways out of this situation.” We? “One, you will accept – no need to tell you how much we prefer this outcome – two, we send you there, untrained, and hope for the best; three, I play a bit with your synapses: you will wake up one morning feeling a sudden urge to go.” I jumped from my chair trying to run – a stupid impulse. Next moment my body froze: one foot in the air, arms akimbo. Now what? “Good, I expected a ‘bitch’.”

  “Bitch! Satisfied?”

  “We do not mess with other people’s minds. Well, not anymore, we did it in the past with some side effects. Earth is such an example. And … an Observer is watching us, a powerful entity.” Of course. “Let’s say, a practical choice too; an altered mind loses some of its capabilities, most importantly initiative. Very important, as you will find.”

  “Are you so sure that I will accept?” You don’t have to do this. Why...? Madness... I am not crazy. Are you sure?

  “Within a certain degree of probability, yes.” Sudden dripping of water filled my mind: the sound of moments ticking away. Time is running out. This is what you are trying to tell me? I have to answer. One time chance. Her eyes were waiting, and I sensed the need for a decision, but felt powerless to decide. The role was set for me by skilled puppeteers; yet I felt that I played that role over countless times in my mind, inside my dreams, and that I played it freely too. The thrill! Is the thrill what I really want?

  “I would like a more pleasant companion.” My first capitulation. “You need some new rules about human personality. And now ... my vacation. What do you think of Amarna in the last years of Akhenaten?” If I am not dreaming...

  “The selection for this ‘game’ was made by three Gates. We have chosen you because of your strong empathy, your desire for a new life, a good sense of fear making you a cautions man not an adventurer, and … an interesting genetic inheritance. That inheritance will have a strong influence on your future missions. The vote was two to one. I voted against; that’s why the Observer asked me to train you.” That's wrong. Why her? Why not a nicer one? One who believes in me. What is to believe in you? “I understood more of your limitations; my task is to help you to overcome them. You can have a three-hour trip. Think of me when you are ready to go, and be prepared to understand what you meet.”

  Rite of passage

  The streets of Amarna are crowded; people are different, the smells are different and the noise is different. By appearance, I belong to this place – white knee-length skirt and sandals, very like the others, even in the way that they look worn – yet uneasiness grows inside me. Is this just another dream? Were all other dreams just dreams? I raise a hand. My hand. I move a foot. My foot. What should I do now? “Aten is happy. The Nile is reborn.” I hear… I understand… I burn from the childish temptation to answer questions raised three thousand years before I was born. Would they find the stranger in me? A faint smell of fried fish comes from a hut twenty meters away. I have no time for this; I have to see the city. There is no way to avoid the assault, to focus on important things – the smell is calling me. Why not? I want an all-inclusive immersion.

  Inside the hut, my feet stumbled along the way, but I pressed on, trying to recapture a feeling of calm. I pointed coyly to my fish, without knowing exactly what it was. “P-p-p-please.” That was all I could say. The merchant raised an eyebrow looking at me with a steady, measuring gaze, but served the meal without comment. Why should I care? The fish was delicious.

  A hundred meters wide street split the city in two; like ants, people walked everywhere between palaces and temples. No modern human has ever seen this, yet... I shook my head. I should wonder. Slippery and allusive, awareness of the ancient was avoiding me. I should feel something. The reality was too fresh, missing the respectable luster of the ruins I knew. In a reversed augmented reality, those ruins took over my vision – like glitches. Flash ... mounds of bricks and sand covered the city. Buzz … all went back to normal. I shook my head in pain. The ruins stand for reality; this view looks real but is just a dream, I tried to persuade myself, a bubble, and I suddenly felt tired and disoriented.

  The first crack came too late, my shoulder burned, pain shot up and down my arm. “Take me back home!” I screamed. She did not answer. With blurred eyes, I noticed the lowered heads and I bowed. The whip stopped; the buzz stopped; my mind and my vision regained clarity, clarity arose from panic, unnatural and treacherous.

  Two soldiers dragged me away and sand scratched my knees, filling the cuts in my skin. “Once sand enters the scars it burns for days,” the Gate whispered to me. Bitch! I thrust myself upwards to stand on my feet; the soldier on the left lost his grip on my arm, then pushed my head in the sand, with words coming out in hiccups: “Try ... to escape now ... sun of a serpent ... feel the sand...”

  “Ba…taa…rds!” the pain cried for me, and I tasted dust and bile rising in my throat. “Ba...taa...”

  “The snake is hissing.” With a slim smile, the soldier lowered his whip, a little. My teeth clacked so hard that they burst into laughs. “Don't feel like cursing again, eh? You must know your place.” His hand carrying the whip was still high, waiting for an answer. “I will not try again, sir,” a strangled voice in a tone I forced to be conversational. “Of course,” he said, seeming to savor my reaction.

  They made me kneel down in front of the imposing personage the litter was carrying. I did not oppose; I did not protest; I had learned my lesson. As the man was actually short, thin and bald, the proper word would be important. His eyes stopped me laughing inside. Knowledge … power … whips. Bow! While lowering my head I caught a glimpse of a young girl looking curiously at the ingrate daring to break the rules. Beautiful. She met my eyes and hid inside the litter. At the man’s sign, I was dragged up again and pushed forward, stiffening the closer I got.

  “Is the belt yours?” I read fear in his voice and greed in his eyes, and stepped back. The bronze point stopped me; it was cold, yet it burned while piercing my skin.

  “Obviously it is, as it is at my waist.” The blow almost cracked my ribs, and I bent in pain. Idiot! You will kill yourself.

  “Let him be!” he snapped, and tension filled his voice. The soldiers froze. Why? “They don’t know about the belts,” he almost apologized. What does he know about the belt? I finally asked myself.

  “You are so slow.” Her fac
e erupted into the crowded street, a floating golden sphere. “They cannot see me,” she derisively answered my question even before I could raise it, and I instantly knew that she meant ‘you are slow in mind’. That gave me a bit of spine.

  “You like spying from a safe place. Isn’t it?”

  “Time is running out. Should I take you home?” She laughed again. “Later, the show is good, and the audience is large ... in The Field.” I cursed her … after she disappeared.

  “You are not of us, you are not of The Lords of Crowns, and you are not a Black Traveler,” the Egyptian continued. A man from the past having more knowledge about an object coming from my future. She said it was a communication device. However, she will never tell the whole story. What does he really fear? The belt? The Black Travelers? Travelers… Is she one of them? His fingers touched the belt – for a second. Nothing happened, and he pressed again, trying to open it. Do something.

  “You know what the belt is.” I met his eyes, and he stopped. It works. “The belt has only one master … me.” A silent gaze sized me up at length. “It’s a powerful thing…” His hand recoiled.

  “Ahmose, the scribe of Egypt, apologizes to you, Master Traveler. Your clothes … no hat… Forgive me. Please come inside,” and speaking to the girl, “Meritaten, we have a guest.” Now what? “All Travelers must be presented to the King.” It took a while to gather myself and step inside the litter. What the hell…? The girl’s skull was huge, almost twice normal human size. She is really pretty, I calmed myself, admiring her face. If you hide her back skull…

  Aten’s solar disc glided away in twin golden halves; the door opened. “Enter in peace,” a young page in a white dress hanging over his tiny frame ushered me in; Ahmose was already there. A woman of remarkable beauty acknowledged my entrance with a graceful nod. Contradictory feelings fought inside my mind. “Go forward!” a voice pushed me. “Go back!” others were shouting. They materialized in subtle smoke-like patterns around me, as if fighting for my attention, then wavered and dissolved, leaving me only the feeling that they resembled some known, living visage. The woman was smiling, and despite her smile, I tasted fear. “Those who fear to suffer already suffer what they fear,” she whispered. I need to understand. “Fear cannot be comprehended, it’s only a domination game,” she whispered again.