by Ward Wagher
Schloss turned to the guard. “Would you wait outside the kitchen, please, Eugen?”
“Of course, Herr Reichschancellor.” And he slipped out the door.
Schloss walked over to the kitchen counter next to the old lady and leaned against it. “I had a very strange dream, Frau Marsden. In fact, it was terrifying.”
“You have been under a lot of pressure recently, Herr Schloss. Having nightmares would not be surprising.”
“But this was so vivid it seemed real,” Schloss said. “It was 1960 and Germany and the Americans were flinging atomic rockets at each other. Germany had a space station, Valkyrie II. That is not something I would have imagined or even dreamt, Frau Marsden.”
“That is a bit strange.”
“I was fifty-six years old. I saw myself in a mirror. And Hanalore was still alive.”
“After your coffee, you should try to get back to bed, Herr Schloss.”
He stared at her as she worked at the stove.
“That’s it? That is all you can say?” Schloss demanded.
“If you look in the mirror now, Herr Schloss, you will see how exhausted you are. Since you refuse to take a vacation, you must at least get your rest.”
“You are not being very helpful tonight, Frau Marsden.”
The old lady poured two cups of coffee and handed one to Schloss. She then walked over to the door from the kitchen and opened it. She handed the other cup to the guard. He murmured his thanks. She eased the door closed and walked over to stand in front of Schloss.
“Your arrival in this world, Herr Schloss, was a singular event. As I told you before, it was the result of a major error and poor judgment on the part of a scientist five hundred years in the future. But, I am convinced your arrival prevented the destruction of Germany.”
“Only to postpone that destruction until 1960? I know about those weapons,” he said. “They would destroy the Fatherland far more thoroughly than the Russians would have.”
She stared at him for a long moment, then finally spoke. “That will not happen in this world, Herr Schloss.”
“It happens in another world?”
“I am forbidden from telling you that. All I can say is that you have no worries on that matter.”
“But what if I translated, or bounced, or whatever, into that other world? I do not want to leave here. I am making a difference here. The children have become mine. I do not want to lose Gisela. I do not mind telling you that this makes me terrified. It was like I was inside that other Schloss and talking to him. I wondered if he were the one I had replaced here.”
“You cannot take counsel in your fears, Herr Schloss.” She reached out and put her hands on his arms. “That is the path to insanity. You have been given a job here. You have been gifted with a wonderful family. And I will be delighted when you wed Gisela.”
Schloss sipped from the cup as Frau Marsden spoke. For some reason, she brought a lot of comfort to him. And the coffee was very good. The old woman had the touch; that was for sure. He suddenly grew weary. He set the cup down.
“I think I will get back to bed, Frau Marsden. It will be a long day tomorrow. Thanks for the coffee.”
“Good night, Herr Schloss.”
She frowned as she watched him leave the kitchen. In one respect Schloss was right, she thought, something wasn’t right. The quiet ticking of the clock sitting in the corner of the counter drew her attention. It was nearly 3 AM. She decided that she would begin her day’s chores. There was no telling how she might be interrupted over the next hours. And she would definitely have conversations with the others. He walked into his bedroom without another word to the guard. He rolled on to the bed without removing his robe and was instantly asleep.
Part 2
INTERLUDE 2
“Any thoughts on why we have been called together?” Willow asked Marsden.
Marsden shrugged as she glanced over at Willow. “The elders do not often confide in me. You are more likely to hear things.”
Marsden was dressed as an elderly hausfrau from mid-twentieth century Germany, while Willow resembled a twenty-seventh-century executive assistant from Caledon. Ekaterina, who wore the flamboyant colors of a twenty-third-century Russian matriarch, leaned into the conversation.
“I had difficulty covering my absence for this meeting. I trust the elders will not prolong things.”
“And things are reaching a crisis on New Holland,” Franks said. “If I am to guide events in any competent fashion, I cannot be absent for any length of time.”
She stepped over to a window and pulled the curtain aside slightly to peer outside. The luxurious green velvet of the Hilton Head golf course had as a backdrop the sandy beach and the Atlantic Ocean. Their hosts always arranged for picturesque and interesting locations for the meetings.
“And such an odd timeline you have been assigned to manage,” Marsden said. “I fail to understand how the Wright brothers managed to drive technology from the steam age to star flight in their lifetimes.” Marsden shook her head.
Franks nodded in agreement. “There are… anomalies we are still untangling. And with the mess Edgar Forsenn created with his cross-temporal wave device, we may never isolate some of these strange events.”
The three ruBracks, for that is what they were, grunted in annoyed unison at Franks' comment. Edgar Forsenn was a physicist in the twenty-fifth century Upper Midwest Palatinate on Earth who had attempted to explore the corridors of time. His fundamental misunderstanding of time and space resulted in a device which sent a disruptive wave across hundreds of parallel universes and impacted the lives of billions of sentients.
The ruBracks, who existed to deftly manage and coordinate the timelines of the multiple universes were now fighting a desperate battle to contain the effects of Forsenn's insane experiment. The ruBracks, who were indistinguishable from humans, all looked like elderly, stocky, heavy-set women. But they never allowed human doctors to examine them, and they had significant, though limited, powers of time and space – among other things.
With a popping bubble sound, Miller and Wallace materialized in the meeting room. “Sorry for the delay, my dears,” Miller said. “Things are popping all over.”
“More after-effects?” Marsden asked.
“Edgar Forsenn is likely the least popular human in the two-thousand-seven-hundred-fifty-two universes,” Wallace said. “We are not able to keep up with everything. All the ruBracks are working at the limits of their capabilities.”
Ekaterina shook her head. “With all that is happening, why have you called us all together? There is plenty to do.”
“Peace, Ekaterina,” Miller said. “We are well aware of the load you each carry. Our intent is to ease the burden as we are able.”
Ekaterina snorted. “Easy for you to say.”
“Perhaps we can just get on with the meeting,” Marsden said. “I am not interested in a bicker fest.”
“Just so,” Wallace said. “We have identified the primary and secondary waves from the Forsenn device. We believe we can begin to predict some of the anomalies that are plaguing our tasks.”
“The waves are strongest along the gamma universe channel,” Miller added.
“We already knew that,” Willow said with obvious disgust.
“Heed me, fellow ruBracks,” Miller said. “There is a secondary and tertiary effect that impacts the Lambda and Zeta channels.”
“So?” Willow responded. “And this effectively triples the areas we must cover.”
“And so,” Wallace said heavily, as she folded her arms across her ample chest, “There is an underlying harmonic which can double back along the channels. When they coincide along equivalent channels, there is an order of magnitude increase of intensity.”
“And what does this mean?” Franks asked.
“We believe that one or more of the universes within that zone will cease.”
“Elucidate,” Marsden commanded.
Those universes in question will simply not exist wi
thin any definition of time and space.”
“And the souls within them?” Willow asked.
Miller nodded sadly. “It will be as though they never were.”
“But how is that possible?” Ekaterina asked. “These are souls created by the Maker. There are hundreds of billions in some of the universes.”
Wallace shook her head. “The ministering spirits have told us the Maker is concerned. He will, of course, rescue His elect.”
“But how could this be outside of the Maker's plan?” Willow asked.
Miller smiled. “It is, of course, not outside of the Maker's plan. How could it be? However, be warned, though, my friends. Any ruBrack caught in an affected universe will cease along with the inhabitants.”
“Now that is just not possible,” Marsden stated flatly. “We can step out of any universe instantly. And we maintain awareness of the timelines even inside of a given universe.”
“We are working on ways to provide advanced warning,” Wallace said. “But once the waves begin to resonate, the tempo builds swiftly. The time between the first buildup of the harmonic and the dissolution of a universe will happen more quickly than any of us can detect.”
“Does this affect entropy?” Franks asked suddenly.
Miller touched the inside of her cheek with her tongue. “Now, that is a very good question, Mrs. Franks. You are, of course, speaking of the end of all things.”
Franks nodded. “Are we coming to the end?”
“This is an area where the Maker keeps His own counsel. There are some indications this is not the case.”
“And how can you say that?”
Wallace tilted her head. “The ministering spirits have asked that we directly approach Forsenn to engineer a device to neutralize the temporal dislocations.”
“So, in other words, the Maker is requesting this of us,” Marsden said.
Miller chuckled softly to herself. “That would be an accurate summation.”
“And who has been assigned this task?” Franks asked.
Wallace and Miller looked at each other, then gazed about the room.
“No!” Ekaterina said.
“Yes,” Miller said.
RuBracks are not prone to histrionics. One could generalize by saying they are not sweet-tempered. But, they are practical to a fault. This was a task that needed to be done, and they would take it on. It seemed that each of them shrugged at the same time.
“There was another item of interest,” Wallace said suddenly.
The other ruBracks looked at her questioningly.
“The Woogies have somehow become aware of the situation through their studies of quantum entanglement.”
Willow snorted. “Who cares whether those morons are concerned.”
Wallace was suddenly facing Willow. From outside the hotel came a low rumble of thunder.
You are well aware, Willow, that we must not speak ill of the Maker's creation.”
“Since when have the Woogies ever done anything other than meddle?” she responded. “I am not speaking ill, I am simply calling things as they are. They have caused me no end of trouble during my tasks.”
The other ruBracks stared at Willow. After what seemed like minutes, but was likely fifteen seconds Marsden spoke.
“You are not becoming of our race,” Marsden said. “I have been forced to deal with numerous humans who could not be described as anything other than evil. I have had far more interactions with humans I would characterize as fools. Our calling is to serve the sentients of multiple times and places. The Woogies are more like rambunctious puppies. How can they be anything but likable?”
“Likable?” Willow responded. “I believe the term is offensive.”
“Enough!” Wallace commanded. “Willow are you capable of working towards the accomplishment of our tasks here, or should I summon another?”
“Of course I am capable,” she said.
Wallace studied her for a while. “Very well. I believe, though, you and I will have a conversation with Tasker when we complete this mission.”
“A conversation with Tasker?” Willow's voice rose to a shout. “So you think I am a bent ruBrack? Is that what you are all thinking? I can assure each of you that I am in full command of my talents and attitudes.”
“Talents? Yes,” Wallace said. “Attitudes? I believe the problem may be that you are commanding your attitudes. They are not in proper submission to the Maker.”
“And who are you to judge me?” Willow shouted. “I have always performed well. I simply have little patience for those who tell me how to accomplish my assigned tasks. You have always meddled, Wallace.”
Mrs. Wallace stepped closer to the other ruBrack. “I have never had complaints about your accomplishments. You are very successful in that. I am concerned about your condescending attitude towards the beings we serve. We are no better than they.”
Willow glared at Wallace for a few moments. “If you feel I must apologize for my methods, then I do so.”
The room grew quiet as they waited to see how Wallace would respond.
Miller had stepped over next to Wallace. “Very well. There is little meta-time to spare. You all have the coordinates for Edgar Forsenn's fiasco. Let us be off then.”
“What? No lunch?” Franks asked.
In previous meetings, a full buffet had been provided for the ruBracks.
“When we complete the mission we will have a banquet,” Wallace said. “Now, let us be off.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Allen Scott Baughman scowled as he looked at the size of the queue on his desk that day. In addition to the various and manifold details of governing the Upper Midwest Palatinate, which he was unable to delegate to his staff, Bartholomew O'Bleck was stirring up trouble in the Carolina Free State. Scott was convinced the title Primate for the ruler would have been more accurate than Governor-General as he was called. Not only that, but the Arabians were playing games again. And, after several decades of peaceful relations, the Festalites had become restive.
To put a cap on things, the morning had started off with a major disagreement between Scott and Kimberly, his wife. Their son Rusty had informed them that he would be leaving the family business and go to work for his father-in-law. This had clearly been engineered by Rusty's wife Catha. Scott was content to let Rusty go his way and learn whatever it was that he needed to learn, but Kimberly wasn't having it. The battle had been epic.
The problem that had manifested itself over the years was that Rusty Baughman was much like his father in emotional makeup, but was less tolerant of his mother’s interference. Kimberly had made strenuous efforts to mold their son into what she felt was a proper citizen of the Upper Midwest Palatinate. Even as a child, Rusty usually managed to find a way to circumvent his mother’s desires. And it seemed that Scott usually was blamed for the situation, as it had in this case. And, it left him frustrated.
He sighed and then gazed out the windows of his one-hundred-fiftieth-floor office in Wilton House in Chicago. The Wilton family had built what was now the premier city, not only of the North American continent but also of the entire planet. Its clean, sharp spires towered over the Illinois prairie to the west and Lake Michigan to the east. Baughman loved the city but considered himself as only a caretaker.
Being the paladin allowed him to solve many problems by fiat. But the job also created far more problems than he could solve. And today he was nearing the breaking point.
Scott was normally a laid-back individual. His wife often accused him of being too relaxed. But, occasionally he allowed the stress of the job to get to him, and this was one of those times. He was convinced that if he were beset by another crisis, he would scream. His thoughts were interrupted by a soft popping sound, and he looked up to see a group of elderly women standing in his office. He quickly stood up and as he did so, he wondered how his group of visitors had managed to slip past his very efficient gatekeeper.
“Pardon me, Ladies,” Scott said. “Somehow
your visit was not placed on my calendar for today. The fault is all mine, of course, but how may I help you?”
“We determined to consult you on a serious matter that is not only impacting your universe but the time and space of multiple universes.”
He looked at them speculatively. “Okay, you've pushed me away from the dock without a paddle. I have no idea what you are talking about. And who are you, by the way?”
“I am Mrs. Miller.”
“I am Mrs. Wallace.”
“I am Mrs. Willow.”
“I am Mrs. Marsden.”
“I am Ms. Ekaterina.”
“Delighted to meet you,” Scott looked more closely at one of the women. “Don't I know you, Mrs… eh?”
“Marsden,” one of the old women filled in.
Scott stared at her for a few moments, then shook his head. “Naaaw. Can't be.”
“You are correct,” she said. “I was once your father's housekeeper.”
He had the feeling of sliding on ice, not really able to gain traction.
“How can that be? That was four-hundred years ago!”
“We are ruBracks,” Mrs. Miller said. “We….”
The door to the outer office slid open and the paladin's administrative assistant started to walk in. When he saw the women, he halted in mid-step and his mouth dropped open.
“It seems we have some surprise guests,” Scott said.
“Should I call security?”
Scott bit his lip. “I don't know. Maybe have them come to the outer office.”
“You are quite safe, Paladin,” Mrs. Wallace said. “We are not here to harm you. We seek your permission to right a great wrong.”
“What is a ruBrack?” Scott asked.
“Perhaps we might adjourn to your conference room. We would like to present the issues in a systematic fashion.”
“Cleo,” Scott called to the assistant. “Let's set up the main conference room. Please bring in refreshments.”
“Just like that? Sir?” Cleo looked nonplussed.
“It seems I know one of these ladies personally.” He looked at the woman. “I do insist upon having my Chief of Security present for the meeting.”