Temporal Gambit

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Temporal Gambit Page 11

by Larry A. Brown


  From the darkness, a hushed response came. “Martin, it’s me. Be careful not to wake the other man up. He might alert the guards. I think I’ve found the right key. Yes, that’s it. Come with me. Hurry.”

  He followed the familiar voice down the hallway, through a courtyard, and out into the moonlit street. The cool night air helped to clear his mind. He needed some answers.

  “Andrea, what’s going on? I thought you were one of them.”

  “Officially I am. My mission was to infiltrate the Chronos Project and collect intel on how close you were to achieving your goal of actual time travel. I knew you had succeeded, but I didn’t include that in my final report. They assume you are still in the testing stages.”

  “So you’re actually a double agent?”

  “I’m not familiar with the term, but it sounds about right. I don’t approve of the regime but thought it best to work from inside the system to bring it down somehow.”

  They waited in the shadows while an officer patrolled the street ahead. Once he turned the corner, they ran for cover in the next alley.

  Andrea continued: “Once I learned what the purpose of your project truly was, I felt this was our best chance to overthrow these so-called Sons of Light. I tried to return in time to warn the rest of the team, but I was on another assignment and couldn’t find an excuse to get away. I’m sorry. They seemed like good people.”

  “Andrea, I confess that I’m confused. I don’t recall anything about this place. Can you —?”

  “Yes, I’m aware that you don’t belong here. I don’t understand it fully, but I accept it. I’ve witnessed too much of your work not to. Wait, there’s another Watcher.” They ducked behind some crates as the officer shined a light in their direction, then passed by. Once it was safe, they hurried down the dark streets.

  “Who are these people, Andrea? In my timeline they were called the Jews and had formed their own nation of Israel in the Middle East.”

  “These monsters aren’t Jews. Those poor people were wiped out long ago and no longer exist, as far as I know.” He reflected on this sobering thought. Genocide of the Jewish people had almost happened in his history as well.

  “I’m sure you have questions, Martin, but right now you need to find a way to return to the project. Do whatever you have to in order to eradicate this current regime. I want to help, but I’ve done all I can for now. I can’t be seen with you in public. In this society, men and women cannot associate socially but are strictly segregated. I was allowed to work with men only as part of this operation. Even then, I saw their judgmental expressions and knew they suspected me of immorality.”

  “I’ve got to have time to figure out some things. Where can I stay? And what do I use for money?”

  “We don’t use currency here. This is a communal society which shares everything in common. But you need this.” She handed him a small, flat disc with glowing numbers on it. “It’s a citizen’s pass. This will give you access to public housing. Watch for buildings with a yellow star outside, the sign of a hostel. Register as a visitor from out of town. With this pass, you’ll be provided with your daily allotment of food and a place to sleep. Don’t expect a private room, and don’t plan on staying too long. In five days, they will require you to find a public task, as all citizens must contribute to society.”

  After proceeding a few more blocks, Andrea stopped. “Martin, I’m sorry, but I have to go back now. The night shift at the precinct will change soon, and they’ll notice I’m not on duty. Stay in the shadows and follow this street for another mile or so. You should see a hostel or two by then.”

  “But I need information. I can’t fix anything if I don’t know what’s happened in this past.” With no memories of this timeline due to his concussion, Martin felt lost in this strange world.

  “Find a maggid. They have committed the legends of the people to memory and recite them in public parks and meeting halls.”

  “So they are storytellers.”

  “Yes, but beware. Those who write history have the power to shape it to suit their purposes and justify their actions. Take what he says with a good dose of skepticism.”

  She turned to go but gave him a final warning: “Oh, and don’t use the fountains. Something about the water isn’t right.”

  20

  2166 AV: day two

  Even though the sky was turning rosy in the early dawn, Martin needed some rest. Like Andrea had described, he soon spotted the yellow star advertising a public hostel. However, two of the Watchers stood outside, so he diverted to a side street and kept searching until he saw another hostel a few blocks away.

  He showed his citizen’s pass to the manager at the front desk and signed in under an alias. The man pointed toward a large, open hall with several dozen rows of single beds and told him to pick an unoccupied one. He found a spot as far from other guests as possible and fell fast asleep.

  His dreams were interrupted when he felt a hand reaching into his shirt pocket. He grabbed the man’s arm forcefully. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

  “Your pass is blinking with five days left on it. I haven’t found any work, and I need more time. Have a heart, fella.”

  “Sorry, you have to follow the rules like anyone else.”

  “Come on, gimme the pass. I’ll make it up to ya.”

  When Martin refused again, the man lunged at him, pushing him off his bed onto the floor. The scuffle drew the attention of other guests, who shouted for the manager. Martin couldn’t risk a confrontation with authorities, so he reluctantly punched the man in the stomach, rolled out from under him, and headed quickly for the side exit.

  The street was crowded with pedestrians. Men passed by in front of him while women walked on the opposite side. No one seemed in a hurry. Most wore similar clothes in drab colors with no jewelry or any signs of individuality. When they got to their destinations, they used separate, marked doors to enter. Along the way, some stopped at public washing stations segregated by gender, where they rinsed their faces and hands. Signs above these stations indicated that these were overseen by the Ministry of Purity.

  As he strolled down the street trying to blend in, he got the eerie feeling that someone was following him. In a store window, he noticed the reflection of a man on the street corner, looking his direction. Martin continued to walk along, casually turning now and then, and sure enough, the man kept coming his way. Had the manager of the hostel described him to the police? Up ahead he saw several men entering a building, and he joined them, hoping to get lost in the crowd. Once inside the lobby, he located a side door and came out in an alley leading to another main street.

  Without waiting to see if the man was still behind him, he darted inside a historic structure and found himself in some type of museum. Colorful murals of battle scenes covered the walls. Underneath, he saw title cards which quoted from something called the War Scroll.

  One read: Lo, there shall come a time of dominion for the Sons of Light and everlasting destruction for the Army of Belial. The dramatic painting depicted an army dressed in white, slaughtering forces of darkness. Angelic beings soared above the clouds, hurling down burning rocks and thunderbolts on the enemy. A similar scene was captioned: The Sons of Light shall shine to the very ends of the earth, and they shall reign over the Kittim for all time.

  “There’s that word again. Kittim. The guards called me that.”

  <>

  “Whoever they are, I don’t want to be one.”

  A particularly brutal panel was titled: Arise, Glorious Ones. Strike with your hand the neck of your foes, and with your feet march over their fallen bodies. May your sword devour guilty flesh. The painting illustrated the words in gory detail.

  “Magnificent, isn’t it? How the artist has captured the exhilaration of the day of victory!”

  Martin jumped, unaware of the other man’s presence.

  “I’m the curator of our modest but fine col
lection. May I be of assistance?”

  “I … I’m from out of town. I haven’t seen anything quite like this before. Is this an art gallery?”

  “Oh, no. These works are not for sale. We commissioned them especially for our hall of meditation, a place to contemplate life’s holy battle.”

  When Martin turned to face him, the man stared at him curiously. “Have you thought of taking the Cleansing?”

  “No. As I said, I’m new to this area.”

  “The Ministry of Purity recommends it. I’ll be happy to show you the way.”

  Before the curator could get too inquisitive, Martin thanked him and headed toward the exit. Peering out the door, he didn’t see the person who had followed him, so he proceeded down the walkway on the men’s side of the street.

  Up ahead, he saw a public park where several young boys were listening to an elderly man deliver a speech. As he got closer, he heard the man describing historical events and assumed that he must be one of the maggid that Andrea had mentioned. Martin stood at the back of the group to observe as the lecture continued.

  “… having repelled the foreign invaders from the land, they enjoyed a welcome age of peace and self-rule. And now we come to a crucial development in our society’s history, the Era of the Necessary Evil. These things may be disturbing for young ears to hear, but we must acknowledge them to understand the Great Pattern of our journey through this world. In the former times, our blessed forefathers strictly followed the Manual of Discipline, which taught that we should ‘keep ourselves from any shameful nakedness.’”

  One boy giggled but fell silent at the old man’s stern glance.

  “As I was saying, according to the Manual, the male refrained from physical intimacy with the female, and ‘no one was born of our race.’ However, at the time of the Visitation, the Angel of Light in his wisdom revealed that to increase our numbers, the people must procreate for the sake of children. Only by multiplying would we become strong enough to dominate our foes from the realm of darkness.”

  One of the younger boys raised his hand. “When did the angel o’ flight visit us? Could he really fly?”

  “Angel of Light,” the maggid enunciated. “We base our calendar on this momentous event which happened exactly 2,166 years ago. And before you ask, no, I wasn’t around then to meet him.”

  The old man paused to catch his breath. He didn’t appear in the best of health, but he spoke with great enthusiasm which seemed to tire him out. “Thus, for centuries men and women came together to produce offspring but always regretted the shameful act as a necessary evil. Thankfully, however, our people eventually developed the means of artificial insemination, which eliminated the need for physical contact, and our society returned to the former ways of purity.”

  He coughed, cleared his throat, then continued. “Now today, as you know, children like yourselves are generated within the natal chambers without the unpleasantness of the female giving birth.” Some of the boys flinched in disgust at the thought. “So you see, we have made great progress in these latter days, returning to the original teachings of the Sacred Scrolls.”

  The teacher concluded his lesson and took some questions, but Martin was lost in thought. “LOGOS, now I remember where I’ve heard these ideas before: Sons of Light versus Sons of Darkness, the War Scroll, the Manual of Discipline. This present culture must have evolved from the practices of the ancient Essenes at Qumran, the community which supposedly recorded the Dead Sea Scrolls.”

  21

  <>

  “According to the early Jewish historian Josephus, they were a religious sect which broke off from the main body of Judaism in the second century BC. They rejected the practice of animal sacrifices in the temple worship in Jerusalem and accused the majority of their fellow Jews of being too worldly. They retreated to the wilderness around the Dead Sea, living in communes where all property was shared. They emphasized spiritual purity through frequent washing and a strict moral code including celibacy; most groups allowed only men as members.”

  <>

  “Yes, but not all. As I recall, the Essenes were not rebellious or violent people. Although they condemned the Jewish leadership of the time, they never tried to take Jerusalem by force, but simply left to practice their own set of beliefs. What did Xenox do to change the history of these people and apparently their character? I need to learn more.”

  Martin used his citizen’s pass to acquire some food at a nearby kiosk and caught up with the old man, who had finished his lesson and was leaving. “Sir, may I share a meal with you and ask you more about the ancient times?”

  “Gladly, my son. I saw you standing in the back. It warms my heart to hear of your interest in our forefathers. Few today care about the past. These youngsters listen to my stories because they must meet the state indoctrination requirements. The only parts they enjoy are the tales of battle which, I admit, are rather exciting.”

  They sat to eat together on a bench in the shade of a tree. “Please elaborate more about this Angel of Light,” Martin said. “I’ve heard so much about him.” And if my hunch is correct, we’ve met.

  “The sacred War Scroll prophesied about his coming, saying the archangel Michael would descend from heaven and prepare the Sons of Light for battle. At his first visitation, he encouraged our blessed fathers to recruit converts and to build a powerful army for the Great Conflict, actually one of many battles with the enemy. The first major victory was the defeat of the mighty republic that threatened the Holy City.”

  “You mean the forces led by the Roman general Pompey? The Essenes kept him from taking Jerusalem?” A significant turning point if Rome never controlled Palestine.

  “Excellent, young man. Few today remember the name of that infidel. You do indeed possess keen insight into the former years.”

  “But back to this Angel of Light,” Martin urged him on. “Was his appearance unusual in any way?”

  "No more unusual than what the prophet Isaiah described. In his scroll he wrote that angels had six wings, two to cover their faces, two to cover their bodies, and two to fly. But angels may take various forms. At his visitation Michael had no wings but instead six limbs, an indication of his great power."

  I knew it. “Tell me, do we know the very day that Michael arrived to deliver his message?”

  The old man shook his head. “The early times are shrouded in mystery. Although we know the year, the precise date has been lost.”

  <>

  “What happened after this initial victory over Pompey? I imagine this roused the people’s zeal, giving them more confidence.”

  “Indeed. They took control of the Holy City, encouraging their wayward brethren to join them in their conquests. A few did, but most ridiculed them and called them heretics. So the majority of Judeans were brought to ruin.”

  <>

  The maggid continued. “In the following years, the Armies of Light swept through the region, gaining territory after each victory, eventually conquering most of the dark continent and the far-off Hindus within a period of four hundred years. The European nations, inheritors of the remains of the Roman Empire, lasted for another eight centuries but were finally overcome. Our people brought the Path of Light to this continent about six hundred years later, leading to the wondrous civilization we enjoy today. Only the far-off lands of Asia remain in darkness.”

  Martin thought to LOGOS, “That means they’ve ruled here almost three centuries already, and unlike the Maya, they control the entire United States territory and most of the world.”

  <>

  “Thus eliminating the second largest religion in
the world, a crucial change. That’s a clever deduction, LOGOS. I’m impressed. In the short time we’ve been together, you’ve processed a substantial amount of Earth history.”

  <>

  “Well, you can save the technical explanations for later. We still need to figure out how to prevent Xenox’s latest move in the game.”

  Martin noticed the maggid staring intently at him as if seeing him for the first time, having been so enrapt in his storytelling.

  “Pardon me,” the old man asked, “but have you considered the Cleansing?”

  That again. What did it mean? “No, sir, I haven’t had the opportunity.”

  “You would be a good candidate.”

  “Well, you see, I’ve recently arrived from —”

  “Come. I’ll lead you there. I think it would be best.”

  Having no convincing reason to refuse, Martin allowed the man to take him a few blocks over to an imposing building with tall marble columns and a grand staircase, apparently a meeting hall for large audiences. People gathered outside, lining up to proceed past checkpoints at the doors. Some walked with crutches; a few gestured to each other with hand signs; one young man had shockingly white hair. Curiously, it was the only place he’d seen thus far where men and women were standing together.

  In the distance beyond the crowd, Martin thought he saw the man who had followed him earlier, but he wasn’t certain. A world like this would make anyone paranoid. To be safe, he shifted to a line further away.

  The maggid took his leave, raising his hand in blessing, saying, “Wash and be clean.”

  As he watched the old man walk away, someone touched his shoulder, and he heard a woman’s voice whisper, “Martin, don’t go in there. Come with me. Quickly, before the Purity Patrol takes notice.”

  “How do you know who I am?”

  “No time for that now. Hurry.”

 

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