Centaurs (Parallel Worlds)

by Aaron Pery

  "How about Canada, Mexico, and Japan, who have been doing it for us for a long time?"

  "Like I said, American built rather than foreign. And if it upsets any of them they might reflect on their ugly diatribes against us in the past twenty years while literally buying their food with our money."

  "What d'you think, Mr. Marsh, will happen to the oil producing countries when their US sales, and I imagine England's as well, dry out."

  "Let them drink it if they'd like, but we don't really care."

  "Those were harsh words, Adam, about ruining so many foreign economies."

  "That may be so but let me me remind you of the Kyosho accord, in which all of them tried to penalize America for toxic emissions while doing nothing about their own, rightly or wrongly. Which the previous idiot in the White House and his liberal cronies agreed with and were about to sign on before he was sent packing in the last election. So why should we care about them?"

  "Let me ask you, Mr. Marsh," The Fox reporter asked." How will you control the manufacture of the power packs since anyone owning a car can open it up and reverse engineer it the way the pirates did to the US computer industry."

  "Good question. The pack comes in a sealed unit that if anyone tries to open it, will literally destroy itself the moment it's attempted."

  "I see. What about repairs?"

  "If a unit becomes inoperative all the owner will have to do is take his vehicle to an authorized dealer and have it replaced at no charge because it'll carry a thirty years' warranty."

  "That's great. Will you allow the export of these cars out of the country?"

  "Of course. Let the world buy cars from us for a change if they want to save money and their environment."

  "You emphasized before that the engines will be only be installed on the American manufactured cars, but what about those manufactured in the United States by any of the foreign car companies?"

  "They won't have the license to manufacture the engines so the question is a moot one. Only American manufacturers, as I said."

  "But why, Mr. Marsh, if the cars are manufactured in places like Alabama, for instance?"

  "Because the lion's share of our revenues will be used to establish a charitable fund to aid our veterans and members of our armed forces to educate themselves and their families, and provide them with excellent medical services, which the government is doing a lousy job of. So the way we see it, we have no wish to receive contributions for them from the enemies they fought and that many had given their lives to suppress."

  "That's a noble sentiment, Mr. Marsh, but is it realistic?"

  Adam grinned widely. "Realistic? What does an old grunt like me know about such things? But what I do know is that I'd hate to give my nephews and their mother money that I consider tainted with the blood of their loved ones."

  "When will these engines be available on the open market, Mr. Marsh." The NPR reporter asked.

  "As soon as the car manufacturers install them, which I was told will take no more than sixty days because of their simplicity, and for a lot less money than a car with a gas engine sells nowadays."

  "How about retrofitting old cars with the new engine?"

  "I'd say at the same timeframe."

  The interviews ended a moment later when Ed summarized them.

  "Well, Adam," Marty said as soon as his face replaced the panel. "That took a lot of balls to say to them. Any repercussions?"

  "Oh, I've become the liberals' hate poster child but everyone else so loved hearing me say what's on their own minds that the emails just keep poring in. On the subject of manufacturing, all three big car manufacturers had signed contracts for a million licenses each at two-hundred dollars per, which will include the power pack. How well set up are we to supply them with the packs?"

  Elwood responded happily. "We already have on hand two-hundred thousand, but we will speed it up considerably now that you have the contracts. When should we start delivering, and where?"

  "In two weeks, and I think the best place will be back in Baltimore."

  "Then send us the purchase orders and we'll fill them out just as quick as we can."

  "That'll be great, but will you have enough raw materials such as steel to be able to build the units by the millions?"

  Elwood chuckled. "No problem about that because we don't use steel or any other metal."

  "Oh? Then what do you use?"

  "Dirt, Adam, plain old soil, for which the Gogians had a process that converts it into a tremendously strong substance that looks and feels like metal but isn't. And the innards of the packs comprise mostly of silica and a bit of silver, which we have plenty of to build the boards that run it."

  "Unbelievable. They really were geniuses, those Gogians."

  "They were, but they were also were the meanest creatures in the universe."

  "Which, I guess, is why there's none of them left."

  "You bet, Adam." Marty said. "Anything else we need to discuss?"

  "Nothing important, only that by now I'll need to start tracking all expenses and revenues from and into the correct accounts. Which I don't dare hire a local talent for."

  "I appreciate your sensitivity on this matter." Marty looked at Paula, who nodded. "And to solve the problem, Paula Thompson, our Administrator, will get in touch with you very soon to take care of it."

  "Terrific, so I better run along and take care of a few issues here."

  "Thanks for your dedication, Adam." Jenny said before she disconnected.

  Chapter 28

  Marty was quite busy during the next two weeks as she moved products from one warehouse to the other by changing the tunnel's entry and exit points from one dimension to another. Finally, tired of switching it around, she looked into the old Gogian records and found that they had established quite a few tunnels that had spanned earth while searching for new breeds of food animals to replace their lost ones. She moved them around until a whole network was established which facilitated all their needs for product transfers between the two worlds.

  Once all were in place she asked Paula to assign one of her most trusted employees to the task of handling the transfers on a daily basis. The next day she was introduced to a young female by the name of Nella who, like all of Paula's people, seemed extremely bright and was able to take on the job quickly.

  Adam remained on the line after Marty presented Nella to him and described her responsibilities to him. "Gosh, Marty, you never stop surprising me with new stuff and your amazing abilities. And establishing a network of tunnels between various points must rate as being pretty close to the top."

  "Thanks for saying that, Adam. But I sense there's another point that you're trying to bring to my attention, so spit it out."

  Adam chuckled. "Gosh, General, I never could pull any crap on you in the old days, and I guess nothing's changed. Okay, just as you'd felt that moving the tunnel around was too time consuming I'd reached a point when my job is much too burdensome for one man to handle."

  "I see. And you'd like to improve things at your end as well?"

  "Exactly."

  "Got anyone in mind for the job?"

  "I sure do. Remember the kid who used to work for me, Stan Brown?"

  "Sure, a real bright first lieutenant who stepped on a land mine in Iraq and had both legs amputated just below the knees."

  "That's him. Well, he did just fine for a while after they set him up with a pair of artificial legs and even went back to school to study engineering. But then his world fell apart when he found out that his wife was screwing around behind his back and he's been a literal vegetable since then. I tried to talk him back into the real world by telling him that her behavior had nothing to do with his disability because she'd been playing around way before it happened. It didn't help remove his bitterness as I'd hoped, and he kept sinking until he even stopped using the prosthesis and sits in his wheelchair while living in a vet rest home and doing nothing other than staring into space. I visit him quite often
and try to cheer him up, which I apparently succeed in doing, but his doctor tells me that it lasts barely a day afterward before he lapses again. When I asked him for a solution the last time we talked, he suggested that Stan needs to find something useful to do soon or he'll end up killing himself."

  "And you think getting involved with us will do that? It scares me a bit to reveal our organization to such an unstable person, though."

  "I wouldn't describe Stan as unstable, only a person to whom life has dealt a few pretty shitty blows and he's having a hard time adjusting to it."

  "And you expect that finding out what the monsters had done to my people here will make Stan realize that his own shit's like chocolate in comparison?"

  "Stan's an extremely bright man, Marty, so I have no doubt he'll rise to the occasion and get off the pity-pot pretty quickly. But if he doesn't after I take him on a tour of this place and return him to the rest home, who'll believe him if he tries to tell anyone about it?"

  "You mean they'll consider it the ramblings of a nutcase? Okay, I'll accept that. But d'you think he'll be able to accept what he sees here?"

  "I'm pretty sure of it because he'd always been addicted to science fiction."

  "And here he'll find that kind of fiction as a reality? Okay, let's give him a try and see what happens. And I want you to know how much I appreciate what you're doing for the boy."

  "Which you're willing to do no less, Marty."

  "Well, the way I see it he ended up where he is because we took him to Iraq."

  "And therefore are kind of responsible for his misery? Yeah, that's how I see it as well. Anyway, I'm going to see Stan tomorrow morning so I'll talk to him about it."

  "But tell him as little as possible, only that you will take him on a trip to another dimension, which will probably make him think that you're nuts."

  "Be interesting to watch his reaction. Where should I bring him?"

  "I think the cafeteria will probably be the best place, let's say for lunch. Where is he living?"

  "Near DC, so I figure on picking him up around seven in the evening and drive him into the warehouse thirty minutes later, Which'll be just right for lunch at your end."

  "Perfect. Want me to move the exit to the cafeteria?"

  "Actually, it'll be best if I drive him over through the farm."

  "Great. Just let me know before you pick him up."

  Two days later, Marty saw Adam driving what she assumed was a rental, and stop in front of the cafeteria right where she was waiting. She was shocked to see how the fresh young man that she used to know had turned literally old in the past ten years. Yet, as Adam installed him in the wheelchair she was pleased to see the look of utter curiosity rather than shock at the sight of the centaurs.

  She came over and extended her hand to him. "My name's Marty in this world, but you used to know me as General Sherman, Lieutenant."

  He shook her hand after a brief attempt to salute her. "Yes, General, Adam told me a little bit about the background of your arrival here but I really didn't believe him. Until this moment, that is."

  "Is it the sight of so many centaurs walking around with naked breasts that made you a believer?"

  "And what a magnificent sight it is. But about you, Sir, I mean Ma'am, I have no problem accepting that you are indeed the General. You see, I guess my injury had created a compensatory sense that allows me to judge certain things, and the moment you took my hand in yours I knew who you truly are."

  "I'm glad to hear that, Stan, and I'd like you to call me Marty. Is that a deal?"

  "Yes, Ma'am. Oops, Marty."

  "It'll take you a while to get used to it. Anyway, are you hungry?"

  "Starving, actually, so I'd like to eat something. Gosh, it'll be dinner for me but I guess to you it's gonna be an early lunch."

  "Correct. That's because you're now on the island of Crete, half a world away from DC and it's not just that, but you're in a parallel world to Earth, which if you're an avid science fiction reader you'll understand is another dimension."

  Stan burst into laughter. "I sure do, but I thought Adam had gone nuts when he told me about it. Not any more, though, because the proof is right in front of me."

  "A world populated by mythological creatures who speak English with a British kind of accent and walk around totally naked including myself. Before we get in for our lunch, though, I must warn you that our physical needs and behavior are very different from what you're used to in your supposed civilized world."

  "Oh? Such as?"

  "Two very basic things. Because of our physique, which is in essence quite horse-like, we do our personal business just like them--whenever and wherever we are at the time without giving it a thought as long as we don't do it on the floor of a public building. Another custom we have is that when the mood strikes us sexually, we don't hesitate to relieve it in public because we aren't bashful about it."

  "Warnings noted, Ma'am." Stan said, and Marty could sense a glimmer of his old training and rank in his voice.

  "Good. D'you need to be pushed in, or can you manage on your own?"

  "On my own, Ma'am, which is easy because this contraption has an electric motor."

  "Then follow us in and let's stuff our faces."

  Despite his assured acceptance of the centaur social behavior, Stan's eyes literally bulged when he saw a few couples making love against the grab bars but to his credit, Marty thought, he did not say anything. He did comment, though, on the huge food portions that were offered, particularly whole hard-boiled ostrich eggs.

  "My God, I never ever saw so much food in my life."

  Marty chuckled. "You seem to forget that even though most of the people here are juveniles, their average weight is about half a ton. And we sure ain't the herbivore kind so we need to eat a lot three times a day. Now pick up anything you like and let's move up the line to the cashier."

  "Sounds great, but how do I pay for my food?"

  "You don't because while here you're my guest. Besides, your money's not worth anything here because we use gold coins rather than US money."

  Marty chose a sitting table table so that Stan reached it easily, and the three of them ate at a leisurely pace to allow him to look at everything and be seen by curious passers-bys. When they finished eating Marty pulled a cigar out of her pouch and was about to light it when she saw Stan's look.

  "Would you like one, Stan?"

  "I'm dying to have one because it's been quite a long while since I smoked."

  "You're in a non-smoking facility, I guess."

  "You bet it is, which is strictly enforced."

  "Not here, as you can see, so enjoy it."

  After taking a few deep draws on his cigar, Stan put it down suddenly and spoke. "This has been a marvelous outing, Adam, and I'd hate to go back to that miserable jail I'm in, but what was the purpose of bringing me here and showing me this world?"

  "So you think it was a charitable excursion perpetrated by Adam to maybe get you off your pity-pot, you gloomy looking asshole?" Marty said, quite harshly.

  Stan gave her a startled look, then burst into laughter. "My God, General, if I had any doubts about who you are until this moment, they just vanished."

  "Why did you say that?"

  "Because you'd once given me a well-deserved reaming, and you just did the same to me like you did at the time, General. Anyway, Ma'am, then what was the purpose of bringing me to this place which, come to think about it, was quite a breach of security for him to do if you want to keep your existence secret."

  "I'm glad to hear you express yourself as a Marine should, Lieutenant, and you're right about stating that you present a possible security breach. So let me lay my cards on the table, so to speak. Have you heard Adam's TV interview about the perpetual motion engine?"

  "Yes, we were glued to the set in the common room, and cheered every time that he let our enemies have it with both barrels. But what's that got to do with me?"

  "The fact that Adam has b
ecome overburdened in his support role for us here, and he needs to recruit an assistant that would shoulder some of his work. His first thought was that you could be the right person because in the old days before you were hurt you'd proved to be extremely capable--so much so that we were planning on promoting you to captain way before you were due. But then this shit happened and you were discharged medically."

  "Thanks for telling me that, General. But what can a bitter no-legs man do for a seemingly happy bunch of four-legged people?"

  "You're being an embittered shit again, Stan. What does having no legs got to do with your mind? No, I don't think you really think that way because you were doing quite well with your artificial legs until you caught your wife fucking some asshole and then fell apart. So it's your cock rather than your legs that you've been mourning for years, when we all knew that your bitch of a wife was fucking every pair of pants she could grab for a long time, including your Annapolis classmates."

  Stan picked up his cigar and relit it slowly before responding. "Then you're saying, General, that I've been an idiot all this time when I should've plugged on even harder but instead let that cheap cunt ruin my life worse than that fucking landmine did?"

  "Exactly. But didn't Adam tell you that?"

  "Yes, time and time again but I wouldn't listen because maybe my ass needed to be reamed by a professional. Yes, Ma'am, General, and you sure did. Now, did you say something about a job you needed done, Sir?"

  Marty leaned over and shook his hand. "Yes, Lieutenant, I do. But nothing is gonna happen until I see you standing on your feet rather than sit in that damned fucking chair with wheels. Understand?"