Chen flashed him a wounded look, and her shoulders fell. “I… It’s difficult to say.”
“Try me.”
She looked really hurt. Whatever this was, it was serious. “If I go back there, my life could be forfeit,” she said. Her voice seemed to be faltering under some heavy emotion. “Not because of anything I’ve done… well, running away certainly didn’t help. But… let’s just say my living arrangements there were… unbearable.” A tear ran down one cheek, and she lifted a hand to wipe it away. “Please, I’d rather not talk about it right now. I want to forget that place, if at all possible. We need to concentrate on the here and now.”
Cris nodded. He would respect her privacy – for now. “Okay. So what exactly is this ‘Makaton’ you keep talking about?”
She seemed happy to change the subject. Clearing her throat, she said, “The city administrator. His name is Orillan, and he is the last of an otherwise extinct species from the planet Makat, in the galaxy of Ida.”
Cris blinked, and he was sure his heart skipped a beat. Any questions he had about Chen’s ‘secret’ suddenly vanished from his mind. He felt himself turning pale. This was almost too much to take in. “What?” was all he could say.
Chen frowned. “His name is Orillan, and…”
“I heard you,” Cris said. “I’m sorry. You said he was from another planet?”
“Yes,” she said. She was about to say something else, then seemed to reconsider, and her expression changed. “My apologies, Cris. Sometimes I forget just how much has changed in the world since your time. Extrasolar life is something we take for granted nowadays – it’s just a fact of life – but of course you probably weren’t even aware of its existence.”
“No, I wasn’t,” he said. “In my time, we hadn’t even reached Mars, and we were alone in the universe.”
“Oh, the Second Faction has a colony there now,” she told him, with a kind of proud smile on her face. “Terraformers. They go in and set up huge machines which make the air breathable. But we also have mining colonies on Proxima Centauri, Sirius III-2, and the planets of the Betelgeuse system. That’s where the first known extrasolar animals were discovered, in fact – and the Nommos people. It takes decades to get there, though. We can’t travel faster than light, so we have to rely on sleeper ships.”
Cris sighed a half-laugh, shaking his head slightly. This was unbelievable. Nommos people? “Wow,” he muttered. He felt dizzy, elated, and for a moment found it difficult to keep his balance as they passed into another long corridor. It was as though his entire world was being turned upside down – and inside out – in the space of a few seconds. He took a deep breath, trying to maintain composure in the face of the dangerous situation they were in. “So this… Makaton… is… some kind of alien?”
Chen continued. “There were four of them originally. The Makatons came to our world at the beginning of the twenty-fourth century – as refugees from a long-dead world, the only survivors of an ancient disaster over a million years ago. The story goes that the Makaton people had invented a new technology, a remote stellar manipulator, capable of harnessing the power of their star. Orillan, in fact, was one of the stellar engineers who pioneered the technology, but the testing of their prototype device went awry, creating a supernova which consumed their solar system. Only four Makatons managed to escape the shockwave, and their ship drifted in the void between our galaxies for the next million years or so, before finding its way, eventually, to Earth.”
“That’s unreal,” Cris breathed, his eyes wide, scanning the corridor ahead as it contoured to the left, obscuring his view. He blinked away hot tears.
Chen nodded. “But true. Now, sadly, Orillan is the last of his kind. The other Makatons have long since passed away.”
“How do you know he isn’t dead too?” Cris asked. “We still don’t know what happened here…”
She smirked. “The Makaton keeps this city running. Without him, nothing would be working. He controls everything, like a central computer. So I have no doubt that he lives, and will possess the answers we seek.”
After what seemed like hours, the twisting ivory corridor finally opened out into a larger chamber. Light emanated from the walls in a steady glow, brightening the space inside. At the far end was a sealed doorway that whispered open as they approached.
“He must know we’re here,” Chen said, crossing the short distance to the threshold and stepping inside.
Cris didn’t say anything. As he followed, he realised he was trembling, experiencing feelings of apprehension and dread, and an overwhelming nausea. He didn’t know what to expect here; only his newfound trust of Lorelei Chen was keeping him together.
This room was transparent on all sides, and small glowing fish swam about the outside of the membrane, tiny stars against a darker backdrop. At the opposite side of the room were two more closed doors, and what looked like a large organic computer system. A long, circular bench dominated the centre of the room with one section set higher than the rest. Perched on the higher section was a gigantic, wrinkly insect-like head with, in place of hair, numerous tendrils which terminated in round pod-like structures connected to the computer like cables. The head’s glistening, oily skin was a pale brown colour, with large compound eyes the size of dinner plates on the sides of the head, and five small ocelli on the top. There was no visible mouth. The creature was encased in a clear sealed container and mounted on a pedestal base.
Cris stared with a mixture of fascination and horror as they approached the thing, unsure of what to make of it. He’d seen some pretty disturbing things during his life, but this… this was right up there amongst the worst.
“Welcome to Lahmia,” the Makaton said, its voice croaky and distant. “I’ve been expecting you for some time.”
Cris’ eyes widened with shock. Holy Shit.
Lorelei Chen blinked. “You… have?”
“I have, Lorelei Chen,” it said. “I’ve been monitoring your progress through the city since you arrived. It was I who detected your presence outside, and opened the cargo canal doors to let you in. I apologise for the unorthodox method of getting you here, but after the city fell, anyone entering through the main gates would be killed immediately.”
Chen nodded, her eyes narrowed. “What has happened here, Orillan?”
The Makaton didn’t move. “Several months ago, the Faction grew tired of their religious convictions, and loyalty to Lord Damarus. After a long debate they decided to pursue research into forbidden genetic enhancements, with the goal of accelerating the evolution of the human species. I warned against the folly of tampering too much with DNA revision, but they wouldn’t listen. They wanted to become as Gods themselves, to challenge the power of Damarus. Inevitably, their research went wrong.”
“Can’t you undo the damage?” Chen asked.
“I’ve tried,” Orillan told her. “But to no avail. There is no reasoning with them now. They have devolved into biological mutations, for lack of a better term.”
Cris let out a deep breath. In a roundabout way, things were starting to make sense. “They’ve turned themselves into monsters,” he said.
The Makaton, Orillan, seemed to observe him for a moment. “Indeed. And now, I am powerless to do anything about it, other than keep them alive, in the hope that someone would find us. How ironic that it would be you. You must be Cristian Stefánsson. I’ve been waiting for you for a long, long time. It is a great honour to finally meet you.”
Cris frowned. That was unexpected. “How do you know my name?”
“We’ve met before, of course,” Orillan said.
Cris glanced at Chen, who shook her head dismissively. Met before? He turned his attention back to the Makaton. “I’m sorry. You must have me mistaken for somebody else. I’ve been cryogenically frozen for over four hundred years, and was only revived a few days ago. I’ve never seen you before in my life. I didn’t even know extraterrestrials existed until today…”
“I have met
you before,” Orillan insisted. “When I first arrived here, in the fifth year of the New Dominion, you were one of those who welcomed me, and my kin, to this planet. You wouldn’t remember it, of course, because from your perspective, it hasn’t happened yet.”
Cris took a deep breath, confused. What the hell? “What are you talking about?”
The Makaton seemed to chuckle with amusement. “I know how you feel. I had the very same reaction all those years ago. You told me that we’d met before, yet I had no knowledge of it, because the event was still in my future, but in your past. What a wonderful paradox.”
Cris couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Are you saying that at some point in my future, I’m going to travel back through time?”
“I don’t pretend to understand the laws of quantum causality, but that is certainly how it would seem. How else would I have known your name, and to speak in this ancient English dialect? You told me, all those years ago, that you would find me here at Lahmia, and that I would help you restore lost memories of your life before you were frozen.”
Cris blinked. “That is what I want.” Could this creature be telling the truth? Was this even possible? “I must be dreaming,” he muttered to himself.
“Orillan,” Chen said, looking equally confused. “Why didn’t I know about this? What happened to Cris in the past?”
The Makaton made a grunting sound. “Domiw’aitus w’estul motobilum. I didn’t believe it myself until you came walking in here. I’m as taken aback as you are. But I shouldn’t reveal too much about what happened. Cristian… instructed me not to reveal certain… truths… about his future for fear of altering the timeline too much. All I know is that I am destined to help you remember your old life. That is all I can do.”
“I need to sit down,” Cris said. “This is too much.” His legs were buckling under the heavy emotions that thundered through his system. How could he travel back through time? Why would he? What would happen in the future that could require such a thing? What was going to happen to him? “Who am I?” he asked, and collapsed to the floor, his eyes filling with tears.
“A man with an uncertain future,” Orillan said. “For your life will change drastically, and soon. A dark path awaits you, I am certain.”
Chen knelt beside Cris and wrapped an arm around him. He threw himself at her, sobbing uncontrollably into her bosom. She gritted her teeth, and stared up at the Makaton. “Can you help him?” she said.
“Yes,” Orillan said. “I can repair the damaged neural pathways in his brain that are blocking access to his memories. Perhaps in return, you can help me.”
“How?” Chen asked.
“Let the rest of the world know what has happened here in Lahmia, and send help, if you can. I have no means of contacting the outside world since the people here destroyed our communications array. I do not wish to spend the rest of my life down here, alone.”
Chen nodded. “Of course. If we get out alive, that is.”
“Oh, you will,” Orillan said. “Now, bring Cristian before me.”
She did as she was told, helping Cris to his feet and moving him closer to the Makaton. Cris looked awful, having gone through some kind of nervous breakdown. She didn’t blame him. This was a very strange and confusing situation, and coupled with everything else he’d experienced over these past few days, she could understand how it could be too much to bear. Even she was having trouble understanding this, for the Makaton’s words had been cryptic at best, and far from coherent.
“Look at me,” Orillan said, and Cris did. At that moment, one of the cable-like tendrils on the Makaton’s head disconnected itself from the computer, and snaked its way toward Cris, planting its pod-like end over his head like an oversized helmet.
Cris reacted, grabbing at the thing as if it were attacking him, and let out a whimpering scream.
“Do not fear,” the Makaton said. “Soon, you will remember who you are.”
7
Cristian Stefánsson remembered.
He had been born in Waterbury, Connecticut, in 1979, and graduated from Post University in 2000 with a degree in Media Journalism. The 1990s had been a tough decade for him personally; problems in his parents’ relationship had driven the family apart, and this caused Cris to develop a very low self-esteem which affected his ability to form relationships with his peers. He had grown depressed, often turning to recreational drugs as an escape.
The dawning of the new millennium had been a milestone for Cris, a turning point: a big celebration for him and his fellow university students; getting drunk and smoking weed by the Naugatuck River, then watching the spectacular fireworks display put on by the city – who had spent in the region of $250,000 to illuminate the sky for miles around. But most notably, it was the night he’d lost his virginity.
Alexis Jay was two years younger than Cris, but he’d admired her in and around Campus for some time. She was fairly short at five foot four inches, slim, with lovely shoulder-length blonde hair permeated with brown streaks. Blue eyes, a pretty face… Cris had bumped into her on his way to procure extra beers for the party, and they had got to talking. One thing led to another… most of it in the back seat of his car. It was one of the best nights of his life.
Alexis, rather unexpectedly, fell pregnant after their night of fumbled passion, but the two of them soon decided that they would stay together and raise the child, rather than face any kind of decision about aborting the foetus. They spent most of their free time together during the pregnancy, and their passionate friendship soon blossomed into what Cris considered true love.
Kimberley Stefánsson was born on October 4th, 2001. Cris moved out of his dad’s house and got a place with Alexis and the baby in the Bishop Woods neighbourhood of New Haven. Then, during a visit to the south of France in the summer of 2002, Cris asked Alexis to be his wife, presenting her with a diamond ring he had spent months secretly saving for. She agreed, and they were married early the following year in a beautiful ceremony at St. Lucia’s Windjammer Landing Villa Beach Resort in the Caribbean.
Five years after the height of Cris’ depression, his life had managed to turn around completely, and he was a blissfully happy man. Married with a gorgeous daughter, and a good job as a Broadcast Journalist - working for NBC. He was both amazed and humbled that such happiness could come to somebody like himself; for years he had considered himself worthless, even contemplating suicide at times. But now, things were so different, and he would remain happy for another eight wonderful years…
Then, in the summer of 2011, Cris began to fall desperately ill. He was soon diagnosed with terminal bowel cancer, and given a matter of months to live. The cancer was far too widespread for any kind of treatment to succeed, so all the doctors could offer him was pain relief. The news was sudden, and shocking. Poor little Kimberley had shut herself in her room and cried for days and days, seemingly without end, upon learning that her beloved daddy was going to die.
Cris was devastated. He wouldn’t even live to see his thirty-fourth birthday. He’d never be able to walk little Kimberley down the aisle. He’d never see her grow up, and have children of her own. He’d never see how things turned out.
As the months went on, Cris began to develop a slow acceptance of his fate. He began to live every day as though it were his last. He wrote poems to express his feelings, that death was not to be feared. He did not fear death, not one bit. He thought of death as a graduation and going Home.
Then, one late November evening that same year, Alexis came home with a radical idea, something she’d seen on TV: they should use the inheritance money from his rich parents to pay for a cryopreservation program from the newly-formed Cryonics Institute. The idea was, that when medical science could no longer sustain his life, he would be cryopreserved in the hope that he could one day be recovered by using highly advanced future technology.
Cris was sceptical, of course. He’d heard of celebrities signing up for this ‘cheating death’ scenario, but wheth
er somebody who was cryogenically frozen could ever be truly recovered was still unknown. Nonetheless, his little girl had pleaded with him to sign up, so in early 2012, Cris bid an emotional farewell to his family, and was frozen in liquid nitrogen in an underground facility, before death had a chance to claim him...
Cris blinked his eyes open, and exhaled heavily. “Alexis?” he called.
Lorelei Chen braced herself, and used her arms to support his weight as the Makaton’s snake-like tendril detached itself from Cris’ head, withdrawing back into a large port on the biological computer.
“Alexis?” Cris said again. “Where are you? Where’s Kimberley?” He turned, and stared at Chen as though he’d never seen her before. “Alexis?”
Chen frowned, and glanced up at the Makaton.
“He is suffering from acute delirium,” Orillan said. “It should pass in a few moments…”
Cris held his head in his hands. Slowly, things were starting to fall back into place, into the right sequence. For a moment his mind had become a blur of memories, chaotic fragments, in no particular sequence. Now, as the seconds passed, his brain seemed to be re-organising itself, healing, like a bad headache fading away.
Yes.
He remembered everything now. Waking up from cryofreeze, meeting Lorelei Chen, the journey to Lahmia…
Oh, no…
The realisation hit him like a ton of bricks: his wife and his daughter – Alexis and Kimberley – had been dead for hundreds of years, and everything he had ever known was gone.
Dead.
“Cris?” Chen said. “Are you okay?”
He blinked, and tears streamed down his face. A pit of despair had opened in his gut; it felt like he’d been stabbed with a thousand knives all at once. He felt overwhelmed with a deep sense of nothingness – a void of isolation and loss. He mumbled something, but was unable to form any words to express the agonising pain that thundered through his soul. He let out a cry of anguish, a pathetic, choking sound in the large chamber.
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