“I am looking,” Jules answered without much sympathy for his former guests.
The pilot’s eyes widened as he watched the half-sunken Caligula and Billion slowly get caught up in the water funnel’s torrent. The massive ships angled forward and began to rotate with increased velocity around the funnel the closer they approached.
Another large wave rocked the stratoskimmer. Though strapped in, Jules held on to the armchair. He could hear cries of pain and moans from the hull.
Suicide, the pilot mentally reiterated. Not daring to question Jules, he followed the man’s orders despite his better judgment. With his eyes on the yachts, he angled the stratoskimmer directly towards the funnel until the air ship was caught in its unbreakable grip.
“Hold on,” Jules said as if he were a schoolboy at the top of a roller coaster waiting for it to drop.
The pilot could do nothing at this point to control the ship; they were now at the mercy of the ocean. As they spun around the funnel, he watched the two massive yachts lurch out of the water and ascend the massive vortex.
The faster the stratoskimmer spun around the funnel the louder the laments stemmed from the hull. The crew were at their physical and mental breaking point. Many wished they could die to end the pain.
The nose of the stratoskimmer then lurched upward toward the sky as the ship began to ascend the massive funnel in a clockwise rotation. Screams of anguish along with the sounds of furniture and glass breaking echoed from the ship’s hull. The pilot clung to his seat as he watched them rapidly approach the two massive yachts above.
Though Jules had complete confidence in his pilot, he knew there was one person who would be able to pull off such an aerial stunt with absolute surety—Alex Pella.
Alex Pella. Jules let himself linger on the thought for a brief second. The name still aggravated. An intellectual equal. A greater thinker. And more importantly, a superb strategist. Jules knew the world was too small to accommodate both of them. Though he attempted never to dwell on the past, the knowledge that Alex’s body was never recovered continued to make Jules uneasy.
“We’re going to crash!” the pilot yelled; impact with the yachts seemed inevitable.
Wide-eyed, Jules clung on to this seat. “Wait for it,” he exclaimed. “Wait for it!”
The lights in the cockpit began to flicker on as the dashboard and steering wheel lit up in a grand display of light.
“Depolarize the engine,” Jules commanded. “Now!”
The pilot ran his hand across the dashboard. In the process, a sudden jolt and hum of the engines let him know that they were ready to fly. The impending collision with one of the ships directly above them still seemed inevitable.
“Concentrate,” Jules implored.
The pilot watched as the two ships were thrown from the funnel as if they were weightless ephemeral structures blown by the winds. The yachts erupted with the sound of destruction as their metal hulls grinded and collapsed in on themselves.
Just as they were being flung out of the air, the pilot noted a small, yet hopefully navigable space between the ships. Our father…, he began to pray as he then further depolarized the engines for maximum acceleration.
Everything grew dark as the yachts blocked all outside illumination. …who art in heaven! the pilot continued to utter after being thrown back on his seat with the mounting G-forces.
Hallowed be thy name, he chanted louder as he attempted to keep his eyes open and not flinch. Even a millimeter of a miscalculation, he knew, would plummet them to their deaths.
The ship rocked back and forth until the blackness in front of them opened to a view of blue skies. Like a gift from heaven, they were now above the maelstrom.
“Good show, my boy!” Jules applauded, laughing with pure joy. He clapped his hands together. “Now that was a ride!”
Chapter 5
Chapter_5
“Mr. Windsor,” Drew said, relieved at the sight, “you are alive.”
“And why wouldn’t I be?” Jules responded almost indignantly. “You don’t think that little nuisance you caused out there on the high seas was going to undo me, did you?”
Wearing a new dark blue suit with a fresh black shirt underneath, Jules entered the lab. New Reality emblem cufflinks added to the attire’s overall air of style and power.
“So, this is what caused all that ruckus?” he said, pointing at the shield.
“But what happened to your yacht,” Drew questioned, “and all her guests? As soon as I increased the electromagnetic pulses in the shield, I lost contact with you. Plus,” he sputtered, appearing more exasperated with the situation, “drastic weather and seismic activity was recorded over the entire planet.”
“So, what did you learn from your little experiment?” Jules asked nonchalantly, unconcerned about the material or humanitarian losses.
Drew was taken aback by the response. After noting the massive seismic and weather changes he had caused by increasing the electromagnetic field around the shield, he could only speculate as to how much destruction and loss of human lives it must have caused. He felt sickened by the experience and was shocked by Jules’ indifferent attitude.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Windsor,” Drew apologized. “When I finally realized what was occurring in the Atlantic, I immediately cut the electromagnetic field around the shield. I could only imagine what you and the guests on your ship must have endured.”
Jules conceded, “It was certainly too bad what happened. The Atlantic took The Caligula to the bottom of the sea. With regard to the guests who were on her, let’s just say you did me a favor by trimming some of The New Reality’s fat.”
Drew gasped at the admission. Holding on to the side of the table, he tried not to collapse under the weight of his guilt.
“Chin up,” Jules commanded, looking the man almost a foot smaller than him in the eye. “This is not some pity party. Must I remind you of the values inscribed on the pillars around which this great Georgian complex was built?”
Drew was well aware of the pillars to which Jules alluded. Created from six large slabs of stone with one positioned in the center, four arranged around it, and a final capstone on top, the monument stood boldly at over nineteen feet tall.
Inscribed in eight languages including English, Spanish, Swahili, Hindi, Hebrew, Arabic, Chinese and Russian, the Guidestones each conveyed the same New World Order message. Ranging from population control and social duties all the way to reproductive responsibilities, the pillars outlined the crux of The New Reality governing philosophy. Commissioned in 1980 by a secret society known as the Illuminati, the pillars had been painstakingly rebuilt after they were destroyed in an attack on the headquarters. Using the original pieces, hundreds of laborers pieced the monument back together as if it were the world’s most complicated jigsaw puzzle.
Serving as the centerpiece to their main headquarters in Elbert, Georgia, the Guidestones stood in the epicenter of the enormous thirty-story structure built as a precise replica of the company’s logo—a diamond with a golden circle in the center. With shimmering windows representing the diamond positioned around the perimeter and a large golden dome covering the vast courtyard in the center, the building was an unequivocal testament to modern architecture.
Though Drew did not completely agree with all The New World Order’s philosophies, he certainly believed in Jules Windsor. The man had proven a great inspiration ever since he first met him while working in England. Jules’ charisma motivated Drew to be a better scientist and expand his mental horizons beyond all he had previously thought possible.
Be more than the sum of your parts, he recalled Jules saying when they first met. You can do more than you ever expected. The only confines to your successes are the limits you place on them.
Though he was just an intern in The New Reality at the time, Drew aspired to work his way up the company chain until he became its lead scientist. Long nights, endless work, and hours of studying had paid off. After multiple promoti
ons and accolades, Jules personally commissioned Drew and his team to oversee the lab at the massive Georgian headquarters.
“Yes, Mr. Windsor,” Drew capitulated, regretting his doubts. “Always look forward and not backwards, as you say.”
“Good show,” Jules said as he patted the man on the shoulder. He then looked at the shield in the glass case with great anticipation. “So, have we uncovered any of its secrets after that little diversion you put me through?”
Drew looked with awe on the shield. Despite the enormous achievements of modern science, this artifact dating back well over 10,000 years possessed mysteries that were beyond what he could explain. He remembered the ancient Greek myth from The Iliad of how the blacksmith god of metallurgy known as Hephaestus had constructed it for Achilles. Hephaestus was also believed to have manufactured the Greek god Hermes’ winged helmet and sandals, Aegis’ breastplate, Helio’s chariot, and Eros’ bow and arrows.
The composite metals used in fashioning the shield were so strong that not even a high-powered laser could cut through them. Also, as described in The Iliad, the shield was made of five separate layers with its innermost one being pure liquid mercury as evidenced by indirect methods of analysis using low coherence interferometry, spectral analysis, and magnetic-particle resonance.
Drew walked over to the shield and placed his hands on the rectangular glass console protruding from the clear encasement. The console rose a few inches in response.
“What you experienced was a bloch wall effect,” Drew explained as a holographic globe encased in intersecting lines forming a triangular grid appeared between them, “As I mentioned before, the Earth is surrounded by a massive electromagnetic grid forming these lines you see right here.”
Drew touched the globe and a separate two-dimensional scene with three lines intersecting in its center appeared. “Where these electromagnetic lines cross is figuratively known as a bloch wall.”
“And as you can see,” he continued as the scene zoomed in until a three-dimensional view of The Caligula came into view, “this is where the electromagnetic waves cancel out each other, producing a negative gravity effect. It works just like the engines on the stratoskimmer, but on a global scale. In effect, non-spin energy in a polarized universe is rejected, weakening gravity at that exact point.”
“As you intensified and fluctuated the field around the shield,” Jules surmised, “it somehow directly influenced the grid and intensified it accordingly. But why don’t we notice this negative gravity effect at that point all the time?”
“It’s too weak to be of any significance. But,” Drew elaborated, “if there is a shift in the Earth’s crust, if the magma underground moves a certain direction, or if the liquid iron core in the center of the Earth changes its rotational velocity, it can transiently enhance this bloch wall effect at certain places and cause local anomalies.”
The image zoomed out back to a holograph of the Earth surrounded by grid lines. Drew then pointed at the Atlantic where Jules was sailing. With a grin on his face he said, “And some areas are given particularly ominous names—like the Bermuda Triangle.”
Jules raised an eyebrow with increased interest.
“What is more interesting,” Drew explained, “is that where these bloch walls occur we find megalithic structures such as the Giza pyramids in Egypt, Easter Island in the Pacific, Stonehenge in Ireland, Baalbek in Lebanon, and Mohenjo-Daro in Pakistan, among many others.”
Red dots appeared across the globe as he spoke.
“Somehow the great builders must have known about the grid,” Jules concluded, “and utilized this bloch wall effect to their benefit, creating such magnificent structures.” He looked at the shield. “And this shield here must be somehow connected to that lost knowledge and to the people who created it.”
The globe rotated and turned slightly to the side, highlighting South America.
“However,” Drew said with a little more gusto, “nowhere on Earth was this Bloch wall effect more noticeable than in Bolivia. The more I turned up the electromagnetic field around the shield, the more spectacular its effect became. You can see how the grid lines blur and curve around this one particular red dot at 16 degrees, 33 minutes, 42 seconds North by 68 degrees, 40 minutes, 48 seconds South.”
“And what, pray tell, is located at this God-forsaken spot besides a desert?” Jules asked.
“An ancient site known as Pumapunku,” Drew noted. “Inca tradition believes it to be the birthplace of the world.”
“And I would bet it is no mere coincidence that this is where these grid lines intersect,” Jules contemplated aloud while looking at the shield. Implications, options, and counter options ran through his mind as his lead scientist continued speaking.
“Located 12,800 feet above sea level,” Drew continued as a holographic of the ancient site appeared, “Pumapunku hosts some of the largest and most intricately cut red sandstone blocks in the world with some weighing over 100 tons. Archeologists today still marvel at the stonework. With highly complex geometry, perfect right angles, and faces that are as smooth as glass, one wonders what type of technology created such a structure.”
The more Drew explained, the more he was memorized by the ancient ruin. “It is almost like some advanced lost civilization built it and—”
Drew abruptly stopped speaking as he watched Jules place his hand on the clear encasement surrounding the shield. Quantumly coded for only his and Jules’ specific subatomic neurally-generated quantum field, the clear façade on that side faded away with Jules’ mere touch.
“What—” Drew stammered in concern. “What are you doing?”
He then watched Jules walk up to the levitating shield and place his hands around it.
“I don’t think,” Drew said. “No, I don’t think it would be a good idea.”
Jules yanked the shield out of place and walked confidently out of the encasement with his prize in hand. When Drew saw the grin on his boss’ face, he knew what Jules was thinking.
“Let me humbly recommend,” Drew implored, “that the best place for the shield would be exactly where you took it from.”
Jules smirked. “My boy. Life’s too short to stand on your heels all day.”
“But—” Drew started before he was cut off by Jules.
“Reflexivity!” Jules boasted. “We are looking at a most perfect opportunity where cause and effect meet at the precise time. Both the shield and Pumapunku are somehow tied together so closely that they are directly affecting one another. We must discover how—with haste.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Drew sheepishly responded.
Jules began to walk out of the room.
“Let us not dilly dally here any longer,” Jules turned back and said. “We have a most urgent appointment to keep at Pumapunku.”
Chapter 5
Chapter_5
Christine’s body jolted as her subconscious mind willed herself to awaken. She uttered, “Benjamin.” A trickle of light shining through the debris and dust next to her were the only indication that she was alive.
“Benjamin,” she attempted to yell but began to gag in the process. The air seemed to burn her throat with every breath. Her body also ached as she started to slip from her safe haven under the desk.
“Christine?” a feeble voice echoed from the rubble next to her.
“Murph?” she answered, suddenly forgetting about the pain. “Murph!” Christine yelled. “Are you alright?”
The rubble began to move, and a hand reached out from underneath and grabbed her knee. “I got you,” Christine uttered, putting her hand over his.”
As the rubble shifted, more light shone down. What was once a cool morning had turned into a bright, humid afternoon. The heat and sun soothed her body, providing it with the needed strength to continue.
Christine rose to her knees and began to push some of the rubble and debris to the side, creating a narrow passage for her escape. Hoping also to get some of it off
Murph, she threw pieces of wood to the side, freeing up some of his body in the process.
“Try to stand,” Christine implored her friend as she made her way out from underneath the desk. Grabbing Murph’s hand, she attempted to pull him to his feet.
She noted how bloodied his arm looked now in the light and hoped the rest of him had fared better. Because the collapse of the building was so sudden, she was surprised that both of them had managed to survive the destruction.
“A little more,” she willed aloud, seeing more and more of his body appear from underneath the rubble.
Murph pushed a piece of wood off his torso. The relief it provided was instantaneous. As more light trickled through the debris, he saw two long support beams that had fallen during the earthquake about a half-foot above him. Instead of crushing him, Murph concluded that they must have created a small safe space for him to escape the brunt of the building’s collapse, thus saving his life.
“That’s it!” Christine coached as she helped Murphy climb out of the debris.
Though battered and covered with white dust, he looked much better than expected. A few dried-up patches of blood on the side of his neck were the only other noticeable injuries.
Taking off his badly torn and ripped jacket, he threw it on the ground and looked towards the door where he had entered the room. It was no longer standing; only a pile of debris remained in its place. The more Murph surveyed the area, the more he realized that the entire museum was leveled. Nothing had survived.
The once great edifice with priceless works of antiquity had been destroyed. Only support beams and concrete poles stood as silent witnesses of the past. What shocked Murph even more was that he and Christine appeared to be the sole survivors left standing among the ruins.
“Benjamin!” Christine cried aloud, reaching the same conclusion. “Anyone!” she yelled while touching her auricular chip, hoping for any answer. Instead, only the roaring sound of the Susquehanna below and the chirp of a lone bird responded to her calls.
The Final Reality (Alex Pella, #3) Page 6