One characteristic of Merculoids scientists have not unraveled is their ability to exude an as-of-yet unidentified chemical that floats to the surface of water where it appears like a sheet of ice covered with thin snow. More than one victim has made the innocent mistake of scooping up a handful of “snow” and such innocent offenses are not usually rewarded with survival, as they incite the hidden Merculoid to violently thrust itself from its hiding place beneath the water’s surface.
“I’ve heard of these,” said Nita while the group stared at the exhibit, “my biology teacher was a lucky survivor of an encounter when he was age 12; his father and uncle weren’t so lucky. He told our class about the horrible ordeal. They were trout fishing in a stream and had drifted into the stills. In my teacher’s words, 'It came up from under us and swamped the boat. I swam to shore and hid while my father and uncle tried to right the boat – they were both eaten as they tried to fend off the creature. I was found two days later in shock, hiding behind the same tree that shielded me from the Merculoid’s view. I don’t think it ever saw me.'”
The museum curator slipped up behind them unnoticed, “They are almost extinct now,” he said. Blackie flinched like someone had zapped him with a fully charged electrical capacitor. The curator continued, “Urban sprawl resulted in more and more accidental encounters, most of which ended in severe maulings and more commonly death, although often there was no evidence of the victim’s fate.”
“Merculoids aren’t picky, they consume everything. Unfortunately, a government sponsored hunt to thin the Merculoid population resulted in wild, unsupervised slaughters that didn’t thin the population so much as it decimated it. There are few Merculoids left in the wild. All three species are on our critically endangered list and the government spends a fortune trying to protect them. There is a booming black market for Merculoid parts.”
“I think I’ve seen enough of the Merculoids for one day,” said Nita, “could we move on? She remembered how upset she was when her biology teacher said he had witnessed the attack on his father and uncle. The memory of that description seemed even more powerful while staring at the lifelike sculpture of a Merculoid with its huge eye and long fang-like teeth. Nita made her way to the room’s exit and everyone in the group followed. Mark hesitated for a brief moment, disturbed by something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, and then he joined the rest of the group leaving the room.
The next exhibit was a complete shock and surprise; maybe not so for Wayne as his characteristic demeanor was semi un-shockable. There was a statue, twice normal-life size, of Albert Einstein.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” said Mark immediately, “how is it that a museum on Lindone has an exhibit of our Albert Einstein?”
“Remember in jail when Prenetian said, 'he popped in so often he thought about letting him a room? Maybe he popped in here too,” replied Amelia. “Apparently Prenetian wasn’t kidding us about Einstein; it seems he knew a lot more than he let on and he traveled to more places than just Alphus Nebulum.”
“Maybe, or maybe there was more than one of him,” said Blackie.
“Say what?” replied Wayne.
“Maybe our Einstein wasn’t the only Einstein. Maybe he popped in someplace, had himself cloned, and sent the Einsteins off around the universes to study physics on other worlds. That would explain a lot wouldn’t it?” finished Blackie.
“Refresh my memory, what would that explain?” asked Joules.
“My question exactly,” added Nita.
“Here we go again, this is going to get weird,” said Wayne, “although I do agree with your Jump Starter language immersion theory,” he finished nodding toward Blackie.
“Thanks Wayne. And this is what that would explain,” he continued, glancing at Joules and Nita. “When Prenetian gave us the Jump Starter he talked about Einstein’s understanding being way ahead of everyone else’s. So much so he was having difficulty finding a way to dummy-it-down so the rest of us could glom on. Now we have evidence he popped around the universe – he was on earth, Alphus Nebulum and Lindone.”
“What if Einstein wasn’t just one man but a committee; a committee of clones popping around the universes studying mathematical theories and physics that few people were as uniquely qualified to understand as them? Then at prescribed times, all the clones would meet up for a conference, compare notes and work out a few new theories. The understanding of math and physics would have taken quantum leaps with multiple Einsteins working on them – excuse the pun – leaps to levels that most people couldn’t comprehend yet. Remember Prenetian referred to an entire book on math and physics we know nothing about.”
“Joules, see if he has a fever again — those are the ramblings of a crazy person,” said Mark.
“Actually, the Thenatrians experimented with cloning soldiers prior to their war with the Nargusians,” said Joules.
“You’re kidding right?” responded Mark.
“How did that work out?” interjected Wayne.
“No, I’m not kidding and it didn’t work out so good in the end,” replied Joules. “In the end, although their cloning experiment was successful (if you can believe the government) they decided to launch a tetratic sphere and detonate it over Nargusia killing everything on the planet. The reaction of the Interplanetary Parliament was swift and devastating for Thenatria; a fifty-year moratorium on interplanetary commerce was imposed during which time ninety percent of Thenatria’s population died from disease or starvation. But my point is that the idea of cloning complex beings is not outside the realm of reality, it’s already been done successfully.”
“I see you are enjoying our exhibit on Mr. Einstein,” said the museum curator. “Quite the unique person I think. I wonder how he’s doing?”
“I’m afraid Mr. Einstein died some time ago,” said Mark.
“Oh, I doubt that,” said the curator with a big smile.
“I’m sorry but that’s true,” said Amelia, “he died years ago.”
“Yes, he said people would think that,” responded the curator. “He promised to pop in again sometime. At the end of his last visit he said he was going home to have a long, long sleep and he would be back when he woke up.”
“What do you make of that, Amelia?” asked Wayne.
“I have no idea,” she replied, “but does anyone really know what Einstein meant? I think half the scientific community pretended to understand him and the other half didn’t bother to pretend.”
“What do you think, Blackie?” asked Joules. She hadn’t heard of Albert Einstein but she was intrigued by what the curator had just said.
“I think I know better than to argue with Albert Einstein,” replied Blackie. “Let’s check out the rest of the museum.”
They spent the rest of the hour walking around the museum looking at the major exhibits. A full tour would have taken days but they were satisfied to skim the surface so to speak. Although Blackie was sure Joules, who had worked at a museum and library on Gafcon-49, would want to come back and dig a little deeper into the museum’s collection.
After the museum they roamed the streets looking in shops, stopping at kiosks selling everything from trinkets to pots and pans. Mark used their credit card to buy a pancake. He wasn’t hungry, but he couldn’t pass up the chance to have a story about buying pancakes from the vendor whose eyes were mounted on the ends of short shafts on each side of his head.
“That’s gonna make a great story,” said Mark as he walked away from the kiosk eating a pancake folded over to contain the fruit compote slathered on one side.
“Yeah, who are you going to tell?” said Wayne.
The question seemed to hang in the air like a nasty smell that preferred to linger long past the time when it should have dissipated. Who are you going to tell? Who would believe them? Maybe Nita and Joules wouldn’t have such a hard time explaining where they had been and what they had seen, their home planets were already exploring the galaxies, diving into new universes and punchi
ng through parallel planes of existence. Mark, Blackie, Wayne and Amelia were from Terra Bulga (Earth if you persist in calling it that, although an innumerable multitude of personages from innumerable other places call it Terra Bulga).
You know 'Earth', the planet where going to their closest moon, about 250,000 miles away was considered a big deal – they were not yet interplanetary travelers, with the obvious exception of Einstein, and now Mark, Blackie, Wayne and Amelia. Who would believe them? It is more likely a Doctor of Psychology would say they were suffering from 'sympathetic delusionalism', the name of a syndrome reserved for some future time when they decided to convey their stories to fellow Terra Bulgans.
At the next kiosk they stopped to have a cold drink and discuss the conundrum of disclosing their Jump Starter experiences. Ultimately, they decided to tell no one. If they ever returned they would write down their stories and store them for a time when they could disclose them and not worry about being incarcerated at the local mental asylum, thereby postponing the advent of 'sympathetic delusionalism' and the messiness of being a lab rat for someone in a nicely pressed white coat. It’s a shame really; they would have made exceptionally good rats, and I think those pressed white coats are the bomb.
“Don’t you think we should head back to the hotel and rummage through the Nomad?” asked Blackie.
“Are you missing something?” asked Mark.
“Yeah, Joules’ transport ticket home,” responded Blackie.
“Come again?”
“The Jump Starter retainer ring,” said Blackie, “don’t you think finding it should be high on our list of things to do?”
“That’s a good idea,” replied Wayne, “I’d feel better about our situation if we could find the ring and repair the Jump Starter. Not that I mind all the short balding guys, they’re nice, and I haven’t seen enough of Lindone to know if I like it or not, but I’d like to keep our options as open as possible.”
They made their way back to the hotel parking lot and began searching for the retainer ring. They took out the floor mats, they looked under the seats (several times), and they scoured the rear of the Nomad where Amelia’s bag had been prior to their last jump. Mark and Wayne dismantled everything that had an opening where the ring could have been dropped, including the entire underside of the metal dashboard.
“It’s not in the vents,” said Mark as he climbed out of the front floorboard as Wayne finished tightening the last screws. They had spent the rest of the afternoon and the early part of the evening pouring over every square millimeter of the Nomad and had nothing to show for it. Nothing, all their efforts amounted to squat; there was no sign of the retainer ring.
Everyone could feel the pressure of its absence. It was like a huge storm approaching and you somehow sensed the barometric pressure was going up and up and up, even without an instrument to prove it. Without that ring they had limited options. There were all sorts of security issues, violations, and penalties for someone who just showed up to purchase a transport ticket at the space port and couldn’t prove they were legally on the planet. Can you say jail time? Again!
No one verbalized it but none of them were keen on the prospect of going back to jail. The odds of that working out as well the second time as it did the first time were not in their favor. Amelia worked out a very close mathematical approximation in her head but didn’t bother telling them the figure; she sensed it wouldn’t be comforting. It would be like telling someone “The good news is you are not dying from Ebola; the bad news is you have terminal takinosis.” See, that’s just not comforting at all.
Of course, among their options for transportation was always the black market. You can always find someone who says they will transport you to a destination for a fee – a very large fee that pays for skirting the messiness of not having a legal ticket, an exit permit, and proof you are where you are legally. The haunting question in those situations is always the same 'will I get where I want to go or will I be jettisoned in space'. The last option any sane and innocent person would choose to choose would be black market transportation — not much upside and seemingly unlimited downside – especially that 'jettisoned in space' bit. The fact that there is a black-market transportation industry speaks volumes, doesn’t it? Well, it does; think about it.
“We should all check our bags and clothes,” offered Amelia, “maybe the ring became dislodged in the car and fell into one of them during the jump.” Off they went to their rooms and found nothing; there was simply no sign of the retainer ring. Clothes were thrown all over their rooms as if every bag had abruptly exploded. Searched and re-searched and searched again, every piece of clothing and every nook and cranny of every bag had been subjected to a vicious examination. If it was there they were not going to find it today and the outcome affected them to the point of exhaustion.
“It will show up,” said Blackie, “I have a feeling it will show up someplace where we don’t expect it.”
“That’s really comforting,” said Mark as he gazed at their room; it looked like a tornado had touched down. “You don’t have any scien-teriffic evidence to support that do you?” Blackie ignored him.
“Let’s clean this mess up and have dinner,” said Wayne, “I need a distraction.”
Blackie walked next door and knocked on the door of the girls’ room. “Anyone in there want dinner?”
Joules answered the door. “Come in we are just finishing up our search.” The room was covered in clothes and bags and assorted girly paraphernalia.
“Looks just like our room ten minutes ago, except for these,” said Mark who bent over and retrieved a pair of bikini bottoms.
“Mark, give me those,” responded Nita as she snatched the swimsuit bottoms out of his hand.
“I was just trying to help tidy up,” said Mark with a rascally grin on his face.
“Of course you were,” said Joules, “you could start by stowing all the bags back in that closet.” She pointed toward the far side of the room with her right hand; it was glowing intensely.
“I’d be glad to,” said Mark as he snatched up a bag and walked quickly to the closet.
Joules caught Blackie’s gaze and couldn’t maintain her charade, a broad grin split her face and she burst out laughing; the glow in her hands returned to normal. “Mark, you know I was kidding right?”
“Sure, but I wasn’t going to take any chances,” said Mark who made his voice climb an octave and faked a look of sheer terror. He couldn’t quite pull it off and the look of terror quickly succumbed to a grin. Mark walked across the room to retrieve another bag as Blackie was picking one up. “I like her,” he whispered to Blackie, “don’t blow it.”
“I’m trying not to; believe me.”
The guys stowed the bags and told the ladies they were going to leave the final tidying up to them as Mark whirled an unidentified piece of clothing around his pointing finger. Blackie snatched it off, laid it on a chair, and said they would go downstairs and reserve a table for dinner. With the guys out of the way the girls had their room cleaned up in minutes and went down to the restaurant.
“We thought eating outside might be nice,” said Blackie as the girls approached him in the lobby. “The sun is going down and it’s nice out.” They joined Mark and Wayne at their table on the north side of the building and couldn’t believe the view. Just above the western horizon was a blazing sun that evoked every imaginable color from the bank of clouds in the distance; light beaming through a prism couldn’t have competed with the spectacular display of color. To the east, edging ever so slightly above the horizon, were two gigantic purple moons.
“It looks like you could just reach out and touch them,” commented Joules.
“Tonight, I think this may be the best table in the universe,” replied Nita who was mesmerized by the descending sun and juxtaposed moons rising in the east. In less than a minute a waiter approached their table. Nita was so taken by the skyline she jumped when the waiter cleared his throat and asked if they
required drinks before dinner.
Before anyone could speak up Mark intervened. “This is going to be the longest dinner you’ve ever served,” he warned the waiter. “Will you be here all evening? Good. Can I see a show of hands for those who want Gorgas Cavitas and Blue Glacier Water to start? As I thought, unanimous. How about six Gorgas Cavitas and Blue Glacier Waters plus an extra carafe of each and any six appetizers with cheese,” he finished looking at the waiter. “Any chance you have some little round biscuits; you know the ones with spices and oil?” Blackie rolled his eyes.
“We normally serve those with soup,” replied the waiter, at which Blackie gave Mark the 'duh' look.
“Excellent,” replied Mark pretending he didn’t notice Blackie’s expression, “then I’ll have a soup starter and a bowl of those biscuits to go with the cheese starter things. What,” he said, looking around to see everyone staring at him with amused looks on their faces, “I’m hungry. Anyone else want soup?”
“No doubt you’re hungry — you are always hungry,” replied Wayne who looked at Nita and nodded his head slowly as if to indicate it was something vitally important she needed to know about Mark. “I was just thinking that the last time you insisted on having biscuits,” continued Wayne, “Joules ordered them with soup for the picnic, and the next day we drove the Nomad off the mountain side into nothing but air. I’m not stating emphatically those were connected in some way. I’m just stating the facts. Amelia do you suppose those are connected in any way?”
“Not enough data to tell,” replied Amelia, “but if you are planning a drive in the mountains tomorrow, I’m staying here; no sense in taking unnecessary chances.”
Joules laughed, which prompted Nita to laugh also, which caused Mark to smile and Blackie to spew some of the water the waiter had just served him out his nose.
“Technically, we drove off into a mixing zone,” replied Blackie dabbing his nose and chin with a napkin.
Wayne was not amused. By his way of thinking, even the stupidest of correlations might be possible based on their ridiculous and totally unplanned circumstances. Unplanned? That was the under-thought of the century! Wayne’s new unspoken corollary for the group’s experiences was now stated thusly — if it’s not possible it’s highly likely. That’s a little unsettling if you are trying to limit the likelihood of some egregious event — and you are Wayne, the author of a corollary that says don’t bother using avoidance tactics, it’s destined to happen anyway.
Jump Starting the Universe Book Bundle Page 35