The project team assigned to the task first theorized that each person is comprised of two essential components; the physical component that comprises the body, and the non-physical component that gives each person intellect, personality and the ability to reason and make judgements and conclusions. They further theorized that the physical and non-physical components might be separable.
Engineers in the space industry had long before worked out the requirements for stasis, so dealing with the physical component of a person was not a problem. The problem was the non-physical component – what is it and could it be extracted and stored separately from the physical body?
Dilinger’s attorney soon discovered most of the scientific papers he received were so heavily redacted, under a proviso of the National Security Act, that he couldn’t tell how the process worked. He also wasn’t sure it had ever been used on a sentient being.
When he shared his concerns with government officials he was reminded that fire was used successfully for thousands upon thousands of years before anyone actually knew how fire worked. When he pressed the issue, his concerns fell on deaf ears. He had suffered this type of response before and he knew nothing would stop the government from forging ahead with its plans to use their new process.
Clephor Dilinger, occupant of dimension 6803b12, and citizen of the planet Malevolia, having been found guilty of high crimes against the citizens of Implacto, was scheduled for Disambiguation at 9:30 IPT, the 5th of Cenorary in 5791.43. On that day Dilinger was led to a newly renovated chamber beneath the west wing of the prison. The typical cadre of government officials was present in the viewing area. Chief Lyen Redaux, representing the special task force that apprehended Dilinger was told his attendance was mandatory. Only one other person attended the proceedings: Edgar Bilings, Esquire, Dilinger’s attorney.
Dilinger was led to the center of the chamber where he was strapped to a ceramic gurney. An array of conical-shaped devices was deployed in a circle around the gurney with the open ends of the cone pointed toward the floor. Also in the circle, was one large ceramic tank fitted with large oval viewing ports that were positioned to face the viewing area and control room.
“Mr. Dilinger, science has proven that virtually every creature can be cloned and you are no exception,” said the attending scientist as he rubbed Clephor’s upper arm with a topical pain killer. “I am going to collect a sample from your arm,” he said as his scalpel removed a piece of tissue one centimeter in diameter. He placed it in a sample tube labeled Clephor Dilinger 9:30 IPT, the 5th of Cenorary in 5791.43-01. “This is just a precautionary backup in case the stasis unit your body will occupy is ever breached or it malfunctions.”
“You’re going to a lot of trouble to kill a guy,” said Dilinger.
The scientist leaned close to the gurney and whispered, “That’s the rub isn’t it. We’re not going to kill you Mr. Dilinger...we’re simply going to pull you apart,” and he walked toward a door to exit the chamber.
“What do you mean pull me apart? Hey, I’m talking to you, what do you mean by that?”
The scientist stopped at the door. “Every sentient being has a life force Mr. Dilinger. We don’t claim to know exactly what it is, but we are going to remove yours. The key is to store it properly so that in the event our judicial system has made a mistake, and in your case I find that highly unlikely, it can be reunited with its physical counterpart.”
The scientist quickly stepped through the exit door and into a small control room. He flicked a row of switches and as he did the conical shaped devices around the gurney made a slight whirring noise as they moved upward to point at Dilinger. He became dreadfully pale with a look of panic on his face; all his bravado had abandoned him. The scientist flicked another switch and the ceramic tank began to fill with a fine powdery mist that hung in the chamber’s atmosphere looking like a thin fog backlit by soft white lights.
The scientist pushed a cover plate mounted near the switches sideways to expose a keypad. His finger hovered over the buttons momentarily, then he entered the time 9:30 IPT, the 5th of Cenorary in 5791.43 and pressed the enter button. The countdown started.
Five minutes later the machine engaged. Dilinger convulsed violently then relaxed; his face became slack and expressionless. Inside the ceramic tank the mist began to swirl and an image began to take shape. The mist thickened and poured itself against the vaporous image that seemed to be bowing into the onslaught as it developed. Finally, the mist became so thick witnesses in the viewing area could no longer see the struggle taking place inside the tank.
Suddenly the unmistakable image of Clephor Dilinger was visible; pressed against the viewing port still fighting against the thick vapor tearing around it. Its eyes were wide with panic and his face had a look of terror and incomprehensible foreboding. His mouth opened to its fullest extent – so wide it seemed to dwarf the other facial features, and it looked as if it were howling or screaming as the heavy mist continued its assault. Outside the extraction chamber, not a sound could be heard.
With the mist swirling violently, the process timer actuated an automatic valve and the inside of the tank was sprayed with an extraction liquid that knocked the vapor out of suspension and onto the floor, where it collected in a small sump. The image of Clephor Dilinger was gone.
A valve in the bottom of the sump opened and all the liquid was vacuumed-lifted into a small, sealed ceramic jar in the control room. When a sensor detected the correct amount of fluid was present in the jar, the vacuum stopped. The scientist removed the tubing on the side of the jar and inserted a small printer head, then he inserted the jar into a device that look like a flatbed plotter and turned it on.
The plotter worked feverishly for ten minutes; back and forth in all four directions and finally came to a halt when the jar had worked itself into the lower right corner of the plotter. A light over the printer automatically came on for two minutes. The scientist retrieved the panel from the printer, placed it in a twelve by thirty envelope, and took it to the viewing room. “Here it is,” he said a little shakily. He walked to the middle of the room, pulled the panel from the envelope and placed it on the table.
Everyone gathered around the table but no one said a word. Printed on the panel was an incredibly detailed three dimensional black and white image of Clephor Dilinger.
“Explain,” said Chief Lyen tersely.
“The non-physical component of Clephor Dilinger was removed by those devices,” said the scientist pointing to the array of conical instruments in the treatment chamber. “The biologically active extraction liquid you saw in the tank during the last cycle was used to capture that component. The liquid was then pumped to the control room and used as the ink for this print.”
“Are you telling us Clephor Dilinger isn’t dead, that his soul, or spirit, or whatever you want to call it was extracted and is imprisoned in this print?
“Yes, that’s as good a description as any,” replied the scientist. “Biologically Mr. Dilinger’s body is still undamaged and it will be placed in a stasis pod and warehoused along with this print. The tissue sample I collected will be stored in a cryogenic unit. We have no reason to suspect he will be reinstated, but someday someone might be.”
“Is that what you call it, reinstatement?” asked one of the witnesses. “God help us all if this vile technology ever falls into the wrong hands.”
Countless commissions (addressing everything from war crimes, genocide, and racial profiling, to the welfare of interplanetary species) have demanded the Zin Charr produce evidence proving the victims of disambiguation have not been subjected to deprivation, torture or other sadistic conditions. Their demands have been utterly ignored. Zin Charr don’t care what others think. They have threatened to destroy all catalogued beings if they are sanctioned or attacked; it is not considered an empty threat.
The history of the Zin Charr is inextricably woven into their actions today, and although the original intent became grossly perverted over ti
me, they refuse to compromise. Their use of disambiguation on their own species may be questionable to some, but others would argue that each society must decide for itself what penalties it will impose for breaking the law.
Unfortunately, the technology for disambiguation was stolen from its government custodians, just as many had predicted it would be, and offered for sale. The highest bidders were purveyors of black market services; those willing to do anything for the right price. When whispers of its unregulated use reached the Interplanetary Commission for the Rights of all Species, the rogue use of disambiguation by the Zin Charr on other beings and ultimately any use of disambiguation was condemned by the Commission.
In the intervening years since its first use on Clephor Dilinger, the criminal use of disambiguation has been linked to kidnapping victims, mob hits, political 'assassinations' and every other imaginable crime. The purveyors of the services continue to demand very large sums of money for what they call 'process for hire'.
It is no surprise to anyone in the universes that the Centorians adamantly proclaimed their opposition to the use of disambiguation. Officials of Centoria carefully refrained from issuing a decree against disambiguation’s official use on convicted criminals by the Government of Implacto.
However, the Centorian Council swore to intervene at every opportunity against any use of the process against innocent lives anywhere, and especially against its use by rogue elements of the Zin Charr who, with increasing frequency, were offering disambiguation services for hire throughout the universes.
CHAPTER EIGHT
BENDING SPACE AND TIME
Mark heard Wayne’s alarm in the bedroom next to his and decided to get up early. He dressed and quietly made his way to the suite’s common area only to find Wayne already there.
“No sign of Blackie?” he asked.
“Nope.”
Mark and Wayne slipped out of the suite, down the hall, and caught an elevator to the lobby.
“Any chance the girls will be down soon?” asked Mark.
“I’ll bet you ten dollars they are already down,” responded Wayne as the elevator doors opened. He poked his head out slightly and mumbled something about no fire under his breath.
“You’re on.” Mark followed Wayne out of the elevator and down the hall. Turns out, Blackie and the girls were already seated at a table in the middle of the restaurant.
“Put it on my tab,” said Mark.
Nita looked at Mark with her eyebrows raised and said, “You didn’t think we’d be here yet, did you?” as he sat down.
“Oh, it was nothing like that,” replied Mark who halted for a moment and then continued. “Actually, it was exactly that.” He had a self-satisfied look on his face as if he had just volunteered a great secret and passed a character test. “Are we eating breakfast?” asked Mark.
“Always,” replied Nita.
After breakfast they headed for the hardware store. Today was the day for dumpster diving and the store’s clerk Jimi would be there to help them. Joakim, the store manager, had told them he threw the ring in the recycle bin so everyone was sure they would find it. Then, they planned on buying Jimi and Joakim lunch before they set out for their meeting with Anonoi, the Desredeedese Shade.
It seemed like nothing could go wrong. That of course was nonsense, and some might venture to say even the thought of it was a sure-fire way of cursing the entire day. Well, at least major portions of it – their breakfast was excellent.
After a leisurely walk down Main Street while watching vendors set up for the day’s business, they turned on Tenor Street and shortly arrived at the hardware store.
“I still can’t get over how deceptive this is,” said Wayne as he entered the tiny shotgun building that sat over a massive subterranean hardware store.
“Not everything is as it seems,” commented Joules, who received a wide-eyed nod from Wayne.
Joakim, the store manager, was behind the counter on his communicator when they entered. He motioned to them then began speaking as they approached.
“This is Joakim Liederbaunt, I called yesterday and cancelled the recycle pick up. Yes, I understand you won’t charge me for the service call, that’s not the point. What is the point? The point is there is something in that box that has to be retrieved before it’s dumped in the shredder. Then tell them to stop, tell them to stop right now, and then call me back on my communicator. I’m on my way to your place.”
“We have a bit of trouble,” said Joakim turning toward the group. “The driver didn’t get my cancellation message. He showed up for work this morning, hopped in his truck and drove his regular route without checking the status board. Our metal recycle box was picked up and hauled to the shredder about two hours ago. You need to get over there. I asked them to set the box aside.”
“If you can give us directions, we’ll go back to the hotel and get the Nomad,” said Wayne.
“You mean that surface rubber everyone around town is talking about? Forget that, we’ll take my van.”
He picked up the intercom and called Jimi to the front desk. “There’s been a little mix up with the metal recycler, so I need to take these people over there and sort it out. Watch the front and call if you need anything.”
“Let’s go.” Everyone piled in the van parked behind the building.
Blackie got in the very back seat and Joules joined him there. In moments the van lifted about eighteen centimeters off the ground and headed across town.
“Maybe they caught it in time,” said Joakim, “sometimes they’re backed up and boxes aren’t processed immediately.” Joakim drove the van like a racecar which impressed Wayne significantly. There was little conversation until they reached the metal yard.
“I hope they were able to delay that box,” said Amelia, who immediately checked her backpack to make sure she had the Jump Starter.
They pulled into the driveway and up the ragged road toward the office that was more of a hut than an office building. “There it is,” said Joakim pointing at a recycle box sitting alone outside the shredder building.
He parked the van and they bolted from it as soon as it settled to the ground. Wayne reached the box first, looking for a way to climb up and check out the contents. Joakim walked to the front of the box and told them all to stand back, then he reached up and pulled the locking rod out of its slot, gave a tug and the door creaked open then crashed to the ground in front of them making a sizable impression in the hard soil.
They all stood there staring inside the box. Except for a layer of crud and metal debris on the bottom it was completely empty. Mark walked into the box with his arms raised questioningly, “You must be kidding me, it’s all gone.” He dug the toe of his shoe into the oily debris that was much thicker than it looked and dislodged several small bolts and washers.
“I’ll get tools,” yelled Joakim. In no-time he returned from the office hut with three shovels and work gloves.
Mark, Wayne and Blackie shoveled the layer of metal debris into small piles as the girls carefully looked through each pile for the silver retainer ring. After two hours they had worked themselves to the very back of the box where the girls sorted through the last three piles with no ring to show for their efforts.
“I’m sorry,” said Joakim who had joined them at the rear of the box.
“It’s not your fault,” said Amelia on the verge of tears.
“It’s nobody’s fault,” replied Mark immediately, realizing that Amelia felt responsible for the missing ring.
“I think you can use the facilities at the office hut to clean up,” said Joakim who followed as the group trudged out of the box. Standing on the grass at the end of the box door, he turned to lift the door back into its slots.
“Look here,” said Joakim, who bent over the top end of the door and retrieved something that had been pressed into a glob of thick axle grease. “This what you’re looking for?” he said holding a silver ring between his fingers. “That’s expensive alloy; the
re’s not a scratch on it but there is something engraved on its outside edge.”
Joakim handed it to Amelia who quickly wiped the grease off the ring and recognized the engraving as a small arrow symbol, “This is it,” she cried and reached into her backpack to retrieve the Jump Starter.
Don’t screw it in just yet,” said Joakim. “Let’s go back to the store and we can put some lock-sure on it. Once it cures just a bit you can install the ring and I don’t think you’ll have to worry about it coming out again.”
“Unbelievable,” responded Wayne.
“Yeah, what are the odds,” said Mark who immediately had to dodge Wayne’s backhand.
Everyone got cleaned up and they returned to the hardware store to pick up Jimi. The group treated him and Joakim to lunch at the fanciest restaurant they could find. Jimi said it was the best meal he had ever eaten.
“Well, I suppose you can take the rest of the day off,” said Joakim as the group shook his hand with many thanks and expressions of appreciation.
“We have one more adventure before the day is done,” said Blackie. “Then I think we’re going to lounge poolside and drink Gorgas Cavitas.”
“There’s nothing like vacation,” replied Joakim. “You need a lift?”
“I think we’ll walk from here,” said Mark.
“Well, back to work for me then. Let us know if there’s anything we can do for you,” he said, as he and Jimi got in the van and headed back to the hardware store.
“I feel a little guilty we didn’t tell him why we’re here,” said Joules.
“Me too, but I think it will pass,” said Wayne who grinned at Blackie.
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