The Scrolls of Velia

by John McWilliams

  “I suppose it could allow these newly evolved creatures to understand our universe. But clearly these would no longer be humans. And, just as clearly, they wouldn’t be part of our universe. So all they’d be doing is solving our science’s goal, not their own.”

  “Do you think beings like that could exist?” Mary asked.

  “It’s possible.” Adella shrugged. “There’s no data to support it either way. But interestingly, these are exactly the sorts of questions that inspired the Eureka Group to go hunting through history for common foundational principles—a journey that yielded them things like Zeno’s proofs that movement can’t exist, Plato comparing perception to shadows on the wall, and Einstein analogizing our pursuit of an underpinning reality to that of a two-dimensional creature trying to comprehend a sphere.

  “For well over two thousand years, they discovered, anyone who’s put their mind to it has come away with the same idea, the same common foundational principle: There is absolutely an underpinning reality. And, this, at least in part, is what motivated the Eureka Group to take a new look at physics, one in which observational information was strictly considered shadows of reality.”

  “Meaning?” Mary asked.

  “Meaning, they weren’t so worried about explaining reality in terms of pseudo-objects—particles, fields, strings, and so on. What they did was, by continuing down the path of Einstein’s general theory of relativity, they discovered the equivalence of time and energy. Time and energy are the same thing in the way that a square and a cube can be the same thing, depending on your perspective.”

  Adella pointed out the window, where a number of houses passed by. “What you’re seeing out there—the photons of light entering your eyes—is time. Photons are wave-structures in time. The particle-wave behavior of a photon is merely the effect of a time-wave as it meets and interacts with the perceptible objects of our world.”

  Mary and I stared out the window.

  “So science’ll never reach its destination?” Mary asked. “It’ll just keep going and going and discovery will be boundless?”

  “Would you have preferred I told you science had hit a wall?” Adella asked.

  “No, that would be boring for all of us.”

  “Which is interesting, isn’t it?” Adella said.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “The world, it seems, has a built-in, boundless purpose.”

  “Are you suggesting some kind of divine purpose?”

  “I’m not suggesting anything. Just making an observation.”

  “What about magnets?” Mary asked.

  “Magnets?” Adella looked at her, confused.

  “Are magnets full of energy? They stick to the refrigerator, don’t they?”

  “Well, we use energy to put them on the refrigerator, but they stay there because of magnetic force,” Adella said. “Like setting an object in motion in space. It takes energy to get it moving, but then it’ll keep going forever. Or, as with gravity—in a sense, we’re all like magnets stuck to the refrigerator called Earth.” Adella paused. “But to answer what I believe was your question: yes, all forces in the Eureka theory are defined in terms of the geometry of time.”

  “Okay, I guess that’s a little more than what I was asking.”

  “But”—I held up an index finger—”if time equals energy, and if energy equals mass—as in E equals mc squared—doesn’t that mean mass has to equal time?”

  “That’s not exactly what that formula says. But since matter is composed of particles in motion, it also, by definition, has spatial properties in the direction of time. The E equals mc squared conversion of kinetic energy is something that makes a lot more sense once you see how the Eureka Group’s hyperdimensional transform functions work. Of course, they’re kind of a black box without the Eureka Formula itself. But if we do find the formula, I believe we’ll be able to bypass fission and fusion and go directly to matter-antimatter as a consumable energy source.”

  “Is that a big deal?” Mary asked.

  “It’s a very big deal,” Adella said. “Most of our energy comes from burning coal and oil, a process that converts about one-billionth of its fuel’s mass to energy. Nuclear reactors convert about a tenth of one-percent of their fuel. Even fusion—which is still a far-off dream—would be about one-half of one percent conversion.”

  “And with matter-antimatter?” Mary asked.

  “One hundred percent.” Adella held up a glass of water. “If this were antimatter, it would be enough fuel to power the United States for a day. And no radioactive byproducts. Just clean, complete annihilation.”

  “So, I guess it’s pretty important we find the Eureka Formula,” Mary said.

  “To say the least.”

  Mary tilted her head in the direction of the bar. “Anyone want anything?”

  “I’m good.” I held up my half-full glass of beer.

  “I’m fine, too, thank you,” Adella said.

  Adella and I continued to talk while, out the corner of my eye, I watched a James Bondish looking dude approach Mary at the bar. I had noticed him earlier. He had been sitting with a bodybuilder-sized bald man, both of them in charcoal gray suits. Naturally, I suspected Ravens, but his interest, it soon became clear, was strictly Mary. Of course, Mary and I weren’t dating or anything, but James Bond didn’t know that. Man, talk about balls.

  Mary laughed at something he said.

  “Henry.” Adella tapped me on the forearm. “They’re just talking.”

  “I can see that.” I set my beer down hard.

  “Remember, we can’t afford to make a scene. We need to stay under the radar.”

  “So why is she carrying on like that?”

  “She’s just having a conversation.” Adella glanced over her shoulder. “And probably trying to make you jealous.” She looked up at me as I stood. “And apparently it’s working. Where are you going?”

  “Just to say hello.”

  “Oh, great…”

  I navigated the dining car’s aisle, imagining my hands around that arrogant bastard’s neck.

  “Oh—hi, Henry,” Mary said as I approached. “This is Pierre—Pierre Durant. He’s French. Pierre, this is Henry. He’s a friend of mine.”

  “It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Henry.” Pierre shook my hand firmly, confidently.

  “Pierre specializes in rare coins,” Mary explained. “He says he has Greek coins from around 500 BC.”

  “They’re quite extraordinary,” Pierre added.

  “You’re a coin collector?” I asked.

  “Among other things, yes.” Pierre smiled cleverly.

  Adella came over and pulled Mary aside.

  “I’ve invited Mary back to my sleeper to look at my collection,” Pierre told me in confidence. He then leaned in uncomfortably close and added, “Henry, are you familiar with the term ‘out-classed?’”

  I stared at him. I’m not usually surprised by people, but this guy had me stunned. Was he out of his mind?

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Pierre said. “But I warn you, strength isn’t everything. I’m quite capable of handling myself.” Pierre finished his drink and set the glass down neatly on the bar. “Now, if you don’t mind, Mary and I have some coins to look at.” He slapped me on the shoulder. “Don’t wait up.”

  That was it.

  I grabbed him by the neck and slammed him into the dining car’s wall. As he tried to access the pressure points in my hands, I lifted him off the floor. He took a few poorly leveraged swings at my chin, his face turning blue. Out the window, green foliage swept past.

  “Henry!” Adella pleaded. “Put him down.”

  “Let him go!” the bartender demanded. “You’re killing him.”

  “Henry,” Mary’s voice rose above the rest as she came around to my right. “Put him down.”

  I looked at her. Slowly, I lowered Pierre. I released my grip and stepped back.

  “Are you okay?” Mary asked Pierre cons
olingly.

  Pierre coughed, felt his neck. He nodded. “Henry,” he said hoarsely, “you are quite a passionate soul.”

  “And you’re a jackass,” I said.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Mary looked at me. “You attacked him.”

  Before I could respond, two conductors arrived demanding answers. One of them attempted to take my arm.

  “Don’t,” Pierre said. “Please, don’t.”

  “But this man assaulted you,” the conductor said.

  “It was just a misunderstanding.” Pierre patted my shoulder as if we were old friends. “And I have no wish to file charges.” He extended a hand in my direction.

  Adella nudged me. “Shake it.”

  I did. But I was completely confused. This man had gone way out of his way to pick a fight with me, and now he was being magnanimous? Was this part of his game? His way of making me look like a brute in front of Mary?

  Just then, the large bald man Pierre had been dining with earlier returned to the car.

  “Ah, Tycho,” Pierre said. “Worst timing ever.”

  “Problem, sir?” Tycho squinted his steely gray eyes.

  “Nothing a couple of sessions with my chiropractor can’t cure.” Pierre turned to Mary. “Perhaps I can show you those coins some other time. Given the circumstances…”

  “Of course,” Mary said. “And I’m really sorry about all this.”

  “Not at all. I feel partly to blame.” Pierre glanced at me and, managing a faint smile, waved to Mary and Adella. “Safe travels.”

  He and Tycho left the dining car.

  “I’ll have a beer,” I told the bartender.

  He looked at the two conductors. They shrugged.

  Adella, Mary, and I returned to our table. We sat silently, me drinking my beer. After a few minutes, the conductors, reasonably convinced I wasn’t going to attack anyone else, left.

  “Are you out of your mind?” Mary blurted.

  “Mary—shush,” Adella said.

  “That guy was just looking for a fight,” I told them. “You should have heard the stuff he was saying before—”

  “Before you went nuts? All he wanted to do was show me some coins.”

  “All he wanted to do was get you into his room,” I said. “Which would have been dumb on your part even under normal circumstances. But given our current situation…” I looked at Adella.

  “Mary,” Adella said. “While I don’t agree with how Henry handled things, he does have a point.”

  “So, he beats up a guy and it’s my fault?”

  “No, but you do bear some of the responsibility. We need to be extra careful about who we talk to, who we trust. You know that.” She paused. “Actually, Henry, given your obvious fighting skills, I think Mary and I should start thinking of you as our bodyguard.”

  “Our what?” Mary said.

  “But”—Adella looked at me—”you need to control that temper of yours. So much for staying under the radar.” She glanced over her shoulder. “These people will be telling their grandchildren about this.”

  Mary stood. “So I get blamed, and he gets a promotion?”

  “It’s not a promotion.” Adella chuckled. “Henry knows what he did. We all know what he did. But in a sense, that makes him less dangerous.”

  “Less dangerous than what?” Mary asked.

  “Than you.”

  “Than me? I think you’re both drunk.” Mary balled up a napkin and tossed it onto the table. “I’m going to bed.”

  “All I’ve been drinking is tea,” Adella said as Mary left the car.

  I stared out the window at the twilight sky.

  “That one’s stubborn, beautiful, and spirited,” Adella said after a while. “But those things are nothing compared with that other quality she has—something I can’t quite put my finger on. You know what I mean?”

  I looked at her.

  She smiled.

  Chapter 7

  The next morning, we arrived in Zurich, rented a car, and started toward Dr. Friedrich Schmaltz’s house in the Alps.

  “What about some breakfast?” I asked as we approached a cozy-looking alpine village.

  “Sure,” Mary said, “if you think we can avoid another ‘train incident.’”

  I glanced at her in the rearview mirror. She looked away.

  Wonderful.

  An hour later, along roads in the most desperate need of guardrails—on every turn, it seemed as if we might plummet thousands of feet to our deaths—we reached Lake Brienz. Pulling onto a pitted dirt road, we snaked our way steeply up the verdant mountainside until we reached Dr. Schmaltz’s Hansel and Gretel-ish house.

  “I’d hate to take a tumble down that hill,” Adella said as we came to a halt at the edge of the shelf where Dr. Schmaltz’s house sat.

  For a moment, we just sat there, looking out over the valley. Then I got out and opened Mary’s door.

  She looked at me as if I had just spat on her.

  “Look, you two,” Adella said. “We have a job to do. Stop acting like you’re ten.”

  “Hey, I was just being polite.” I held up my hands innocently.

  “I never said a word,” Mary said.

  Adella studied us for a moment, clearly unimpressed. She started for the house.

  I glanced at Mary. She gave me the evil eye.

  At the top of the wooden steps, I knocked on the door. A minute later, a short, white-bearded man appeared. He stared at my midsection and slowly looked up. He blinked.

  “Dr. Schmaltz?” Adella said.

  He lowered his eyes and found Mary. He stared at her, too.

  “Dr. Schmaltz?” Adella tried again. “I’m Dr. Adella Fortier, and these are my associates—”

  “Oh, yes, yes, my apologies,” he said. His voice carried a rich German accent. “I thought I was about to be carried off to Elysium.” He chuckled. “I get somewhat disoriented when awoken from my midday nap. Please, come in, come in.”

  As he led us into his tiny house, we passed three partially assembled jigsaw puzzles. One was of the Hindenburg, another the Titanic, and the last was Mount Vesuvius—lava flowing down onto the city of Pompeii.

  “I’m afraid you’ve caught me in my disaster phase,” the old man said, gesturing to the puzzles. “Please, why don’t we sit out on the porch? It’s such a beautiful day.”

  Dr. Schmaltz set out coffee, tea, and biscuits as we took seats around a table, looking off at the distant, snow-covered mountain peaks.

  “So, Franz Huberman of the Schmaltz Haus sent you? You’re doing some kind of historical study on my grandfather? Is that correct?”

  “Actually, Dr. Schmaltz—” Adella began.

  “Please, call me professor, or Friedrich if you prefer.”

  “Okay, professor,” Adella said, “I’ll get right to the point. What we’re interested in is the Eureka Group. You are aware of your grandfather’s involvement with this group, are you not?”

  He stirred his coffee.

  “Professor…?”

  He kept stirring, watching the spoon as it moved through the brown liquid.

  I glanced at Mary. I didn’t think either of us had expected Adella to come right out with the Eureka Group question, but on the other hand, it didn’t seem likely the professor was on the Ravens’ radar. He was Herman Schmaltz’s grandson, but certainly no threat.

  “Professor?” Adella patted his hand.

  “Many years ago,” the professor said, not looking up, “my mother and I came across several storage boxes in our family’s vacation home, a lovely lakeside place we called Der Alte Ort—the Old Place. Inside one of the boxes we found my grandfather’s diaries. Those diaries spanned the period from June 1938 to September 1942. So yes, I am indeed familiar with the Eureka Group. But…” He raised his weary eyes. “May I ask: how are you?”

  “A colleague of mine,” Adella explained. “Dr. Edmund Eriksson told me about it shortly before he died. He had a great deal of information regarding the g
roup’s Theory of Everything, but a key formula is missing.”

  The professor nodded, and folded his fingers under his chin. “I’m not sure how I can help. Those diaries, and whatever else was in those boxes, were stolen more than twenty years ago, and I’m no scientist. I’m merely a former history professor.”

  “History of science professor,” Adella clarified.

  “But no Herman Schmaltz.” The professor smiled. You thought, perhaps, I might have inherited my grandfather’s genius and kept it a secret all these years?”

  “We’re just looking for any information you might have on your grandfather and the Eureka Group,” Adella said.

  “Do you know who stole those diaries?” Mary asked.

  “Oh, sure, I know.” The professor looked around as if someone might be listening. “It was a group of lunatics who call themselves Raven Entelechy. They stole my grandfather’s diaries, ransacked my house, and threatened my life.” He paused. “It actually feels good to say that out loud. Let them kill me. I’ve lived long enough now anyway.”

  “We’ve had our run-ins with Raven Entelechy as well,” Adella said. “They’re a ruthless organization with a vested interest in keeping your grandfather’s work a secret.”

  “They use his work to extort money from the energy companies,” Mary interjected.

  “Well, I guess I can’t tell you anything new on that front.” The professor thinned his lips.

  “But maybe you can help us on another,” Adella said. “What can you tell us about the history of the Eureka Group? We have clues we believe could lead us to the formula, but we simply don’t know enough about your grandfather and the Eureka Group to get anywhere with them. We were hoping you could shed some light.”

  “You sure you want to go poking around this particular nest of ravens?” the professor asked. “These birds bite.”

  “We know,” Adella said. “But if we can find the formula and expose it to the world…”

  “Yes, that would put them out of business for good.” The professor nodded appreciatively. “Okay—if you think I can help. What can I tell you?”