by Sesh Heri
WONDER OF THE WORLDS III
THE LOST PLEIAD
SESH HERI
Lost Continent Library Publishing Co.
California
THE LOST PLEIAD
Copyright 2010 by SESH HERI
All rights reserved.
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FIRST PRINTING JUNE 2010
ISBN: 0-9727472-9-X
Cover Art: WALTER BOSLEY
Printed in the United States of America
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Dedicated to
RUTH,
MY MOTHER
“Canst thou bind the sweet
influences of Pleiades, or
loose the bands of Orion?”
Job 38:31
PROLOGUE
“The earth, as everything that lives from it, in it and through it, has its foreseen and determined time, its evolutionary times fixed, established, separated by as many inactive periods. It is therefore condemned to die, in order to be born again and these temporary lives occurring between its regeneration, or birth, and mutation, or death, are called Cycles by most of the ancient philosophers.”
Fulcanelli
The Dwellings of the
The Philosophers
September 10th, 1943
MJ-7 Laboratories, One Mile Underground
“Amazing! Amelia Earhart is alive!”
Gabriel Kron whispered these words as he studied a glossy photograph held poised between his fingertips; it showed a slender woman with high cheekbones, standing encircled by Japanese soldiers.
“Alive?” Vannevar Bush asked. “Of that we can’t be certain.”
“But it looks just like her!” Kron insisted.
Vannevar Bush glanced across the table to another man who had been sitting silently for the last thirty minutes. This other man had a face that was expressionless; it was a blank face, a living mask.
The blank-faced man looked about the room at all the other men seated at the table. Directly across from him sat Vannevar Bush, FDR’s science advisor; to the right of Bush sat John Von Neumann, one of the world’s foremost electronic computer experts; to the left of Bush sat Gabriel Kron, smiling impishly, his eyes twinkling through the lenses of his spectacles. Kron was the world’s top expert on the geometry of forces powering electrical machinery. As for the blank-faced man himself, only Bush knew who he was and what he did.
“There were two Amelia Earharts,” the blank-faced man said.
“Two?” Kron asked.
“A nearly exact double and the real woman,” the blank-faced man said with a nod.
“And we don’t know which one this is?” Kron asked, fingering the photograph.
“No,” Vannevar Bush said. “Not conclusively. But we think she’s the double. That’s our best intelligence on it at present.”
“Does Earhart’s family know about any of this?” Kron asked.
“Earhart’s husband and mother knew she was on a secret mission for the government,” Vannevar Bush said. “That’s all. We never gave the husband or mother any specific details. They think Earhart may still be alive.”
“You’re letting them think that,” Gabriel Kron said.
“We have to,” Bush said, “for intelligence reasons. We can’t tip off the Japanese that they might have a double.”
“If this woman in the photograph is a double, then where is the real Amelia Earhart?” Kron asked.
“Maybe dead,” the blank-faced man said, “maybe alive, lost in some jungle on a South Sea island.”
“Or maybe,” Vannevar Bush said, “alive in another dimension— or in another world.”
Vannevar Bush tossed another photograph on to the table in front of Gabriel Kron. The photograph was of a cylindrical object with a rounded top.
“The Bell,” Kron said, nodding. “How does this relate?”
“Directly,” Bush said. “The most secret purpose of Earhart’s last flight was an attempt to study the effects we believe are being generated by the latest model of the Bell being tested by the Germans.”
“Earhart flew over Germany?” Kron asked. “Over the Harz Mountains?”
“No, no, no,” Bush said.
“Earhart,” the blank-faced man said, “was taking readings of electromagnetic effects produced by the Bell over long distances, particularly at one site on the island of Guadalcanal.”
“Why didn’t MJ-7 dispatch one of its airships to the site?” Kron asked.
“And let the Germans know that we know what they’re doing?” Bush asked. “Making use of our airships is not a simple matter. Their deployment is constrained by both tactical and political considerations. In this case, we can’t show our hand. If we do, we’ll risk an escalation in advanced weapons applications at this point in the war. We’re drawing the line with our development of the atomic bomb and only because the Germans have already crossed that line. But if the Germans are doing what we suspect they’re doing with the Bell then we will proceed with all due haste to implement Project Rainbow.”
“But before the war we wanted to avoid such haste,” Kron said.
“That’s right,” Bush said. “We have to be very careful in our intelligence activity at certain key sites around the globe, and the site on Guadalcanal is the most sensitive of those key sites at present. If the Germans even suspect that we have a continuing interest there, they will realize that their highest levels of security have been breached by us. We can’t afford that right now, not with the Germans, and especially not with their allies, the Martians.”
“But I thought the Martians still had their hands full with their civil war,” Kron said.
“Their hands are busy,” Bush said, “but not full.”
“So you sent Earhart and a double of her to take a peek at Guadalcanal,” Kron said.
“We didn’t send the double,” the blank-faced man said. “The double of Earhart, her navigator, and her plane were projected here into our world from another dimension. We think this happened as a result of Earhart entering the edge of the force-field on Guadalcanal.”
“Why Guadalcanal?” Kron asked. “What interests the Germans there?”
“It’s the site of an ancient time machine,” Vannevar Bush said.
“Oh-ho!” Kron said. “Tell me another!”
“No, “ Vannevar Bush said. “I’m telling you for a fact that it is truly the site of an ancient time machine.”
“Very ancient,” the blank-faced man said.
“Show him the Houdini journal,” Vannevar Bush said to the blank-faced man.
“Houdini journal?” Kron asked.
“Yes,” Vannevar Bush said.
The blank-faced man picked up a steel suitcase that had been on the floor next to his chair. He placed the suitcase on the table before him, opened its lid, reached into the suitcase, and brought out a large book bound in dark red leather and reinforced with brass corners, a brass hasp, and a lock, now broken.
“The secret diary of Harry Houdini,�
�� the blank-faced man said, passing the leather-bound book across the table to Gabriel Kron.
“All of Houdini’s little secrets?” Kron asked, looking down at the book with disdain.
“None of the secrets in that book are little,” Vannevar Bush said. “That book you hold in your hands is not a personal diary of the sort you’re thinking. Houdini did keep a diary like that, but that book you hold is not it. Rather, it is a record of Houdini’s work for Majestic Seven, told from his own personal point of view.”
“Houdini worked for Majestic Seven?” Kron asked.
“He did,” Vannevar Bush said. “For most of his life. The book you now hold in your hands tells about the ancient time machine on Guadalcanal. The time machine there was discovered in 1915 as a result of secret work done for MJ-7 by Nikola Tesla and Harry Houdini.”
“Tesla?” Kron asked.
“That’s right,” Vannevar Bush said. “Nikola Tesla and Harry Houdini worked together on several secret projects for us. Now go ahead. Open the book.”
Kron opened the leather-bound book and read from the top of its first page:
“The Key to All Locks”
“Houdini referred to this book as Eighty-Two,” the blank-faced man said.
“Eighty-Two?” Kron asked. “Why that? Is it some kind of code?”
“A simple one,” Vannevar Bush said. “It is the English gematria for the words lock and key. Both words have the numerical value of forty-one. Therefore, lock plus key equals Eighty-Two.”
“Houdini was pointing to something about the nature of locks and keys,” Kron said. “They’re the same in some way.”
“Indeed,” John Von Neumann said.
“Houdini wasn’t a mathematician, though— or was he?” Kron asked. “I thought he was just a stage magician.”
“He was an amateur cryptographer,” Vannevar Bush said. “He created several cryptographic systems that are still in use. And then, as I said, he also worked with Nikola Tesla on several secret projects for Majestic Seven. He had known Tesla since he was a boy.”
“And that is the substance of this autobiography?” Kron asked.
Vannevar Bush nodded, and said, “But our present interest in the book you now hold is not in the story that Houdini tells in it, but the information that he encoded within its text.”
“And you’ve deciphered this information?” Kron asked.
“Partially,” Vannevar Bush said. “The information is a formula, but as of yet the formula is incomplete. Dr. Von Neumann has spent several weeks on this project, working with some of our best cryptographers.”
“So the information is important,” Kron said.
“It is crucial,” Vannevar Bush said. “We must complete the formula encoded in Houdini’s book or we may lose this war.”
“What could be so momentous about the information encoded in Harry Houdini’s diary?” Kron asked.
“The information— the formula— is a time code,” Vannevar Bush said.
“A time code?” Kron asked.
“A time equation,” Vannevar Bush said. “Or rather, an equation about the way time functions as a series of cyclical periods overlapping each other to create multidimensional standing waves. The formula itself seems to be a series of tensor equations describing a complex but finite set of topological transformations. These transformations can be utilized to extract temporal information from the local space-time medium.”
“Ah— ha— ha!” Kron stuttered in laughter. “So this is where I come in!”
“This is where you come in,” Vannevar Bush said.
“Do I understand you correctly?” Kron asked. “Are you saying that encoded within this Houdini diary is what amounts to a blueprint for a…time machine?”
“That,” Vannevar Bush said, “but not only that. In a very real sense Houdini’s diary here is a time machine. The tensors describe a set of topologies that act as space-time templates. Using the principle of interference pattern generation, various texts, in effect, can be ‘plugged into’ the tensors’ variables. The resulting interference pattern is the topological condition of the past or future. For example, we can overlay the text of a New York Times newspaper article from ten years ago, and the information in the article will interfere with the information in the tensors, creating a pattern of letters in the text. This pattern is a space-time standing wave, that, when decoded using other topological transformations, will reveal information that is encoded or implied in the article. This information may pertain to additional facts existing at the time the article was written, but not mentioned in the article, or the information may pertain to facts in the past not mentioned in the article, or— the information may pertain to facts occurring in the future that are not mentioned in the article.”
“In the future,” Kron mused to himself.
“The future is implied in the past,” Vannevar Bush said. “The bud is the flower.”
“Incredible!” Kron exclaimed. “These are a set of equations in your possession?”
“An incomplete set, yes,” Vannevar Bush said. “They’re right here.”
Vannevar Bush pushed a stack of papers on the table over to Gabriel Kron. Kron picked up the first paper on the stack and looked at it. The paper bore line after line of tensor equations, neatly scribed by hand in pencil. Kron’s eyes scanned rapidly down the paper, turned it over and picked up the next paper in the stack.
“This is…” Kron’s voice trailed off. Then he exclaimed, “No! This— this is unbelievable! Houdini couldn’t have created this— not by himself!”
“We believe there may have been a third person who worked with Houdini and Tesla on this, but we haven’t identified him as of yet,” Vannevar Bush said.
“He was a great mathematician, whoever he was!” Kron exclaimed. “But— but here— here!”
Kron jabbed his finger down upon an equation written on one of the papers.
“This is all wrong,” Kron said. “It’s— it’s— wait! Oh! Wait! It’s a flaw in decryption! That’s what it is! A flaw— in the decryption! There is a pattern here…a pattern…that is…triadic! The triadic pattern is not being followed! You see, the tensors are organized in sets of three— and then the three forming…sets of…nine! Throughout! This pattern must be maintained— like a grand tapestry— like a grand mural…a grand mural depicting the very structure and workings of…time…time itself! If the pattern is maintained— maintained in all of its varied topological forms…we will have…we will have…why, we will have…a time machine on paper!”
“A time machine,” Vannevar Bush said, “that could take us anywhere— any when.”
“With the assistance of my computers, of course,” John Von Neumann said.
“I must begin work on completing the decipherment of this immediately!” Gabriel Kron said.
“We wouldn’t have it any other way,” Vannevar Bush said.
“Very good,” Gabriel Kron said. “And when I have finished with the tensors, when our time machine is complete— what is the first use we will make of it?”
Vannevar Bush said, “We’re going to try to find out what happened to the real Amelia Earhart.”
September 12th, 1943
MJ-7 Laboratories, One Mile Underground
Vannevar Bush and the blank-faced man walked down a hallway that stretched ahead of them to what seemed a vanishing point set at the edge of infinity. At intervals of every one hundred feet, they would encounter a locked steel door and an armed sentry posted outside of it. Each of the sentries was dressed in a uniform of bullet-proof fabric and helmeted with a steel cowl fitted with a red, semi-transparent visor.
“Kron is excited,” Vannevar Bush said.
Vannevar Bush and the blank-faced man stopped in front of one of the sentries. Bush raised his hand, with his palm up, and a pencil-thin beam of white light emitted from a ring on Bush’s finger. The beam of light projected upon the red visor of the sentry, scintillating its surface with flashes of orange and yellow.
The light cut off. The sentry stepped aside. Bush then lowered his palm slightly, and projected the beam of white light on to a disc mounted upon the steel door that stood before them. The door instantly and silently slid aside and retracted into the wall.
Vannevar Bush and the blank-faced man went through the doorway, and, as soon as they had gotten through it, the door slid back into place behind them and sealed shut with a huff of air.
The two men now stood in a great, cavernous expanse lined with panel upon panel of flashing lights, nothing but flashing lights, a sea and sky of flashing lights, veiling ever more distant layers of flashing lights, twinkling like stars of distant galaxies. Bush and the blank-faced man marched forward into this universe, their figures only silhouettes.
They kept walking forward until they rounded an angular shadow, the edge of a massive computer console. Beyond this edge, they came upon light and space, and in its midst twelve men sat at a long conference table burdened with books and stacks of paper. The men all wore white shirts, black neck ties, and white coats. At the side of the table Gabriel Kron stood studying a series of tensor equations covering a chalkboard. Upon the approach of Bush and the blank-faced man, Kron turned about and flashed a broad grin.
“Well, gentlemen!” Kron exclaimed.
“We hear you have something,” Vannevar Bush said.
“Something,” Kron said, waving his hand at the table. “Take a look.”
Vannevar Bush and the blank-faced man stopped before the table. One side of the table was covered with stacks of papers, all of the papers bearing tensor equations handwritten in pencil. The other side of the table was laden with spiral-bound books. Some of them appeared to be comic books.