Randall Stone, a bored-looking man who appeared the same age as Chester, offered a grin with his handshake. “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Speidel.” He leaned in and whispered. “Chester has told me all about you and your vision. Don’t worry, you’re not alone in the things you want to achieve.” Randall stood up straight again and winked.
“Mr. Stone is a great resource,” Chester said, placing a hand on Randall’s shoulder. “One thing about this role is the need for a sounding board. While you are the sole person in control and can do as you please, it’s never bad to bounce some ideas off of a trusted person. Randall has been that for me during my entire time as the Keeper.”
“Someone has to keep the power from going to this old bastard’s head,” Randall said, prompting a hoarse chuckle from both of them.
“Do you have any close friends within the Revolution?” Chester asked Chris. “Someone who could maybe fill that type of role?”
Chris nodded. “Do you know Duane Betts? From Albuquerque.”
Chester nodded. “The name sounds very familiar.”
“He’s my best friend in the Revolution. No idea if he’d be interested in doing that sort of thing, though.”
“Well, it’s not an official role,” Chester explained. “Just something to consider.”
“Chester, we need to get started,” Randall said.
“Ah, yes, of course!” Chester dropped back from the crowd and stood behind a microphone stand that had been set up. “Chris, please join the other candidates back here, please.”
Chris obliged and joined the two older men who were bickering about the weather. They both locked eyes with Chris, but offered no greeting. Surely they were a couple of the old-timers who thought Chris had no business being in the running for Keeper.
Chester tapped the microphone with his finger and cleared his throat. “Good afternoon, Revolution. How are you all doing today?”
The chatter gave way to applause before the room fell silent. Too silent, considering how many people were in there.
“This is always an exciting event for our organization, and I’m proud to be a part of our long-standing tradition of passing on the responsibility of Keeper of Time. I remember my announcement gathering a whole twenty-two years ago, but that’s a story for another day. Today is about looking to the future. We have three strong candidates that have made the last week of my life hell by having to narrow it down to one winner. Behind me, please give a warm welcome to Chris Speidel, Joseph Delacroix, and Oliver Adams.”
The crowd broke into a new wave of cheers and whistles.
“You may have seen all three of these outstanding gentlemen deliver speeches over the past few weeks, and hopefully you’ve gotten an idea of what they stand for and what direction they want to take our beautiful organization. All three of these men possess the raw skills to make a great leader, but as I’ve discussed with each of them, there’s more to it than that. Anyone can learn and develop leadership skills. What has always stuck out about past Keepers has been intangible attributes like vision, determination, and willpower. These are things, I believe, that cannot be taught, but rather are ingrained within men from the time they are born. You either have it, or you don’t.
“For those of you who might not be familiar, the nomination process starts with each state or province mailing in their suggestion for the best candidate they can offer. From there, the list of about ninety candidates is reviewed by myself and a team made up of those I trust, and any former Keepers who want to get involved in the process. This part of the process normally takes two weeks, as we give our due diligence to researching each candidate’s past and look for what they have done in their mission work and how relatable they are to the rest of the population.
“We have friendly arguments, whittling that pool down to the three finalists who are standing before us today. At that point, the decision rests solely on me to make. I go with each candidate for a one-week tour around the continent where they deliver speeches to other Revolters. We spend every waking second together so I can get a complete understanding of who each of these fine men are. The beauty of this is that there are no bad choices. I can choose any of these three men and know our organization will be in good hands for years to come. Unfortunately, there is only room for one person, and the thought process is all about who is the best fit for our future.
“Let me tell you, this has been the hardest decision of my tenure as your Keeper. I suppose that’s a good thing. Now, after more than two decades of learning this organization inside and out, and meeting all of the phenomenal people who make us great, I’ve made my decision. And my decision is one based on potential. Not potential of the man I’m choosing today, but of the organization’s potential. Things are going great for the Revolution – never better, in fact. But we can do so much more. And the candidate I’ve chosen has the best vision for taking us to the next level. He is ambitious and ready to get to work. Since becoming a Revolter he has grown into a key figure among his peers. Gentlemen, it is my distinct pleasure to introduce your next Keeper of Time: Chris Speidel!”
Chris heard a few shocked gasps before applause drowned them out. He watched as some people turned and looked to each other with confused expressions, others outright refusing to clap and standing with their arms crossed below their smug expressions.
Chester turned around and waved him over.
Chris smirked as he started for the microphone, waving to the crowd who started to fall silent again. He shook Chester’s hand before taking the microphone.
“Good afternoon, Revolution,” Chris said, his arms trembling in what would be one of his final moments of feeling nervous. “I want to thank Chester, first and foremost, not only for choosing me, but for doing incredible work over these past twenty-two years. I’d say you’ve made this an easy transition for me. Let’s give him a round of applause.”
The crowd obliged and Chester took a bow before them, a wide grin stuck on his face throughout the rest of the speech.
“I’m not going to stand here and lie to you,” Chris continued. “I know I wasn’t the popular choice. We had two other phenomenal candidates that I’m sure would have done an excellent job. Trust me when I say I’m just as shocked as you all. From the onset I thought Chester was just pulling me along as some sort of joke. But I have been called to this role. As he mentioned, I have plans for a bright future for our organization. We already do so much great for the world, but we can do even more. I’ll cover this in a more formal speech. I look forward to getting to know you all as we continue to make this organization thrive. Thank you!”
The crowd gave one more round of cheers as Chester returned to the microphone. “Thank you all for attending our announcement ceremony today. We have the restaurant booked all day and night, so feel free to stay and mingle, have some drinks, and find Chris to congratulate him. Thank you.”
The crowd returned to its loud chatter. Chris stayed in the back where the two other candidates had already disappeared into the sea of people. A natural observer of the world, he watched the room, studying the people and trying to figure out what they were thinking. Many kept looking over their shoulders to see him, whispering with each other, and surely gossiping about what they believed was a botched decision by Chester.
But none of that mattered now. Chris was chosen as the new leader, and he’d never look back.
24
Chapter 24
Chris had no idea what he was getting himself into, physically speaking. Since he’d never taken his candidacy seriously, he hadn’t asked what exactly the process of becoming the Keeper of Time entailed.
Chester invited him to his hotel suite the following afternoon, suggesting a time of noon so they could enjoy lunch before jumping into the transfer of powers. Revolters had always been told that the Keepers were invincible, but no one actually believed it. The conspiracy theory was that every Keeper was someone from the future, sent back in time where they never aged to ensure they could l
ead for long amounts of time.
“That’s a lie,” Chester said. He had ordered them a room service lunch of steak and lobster, with a bottle of scotch to share. “You’ll find that there are many lies that get spread about the Keeper of Time. It’s part of the job.”
“So you really are invincible?” Chris asked as he swallowed a bite of tender steak.
“Yes, sir. You can shoot me in the head and my body will heal itself. It’s quite fascinating.”
“So is it some sort of magic that I’ll get access to?”
“Magic is the wrong word—at least, I believe so. Magic—which is real, by the way—is something that one has to channel to use. It takes effort and concentration. Our gift is more a special ability. It takes no effort to, say, read someone’s mind. It’s more a matter of focus, like trying to listen to a friend across a loud room. I can focus on your mind right now and hear your exact thoughts. Do you want to give it a try?”
Chris couldn’t recall having ever received such an absurd question in his life. “Okay?”
“Great. Think anything you want.”
This steak is delicious, but I don’t like lobster. I’ve never been one for seafood.
Chester giggled. “Well, Chris, you should have said you don’t like seafood, but I’m happy to take that lobster off your hands.” He reached across the table and grabbed the lobster right from Chris’s plate.
“How the hell did you do that?”
“I told you. Focus. That is just one of the many abilities you’ll get to enjoy.”
“What else?”
“Well, that’s a big one, as is the invincibility. But you’ll be able to do things like close your eyes and enter someone’s mind. You can’t control them, but you can watch the world from their point of view. Find out where they are and what they’re doing. Also, your brain becomes a walking encyclopedia. You just . . . know things.”
“Is there anything you can’t do?”
Chester pursed his lips and looked to the ceiling in deep thought. “No. I’d say fly, but wait until you see the jets they have in the future. The world moves so fast, the transportation has to keep up.”
They shared a laugh, and Chris tipped back the final remains of scotch in his glass.
“Now, it is great, but do know there are some things that . . . change.”
“Such as?”
“For starters, enjoy that scotch. I’m not saying you can’t have it anymore, but you’ll no longer have a need to eat. In essence, your body sort of dies. It no longer needs food, water, or sleep. But you still function as normal.”
“No sleep? So what do I do at night?”
“At first, you’re probably going to go on more adventures. Why not, right? You’ll have an extra eight hours a day. But over time, it becomes lonely. The whole world is sleeping while you’re the only one awake. After a couple years, I just started going to sleep again, more to pass the time than anything.”
“But you don’t actually need to?”
“No. My mind is just as sharp on zero hours of sleep compared to ten. I’m never tired, therefore I never wake up with that groggy feeling in the mornings. It’s more like a blackout in time than a recharge of your brain.”
Chris scratched his head in confusion.
“I know it’s a lot to take in, and even more to adjust to, but you’ll pick it up in time.”
“Okay, so how does the process work? How do I obtain these abilities?”
“Well, that’s what we’re going to do today, and why I brought you here for a nice meal. The process itself is a quick injection, but the recovery and aftermath will be excruciating for you over the next forty-eight hours.”
“What hurts so bad if it’s just an injection?”
“Are you ready to start?”
Chris recoiled as if Chester had pulled a gun on him. “Uhh, I suppose.” He looked down with hopes of there being more food to stall, but he had already cleared the final bites.
“Perfect. Just so you know, after I inject you, this will be your room. I’ll be heading back home.”
“What?!” Chris gasped. “You’re going to leave me in pain by myself?”
Chester raised a hand. “You’re going to be fine. Yes, you’ll be in pain, but that’s the beauty of your transformation—you won’t actually need anything. You just gotta roll with the punches.”
Chris squirmed as he stood from his seat, suddenly nauseous, the room off-balance. He crossed toward the bed and sat on the foot of it, fidgeting with the comforter. “What’s this going to feel like? I gotta know, Chester.”
“The best way to put it, I suppose, is an intense weakness. And your veins will feel like they’ve been filled with fire. It’ll burn at first, but will eventually turn to a numb, throbbing sensation that consumes your entire body. It lasts forty-eight hours, and once that time has passed, you’ll be your new, enhanced self. I’ve instructed the hotel staff to not disturb this room until you check out. You’ll be stuck in bed, unable to get up – not that you need to. Your new abilities will set in as soon as I inject you, so no more need for food or water, or even using the bathroom.”
“Understood,” Chris said, wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into.
“Lie down, get comfortable, and let me grab the syringe from my briefcase.”
Chester left Chris alone, disappearing into a bedroom for a couple of minutes before returning with a syringe filled with red liquid.
“What’s in it?” Chris asked.
Chester studied it as if having never seen it before, placing it on the nightstand next to the bed. “It’s the blood of all the past Keepers of Time, dating back to the Greek god of time, Chronos.”
“Greek god? We don’t originate that far back.”
The Revolution was only a few hundred years old, nowhere near the time of Greek mythology.
“That is correct, but that doesn’t mean the blood of Chronos wasn’t preserved. That’s how the Revolution was born – we found it in a cave in Greece three hundred years ago. Do you know the story?”
Chris shook his head. “I should, but can’t say I’ve ever been told the history of our origins.”
“Our founder, a gentleman named Igor Ivanov, was a Russian explorer who went on a trip to Greece with hopes of discovering a rare rock in their caves. He never found the rock, but came across a vial of liquid and two stone tablets carved in ancient Greek. After some research and translation, he discovered that the liquid was indeed blood that belonged to Chronos. To this day, we don’t know why the blood was stored in the cave. The tablets offered no explanation aside from what the liquid was.”
“So Igor decided to start a group of people who studied time after this?”
“Not quite. On a whim, he drank half of it. He claims that the vial was speaking to him to do that. Others thought the discovery of something so significant drove him mad. Why else would someone drink unconfirmed blood? But he drank it, and fell sick to the point where everyone around him thought he was dying. After a couple of days he jumped right out of bed and continued with his business. From there, he slowly discovered the new abilities that we still enjoy today. And the rest is history, as they like to say.”
“Wow,” Chris said, his jaw hanging. He was not one to be easily impressed, but the story was overwhelming. “So we still have the vial of blood?”
“We don’t. The vial remained with Igor. He kept it hidden for fear of what could happen if the world found out about his prized possession, let alone his abilities. That’s why the Revolution was started. He let his closest friends in on the secret and made them swear to a life of secrecy. They wrote the very first rules of our organization, but they were more of terms on what to do should someone learn of the secret they all shared. Word got to the wrong person, and a Greek historian who believed the story threatened Igor to turn over the vial. If it really was from Chronos, then it belonged in Greece. Igor refused and was killed later that night in his sleep. We all know it was the historian,
but he was never seen again, and the location of the vial remained a secret with him.”
“Unbelievable. So someone else might stumble across this vial of blood?”
Chester shrugged. “I suppose they could. We have constantly had a team searching for this vial. We want it on our possession—can’t trust anyone else with that, as you can imagine. But it’s a nearly impossible task. The historian could have hidden it in any location, in any year. We’ve rummaged through his home and possessions and have never found a clue. It could be hidden under an old dinosaur nest for all we know. Hell, we don’t even know for sure if it still exists. We believe it’s hidden, but what if he became overwhelmed with the secret and dumped it down the drain? We’ll never know. It’s just one of those mysterious wonders of the world.”
“I can’t believe I’ve never heard this story. Why doesn’t every Revolter get told about this when they join?”
“Well, we can’t possibly do that. If we shared this secret, then everyone would be after the blood. And what if someone actually found it? They’d find themselves in the same danger that Igor did. It’s a secret passed down from Keeper to Keeper, and they can each decide who they would like to tell. Even if we find it one day, we’re not going to tell anyone. The very existence of this vial will remain a secret.”
“Should I continue the search for it?”
Chester chuckled. “No one’s even found a clue in the entirety of our existence. I suggest you don’t spend too much time on this particular issue—especially with everything you’re trying to achieve.”
“I understand that, but I’ll probably assign a small team to keep the search going in the background.”
“I expect nothing less. Now, can we get started with your transformation? I don’t mean to be pushy, but I do need to get back home tonight.”
“Okay, yes, sorry.”
“I know you have lots of questions, but do know that you and I will have a sort of orientation, you could say, to get you up to speed with your new abilities and role. We don’t give too much information before the transformation, just in case you were to back out at the last second. Once it’s complete, you’ll know everything you need.”
Keeper of Time (Wealth of Time Series, Book 4) Page 14