Beyond Eternity

by Paul Deaver

  "I should ask you the same thing."

  "This is my brother's room. You don't belong here."

  "I can't argue with that, but I was told these are my quarters now. There's something familiar about you. What's your name?"

  "Of course I'm familiar, you saw me in the hallway earlier."

  "I'm not talking about that—oh, never mind. I'm Robert Stone. Would you mind sharing your name?"

  "Hazel."

  "Look, Hazel, you're absolutely right that I don't belong here, but unless there's something you can do about it, I'll be staying put."

  She looked around and said, "Somebody has already been through here. The room isn't how he kept it."

  "What were you looking for?"

  "Never mind. I'm leaving." Hazel shoved past me and left.

  Chapter 3

  After waking the next morning, I fetched some clean clothes from the wall locker. The coveralls were comfortable, and the boots fit well enough. As I finished getting dressed, I heard someone knocking on my door. I opened the door and didn't immediately see anyone, then, glancing down, I saw a small boy with unkempt red hair who stood about waist high. He said, "You must be Stone. I'm Finn. Let's get moving, I've got a lot to do today."

  I wondered what a boy his age could possibly have to do, but closed the door behind me and followed him to the railcar platform. A railcar carried us high into the Capitol Building, and we entered an expansive workshop situated a few floors below the audience chamber and executive quarters. The walls in the workshop were lined with all sorts of tools and machinery.

  A man stood at a workbench with his back toward us, toiling away on some project. Finn approached him and tugged on the leg of his coveralls. The man turned around and affectionately mussed the boy's hair before he was able to run off. He was an impressive-looking man with a thin mustache and bald head. Facing me, he introduced himself. "My name is Anson, and you must be Robert Stone." He gestured at the bracelet on my left wrist and continued, "How did you acquire the Psionic Resonator?"

  After recounting the story of my bizarre encounter in Central Park, Anson asked, "And the man simply vanished?"

  He knew I was holding details back, so I replied, "No, there was something burning in the middle of his back. In a flash, the fire spread throughout his body, and this bracelet was the only thing that remained."

  Anson hesitated for a few moments, then said, "I respect your candor. It's only fair that I'm honest with you as well. I've been directed to teach you how to use that device, but I doubt you comprehend the power at your disposal. Also, unless you're dense, you realize that anytime one has power, there are those who wish to control it, or steal it for themselves. However, the Psionic Resonator isn't something that can simply be stolen. Sure, someone could cut off your hand and remove the bracelet from your wrist, but it wouldn't do them any good. Dimensional travel is accessible to all, but achievable by few.

  "As we grow up, our minds create self-imposed restrictions on what we believe is possible. Children sometimes think they visit other worlds when they dream. With maturity, people become certain that anything not immediately within their reach is impossible. It is rare for an adult to retain the mental flexibility of a child and make the subconscious leap at a base level, that fantastic, unexplainable things really can happen. The Psionic Resonator simply amplifies the innate capacity of the person who wears it."

  I looked at my wrist and asked, "How did you create the Psionic Resonator?"

  "It is said that necessity is the mother of invention. Once upon a time, a little girl told her father that she visited other worlds in her dreams, and she needed a way to travel to them when she was awake. The father needed the approval of his daughter, so he found a way to make the impossible happen. It took many years for the father to stumble on the breakthrough which would allow a means of teleportation. Unfortunately, by the time he was able to accomplish this, the little girl stopped believing her dreams were really other worlds. However, the girl's younger brother had grown up listening to her outlandish stories and had absolute faith that these other worlds were real."

  Anson rubbed his eyes, and the anguish in his voice was obvious as he continued. "That young man you saw in the park was my son. It fills me with regret to know that I was at least partially responsible for his demise. If I hadn't found a way to make teleportation possible, my son John would still be alive today. This is why I put a choice before you. I can remove that bracelet without taking your hand off. However, it would render the device useless in the process. Your other option is that I attempt to teach you how to harness the Psionic Resonator, but if you are able to master it, there will be those that seek to control or destroy you."

  I considered my options and said, "I don't see how I could give up my only chance of going home. I'd like to learn how to make that happen."

  "No, I don't suppose I would give up a chance to leave here either. Creating the Psionic Resonator caught the attention of a revolutionary named Rexxor. You may also know him as the Patriarch or other similar titles. Rexxor's revolution was well under way, and he decided to fund additional research. I don't share some of his political beliefs, but I was compelled to continue my projects at his behest."

  "Projects? What else did you build?"

  "I was just getting to that. Follow me and I'll show you the Odyssey."

  Anson brought me to the back of his workshop where the entire wall was actually a segmented hangar door. He keyed a control on the adjacent wall, and the tall panels slid to the side, revealing the most extraordinary aircraft I had ever seen.

  The Odyssey was about twenty feet long and had a narrow, ballistic shape akin to a three-bladed arrowhead. Stubby wings started slightly aft of the nose and grew somewhat larger toward the back end. Tandem crew stations could accommodate two pilots, with the back seat slightly higher than the front. The thrusters on the bottom and the back of the ship appeared to allow for hovering and forward flight.

  I whistled and said, "You really outdid yourself—that's one slick looking aircraft. Can it break the sound barrier?"

  "Easily," He replied. "It can exceed escape velocity without even straining the dual fusion reactors."

  "Dual fusion reactors?" I asked.

  Fusion energy was the same thing that powered stars. As far as I knew, research had never advanced beyond the theoretical stages on Earth, and proposed designs would cover huge tracts of land. Yet this man was telling me his ship was propelled by two such power plants. I joked: "What's wrong, you couldn't squeeze enough juice out of one fusion reactor?"

  Anson smiled. "Quite the contrary—one reactor would provide ample power. However, redundant systems are essential for a ship designed to explore other worlds."

  "Makes sense," I conceded as I ran my hand along the fuselage. The skin of the craft was formed from the same semi-translucent, black metal as my bracelet. "So, this ship can teleport as well?"

  "Yes, much of the Odyssey is made from the same material as the Psionic Resonator. That compound has unique qualities. Not only does it permit teleportation, but it is the strongest and lightest material I have ever encountered. If you'll look closely at the nosecone, I'd like to point something out."

  I'd been wondering why an aircraft built for speed and agility would have a somewhat rounded nose. That seemed to contradict most of the fighter jets I had seen in the military.

  "You look surprised at the shape. The blunt nose helps dissipate the extreme frictional heat of reentry into a planet's atmosphere from the vacuum of space. But the fuselage does more than provide structural integrity. There are cameras and sensors imbedded throughout the skin of the ship."

  Anson explained that the collection of cameras functioned in concert, acting like a single giant lens that could pick up multiple wavelengths including infrared, ultraviolet, and visible light. The picture was filtered and combined with flight symbology, and displayed on the visor of the pilot's helmet, so it was as if you could see right through the craft. Prio
r to flight, a pilot would boresight their helmet to a small target reticle on the top-center of the control panel. Sensors in the crew compartments tracked the orientation of the helmet, so the imagery lined up properly anytime the pilot moved their head. Additionally, there were sensors inside the helmet that tracked your eye movement. This allowed the ship's computer to know precisely what you were looking at within the projected image on your visor.

  Although the Odyssey was designed primarily for exploration, it didn't lack defenses. A turret-mounted cannon could be extended from a compartment on the bottom of the craft. The cannon used a series of coils to electromagnetically accelerate solid-metal projectiles up to twenty times the speed of sound. The tremendous amount of kinetic energy caused the metal slugs to explode on impact with any solid object. A laser range finder, radar, and accelerometers fed information into the weapons processor to provide constantly-updated ballistic solutions to the turret. Shooting a target was as simple as looking at something and firing.

  After letting the sight of this beautiful ship sink in, I finally asked, "Are you going to teach me how to fly this thing?"

  "No, but you'll be instructed by the best pilot I know. There's my little girl now. Hazel, come over here."

  For the third time in two days, I saw the striking, red-haired woman.

  Chapter 4

  "You've got to be kidding me."

  "Now Hazel—" Anson pleaded.

  "What's he doing here?"

  "Sweetheart, please try to be civil. This is Robert Stone."

  "I know who he is."

  "Do you?"

  "Well, I know his name at least."

  "I would like you to teach Robert how to fly the Odyssey and use the Psionic Resonator."

  Hazel was about to protest, then held back. She must not have noticed my bracelet during our brief encounter the previous night. I wondered what she had been searching for.

  "Robert found the bracelet in his world and was inadvertently transported here. With your help, he should have no trouble learning to control it." Anson returned to tinkering on his workbench before she could respond, leaving me to Hazel's contentious scrutiny.

  She said, "Why didn't you tell me you had my brother's bracelet?"

  "You didn't give me much of a chance."

  Hazel considered my statement and said, "I suppose not."

  "I don't even know how it got on my wrist. It's too small to slide over my hand. One moment I was holding it, then the next I was wearing this thing."

  "You see, that's how it works. The bracelet resonates subtle, subconscious thoughts. If you get fixated on an idea, it will fade away like a daydream the moment you try to focus on it. You probably imagined what it would look like around your wrist, and the bracelet made it happen. For the Psionic Resonator to work, you simply need to let a thought enter your mind, then allow your subconscious to take over.

  "When you want to transition to another place, start with something familiar about the spot you want to go to. Imagine what it would feel like to be there, then let your subconscious fill in the details. For example, look at that chair on the other side of the room. Visualize yourself sitting in the chair."

  I stared at the metal chair, not really believing that I could teleport myself at will, but gave it my best shot.

  Hazel interrupted, "You're trying too hard. You can't force it. Let the Psionic Resonator do the work for you."

  I gave it another attempt, but my frustration must have been obvious. Hazel suggested, "Let's drop this for now and move on to something much simpler. My father told me to teach you how to fly. I don't suppose you have any experience?"

  "I've flown a fair amount. Mostly—"

  She cut me off. "Look, buddy, I don't care what you think you know. Don't touch anything unless I tell you to. If you pay attention to what I say, you'll make it back here in one piece."

  Hazel led me through the workshop to the aircraft beyond the open hanger doors and proceeded to show me how to do a preflight inspection. She opened panels on the right side of the Odyssey; two doors for the tandem crew compartments, and one entering the aft section of the ship. We started by climbing in the aft compartment and crawling down the narrow passageway between the twin fusion reactors. The systems were sealed and shielded, so it was a quick visual inspection. Then we climbed out and moved clockwise around the aircraft and looked for any apparent damage to the skin, thrusters, and control surfaces.

  Everything looked pristine, which was a big difference from virtually every other aircraft I've flown. In my experience, if something wasn't leaking at least a little, that meant the aircraft was out of fluid. However, the simplicity of this amazingly complex craft was astounding. The attention to detail and precision with which it was designed was second to none. This thing was made to last, and built so you wouldn't break down and get stranded on some inhospitable alien world.

  The crew compartments were confined but comfortable. Hazel told me to get in the front seat, while she climbed in the back. As I sat down, I noticed a small circular mirror mounted to the canopy. I reached up to adjust it so Hazel was visible through the clear blast shield dividing our crew stations. She pushed a strand of fiery red hair behind her ear and donned a helmet, then locked onto me with her emerald green eyes. Embarrassed she caught me watching her, I quickly looked away and put on my helmet.

  Over the internal communications system, Hazel instructed me to retrieve the aircraft checklist from a compartment to the right of my leg and talked me through the startup procedure. We ran a manual fire detector test, then powered up the ship's computer. The multipurpose displays flickered to life, and I was greeted by a sweet contralto voice. "Startup built-in test complete. All systems normal."

  Hazel said, "That's Betty. She can fly better than you ever will, and makes the Odyssey do what you intended when you're yanking on the controls like a gorilla. In fact, you could tell her where you'd like to go, then take a nap in the back of the ship, and she would wake you upon arrival. However, Betty is a sweet girl and lets you feel good about yourself and think you're flying, while she does all the heavy lifting and moves the ship with real finesse. In reality, Betty has to limit the full capabilities of this aircraft so you don't accelerate too fast or bank too hard and turn your internal organs into mush."

  Hazel lowered her helmet visor and said, "Betty, please close the interior hangar door and open the exterior door."

  "Yes, Hazel." The doors to the workshop slid closed on the left side of the ship, then the wall to our right raised up, exposing a landing platform.

  Hazel talked me through setting up my cockpit. Navigating the pages available on the multipurpose displays was intuitive and could be controlled by touching the screens or giving Betty voice commands. The flight symbology and imagery displayed on my helmet visor was equally natural to use. The imbedded cameras projected the surroundings on my visor in a normal field of view as I moved my head, or a fish eye field of view which allowed me to see everything around the aircraft at once. Although the fish eye field of view seemed useful, it was a bit disorienting at first, and I doubted that it would impress Hazel if I got sick on my first flight.

  Hazel said, "Clear."

  Betty replied, "Clear all around."

  As Hazel brought us up to a hover and moved out to the landing platform, it was incredible to be able to see through the skin of the aircraft without any blind spots. The ship moved so smoothly that the motion was almost imperceptible.

  Hazel said, "Center of gravity and flight controls feel normal; hovering at point six four percent power applied. That corresponds to the predicted hover power on the performance page." Hazel called on the radio, "Capitol Tower, this is Odyssey on Workshop Pad, requesting West River Departure for R-1212 with information Zulu."

  Tower responded, "Odyssey, wind is two-niner-zero at ten, altimeter setting two-niner-niner-two, you are cleared for takeoff, West River departure, report River."

  Hazel read back the clearance, then asked if I
was ready to go. Before I could respond, my body was shoved into the back of my seat cushion. When the acceleration let up, I looked around at an expansive metropolis that reminded me of New York. However, the enormity of the buildings dwarfed New York City by comparison.

  We turned slightly, and I looked over my shoulder to see where we departed from. The Capitol Building was a gigantic monolith that dominated the horizon. I had grown up in a city full of sky-scraping buildings, but couldn't imagine how people had built such a structure.

  We crossed a broad river and Hazel called the tower on the radio. "Odyssey is River."

  "Roger, Odyssey; frequency change approved."

  "Betty, monitor the radios and let me know if anything important comes up."

  The computer responded, "I have the radios and will keep you advised."

  We continued to the west, and the buildings became smaller and appeared older the farther we went. I zoomed in on the image in my visor for a closer look and saw timeworn structures that must have been abandoned after a long-forgotten war.

  I asked Hazel, "Where are you taking me?"

  "I know a remote spot where there is less for you to crash into once I transfer the flight controls."

  We were beyond any remnants of civilization, and Hazel descended until the Odyssey was flying just above the treetops. The ship hugged the contours of the earth until the trees broke away to reveal an open meadow. There was a herd of deer grazing along the edge of the tree line to our left. A large buck with colossal antlers glanced up at us then went back to grazing, obviously unimpressed by our presence.

  Hazel brought the Odyssey to a hover in the center of the field and said, "You have the flight controls."

  I straightened up in my seat, gripped the cyclic and collective, then said, "I have the flight controls."

  "You have the flight controls. Now try not to kill me."