by YS Pascal
“Means,” John opened his toga to reveal the Somalderis covering his hips. “And the method was that computer you were so kind to power up. Wasn’t quite as good as an Ergal, but, with a few simple calculations from my Maryland days, we--“
CRASH! Apparently the armed guards had made it as far our wing and broken into a nearby hallway. The walls shook as what sounded like an army of footsteps and shouts headed our way. John put his arm around Aliyah’s waist, and waived us closer. “I’ll explain later—we gotta fly.”
The door to the conference room slammed open and a cadre of helmeted soldiers sporting automatic weapons stormed into the room, guns ablaze. But they were seconds too late as our Ergals had just whisked us away. Holding hands and hoping for rain, the Babylon Four had left the building.
* * *
Golgotha—two thousand years ago. We hoped.
We M-fanned in a glade near a nest of juniper bushes behind a low hill. While Spud and John confirmed our location on their Ergals, I Ergaled me and Spud some era-appropriate clothing: long flowing robes. And demure headscarves for me and Aliyah. I wasn’t a fan of togs that wouldn’t let me fight or run, but figured that our stowaway might not be able to deal with me anamorphing into a different gender before her eyes, as I was prone to do in less progressive countries. On the other hand, she’d impressed me as being pretty adaptable, after all.
Unfortunately, being in a rush to flee, we’d overcompensated just a hair on our makeshift Ergals. Yes, we had arrived back in Yeshua’s day, but quite a few hours earlier than we’d planned. At sunrise. In daylight, we’d have to be careful scoping out our territory. Best if we quickly found a discreet location to set up a base camp.
“We are in the general area of Golgotha,” Spud whispered. He nodded at the hill. “There is a clearing beyond where we first should turn our attention.”
John was already creeping up the back of the hill. He peeked over the top, nodded, and waved for us to approach.
“Got three of them hung out to dry. Is your Yeshua the one in the middle?”
Knitting his brow, Spud took a quick look at the scene below. “The man we seek,” he said, his tone admonishing, “yes, he is amidst the other two.”
Aliyah peeked over my shoulder. I felt her muscles tense behind me as her eyes took in the heart-rending picture before us.
Three large wooden crosses filled the clearing. In the center, I could barely recognize Yeshua. Not that many hours had passed from his perspective since I’d hit him up for the Somalderis loan. But the Yeshua drooping on the cross before us was dressed in a purple robe, open to reveal that his chest and trunk had been flayed without mercy, with rills of blood trickling down sun-dried tracks to his feet. Oh, my God. Was this tragedy partly my fault?
Roman soldiers ambled among the victims—several stopped to poke and spit at Yeshua, growling words that we unable to hear. I’d never experienced the queasiness, the revulsion, at the evidence of such brutal physical and mental torture. Zygfed was an aggressive kingdom in its own way, but technology had made the need for such torture obsolete. Death by stun gun or fusion torpedos, like the Omega Archon’s flames of Hell, was sterile, efficient, and clean.
“Quite a crowd of onlookers.” Dr. Malamud’s voice was hoarse. “Our history records had described the barbarity of some of our ancestral cultures, but to see a whole village of persecutors and gawkers…I really did think humanity was better than that.”
Some of the onlookers spat at the wiry criminal sagging on the cross nearest to us, shouting “Thief! “Cut off his hands!”
“Yeah,” I muttered, “steal a loaf of bread to feed your family and get flogged and nailed onto a cross until you bleed to death.” I didn’t bother to hide my bitterness. “The milk of human kindness has always been curdled, girlfriend.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t have to be. The lessons we learned after the imperialist crusades, the ones we ourselves just escaped, reshaped the very core of our values and the structure of our civilizations. Inclusion, respect, tolerance, intellectual curiosity, empathy, civic engagement, and altruism. Humanitarianism has kept our provinces and countries free of wars for hundreds of years.”
John was listening, his expression admiring. Clearly they had bonded even closer after their ride together on Lester Moore’s ‘carousels’. “Then you have created heaven on Earth, Aliyah. And they said it couldn’t be done.” His smile spoke the feelings he didn’t need to further articulate. Please.
“To everything there is a season,” Spud injected, saving me from diabetes. I scanned the crucifixion site below from over his shoulder.
“Those women over there have been next to Yeshua the whole time,” I said. “ID?” I pointed to a group of robed women gathered around Yeshua’s feet.
Spud checked his Zygan Ergal for data from our old timeline. “Historical records vary, but Panaghia and Mary Magdalene are at the top of the list of candidates. If so, they are unlikely to leave their posts.”
I sighed, and motioned to the others to follow me back down the hill. How was I going to be able to get the Somalderis to Yeshua if he continued to be surrounded by onlookers? Aliyah was the last to leave the hilltop, giving me a few minutes to confer with Spud and my brother.
“The only way we’ll get past these crowds to Yeshua is to invisiblize.” I whispered.
John agreed, “I was about to make the same suggestion.” Seeing Spud frown, he grumbled, “And these Ergals don’t invisiblize—unless?
“I tried, just in case, a few minutes ago. Perhaps you should try yours, but I don’t believe Lester Moore’s intent was to mislead us.”
None of us were able to make either ourselves or the Somalderis disappear. “What about our Zygan Ergals?” I ventured. “Yeshua is still alive now, so the timeline actually hasn’t changed yet. Can’t we tap into Zygfed and activate them?”
Who wants to bet we were successful? I found Spud’s theory that the timeline officially changed when I borrowed the Somalderis…annoying.
“Okay, so what’s Plan B?” I challenged my brother and Spud.
“Records vary as to how long Yeshua will continue to survive on the cross,” Spud said, sifting through the Zygan history banks again. “Seven to nine hours at most.”
“Rules out nightfall,” said John. “Sun just came off the horizon.”
“If that,” Aliyah added quietly, walking up to us. “I am quite fluent in Latin. Perhaps I can try to keep the guards occupied while you attempt your rescue.”
John, Spud, and I looked at each other, distressed. What had Aliyah overheard, and what was she expecting us to do?
I let John field this one. He dropped to his knees pretending to search for something in the reedy grass.
When I saw Spud follow, instinct kicked in and I pulled the Professor down, too. Between Spud’s crouching knees, I could see the cadre of Roman soldiers jogging in step towards the crowds. Catching their attention wouldn’t be a good idea, so we sidled over to a gully that led to a small inlet. And, behind a large boulder, barely visible through the tall grass, we spotted a five foot opening that led to a modest room-sized cave.
Not a bad place for us to hide until we could figure out our next moves. Judging from the scattered rags, cracked animal bones, dried fruit pits, and dust-etched amphorae that were strewn along its perimeter, we were not the first to make use of this hideout. Hoping our predecessors wouldn’t return, we carried ourselves and our ideas into the cave.
Chapter 23
Light From Heaven
In the Cave of Ideas—two thousand years ago
As senior catascope, John took the lead, delegating assignments to each of us. Spud would continue scanning records of the period on his Zygan Ergal to help us determine a strategy. I was in charge of building a fire to light torches and to counter the dampness of the cave’s dark interior. And John and Aliyah would use two torches to explore a few of the paths that seemed to branch off from the back of the cave. If we were lucky, we might
even be able to reach Yeshua’s location through an underground passage.
I built the fire in five minutes. No, I didn’t rub two sticks together. Among the items John had reclaimed from the Crusaders was Spud’s lighter—he never goes anywhere without it. John had also grabbed the two remaining cigars he and Spud had been saving for the right occasion. Breathing that smoke in these cramped quarters isn’t the right occasion, John.
“You are going to tell us how you got back all our stuff, aren’t you?” I prodded, as I took a seat next couple by the pit.
“I, too, am curious to learn more of your beta test of Mr. Moore’s carousel metaverse,” echoed Spud, joining us.
“Not much to tell,” John said, winking at Aliyah. “All it takes is time.”
Seeing Spud’s raised eyebrow, John laughed. “About a month at a time, to be inexact.”
Both Spudian eyebrows went up.
“The transport was quick, just like our voyage into Benedict’s universe.” John didn’t add ‘and mine’. “But when you get there, you have to wait for the merry-go-round to cycle back to the time you want to leap to. That takes about a month.”
I whistled.
“So, Aliyah and I had some time to explore—uh, our environment.”
I forced a smile, hoping he wasn’t going to get personal.
“Actually,” John said, “it was amazing.”
Dang. Personal.
“We M-fanned into a modern Middle East—like the 1950s, but in their 1700s.”
“Really?” I didn’t expect that twist. “Like Alsharif?”
“No, like a modern Constantinople,” John continued. “Apparently their Byzantine Empire wasn’t swallowed up by the Ottomans. Greater Byzantium stretched from France down to Northern Africa and over to Pakistan. Luckily, Aliyah is fluent in Ancient Greek and Ecclesiastical Greek, so we were able to communicate without our Ergals.”
I bestowed my forced smile on the Professor. “Lucky.”
“Unlike our relatively secular society, Byzantium had maintained its religious core,” Aliyah reported. “However, their Hellenic roots had instilled a love of philosophy and science that allowed their society to advance technologically as well as intellectually.”
“Each member country of Greater Byzantium was called a Diocese, and was led by an enlightened Archbishop under the guidance of the Patriarch in Constantinople,” added John.
“Ο Θεός μας παραχωρεί τη σοφία α μάθημα της ς. Yahweh grants us wisdom to learn life’s lessons,” Aliyah translated.
“Resonates of the teachings of the Gautama Buddha,” said Spud.
“There were many such writings in the libraries we visited. We spent almost two weeks in the Alexandria library alone.”
“It was still there,” John interjected. “I wish we’d had more time to study the works of Appolonius and Hipparchus. But we had to catch a catapult back to Phoenecia so we wouldn’t miss the window to cross back to this carousel.”
Spud’s excitement was palpable. “Were you able to obtain duplicates of the documents you read in Alexandria?”
“Unfortunately not. I’d made some notes on our computer, but the technologies weren’t compatible for us to be able to make direct copies. And, we, uh, lost the computer during our leap back.”
“Here to the Crusades?” I asked.
“No. We leapt into the warehouse when they were, uh, interrogating you. They weren’t expecting more visitors.”
“Your brother is a very effective safecracker,” Aliyah said, grinning. “We were in and out in minutes, though I can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if we’d then gone and tried to rescue you—before we rescued you.”
“Don’t ask.” Having lost my own future/past self before my very eyes when I’d traveled to the RAM with Agriarctos, I wasn’t eager to explain to Aliyah how disturbing seeing a duplicate ‘you’ can be. Much less watching her die.
“And the computer?” Spud persisted.
“I wished to return to Byzantium,” Aliyah admitted, “but John opted for a different carousel.”
John shrugged, palms up. “My safecracking skills had gotten us enough currency to support us for the month, but I hadn’t realized those lamps in the taverna were also security cameras. My mug didn’t look so cool on those Phoenecian ‘Wanted’ posters.”
I allowed myself a giggle.
“We landed on yet another merry-go-round universe, but in this one, humans were not the dominant species.”
Full out laugh. “Planet of the Apes?”
“Not hardly, Sis.”
“Robots,” said Aliyah. “Wires and circuits instead of flesh and blood.”
“Androids,” John added. “Motherboards,” he paused, adding with disgust, “for brains. We kept a low profile as we waited for the “carousels” to line up.”
“As servants, tending to the robots’ needs,” Aliyah explained. “Like the other humans who had survived. Until this morning, when they arrived at our door.”
Spud frowned. “The androids?”
“Human military police—they enforce the ‘Three Laws of Humanoids’. They had identified an undocumented silicon-based entity within the slave quarters.”
“His computer,” Aliyah said.
John shook his head. “I’d turned it on to calculate our path back to you two. Didn’t take the cops long to find it and appropriate it—for an android to adopt, of course.
“Thank the Omega Archon, we still had our Ergals and the Somalderis. I’d already put in the settings to leap back to the Crusades—and we made it in the nick of time. For both carousels.”
“You don’t think leaving your computer there will affect that universe’s timelines, do you?” I asked, worried.
John stood up and shrugged. “Speaking as a human, I think they could use a little timeline change—and an Emancipation Proclamation.”
A loud sigh from Spud. “Well, I shall have to take a page from Shiloh’s playbook one day and make an unauthorized trip to pre-conflagration Alexandria. ‘Tis the only way I believe I shall ever espy the wisdom of the ancients.”
Grumbling, Spud settled in a far corner of the cave and continued to study the archived historical records on his Zygan Ergal as I stoked the fire and waited for John and the Professor to return from their reconnaissance. Unfortunately, they came back later than we expected, and without good news—no passages that could provide cover en route to Yeshua. Could’ve been the flickering lighting from the torches, but both looked a bit flushed. I didn’t want to hear their excuses, so I didn’t ask why.
John gave our companion an Ergaled blanket, and she lay down a few feet from the fire, welcoming the chance to rest. Good. I wouldn’t mind a few seconds alone with my brother, you know.
John must’ve read my mind. He sat down next to me and gave me a quick hug.
“When we figure out a way to solve this mess,” I began, “I can’t wait to walk in the door of our farmhouse with you. You won’t believe how much the little ones have grown.”
“How many brothers and sisters do you have?” asked Dr. Malamud from her blanket bed.
“There are nine of us all together,” John said.
She whistled. “Always wanted a brother or sister, but ‘wow’.”
“You’re an only child?”
“Yes. Our culture doesn’t regulate reproduction, but it also doesn’t encourage people to have more children than they want.” She smiled at John, “My parents were very happy with just me.”
“You used the past tense again.”
The Professor looked away for a few moments. “Losing those you love, even as an adult…”
“I’m sorry,” John said, lying back and taking her hands in his.
I had a devilish urge to break the mood. “Your parents couldn’t have been that old.”
She seemed anything but offended. “No. You’re right. They had become eonauts, engaging in medical research in low earth orbi
t. Their experiments will help our space program to return to the moon someday.” Her eyes glistened, but the pride in her voice was clear, as she added. “Their craft exploded in reentry three years ago.”
Snap. “I’m sorry, too,” I said, meaning it.
“I am so glad they had a chance to live their dream to touch the edge of space. Perhaps someday I will do the same.”
“Perhaps someday,” John said with tenderness, “I could join you on that voyage.”
Biting my lip, I went over to sit next to Spud.
John and the Professor continued to murmur between themselves, but I no longer had the urge to eavesdrop. Spud continued to focus on documents in his Ergal, ignoring me as well. We’d been up for many, many hours. Let the men in my life continue their respective research. I closed my eyes, and let sleep soothe my loneliness.
* * *
When I woke up, the fire had died to embers. Spud was still at his post scanning his Ergal files, and mumbled that John and Aliyah had gone off together to search down along more tunnels and passages a while ago and should be back soon.
I sat up, watching the embers cast flickering shadows on the walls of the cave. Half asleep, I started to imagine each shadow was a ghost, the tall one my brother George, the little one, my brother Billy. Soon I had named all the shadows as my siblings and confessed to them sotto voce that I had meant well. Fortunately, Spud chose not to comment if he heard.
A musical giggle floated from a passageway behind us. Dr. Malamud ambled in, leaning against John, who held her tightly around the waist. Once again, I didn’t bother to explore what they’d been exploring. I laid back down on my blanket, and pretended to sleep.
John left Aliyah’s side and scooted over to stoke the flames. After a few minutes, hearing her rhythmic breathing, I crawled over and sat up next to my brother. We didn’t talk until the fire had regained its strength.
“I know what you’re going to ask,” John finally said.