Carnival of Time
Copyright © 2011 Alan C. Matthews / Alan MacRaffen
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Your support of author’s rights is appreciated.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is entirely coincidental.
First printing, 2011
ISBN: 1467976822
ISBN-13: 978-1467976824
Cover Design by Alan MacRaffen
www.macraffen.com
Also by Alan MacRaffen:
Available on Amazon in Kindle and paperback editions.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One: The Journal of Caleb Owen
Chapter Two: Breakfast with Chuck
Chapter Three: A Different Kind of Turkey
Chapter Four: Gypsy Song
Chapter Five: Strange News
Chapter Six: Into the City
Chapter Seven: The Day the Lights Went Out
Chapter Eight: Broken Dreams
Chapter Nine: Red Lightning
Chapter Ten: Owen's Song
Chapter Eleven: Lost Souls
Chapter Twelve: Voices from the Past
Chapter Thirteen: Rock and a Hard Place
Chapter Fourteen: The Gates of Troy
Chapter Fifteen: Sacrifice
Chapter Sixteen: Familiar Faces
Chapter Seventeen: Alone
Chapter Eighteen: Carnival
Chapter Nineteen: A Changed World
Chapter Twenty: History
Chapter Twenty-One: The Water
Chapter Twenty-Two: Over New York
Chapter Twenty-Three: Homecoming
Chapter Twenty-Four: Undercity
Chapter Twenty-Five: Man's Best Friend
Chapter Twenty-Six: Rebellion
Epilogue: The Journal of Caleb Owen
Find More Online
Acknowledgements
About the Author
For my Mom.
JOSEPH MORENO FELT LIKE HE WAS going to his own funeral. The angry gray skies over New York City coated him and all he saw with a bone-chilling glaze of icy rain. Not wanting to crack his soaking head on the treacherous sidewalks, he forced himself to slow his mad rush down to an unsteady shuffle. With the roads as yet untreated, the traffic was forced to crawl through the ice and slush at a snail’s pace, reinforcing the funereal mood.
Joseph once again turned his attention to the mangled umbrella he clutched in his damp glove. Some tiny but crucial little scrap of metal had popped out of the umbrella’s locking mechanism, and it now slid shut automatically under the weight of the rain and sleet.
“Big freakin’ surprise,” Joseph grunted as he made one last, futile attempt to jam the umbrella open. It immediately slid shut and slapped him wetly in the face.
“Damn!” he hissed, flinging the defective contraption into the mouth of a trash-filled alley. He barely registered movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned to see a figure moving out of the piles of garbage to snatch up the umbrella. Wanting to avoid any contact with such an unpleasant class of person, he quickly looked away and hastened his step. Homeless. They were everywhere you looked in this city. He glanced up at the bobbing sea of pedestrians and vehicles. Too damn many people, he thought to himself. At times like this, it felt to him as though the whole world was just going to choke itself to death with a flood of people. These random thoughts were quickly pushed from his mind as he rounded the corner and saw his destination.
On the far side of the intersection in front of him was a huge, lifeless, concrete edifice. It was a relatively new construction, replacing a number of crumbling industrial buildings and warehouses. Despite its youth, there was nothing new or revolutionary about its design. It was simply a titanic rectangular shell of concrete that dominated the entire block. Most of the windows were dark and mirror-like, the rooms on the other side being either unlit or shielded by heavy tinting. It looked to Joseph like the building’s face was covered in hundreds of blind eyes. The only lights visible in the building came from the lobby windows and the austere sign directly over the entrance: RENAISSANCE LABS Inc.
As Joseph crossed the slushy intersection, he recalled the phone call that had brought him here.
He had been at work, doing research on his own projects at the Pacific branch of Renaissance Labs in Mendocino, California. The bleak, ice-covered streets of New York City were the farthest things from his mind at the time. He was deeply engrossed in a complex computer analysis of some new conductive polymers that he himself had pioneered. The skies outside the lab were clear and sunny, with just a handful of pure white clouds set against a dazzling azure backdrop. Joseph had just stopped for a moment to stretch and rest his eyes, glancing wistfully at that perfect sky, when the phone rang. Jolted out of his tranquility, he spun his chair around and snatched up the phone, almost knocking it off the desk in the process.
“Moreno,” he stuttered quickly. There was the briefest of pauses, then a very businesslike male voice spoke.
“Dr. Moreno, this is Daniel Fields.”
The name was unfamiliar to Joseph. “Yes? Can I help you?”
“I am calling on behalf of Dr. Reeve,” he said in a confidential voice. “He would like to speak with you.”
Joseph was silent for a moment, his mind having trouble making sense of this information. He was well aware of the name. Dr. Reeve was a brilliant scientist, exceptionally wealthy and powerful, but also exceptionally eccentric. He alone had complete control over all branches of Renaissance Labs. He had, in fact, created the company. In recent years, however, Dr. Reeve had withdrawn almost completely from view. He was never seen in person, either in public or at his labs. He rarely communicated with anyone outside of his circle of top advisors, and when he did, it was always in the form of brief memos and letters. There was a widespread theory throughout the company that Dr. Reeve may have become critically ill or even have died, and that his advisors were now running the company in his name. But now this man was telling Joseph that Dr. Reeve wanted to talk to him. Him, of all people!
“Is there a problem, Dr. Moreno?” Mr. Fields asked.
“No, no. Not really.” he said slowly. “I’m just wondering what exactly Dr. Reeve wants to discuss.”
“Well, without getting into too much detail on the phone, it has to do with your current polymer project.”
Joseph thought about that for a moment. “But I thought everyone was quite happy with my developments...”
“Oh, they are!” Mr. Fields cut in. “Wonderful work. Dr. Reeve was very pleased.” Joseph felt a surge of pride at this. “But he is interested in discussing your newer developments.”
“My newer... But there really haven’t been any new developments just yet. I’ve barely begun to...”
“Exactly,” Fields cut in again. “Don’t worry Dr. Moreno, it will all be explained when you arrive in New York.”
“Wait a minute...” Joseph stammered. “New York? You mean... He wants to meet in person?”
“Naturally. Your flight has already been arranged. Dr. Reeve wants you to drop what you’re doing and meet with him right away. A taxi will be arriving at the lab to bring you to the airport at about four-thirty this afternoon—Pacific Time, of course.”
“Of course,” Joseph said numbly. Then Fields hung up.
Now Josep
h stood at the base of the New York headquarters for Renaissance Labs. The gleaming black windows stared back at him blankly as he blinked cold drizzle out of his eyes. The neon glow from the sign overhead made his features look pale and sickly. Sighing with the resignation of a condemned man, Joseph pushed open the glass doors and stepped into the lobby.
The lobby was dull-colored and sparsely decorated, with two long mirrors on the side walls, a hard-looking couch and a couple of plastic plants. The security guard sat behind an oversized marble-topped desk at the far end of the lobby. He was a stout and saggy-faced old man with droopy eyes, and he fit so poorly behind the mammoth desk that he seemed at first to be a disembodied head resting on the smooth marble. When Joseph reached the desk, he discovered that the man did in fact possess a body. He wore a plain gray suit that shone with a bluish glow from the light of a bank of monitors in front of him. As Joseph approached, the man slowly looked up to meet his gaze. The movement was so slow and deliberate, Joseph half expected to hear a cartoonish creaking noise come from his neck. Instead the man spoke in a gravelly voice.
“How may I help you, sir?” he droned.
“I have an appointment to speak with Dr. Reeve.” The man’s face was like a mask, but his eyes widened momentarily at the mention of Dr. Reeve. Joseph felt a short thrill of importance, despite his morbid apprehension.
“Just one moment, sir,” the man said quickly, then spoke into an intercom system. “Appointment for Dr. Reeve,” he said, then once again lowered his head to stare at the bank of monitors.
Just a few short minutes later, a young black man dressed in a sharp business suit stepped out of one of the lobby’s elevators.
“Dr. Moreno,” he said, flashing a boyish smile. “I’m so glad you could make it. I’m Ned Sawyer, public relations.” He shook Joseph’s freezing wet hand. “I hope the weather here wasn’t too much of a shock to your system. God knows I’d trade this for California weather any day.”
“It is a bit worse than I expected,” Joseph said as he glanced out at the chilled gray streets.
“Well, don’t worry,” Ned said cheerfully. He guided Joseph over to one of the elevators and pushed number five. “First we’ll fill you up with a bit of warm coffee, then you can change into a clean–suit for the lab. It should be much warmer than what you’ve got on now. Besides, Dr. Reeve would get a little angry if someone dripped all over his favorite projects.”
“So he’s here in the lab already?” Joseph asked, trying to sound casual.
“Oh yes,” Ned said. “He’s here more often than most people think, working on his own projects and so forth. He just likes to keep a low profile. He’s not the kind of person who enjoys a lot of attention. Ah, here’s our stop.”
The elevator doors slid open silently. Joseph was surprised at the difference between the first and fifth floors. Unlike the stuffy, lifeless, drab lobby, the hall he stepped out into was fresh smelling and very bright. It had a very high-tech and dynamically lit design that he never would have expected. At the end of the hall, Ned led him through a side door into a small but sleekly outfitted lunchroom. After they each had a small cup of hot coffee, Ned guided Joseph into a changing room across the hall.
Soon, Joseph had changed into some spare, dry clothes and covered up with an outer layer of sanitary and static-free lab garments. Ned led him back down the hall to a sealed airlock.
“I’ll open the airlock for you,” Ned explained, “then you just head straight down the hall until you reach the big doors at the end. Dr. Reeve will be waiting for you in there.”
“You’re not going in?” Joseph asked.
“No, I’ve got a lot of other things waiting already. Don’t worry, he wouldn’t call you all the way over here just to fire you or pull the plug on your projects. I’m sure it’ll be good news.” The metal doors beeped and hissed as Ned entered the security code. They opened slowly, then clanged shut after Joseph stepped through. Joseph’s expression was one of surprise when the other set of doors opened.
The hallway before him looked like a longer version of the one he had just left, only with many more doors and side corridors. That in itself was no real surprise. What did stun him was the air. With just a few breaths, he was already feeling a rush in his head. It smelled pure and clean, not at all like the sterilized, chemical filled air of most labs. The more he breathed it, the more Joseph was reminded of a pristine forest or mountain lake. His head spun.
A couple of lab technicians stepped out into the hallway wearing bright white clean-suits. The first walked right past Joseph without even glancing in his direction, but the second slowed his step, then stopped. He glanced at the I.D. card Ned had clipped to Joseph’s pocket, seeing the bright red “visitor” stamp, then put a hand on Joseph’s shoulder as if to steady him.
“Hey, you going to be all right guy?” he asked.
Joseph nodded dizzily. “Yeah, I think so. What’s with the air in here? It’s like an oxygen tent.”
“You’ll get used to it pretty quick. Just relax and breathe easy. We have to keep the oxygen levels real high for the animals.” The other technician had come back and was staring suspiciously at Joseph.
“What?” Joseph asked, still feeling dizzy. “What are animals doing in here?”
“Never mind,” the first man said. He took the other technician by the arm and quickly turned away. Joseph leaned against the wall as he slowly regained his balance and watched the two men disappear down another hallway.
After a minute or two Joseph felt steady enough to move on. The hallway was longer than it looked, probably running for half the length of the building. At the far end was a pair of large metal doors with small glass windows in their centers. It was covered in all sorts of warning and hazard signs.
When Joseph was about forty feet from the doors, he heard a strange series of noises coming from one of the side corridors. He paused for a moment to listen. At first there was nothing but a low background hum and distant voices, but then the sounds came again. They were loud but distant, echoing through the empty halls with a melodic, rhythmic quality that made Joseph think it might be music. The pattern was a little too random though, and the sounds were so organic, almost like whale song. Animals, they’d said. What the hell kind of animals sounded like that? And why here? To Joseph’s knowledge, Renaissance Labs wasn’t involved with biology or genetics. The sound rose again in the distance, definitely some kind of animal cry, but eerie and indescribably alien. Joseph was strongly tempted to dash down the corridor, just for a glimpse of what was making those sounds. At that moment, however the two large doors at the end of the main hall suddenly slid open. Joseph quickly remembered why he had come here, and who he was about to meet. As he strode quietly up to the open doorway, he saw that it was another airlock, with a matching set of doors farther in.
The two outer doors slid closed with a dull rumble once Joseph stepped through. The floor inside the airlock vibrated with a low, heavy hum, as if it were built on top of some massive engine. Above the droning hum, a strange sort of whooshing and crackling noise could be heard emanating from behind the inner doors. The small windows set in the doors revealed little of what lay on the other side, just an oscillating pink light. With a start, Joseph noticed his face dimly reflected in the glass and saw that his hair was standing on end. As he leaned closer to get a better view through the window, he was startled by a clipped electronic voice coming from the ceiling.
“YOU. HAVE. FOUR. METAL. OBJECTS. ON. YOUR. PERSON.”
“I thought I already went through this at the airport,” Joseph muttered under his breath.
“PLEASE. PLACE. THE. OBJECTS. IN. THE. TRAY. TO. YOUR. LEFT.” the voice continued, as a small tray slid out of the wall. Joseph placed his watch, his phone and a ring in the tray, then reluctantly removed his wire-frame glasses and placed them in as well.
“THANK. YOU.” the voice said as the doors slid open. “PLEASE. ENTER. NOW.”
Suddenly, Joseph’s senses were
overwhelmed by a barrage of light and sound. He stood on the edge of a narrow catwalk that encircled the huge chamber. The ceiling was at least thirty feet above his head, and the central portion of the chamber seemed to extend down at least two stories into a mass of cables, piping and machinery. In the very middle of that central well, Joseph could see a huge metallic column rising out of a tangle of plastic and rubber tubing. It looked to him like some sort of gigantic high-tech tree, standing at least twenty feet tall on its knotted rubber roots. Joseph’s eyes traced a path up the length of the “tree” until they came to rest at its crown, the source of all the strange light and noise that flooded the entire chamber. Mounted on the top of the column was a tremendous framework of whirling and tilting structures. Great motors and pistons protruded from the core of the metal column, driving the various geometric frameworks in circular orbits around the column and each other. The whole assembly was bathed in a continuous aura of surging and flickering red lightning. In some detached, remote part of his mind, Joseph noted that the pattern of paths and orbits resembled the complex inner structure of an atom. As he stared at the dazzling red arcs of electricity that flowed across the machine like water, Joseph’s eyes widened in sudden realization.
“It’s red,” he murmured. “Good Lord, it’s red.” He wrenched his gaze away from the crimson bolts to stare intensely at the spinning geometric forms themselves.
Judging by the way they were mounted and joined together, they seemed to be composed not of metal, but of some sort of strange plastic or polymer. It was an odd, dark material, somewhat reddish-violet in color. As it passed in and out of the shadows, it appeared to be alternately dull and gleaming. Joseph knew this material well, and although he had seen examples of it nearly every day for the past two and a half years, he had never in his life seen so much of it in one place. As a matter of fact, he would have argued vehemently with anyone who claimed to have seen such quantities of the stuff. And now, there it was, as clear as day.
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