by Thomas Zman
“The first of these consists of twelve Neuphobian cities, all of them having been constructed long ago. These cities, located deep within the earth’s crust and geometrically spaced around the world, are operated by a benevolent species of alien known as Phoebians, who are near fulfillment of their long arduous task of delivering God’s Chosen People to Heaven.”
God’s Chosen People reverberated in my mind. This is the Apocalypse, I was thinking, the cryptic writings of the Bible.
“The second directive of the Intellect is where we now focus the bulk of our resources. It is Humankind’s next evolutionary step. It is called The Collective and is located in the Yucatan Peninsula, a dynamic region far removed from modern civilization. Our purpose here, at Portal One, and the three corresponding Portals around this continent (and the eight other Portals around the world) is to provide the necessary support for the completion of both the Neuphobian Cities and the Collective.”
My imagination was running rampant. I can say I even felt a little dizzy, trying to comprehend what had just been bestowed upon me: The Bigger Picture, I had been wondering about.
“Could I ever to visit one of these places?” I asked, my mind swimming with possibilities.
“That depends on your loyalty.”
That word, loyalty beset me, making me twitch. I attempted concealment by scratching my head. Other questions formed; though I had heard enough, for now.
“If I may add, James, if you are looking to advance in The Intellect, you may want to begin with a fresh haircut and perhaps more sporting attire.” She looked dourly upon my usual gray sweats and monogrammed hoodie. “Now, here are the details for your next Rendezvous. Same as last time, though the cargo will differ. On behalf of The Intellect, and all of human kind, I would like to extend thanks once again.”
Veetra turned from me and spoke with others standing nearby, they all clasping smart-pads, an engrossing discussion ensuing.
“You must be the Director’s grandson?” came a voice from behind me. I turned to a man, roughly my age, dressed as were the others here. He too was sorrel featured with blue eyes, yet sported an angular beard and long slicked-back hair. “Brax is the name,” he said, extending his hand. We shook, and he feigned a slight bow upon our contact.
“James,” I returned, confused: What did he mean ‘Director’s grandson? Grandpa? Fumbling for conversation, still reeling from Veetra’s revelation, a commotion interrupted us. A transparent tube, which spanned the length of the complex, rumbled overhead. Several orbs, same as the ones I had witnessed the other night, flashed from a distance in the complex, then jutted straight up a collector, and through the obscurant ceiling.
“Transporters,” Brax explained, noting my interest. “Energy Spheres that distribute Information Modules throughout the world, and space for that matter. They are visible only while close to or under the earth. We harness the geophysical pressures in the bedrock beneath us; the infinitely slow, grinding slide producing immense static build up that we harness, then release to activate the Spheres. Once the Spheres hit higher altitudes they seek out a time-fold and leap to their pre-programmed destinations.”
“I see.” Though I didn’t.
“Much more efficient than radio or microwave frequency modulations,” said Brax. “So, what do you think of all this?” He opened his arms and turned, as if presenting me the complex.
“I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. Sure, beats video games, though.”
“That’s an understatement,” Brax replied. “What we’re a part of is far beyond what any Code Hacker/App Jockey could ever dream of. I remember first meeting your grandfather when I was brought on. He had once held Veetra’s position -- for a short time. Time, I use that word loosely because I never got to live on the surface at any time in your past, or present for that matter. You see I’m from the parallel time of Earth, slightly to your future. All this would not be possible if your grandfather’s father hadn’t relinquished himself back when the Intellect was scouting for a Portal Location. You see, in order for a portal to open, to operate, a human from the existing time period has to be removed from that time, thus providing an interface for a coexisting time period.”
I became even more confused; yet then realized what had finally happened to my Great Grandfather.
“Anyway,” Brax continued, “Getting back to your grandfather, he gave me some wonderful opportunities and guidance -- most importantly, guidance. But I’m sure you’re already aware of that since you live in the same house with him.”
“I’m realizing that more and more, lately,” my enthusiasm sobered.
“He is a connecting spirit. Much of what the Intellect has accomplished could not have been done without your grandfather.”
“I have to admit, even though he is in a wheelchair he is still very much alive,” I began. “But I can’t say that I get to speak with him freely about anything, lately -- that is about what has happened to me in the past several days.” I reflected a moment. “I have great memories of him when I was younger, and now I can link those memories to things happening in my life now that no average person could ever have dreamed possible. My grandfather has just given me a whole new outlook on life.” I paused and took in the surroundings. “I’m beginning to see that I may have been ‘stuck in a rut’ with my life. Thank God he is giving me the opportunity to get out of that – and into this . . . “
“Well,” Brax was saying, “you’ll be living a dual lifestyle now. I can assure you that. It can be a rather tricky balancing act.”
“James?” Veetra’s voice shot over to me. “Have you not someplace to be?”
I excused myself from Brax.
“And Braxton,” Veetra continued, “must I remind you . . . “
* * *
“It’s easy,” I was telling Mary as she drove us along the rural back road. It was evening and I had once again been issued a box-truck from the airport. Mary and I had Ubered there to pick up the truck, she having met me at my house with the Uber driver; which in itself set to complicate matters in that my mother had begun to infer all sorts of romantic implications. With a load of cargo – this time high capacity servers, flux routers, and various other electrical components, a small fortune was riding behind us. I had concocted a semi-believable story for our little trip out here to the country so that Mary would oblige me; I needed her to drive the return car they would leave for me at the Rendezvous. If I was to continue my services, if I were going to be loyal to the Intellect, I needed to see a little more of the action.
I directed Mary; we were driving along under the abandoned brick archway, down the dirt path, onto the grounds of the rambling old estate. I set my sights on the dilapidated mansion in the distance then realized another truck had followed in behind us, and we both ventured out into the field to park. Several of the same types, box-trucks were already parked there, in a large circle, all of them facing outwards. I told Mary of my not wanting to be seen, so I ducked under the dashboard, out of sight. I told her to park the truck and chose one of the running smart-cars that had been left there.
“Do not talk to anyone,” I instructed. “Just drive the car back to work,” where we had parked her car. From that point she was on her own. I told her she would be well compensated for her assistance -- with some potent smoke. She was happy to oblige.
No sooner had she left me, curled up and slightly cramped in the foot-wells of the truck, that I heard her jump into the other car and speed off. The driver of the truck behind us had done the same and soon I was left, alone, and I waited. The sounds of the exiting cars quickly faded into the distance, into a brief, eerie silence . . . soon replaced by an increasing base drone, which loudened as an intense luminescence filled the interior of the truck, and all that lie in the field around it.
I raised my position, slowly, to peek out the side window, which was slightly ajar. I was at first blinded by brilliance; a stirring static wind had kicked up dust and debris, outside -- the anomaly
flowing into where I hid, tussling my hair, and engulfing me with a prickling sensation. Shielding my eyes, my senses were piqued, then adjusted to the imposing phenomenon of what must have been an immense alien craft hovering above the circle of trucks. It all subsided quickly, however once the vessel landed, vibrating the ground, then ceasing with a deadening thud.
The extensiveness of the saucer reached out far over all the trucks, blotting out the night sky; it settled down over their entirety as if it were a nest. I adjusted my position still further from the floor and from the side-view mirror I espied the giant craft as to being supported by a great strut of landing gear, there must having been three. I heard the whirring sounds of hydraulics, and then everywhere the rustling of many tiny feet. There were no voices, though I heard -- in my mind -- the inarticulate mumblings of that which I could only guess to have been shouts of command. I heard the rear door of my truck roll-up and felt the back of the vehicle begin to wiggle; I synched my way up the passenger seat, crawling to peek my head up for a look.
I could plainly see above me the metallic hull of the enormous saucer, illuminated by some unknown energy. I had thought the small box-truck in which I hid, as well as all the others around me, would in whole be loaded onto the ship. I was wrong, however. Instead, the sounds of movement increased from within the back as only the cargo was no doubt being removed and loaded into the landed craft. What on earth did they do with all these empty trucks? I thought.
By this time, I was fully looking out the passenger-side window, searching for the activities occurring around me, though none were being observed. The trucks on either side of me were all alighted and being unloaded; all the activity shielded from my present perspective. I craned my neck to look out at the driver’s side mirror and saw a small, frail bodied creature working behind the trucks, grasping a bar-like instrument that served to levitate the pallets of cargo up an incline and into the hull of the saucer. I stared at this activity, mesmerized, for quite a lengthy period of time.
Suddenly I returned my attention to my side of the truck, outside my window, where one creature appeared -- looking in. It stared at me. It’s large black eyes blinking with transparent eyelids. The skin on its ovoid head was mottled and grayed over, leathery; upon its gaunt neckline there encircled a thin golden ring emitting a translucent shield, a helmet, which connected to its clinging white bodysuit. I stared, horrified by this alien creature; it thinking into my mind, linking me with its calmness, where I quickly became very drowsy . . . very sleepy.
Chapter Six
Grandpa
I awoke in my Captains Bed. The sun was just filtering in through the budding trees outside my window. There were even a couple of birds chirping back and forth; I could hear this for I always kept my window open, just a crack for fresh air – lest it was tempestuously storming. I lay, listening to the sounds throughout the house: The usual creaking of pipes, expanding them as the heat came on; and distantly, ever so faintly, the deep, slow, rhythmic chiming of our Grandfather Clock. I snuggled comfortably under my covers, dawdling away the next several minutes, planning my day ahead – which consisted of really nothing now since . . . Then suddenly it all came flooding back to me.
Last night, sitting in the field, squatted down on the floor of that truck. Looking out the window: all the lights, the activity. I remembered the alien -- its face. It wore some sort of; a tube ringing its . . . a breathing apparatus, I figured. I remembered not moving. Frozen. I fell into a slumber, yet I could sense movement, and everything that happened around me. I was handled, jostled about, though I felt no hands upon me. They moved me. As if I had become the cargo they were loading. I felt extreme peace, however: warmth – coddled if that was the correct term. There was a lot of motion and the sinuous buzz of confabulation overplaying in my mind as all these physical sensations enveloped me.
I remember feeling the journey. It took some time – but how much? And then I could see again: saw through my mind, for my eyes were unable to open. I could see my house, from above . . . then at my front door. It opened and my grandfather was standing there, welcoming us home. He was talking to someone, but I couldn’t see. I was spirited up to my bedroom and into bed, falling into this deep sleep . . . until now that I awakened.
I reached for my cell phone, in my pocket, for I was still dressed in sweats. I saw that Mary had called several times during the night and had finally left a message:
“You crazy bastard!” she was screaming. “Never ask me to do you another f --- favor. I don’t know who the f --- you’re mixed up with but keep them the f--- away from me!”
Well that saved me the trouble of having to drop off her smoke. She was a troubled soul, anyway. Our time together was -- enjoyable, but the pot smoking was beginning to be a bit much. Feeling too cloudy all the time, sapping my creative energies . . .
I propped myself onto my side and stared out the window, into my back yard. It was all gray: light was just creeping in from over the front of our house, along the tree line; frost covering everything, and much of it still indiscernible. I thought back to the face of the alien, the initial terror I felt, my heart pounding and that frozen state that gripped my body. Then I remembered the calmness that washed over me. I stared into its eyes and as I lingered there I could swear that I glimpsed an outlandish city of tall, thin, oddly shaped structures . . . of fleeting tiny saucers darting amidst their chromatic elegance and the great towering columns that arose everywhere. It left me no doubt on where all these truckloads of materials were being delivered.
As I gazed out my window I could plainly see, right above the tree line, the great planet Jupiter . . . and I remembered my youth, and my fascination with the planets. For I had once received a gift, a telescope, and I would be out there in my yard, soon after the sun had gone down, sometimes in winter, freezing cold and dark, searching the night sky for a distant planet or galaxy. It was a welcomed challenge, a rewarding endeavor . . .
Suddenly, from the reverie of my recollections, the computer whirred to life, its screen flickering alive with the image of Grandpa.
“Good morning, Jimmy,” he said.
I rolled off my bed and took a seat at my desk. “Good morning. Grandpa?” I was surprised he was up this early. “Do you need something? Is everything alright?” How could this be? I thought. Grandpa was still in bed, he wasn’t in his chair; he didn’t have his special glasses on that connected him to his computer.
“Just needed to talk with you, Jimmy. Now that everyone is still sleeping. Last night -- I understand you saw some things you weren’t quite ready for. Seems you jeopardized the Intellect and caused a breach in security --Loyalty. The girl, a friend of yours? Why did you bring her?”
I had no defense for my actions. “Now that I think about it, Grandpa,” I felt my throat tighten, “that was a bad decision on my part. I just wanted to see the inside of one of those things. The flying saucer.”
“By doing such exposed your friend to grave dangers. And the Intellect as well. You see she didn’t just drive away. I was informed that she waited just a short distance off. She saw the saucer land. I know she left you a message and was very scared. That was totally reckless on your part. Now there will need to be another rendezvous spot scouted out and secured. They are not easy to come by, convenient to our resources.”
“But Grandpa,” I defended myself, “I needed to know. I wanted . . . I wanted to ask you about this meeting place. These rendezvous. Where everything went. What was going on? This whole installation, Portal One, under our yard. There was never a good time to do so – you always had Evvie or Mom near you.”
Grandpa’s face softened. “I understand. This is all a great much for you to grasp. This is why we waited so long before bringing you into the Intellect. I thought that you had matured; that you had outgrown your current path in life, grown impatient, frustrated. Yet now I see, perhaps, I had made an error. That perhaps I should have kept you closer, should have spoken with you more about things, been mo
re open in my communications.”
“Dad is part of this, right?” I questioned.
“Yes. A most important role he plays.”
So, I was right. Pieces of the puzzle were coming together – the bigger picture still evolving.
“He is a man of great importance,” said Grandpa. “Not only in the business world of sales and client relations, but also in the channeling of funds to the right individuals for the Intellect’s incredibly complicated infrastructure. He organizes untraceable accounts to be channeled through a multitude of global businesses and sovereign governments to where ever the Intellect deems necessary.”
“Does mom know any of this?”
“In due time, James. Currently, she has enough to fill her day. She is a godsend to me, as is Evvie, and has this household and her charities to tend. Your mother does a great deal more outside the four walls of this house than anyone ever gives her credit for. Those homeless shelters; the food banks. Why she was even asking your father just the other day about travel to Africa, for the Peace Corps, to help the starving and diseased. This family, and a great many others, depends on your mother’s touch to keep things running smoothly. Besides, she has that gift of select naivety, which allows the goings on under this roof to proceed unquestioned.” He gave a little smirk.
Our conversation ended with his depending on me to not meddle with any future requests; I would follow all instructions to the letter. By this time the sun had risen and I was at a loss as for what to do. Normally I slept-in, noonish was my usual arise time. But today, for some unbeknownst reason, I had energy, a newly enkindled drive. I knew that mom would be getting up soon to help Evvie with Grandpa, and then make the family some breakfast. I felt now would be a good time to take it upon myself to prepare breakfast for the family and surprise her – even surprise Angie, who knew I was accountable for only myself. But first I had to send off a text to Mary: Not that I wanted to remain friends with her (for I knew she was the means to a virtual end) but that I should apologize, let her know that I was Okay, and that whatever she thought she might have seen last night was an elaborate prank played upon her by an immature person with too much time and money at his disposal.