by Thomas Zman
Demolecularizing Cubicles lined the wall spaces of these Chambers, each connected with pressure tubing, electrical hoses, and fiber optic cables; an intricate bank of computers would oversee the transferal of ‘mind substance’, autonomously, once operations commenced. The Futurists had even prepared a special activity, a game of sorts, devised for their children so as that they would not be frightened to enter the Cubicles when the appropriate time came.
I too, learned that the most difficult part for these ‘ultra-important’ Futurists was the fabrication of an alternate -- safe reality while the world ‘outside of their control’ underwent its most unsettling series of cataclysmic events: war (cyber; conventional; nuclear) devastating weather, pestilence, civil unrest, etc. For this, all would remove themselves from the outside world and live the final, declining months in absolute seclusion. This would usually occur inside grandiose bunkers beneath their residence, adjacent to the Transport Chambers.
Sinclair and Bethesda meticulously worked – via holographic communications -- with each family and their staff of technological engineers, to systematize an uplink from their Transport Chambers to the Collective. The two would then meet personally with the families at the Collective, in the Yucatan, under the guise of ‘eternity-realtors’, in presenting the near completed facility to the perspective donors. (‘Donors’ for the fact that it was these families who had supplied billions of dollars of their own money in funding the Intellect for the past several generations)
The facility lacked only the ‘most enormous transparent dome’, which would later enclose it -- though in reality there was never going to be any need for one. Even though the Collective had the outwardly appearance of a modern Technological Resort, again -- none of these Futurists would ever physically live there. All of its architectural amenities, social entertainment facilities, and recreational escapades were just a facade. It was by far to date the utmost unprecedented ‘Grand Ruse’: A physical destination showcased to these Futurists, whose lives and the lives of their children would be spent while the Earth underwent The Great Rejuvenation.
Chapter Eight
High Time
I had just wheeled into the driveway late one evening. It was early summer and the night was warm. I parked my car, a sporty little thing I had just purchased, and was headed up the porch steps for the front door. The sound of crickets chirping filled the air as off to the side of the house, behind some bushes, I noted a tiny glowing light suddenly appear -- then fade. At first, I thought it a lightning bug, flittering about along with all the other insects of the night. But then saw it again and decided to have a closer look. As I neared its location, beside the lighted living room window of the house, I smelled the distinct odor of Marijuana. I knew this had to be Evvie.
I approached her quietly; our eyes meeting as I peeked around the bush. She stood frozen with embarrassment.
“I suppose you’ll be wanting my resignation,” she said in her tight accent.
“Quite the opposite. I want a toke.”
She laughed at me. “What? You? Come on now, Mr. Business man.” She played nervously with the gold cross that dangled from her neck.
“I came from humble beginnings – Savemark.” I carefully accepted the blundt from her and drew upon it -- choking.
“You’ve gotta cough if you want’a get off.”
“Funny,” I quipped, coughing; appraising her. Evvie’s hair hung straight down passed her shoulders, a tight white tank top and shorts accentuating her fine curves. “Kind of warm out tonight,” I remarked.
“Sure is. Nice just to relax and unwind, wouldn’t you say?” She accepted the joint back from me and took a long, deep draw. “If you don’t mind me asking, James,” she spoke upon exhaling. “What happened to you? You’re never home any more. You’re on business trips, here and there. How you got such a job is beyond me. No offense, but you used to just sit in your room and play on the computer all day. And now look at you. Especially those clothes – custom tailoring I’m thinking.” She eyed me appraisively.
I accepted the smoke, once more. “It’s complicated. But you can say I’ve found my niche. Took me a while. Grandpa eased me in the right direction.” I drew lightly on the joint, then again, deeply. “If it wasn’t for him I’d still be stocking shelves and pretending to develop Apps that would ‘revolutionize the gaming industry’,” I exhaled.
“Well, you never know. I’m sure you have some pretty good ideas, you having gone to school for all that and such.”
“Thanks,” I said, realizing it was the first time Evvie had ever handed me a compliment (though I knew I deserved none before). “But anyone can develop a halfway decent App. The problem comes with marketing it. There are thousands of people with the same dreams and talents. Makes you wonder why anyone ever tries – except for vanity, I suppose.”
“I suppose.” She clipped off the smoke, placing it on a small indentation at the side of the house.
“Now I know your stash.” I smiled.
“Like you didn’t know I did this sort of thing,” she returned rather curtly. “It isn’t all fun and games tending to things around this place. Girl needs an outlet now and then.”
You have nights off, why don’t you ever go out? You have family, right? Friends?”
“As you would say, It’s complicated. Besides, your grandfather needs – “
“My mother is always there for him, and all of us. Why I’d even say she thinks of you as family.”
Evvie gave me a small pout. “That’s nice to hear.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off hers, her face with that slight sheen to it, silhouetted against the glow of the window. I just wanted to kiss her.
“Well, James, I need a drink of something. Should we search the fridge?”
“I do need some water, but then I have a conference call in…” I retrieved the phone from my pocket, “ten minutes.”
“Who in blazes is conducting business at this hour?”
“It’s after eleven in the morning, in New Zealand.”
“Should have guessed,” Evvie laughed. “Suppose you’ll be at your computer. You go ahead, upstairs. I’ll bring you something.”
Evvie turned and left for the back of the house, the kitchen entrance; Evvie’s entrance. I started for the front door, smiling, high as a kite, thinking of her.
Chapter Nine
Shadow Government
Brax and I were welcomed by a support team to the desert, southwest -- Area 51, to be precise. My security clearance had increased steadily until now it stood equivalent to that of all the world’s great leaders. So, we landed, flown in via private jet, then taxied to a secure hangar and were quickly ushered to a Top Secret conference room. This was no usual conference room, for it was several stories down, beneath the desert, where a multitude of foreign dignitaries were seated amidst an expansive table; two aliens were also seated there.
The beings were similar the one I had espied from the truck in the field, both wearing the breathing apparatus, which encircled their necks. They were wearing tight fitting garments with a flowing cape and golden epsilons upon their shoulders. (Their capes did now conceal sprouting wings upon their backs; Brax telling me of this later, it in response to the aliens readying themselves to flee the planet, allowing them more agility in prolonged periods of space travel) A long translucent staff of sorts was stationed by one of them, it standing on the floor of its own accord.
Brax walked us over to them both for introduction. They did not rise, but gently shook my hand while eyeing me over. One turned to the other and a single, unintelligible blurb resounded in my mind. At the brief moment of contact I had of each, an overwhelming inrush of jumbled thoughts washed over me, then subsided once contact was broken.
Brax and I diplomatically toured the table and were introduced to the others, human, who had gathered; men and women from around the globe –emissaries of the wealthiest nations. Stardom too was present, busying himself, talking with a golden orb l
evitating beside him.
“Pleasure to meet you once again, James,” he said, raising himself to shake my hand, robust and sincere. “Our initial meeting was rather hurried. I didn’t intend to be trite then, with you or your family.”
“Please,” I responded. “I was only just then beginning to see the big picture.”
“Understandable. Your work for the Intellect has been nothing short of ‘inspirational’. Your grandfather and father are both very proud of you. In my visiting’s of all Level Two planets we always strive to secure ourselves the finest humans society has yet developed. And my mission here has once again achieved that directive.”
“Thank you,” I said, though unsure on how to interpret his comment.
Above the table were holographic images of other important people: they seemingly conferencing in from the comforts of their homes –palatial estates from around the world. We were seated and the meeting began: the speaker, the current head of the United Nations, conducting a lengthy discourse as to the world’s decline and the preparedness of the Intellect. Nothing that I hadn’t already known about, but it was an insight to the others present, who weren’t as privy to in-depth information such as myself.
He then turned the meeting over to Stardom, the impeccably dressed galactic liaison, who promptly extended salutations as he rose from his chair to begin his speech. As he strode around the table, dignified and convictive, he engaged each of us, in turn, enforcing his expectations unto those responsible for the Portals of the world. Brax and I responded, and summarized as to the progress of our own Portal:
“We have completed meetings with all twelve families in our region,” Brax was saying. “The one hundred and forty Futurists who are cleared to occupy the Collective have since begun their extraction from surface society, they all possessing the financial means of doing such. Most have taken to their personal bunkers; some have sealed themselves off on their own private islands or secluded compounds, the temporary life sustaining shelters they have constructed.”
“If I may?” I added onto Braxton’s account, “In dealing with the ‘Mega Elite’, I have found that many are brazen, and feel no need to transport themselves to the Collective. In fact, they feel they have constructed such ‘apocalyptic-proof bunkers’ that they can survive into perpetuity with what their wealth has afforded them. We have passed them over and offered refuge to others on
the list.”
“Fools” Stardom thundered. “These ‘Elite’, as you call them, they make the same mistake as have many of your planet’s governments! That their gods, their technologies will spare them. The Chosen Ones have already been Sactified!” he stated fervently, gesturing the sign of the cross. “The timeline must be corrected. This planet will be wiped clean and readied for a Second Genesis. It may be true that these ‘Mega Elite’ have bunkers that can withstand manmade and natural catastrophes, but it is Scripture that ‘none shall survive the final wrath’ -- when the locust search them out for the final purge!”
The aliens did not speak for the entire meeting. They seemed present only to observe; reinforce the gravity of our planet’s demise. It was becoming even more apparent to me as each incremental step I was involved in unfolded that our planet was nearing the end of another of its cycles. These aliens were involved in remedying a civilization they had been instrumental in afflicting; the earth was being reset, wiped clean by a series of apocalyptic events, and these shadow governments were conspiring as to the outcome.
* * * *
After the meeting there was a complimentary tour of the facility; all access to the immense ‘Top Secret Complex’ were we allowed. We were first taken to another of many subterranean hangars, this one containing crashed alien spacecraft that had been collected over the years. Quite an ‘eye opener’; there we did see scores of scientists studying, dismantling, and reverse engineering all sorts of odd-looking vessels.
We were then escorted to a series of laboratories where aliens (and there were several different kinds) worked alongside humans, in advancement of the sciences. From our passing-by in the hallways we got a glimpse into several of these labs where I could swear I saw such greats as Tesla, Franklin, Einstein, and countless others all working collaboratively. One such project we glimpsed in upon, through a large viewing window, was where a test subject’s head had been surgically removed and mounted upon a pedestal, and functioning all perfectly well. Absurd!
We then were brought inside one of the laboratories where we stood before the Time Vortices; a machine, which allowed a scholar’s insertion into past, or future times, to witness events anywhere on the planet. The Vortices was a large spherical capsule, an electro-magnetized chamber; its walls, engineered of mica, and pierced through with a viewing port so that one could plainly see its occupant. The exterior of the capsule was coiled with braids of conduit, all feeding into a nearby terminus of computer screens. It was while looking upon this technological marvel that we were reverenced by the presence of Leonardo Da Vinci who, by chance, was entering into it for a return trip to his home time.
He bid us “Arrivederci!” then in a flash, vanished.
“One of my favorite places, on the planet,” Braxton commented; I was still in awe of the time-travelling Renaissance Man. “Our world has such history – great and tragic. I must admit, however, for the brief amount of time that we, mankind, have been on its surface (as compared to its billions of years existence) such a great much has happened.”
“Does time have a set point?” I questioned, unsure if I were making any sense.
“Not really. And this is proven with technology; where anyone can slip into and out of periods, visit any place on the planet, any event. Yet, that is kept to a minimum. And for only a select few, the Innovators.” Braxton enlightened me. For every Leonardo Da Vinci, there were a hundred behind him never fortunate enough to have their genius brought to the attention of the masses. This is rampant throughout history. Luck and timing have everything to do with achieving greatness.”
We concluded our tour beneath the huge base and exited via an elevator, which brought us up and out into the hanger, where our private jet stood at the ready. We boarded the plane and as we were rolled out to await takeoff the brilliance and scorching heat came to be; the vast desert scape filled the aircraft’s small window from which I looked out. In the distance I saw mountains ringing the entirety; I thought about all the curious people, the seekers who had once spent time there: days in the broiling heat and nights in the freezing cold, hoping to glimpse something, anything that would justify their conspiratorial imaginations.
Chapter Ten
Home
My father and Grandpa were playing chess in the living room; instructions from Grandpa on the placement of his game pieces intermittently breaking the silence. A comforting breeze blew in through the open windows, lofting in the sweet smells of magnolias and lilacs and of other nearby plantings from out in the yard. Night sounds; the symphonic cacophony of crickets, cicadas, and an owl’s occasional hoot also found their way into our midst.
Mother had been busying herself on her computer tablet - though was now napping - as I read upon mine – while Evvie and Angela were off in the kitchen, conversing. The television was on in there, and they were no doubt unnerved by the many ills that had befallen the world as of late. Bizarre weather events; natural and manmade disasters; the spreading epidemics overseas, or latest social unrest here in our own hometown had enkindled their troubled conversation.
Myself, I hadn’t been out of the house much lately, doing the bulk of my work from the confines of my room. Veetum Corporation was in its decline -- As were many companies, for a global depression had set in -- I remembered finalizing details about its dissolution; breaking it into three sub-companies, government anti-trust laws in play.
The old brick fireplace appeared the same, as too did the grandfather clock, yet the living room had changed since I was last here; simulativeness seeming to have pervaded our household. The por
tal beneath our house had its own distinct sensation, the air textured, somewhat tainted; and now too did I feel this same air in my very own home. I looked up from my tablet, my eyes drawn towards the stairway across from my sitting, and into it I could see the distortion; a virtual-essence had attached itself to the stairway, then began to sneak its way around the corner and into Grandpa’s room. I wondered how far this extended, and just when it had first appeared. It was definitely something quite recent, for I hadn’t noticed it before I sat down.
It was a while longer that I read, trying to relax; yet I continued to sense the distortion’s growth, this change in the household. I said nothing to my family -- though I’m sure my father and grandfather knew of its presence. The continued encroachment of this phenomenon did concern me, so I excused myself and made my way upstairs, to my room, to the Portal for I needed to consult Brax.
I ascended the stairs and in doing so, realized they had the slightest sensation of entering the Portal itself – it obviously creeping up from the depths of below. And when I opened my bedroom door I came to find the underground complex had now overtaken my room. I looked behind me, it was my usual upstairs hallway; but before me was the large, expansive main floor of the complex.
I entered into it, into the all too familiar course of things, and wandered about; talking briefly with those I had come to know over time. Each greeted me with the utmost politeness, as they always had, but with an odd flair of sub servitude. I strode about for several minutes until I came upon Sinclair and Bethesda. Their uniforms changed, as had the others’, for they were now sparkling blue with a golden sash across the chest, insignia stripes prominent upon the sleeves.
“Well, hello,” I greeted them. Have either of you seen Braxton?”
The two looked at each other and giggled. Their likenesses flickered, then steadied into a more even glow. “Time has rolled right on over you, sir,” commented Bethesda.