Chaacetime: The Origins: A Hard SF Metaphysical and visionary fiction (The Space Cycle - A Metaphysical & Hard Science Fiction Saga)

by A. I. Zlato

  He slowly got off Edgard’s back, and entered his house. The Kandron lay in the garden, staring at Paul. Edgard’s eyes gleamed in the pale moonlight, like two glowing dots in the dark night. Stretched to its full length, the animal looked at Paul push the front door. He closed it sharply and leaned on it for a while, to let the horrific recollections of the day behind him. Without success … The life of a Special Agent did not suit him.

  In front of him, the terminal — this long, black squared column — shone a sharp red, indicating a new message. He nearly had a minor heart attack. The last time he had a message, the content was about the end of his life as a researcher, and about throwing him into a sordid investigation. What could this message be about? He dared not dream that the Machine was relieving him of this assignment, giving him his life back. Such an idea … no, that could not be it. Who was sending him this message? Why? Wishing for, and fearing, the answers to his questions, he walked towards the screen, his feet heavy.

  As he thought about it, the terminal resembled the big paw of an insect, the body of which was the Tower, far away in the City centre. The Machine was everywhere, even in his house. He never fully realised that, basking in his illusion of independence, like everyone else in the Periphery. Reality is the imaginary of the majority … The Periphery imagined itself as a free world, but that was far from reality. He, too, like the other residents, was connected to that artificial entity. The insect paw buzzed again, pervading red colour in the room. Yes, the Machine was a giant insect.

  He put his hand on the cold screen and, in a hostile manner, on the terminal.

  -- Message sender: History Department; Department of Ancient Sciences’ research lab

  He was more worried than if the Machine had sent the message. What did his department want? To inform that his job was given to someone else, now that he is assigned to the investigation?

  Paul reprimanded himself. He was getting crazy; he knew that … Nobody was thinking about replacing him, because the lab job fit him. The Machine had decided so, anyway. He took a deep breath and read the message.

  -- Message content:

  “A team of archaeologists found a very old manuscript. The first analysis showed that it related to the Earliest Space. You are in charge of the study. I attach the cover photo, taken on site. You will see; this is not trivial. Meanwhile, the manuscript is stored at A 152 –c12. J. Burton”

  He still had his job, of course. Better than that, he had to study a new document, which would necessarily be exciting. Paul took a deep look at the manuscript’s image, its leather cover. With the symbol of the Machine, three concentric circles, engraved on it.

  It was the first time he had seen such a thing, and this book was discovered just today. This could not be a coincidence. He had to talk to Edgard about it.

  He returned to the manuscript and admired the excellent conservation. He wanted to touch the manuscript, but stopped. After all, this was nothing but a picture, pixels pegged onto a screen. He let his left hand fall along his body, while the right one was still on the terminal. Normally, he would have been delighted with the message, and impatient to start studying this document. He checked the time the message was sent and saw that it had been sent mid-morning. Normally, he would have spent all day studying it, discovering a new universe and discussing it with Edgard. He removed his hand, and the image disappeared, as if it never existed.

  This manuscript seemed inaccessible to him, and its study, too. He would not be able to reach its cover and hear the pages crack, as soon as he would have wanted it. Instead of spending much of his time browsing through the document, he had to spend time watching more horror than he had ever seen. He saw again the pictures of dead bodies swirling in his head, bigger than they were in reality. He could not look away. Although he tried to imagine this pretty manuscript awaiting his expert hands, the smaller dead bodies obsessed him.

  He sighed and turned away from the terminal. He took out his bottle of sad-day liquor, which he kept on a shelf in the living room. The bottle in one hand, the glass in the other, he sat in his chair and poured in the golden yellow liquid, which exited the bottle exhaling a syrupy scent. He dipped his lips and felt the soothing warmth of the first sip. Edgard’s dinner could wait. He closed his eyes and reviewed the day, as he could not chase off his head what he had seen. Special Agent Baley and her blue eyes and cold look, an organic by-product of the Machine, dead children lying in three circles, their facial expression, that terror … why were they so afraid? Why did they lie that particular way? Now, this manuscript bearing the symbol representation that no one ever discovered before …

  He took another sip of alcohol and plunged further into his chair. The only distracting thing in the day was his flying on Edgard’s back, with Special Agent Baley. Her skin had switched colours three times, and she had almost screamed when it took off.

  “How can the colour of a human being be funny?”

  Edgard, from the garden, crept into his brain to transmit the interrogation.

  “It is a human thing, Edgard. Strong emotions result in physical manifestations. The face of a person can switch colours, become very red or very white, depending his or her emotions.”

  “Are you making fun of her emotions?”

  “Not exactly. I make fun of her fear, when she rode with me. Coming from such a cold woman, who wants to control everything, it was … funny.”

  “I still don’t understand.”

  Paul was happy to be there, with his friend. He served himself another glass, thinking about Baley’s face. Deep inside, he had laughed at her anxiety; she who felt superior, thinking that the world was a succession of present times, a linear chain of moments …

  He was getting tipsy and decided to actually start the discussion with Edgard. He always felt that alcohol enabled him to better understand the Kandron, which was probably an illusion … a soft and pleasant illusion. The imaginary of the majority of his neurons wanted to believe it.

  “Come on Edgard. Let’s chat a bit.”

  “Are we not doing that already? Your thoughts are fuzzy.”

  “It is certainly the alcohol.”

  “Why do you keep drinking this yellow liquid, if it confuses your mind?”

  “I love the taste, and it relaxes me.”

  “Does it relax you to have fuzzy thoughts?”

  “Uh … let’s say yes … Ok, let’s talk about something more serious. I need to take a step back and review my day, and think with you.”

  “You must be ready to hear the answers.”

  “I will do my best. This morning, before this whole investigation story started, you were telling me that today’s difference would be tomorrow’s continuity. Do you think I will get used to that woman?”

  “This is not a good question. My thought related to the door of possibilities.”

  “My dreams, yeah, that is true. I dreamed — or rather felt — that something unexpected was going to occur. The least I could say is that my dream came true.”

  “You must continue to follow this path, and you will be the solution.”

  “I will find the solution to the Problem, me? How? I study old documents and … the manuscript! It is important, isn’t it? Why did they just discover it?”

  “Some forces are working.”

  “Which ones? Is there a connection between this document and the Problem?”

  “You must change the beginning.”

  “What is the link?”

  The Kandron kept silent. Paul took a few sips and looked at the bottle dubiously. Had he really drunk so much? He thought about the cover of the manuscript the researchers discovered … the symbol of the Machine … on an old piece of paper … the beginning … the Elders… This was no accident.

  “I need to differ the beginning”, Paul wondered.

  “Differ does not mean change. You change; the Gateway differs.”

  “What is the myth of the Gateway doing here? And I … I prefer the word “differ.”


  “The future is never set in stone. It’s up to you.”

  “What?....Let me understand. I need to differ the beginning. Which beginning are we talking about? The Earliest Space?”

  “The Earliest Space is the consequence of the beginning, the Elders’ damned world, the cause. I am talking about the dream of the Elders.”

  “The principle of Equilibrium? We cannot change it; it is the foundation of our civilisation. The Equilibrium is maintained by the Machine and… is It the source of the Problem? Is that what you are trying to say? The dead children had recreated Its symbol. Perhaps that is the beginning, which contains a message …”

  “The message is important, yes, but it does not hold the whole truth.”

  The period of enlightenment, where alcohol allowed him to understand Edgard’s words, was over. The mist of drunkenness pervaded him, and the Kandron’s comments seemed distant to him — and, once again, they were senseless. He saw that his friend was trying to make him comprehend something important. The Equilibrium … the Machine … it was not a dream, but a reality … yes … but reality is the imaginary of the majority … the symbol, the three concentric circles … what message did it epitomise, really? He got up from his chair, and went looking for whatever food was available, to mitigate the effects of alcohol. The discussion was critical; he knew that.

  In the kitchen, he found a box of expired cereal, which he opened. The pack smelled of rancid food, but was not mouldy. That was fine. He swallowed the pieces of agglomerated grain and felt his drunkenness ebb. This did not diminish the alcohol level in his blood; Paul knew that. At least he had the impression he could now have a clearer mind.

  “The message of the symbol is important”, Edgard said.

  “So what, do we have to change the symbol? Why three circles and not two or four? A square maybe? A star? Why is this symbol critical? Why should we change the beginning? Why must I change it? Are there no other candidates? And the children, in all this, what is their purpose? What about the new manuscript? What about Baley, she cannot … Shit! I am fed up, Edgard! Do something, for once, instead of talking to me in coded language.”

  Edgard suddenly stepped up, and cancelled the mental connection. Paul was shocked, as if someone had hit him violently. What was happening? What … ? He wondered if the Kandron would abandon him, and fly away, because since he knew the animal, it had never broken the connection. The Kandron had been tenuous at times, and Paul forgot its presence, but there never was … this “nothing.” Was it the end? Was Edgard leaving him for good? A life without the Kandron, without this strong bond … He should not have been so irate.

  “I apologise if I hurt you, but it was not my intention. I drank too much; my words went beyond my thoughts. Edgard, please come back.”

  Silence continued, and Paul felt even more depressed. He left his room, opened the front door to see his friend. In the darkness, he found easily the immense Kandron, which occupied a large section of the garden. Standing, it bent its neck and stared at him. He tried to touch the animal, seeking physical contact when the mental connection was declined. When Edgard spread its wings, Paul stuttered, with difficulty, the word goodbye.

  He could not breathe as he saw the Kandron stretch and fly away. He always knew that Edgard would leave one day, as all Kandrons did. They landed in the life of a human being, without anyone knowing why, and left in the same manner. Edgard had decided it was time for it to go, but Paul could not bear seeing the animal leave in an upset mood.

  “Please, Edgard … If it is time for you to go, I understand, but tell me at least goodbye … I am sorry. I should not have, I …”

  His words vanished into the night. The Kandron did not answer, and he painfully felt its absence in his mind. It was no longer there. Nothing … Empty … his brain panicked.

  Suddenly, Edgard seized him with its claws, and Paul screamed. The Kandron had never acted that way. What did that mean? He was scared; all his body was now affixed to Edgard’s claws. Perhaps that was the meaning of differing the beginning … dying … freeing oneself from the carnal limits … infinity has no beginning … the difference triggered by his death would be continuity for Baley, who would continue the investigation alone, as she had done before…

  Paul felt on his skin the cold air of the night. Above him, Edgard, whose wings were silently cracking air, filled the only visible space. The Kandron’s neck stretched forward, focusing on a target only the animal knew. Paul tried to change his position, to reduce the grip of the claws on his body. His move had the opposite effect to what he had expected, and Edgard tightened the pressure, making him moan. Perhaps it would drop him somewhere far, to notify him of his exclusion — or it would, in anger, break his bones by squeezing them too hard. Whatever …

  Hitting the ground was brutal, because Edgard dropped him off unceremoniously. The body aching, but alive, Paul stood up with difficulty. He tried to gain back his senses and figure out where he was. He looked around, and easily recognised the lab’s lawn, which Edgard used to trample on every day. The Kandron’s footprint, its claws, the location of trees, and the main entrance hall were familiar sights. A little farther, he guessed the cubic shape of the laboratory. A known place. Reassuring. Despite what he had imagined, out of fear and drunkenness, he was still alive, though somewhat bruised, both in body and in soul.

  Edgard resumed the mental connection, and Paul jumped, startled. The re-connection felt like a sting, before his brain could appreciate the joy of a telepathic link. He had established worst-case scenarios, imagining that the Kandron would abandon him, that he would die … but that was not true. Thinking back about the whole thing, he was not even sure that the connection had been really cancelled … Paul was no longer sure of anything.

  He passed his fingers through his hair and on his shirt, to get rid of grass clippings that had stuck during his hard landing. Some were still stuck, stitched in the mesh of his sweater. He turned towards Edgard, grateful about the restored connection, and patted its chest. The animal stared at him intently. Its eyes were filled with the same coldness they conveyed when it grabbed him forcefully in his garden.

  The Kandron ordered him to go to his office. The magnitude of the pulse conveyed a mandatory request, and Paul, too happy to have gotten his friend back, obeyed without question. He walked on the driveway and crossed into the lab. The night-shift guard looked up, distractively, and went back to his duties, accustomed to the strange behaviour of researchers. Coming back to work in the middle of the night was one of the things Paul did regularly, when a question nagged him. So the guard, after identifying him, turned around, and let him go.

  He stepped into the deserted corridor, lined with empty offices. Only Sandra’s office was still lit, as usual. Paul and she often crossed paths during the night, each too immersed in work to think about going home. Instead of focusing on Edgard’s instruction, he paused to stare at Sandra, who was getting irate, by herself, in her office. Like him, she lived for her work, for her research. Paul had invited her a few times for coffee, and had had the audacity to invite her to dinner.

  He found her pretty, very intelligent, and loved to chat with her, so why not? After all, that was what normal people did. Each of them quickly came to the same conclusion. They both were lone wolves, only focused on work, and would remain so. Their relationship thus had remained what it was, a sincere friendship. Sandra would occasionally share with him problems she encountered in her research. She was happy to exchange with someone who understood not only her mindset but also her work. Paul did the same, to talk with someone who had the same logic, and who helped him move forward in his work.

  He greeted her, and she reciprocated, with a smile. Only she could understand that someone would come back at two in the morning to work …

  Once in his office, he found a note left by Vlad. He was surprised that his assistant had taken the time to write on paper, he a technology aficionado. When he had a message to convey, he regularly used
the office’s terminal, which lit off when Paul entered the office. This damn thing had a step detector.

  Paul read the enthusiastic message. His assistant asked him how his day was, how the investigation proceeded, and whether he could participate. At least there was one person who was delighted about his assignment. He sighed, thinking that the Machine had made a mistake. Had It deliberately chosen him for a purpose he did not know … Maybe the Machine had much more to do in this investigation.

  He put the paper back on his desk, promising to reply later. He certainly should not discourage Vlad, now that he found something he was interested in. He then turned towards Edgard, to find out what it expected from him. The animal placed the manuscript with the symbol of the Machine. How had it managed to get it out of the Archives Room? Yet, Jade had told him that the manuscript would be there...until … Edgard’s thought stopped him:

  “ Read!

  Learn!

  Find out!”

  Edgard handed him this document in particular, selected from thousands. Three circles … a Space with three rules … it was no coincidence … the message … The Earliest Space was nothing but the beginning … the planned end of the Elders’ world … the cause … Exhausted, he felt asleep, on the floor … a restless sleep.

  He saw the City in flames, disintegrating gradually, leaving only the Tower, black and glowing. Everything collapsed , except the Machine, which prospered, and fed on the energy of destruction. The Kandrons flew away, after announcing they were leaving the Space … .Paul had not managed to differ the beginning … Edgard bade him farewell; it did not want that past that was its future … the pre-E.S. era was over … The Equilibrium … the imaginary of the majority … the dream of the Elders. Life arose in the bodies of the dead children, and from the grave, with black and icy lips, they screamed we told you so.