The Secrets of the Universe (Farther Than We Dreamed Book 1)

by Noah K Mullette-Gillman

  Sally spoke from across the ship. “You can survive for a couple of days without a problem, and we will be giving out pills which help you with the air and acidity. Anyway, we won’t be more than an hour or more out there. I’ll keep an eye on the clock to make sure you’re all safe.”

  “Thanks,” Charlie replied.

  Wu Gwei handed out drive-guns, surgical masks, and gave everyone a small bag. Charlie opened the bag and discovered it had 15 different survival tools all carefully packed and positioned. Whoever had packed the bags had done so with extreme skill and care. He suspected it had been Wu Gwei.

  The shuttle was shaped like a large oval and it contained a single open room. A large padded bench covered the length of the outer wall, except for the front and the rear of the ship. The rear was the entrance. The front was where the pilot’s and co-pilot’s seats were located. The middle of the ship housed what looked like a long electronic cauldron, which was apparently a 3D display. It could be used for holographic playback, or to allow the people in the ship to see a full panorama of the world outside the shuttle.

  Charlie and Avraam were positioned at the back of the ship, near the door. Wu Gwei went and sat next to Sally Brightly and her mysterious co-pilot. The Chinese cyborg sat quietly and calmly, but he looked attentive and ready. He would pounce at a moment’s notice if any of the passengers caused a problem. Charlie liked Wu Gwei. Wu Gwei had saved his life, but he got the feeling that Wu was a very dangerous man, maybe more so than Aelfwyrd. He was like an alligator hiding in the grass and waiting to strike.

  As the Mud Men calmly and quietly filed onto the ship, Charlie turned to Avraam, who was chewing on a piece of French bread which seemed to be filled with melted cheese. “If we’ve been re-created in these golden god-like bodies…”

  “Why am I so fat?” The Russian laughed. “I’ve been alive, in this body, for two years now. I enjoy life. I eat. I drink, when the women are kind I even make love. And why not? The universe is ours. Don’t worry about getting fat, worry about staying strong! When I use this body up, I’ll just chop off my head and get a new one, and then I can start all over again.”

  “But will the next Avraam really be you, or will he just be like you?”

  “Ahaha. Charlie, you always worry. But don’t. Charlie is eternal, just as Avraam is eternal. I will look out for you in whatever eternity we find ourselves in. You want some bread and cheese?”

  “Yeah, okay.” Charlie accepted a small piece of Avraam’s sandwich. The bread was stale, but the cheese was warm, delicious, and exotic. He had never eaten anything so fancy in his life. He had to chew slowly and savor each mouthful. The thought occurred to him that Amber would really enjoy it.

  As he ate, he noticed a necklace hanging from a chain around Avraam’s neck. It looked like a stylized combination of a Star of David and a Christian Cross. He had never seen anything like it before. The star seemed to sit on the middle bar. Did that mean he was a Jew or a Christian? Or maybe some futuristic melding of the two religions? He looked again towards the seat he knew the copilot was sitting in, the woman with the wild inhuman eyes. There was only a dark shadow where she was sitting, as if she was in the only seat in the shuttle which didn’t have proper lighting. How could he know what religion or race anyone was, if half the crew didn’t even appear to be human? How could he understand the culture of centuries further into an exponentially morphing universe?

  He wondered what it meant to be religious in the 25th century, where Avraam came from. A world of Geft machines and intergalactic monsters, with planets of mind controlled soldiers and genetically edited humans. Charlie had always been vaguely Protestant. His mother had taught him to pray every night before bed. But what sense did Israel and Bethlehem make in light of the Planet Georgia, Britain owning the patent to Martian DNA, and the spaceship-moon Shamballa?

  November 2159

  The lights came up. The show was over. The Queen climbed down off of World Wrestling Champion eXTC Bulgaro and the French President, with whom she had been comically simulating sex as the credits rolled on that night’s program.

  The French President removed the gorilla mask from his head, took the panties out of his mouth, and then began looking around for his jacket.

  Queen Gloryannana didn’t bother to say goodnight to either of them. She walked straight backstage. Her assistants changed her outfit while the Queen walked. She only paused for the briefest of moments in her stride as seven different women efficiently, acrobatically, and almost magically removed her costume and replaced it with a far more conservative diamond-studded peach dress and amethyst choker.

  Twelves was there with her clipboard, her thick black antiquated eye glasses, and pulled-back raven hair. She bore a striking and almost comical resemblance to the Queen, as if she were a miniature and mousier version. The visual gag was intentional.

  In the twenty-second century, Twelves may have been the only executive assistant who still used a wooden clipboard, paper, and pen. This is why she was one of the most important assistants of the Queen of England. “We have confirmation. The Chinese Cloud was engineered by Canton.”

  “They did it to themselves,” the Queen said thoughtfully. “I wonder how long until we are forced to take similar measures?”

  The Queen, Twelves, and three of the women who had just changed her outfit entered the elevator together. The Queen skimmed a report which Twelves had brought her as they were raced the 120 storys down and across to the annual board meeting of the British Corporation.

  They all rose when she entered and did not sit again until after their liege. Of the seven board members, The Archbishop of Canterbury and the Great Druid of England stood out among a sea of dark black suits. Each of the two religious leaders were in full regalia, complete with staves, hats, and robes. The Archbishop looked like he had stepped out of history a thousand years before. The Great Druid looked like he had arrived from ten times that far back.

  The Great Druid wore a white robe, a golden necklace in the shape of an over-lapping circle and square, a heavy fur cape hung over his back, the head of a horned bear rested upon his skull. His beard was long, silver, and black. Bits of wood and wildflowers were laced into his long whiskers. His face was grayish and wrinkled. His eyes were deep-set, surrounded by dark, but bright and clear.

  With the exception of the Great Druid and the Archbishop, no one at the table looked to be older than twenty-five years old. They carried themselves like old and tired men, but had at least the appearance of youth.

  The Queen sat down at the head of the table. The room glowed with raw power. No one who sat there was anything less than a trillionaire. Not a soul spoke as the Queen finished skimming over the final page of Twelves’ report. She then looked up and frowned.

  “We carry too many souls.”

  The seven powerful men all grunted their sober agreement.

  A large and serious man spoke up. His voice was deep and echoing. “War, then. Give them an honorable death and increase our holdings for the effort.”

  The man to his right nodded enthusiastically at the suggestion.

  The Archbishop disagreed. “Sterilization. I keep telling you. Mandatory sterilizations, only avoidable by those who can pay a fee. Your problem will be solved in a generation, and in the meanwhile we get the first generation quite possibly motivated by something other than orgasms.”

  “Can you imagine how the press would cover that?” Another trillionaire, this one red-haired and wearing a long and swooping moustache countered.

  “They’ll cover it however we tell them to!” The Archbishop thundered.

  The Queen shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way anymore, Your Holiness. The days of controllable news outlets are long gone. Were we to contemplate such a measure, it would have to be in secret, and then an explanation would need to be offered.”

  The Great Druid thoughtfully ran his index finger up and down the length of his large nose. “And what, pray tell, would happen if England an
d England alone were suddenly to drop in population? How would we keep the refugees back from all of those newly emptied conapts? Tear down a building and you will find fifty men waiting in line to build a new one.”

  “And so, we’re no better than those war criminals in Canton? All we can do is plot a blameless way to murder most of our own citizens?” The Queen glared hatefully at her board of directors.

  “Is sterilization murder? Is celibacy? The debate is nothing new,” the Archbishop commented.

  The Great Druid made up his mind. “War. War is our best option. Let the blood feed the soil. Let the wounded land heal.” He pointed a boney finger at the Archbishop. “His kind will tell you that death is always a bad thing. Do not believe it.”

  The room erupted in anger and bickering.

  The thin man sitting to the Queen’s left smiled politely at Twelves, leaned in, and almost whispered as he spoke to the Queen. His name was Nihaya. He was Arabian by descent and yet blond-haired. His golden eyebrows were thick and protruded from his face. “What if we left? What if we left Earth and no one had to die? A few dozens of billions of people would be nothing if spread out across the galaxy. In time… the galaxies.”

  The room was quiet for just a moment. Then it exploded as four of the seven men all started yelling at Nihaya all together. There was no money. They did not have the technology. They all agreed that it was a naïve and impossible suggestion.

  With a wave of her hand, the Queen silenced the room. Although the faces were still red and the shouting seemed to continuing echoing. She smiled kindly at the man to her left, “Mr. Nihaya, the most optimistic projections are that it would take centuries to make Mars hospitable.”

  “Your Majesty, as Mr. John Ray said so long ago, if the hill will not come to Mahomet, Mahomet will go to the hill. There is a man under my employ, a brilliant geneticist. He believes that he can change man so that-”

  The Great Druid was spitting with anger. “We are the planet Earth. We don’t merely reside here. What you suggest is evil. This problem began because we became deluded and thought that we were separate. We thought that we were no longer a part of nature. This is a disease of the mind. What we require is healing, not…. amputation.”

  “Great Druid,” Nihaya bowed his head respectfully. “I know I am an animal. I am a part of this world. I eat meat to survive, and also for pleasure. But it is nature which brings us to this point. We must evolve and become whatever nature demands follows humanity. Not you nor I, but they will live among the stars. It’s been almost a hundred years since The Machine tried to destroy us. He was a part of nature, the same as fish and bird. The blue people and the green people who live on Mars and Europa will be a part of nature as well.”

  “Is that- ” The Archbishop of Canterbury waved his fingers at Nihaya. “Is that what Mohammed would want you to do?”

  “You know I am no Muslim.”

  “I know you believe in nothing but money. And I see through your plan to bankrupt this company and transfer all of our wealth into your own pocket.”

  “I am trying to prevent the death of uncountable innocents.”

  The Great Druid interrupted. “There are always worse choices to be made than death.”

  The thin man thought for quite a while before answering. No one else spoke until he did. “No, sir. There are not. Pick. Pick a way to murder, but it will still be murder. I say its better we all go bankrupt trying to save the world than choosing our favorite Götterdämmerung.”

  “There are no cameras in here,” the trillionaire to Nihaya’s left mocked him.

  “Sterilization,” the Archbishop said again. “It is the moral choice.”

  “Fertilization,” the Great Druid countered, rather proud of himself.

  5

  PRESENT DAY

  The sky of Primus-3 was a light pastel blue. The clouds were thick and wide, but only a fluffy white. As they descended, Charlie didn’t see any grey or black in them. Once past the cloud-cover, the surface of the world appeared to be covered in massive white and red bones. The shuttle continued its descent and the “bones” turned out to be vast aquatic reefs which jutted far up out of the water. Where they were red, the reef was still alive, but the white caps and peeks reached up like mountains, dead and thrust up out of the water.

  They landed on a sandy beach, covered with shells, seaweeds, and the rotting green plants which the latest tide had left behind for the sun. As the crew began their landing, what looked like a thousand black crabs rose up from the sand and rocks and ran for safety. These creatures were small, but so numerous that they looked like a serious danger.

  When the ship had landed, Charlie and Avraam got off first. They wore the surgical masks which Wu Gwei had handed out, although Charlie doubted that paper filters would do much good. He had more hope for the pills which he had been told protected him. The salty sea air was wonderful, so much nicer than what they had had back home. It reminded him of the coast of Alaska, although he had only tasted that for a very short time.

  The sand was clean and soft beneath his feet and decorated with the most fantastic and colorful shells. The shells came in shapes and sizes which did not occur on Earth. Weird double-reversing corkscrews, wreaths, pyramids, compound cubes, and wide bowls. They shined vividly like psychedelic mother-of-pearl, and he was tempted to touch them, but he held back, not knowing what might still be living inside of the husks.

  The Mud Men began filing out of the ship. They walked slowly and calmly, but each one paused when they found themselves outside. They looked up at the sky, took a deep breath, and often seemed to smile. Avraam encouraged them, gently, to get back into the water. When they realized that they were allowed to, and that they were free, they made little squeaking noises and grew visibly excited.

  It took about ten minutes to empty the ship. Wu Gwei walked out last and took a look around from the top of the ramp. “This planet smells like fish,” he announced without humor. He frowned, and then he walked back inside.

  They loaded up and rode back up to the Shamballa where they got the next batch of Mud Men passengers. It all went smoothly. Avraam was sleeping during the second descent. At first, Charlie wondered how he could do that, but then he realized how peaceful the journey was. The shuttle didn’t have a loud engine. It didn’t shake. The passengers were not forced to endure high velocity or extra Gs. At the most choppy, it felt like they were all sitting on a boat on a lake on a quiet day.

  The Mud Men were not pretty, but they didn’t look so scary anymore. Their loose flesh seemed to sway gently over their bones. It bounced. It flowed, almost musically. As Charlie watched them they seemed to be moving, in a miniscule way, together, as if they all heard the same music and tapped their alien toes in time.

  As they sat, they cuddled. They held each other. They were kind.

  How could he have agreed to kidnap them? How could he have allowed Doctor Aelfwyrd to kill and experiment on them? Charlie thought of their deformed brothers and sisters hanging in fluid in Doctor Aelfwyrd’s lab. Was it even possible that in a different life he would have approved of that? He couldn’t imagine it.

  The second trip was the same as the first, so was the third. On the fourth trip the tide was starting to come in. The beach was getting smaller and the little tidal pools were filling up. The crashing of the waves was getting louder. Less of the reefs was visible but, out on the coral, Charlie could see more and more movement. The black crabs were there, but also what looked like long thin snakes and other wriggling shapes which he couldn’t quite make out. He imagined that he must be looking at a thousand or more living beings at just that moment climbing and crawling, feeding, fighting, and defecating.

  As the ship descended for the fifth load of Mud Men, the yellow sun was starting to set. The tide had swallowed up about half of the beach and it took Sally a little longer to find a safe position to land on.

  As they finished releasing the fifth load of passengers Avraam called out to them, “Thank you for
flying Shamballa Air. We understand that you have no choice of airlines when we kidnap you, but thanks anyway!” He then looked at Charlie, trying to get him to smile. Charlie politely obliged him.

  “You see, I’ve seen the old recordings. The airplanes in your time used to talk that way,” Avraam explained.

  “I wouldn’t know,” Charlie answered. “I never had the money for that sort of thing.”

  Charlie spoke up so the whole crew could hear him. “We’ll just do one last load and then call it a night. I don’t want to spend too much time in the dark down there.”

  It was getting dark as they dropped down through the clouds with their sixth load of passengers. The water was churning and a wind was blowing.

  “I can’t land on that beach. The ocean has eaten too much of it up. I’ll see if I can find another one,” Sally announced.

  “Just pick a safe spot,” Charlie advised.

  The ship lurched unexpectedly, which was a very big surprise. It hadn’t done anything like that all day. A moment later there was a loud sound and the floor tipped up at an angle.

  “Hold on!” Sally shouted.

  But the ship ripped open loudly. The future-fabrics which composed its hull cracked and Charlie could feel the wind and rain on his face. He watched the bench across from him get farther and farther away, and he saw the frightened Mud Men clutching one another. And then his face was wet and his mouth was full of the spiciest water he had ever tasted. It reminded him of curry.

  He fought and he struggled. He kicked out, clutching the weapon which Wu Gwei had given him all the while. It was more than thirty seconds before his head broke above the waves, and then when he tried to breathe a wave slapped him in the face and sent him down a second time, which is when he lost the drive-gun.

  But he wrapped his arms around a broken piece of the padded bench. It floated. The lights on its sides were still dimly glowing. Charlie vomited and he spat, trying to clear all of the fluid from his stomach and lungs.