by K R Sanford
“I will have them meet you in the observation hall, My Lord,” said Stiller.
Interstellar cargo ships tethered to the perimeter of the runway. The systematic unloading of supplies and materials had begun. The armada was set in formation surrounding the runway. Each got spotted in order of rank and each according to their duty.
The golden glow of Legion’s Starbase shined through twenty foot high viewing windows. Executives of Triumph Industries in their iridescent suits balanced drinks and food trays. They shared their wonder at seeing a factory set in motion before human feet touched the runway. The executives laughed and the Emperor smiled with pride at the instant production. He turned and faced the room. His loud booming voice sounded:
“My name is Legion, for I am the many,” he said with a resounding echo. The room heard the lucid power of each syllable. “Anyone may attest to the efficiency of Triumph Industries. To touch the deck with a working factory has not happened in our galaxy. Not to such a degree as you witness here today. Let us acknowledge the Intersteller Forces for their vision. The personal acts of sacrifices needed for a project such as this may never be told.
This is a project that required a blind commitment of determination. This is a project that requires a joint effort by the military and private sectors alike. It is a project necessary for the survival of many species throughout the galaxy. Take a moment to see your efforts in full operation.”
The landing pad was an open transition yard that extended beyond the dome. Transparent conveyer tubes extended between the great ships and the loading doors. Robotic sentries guarded the entrances of the cargo ramps. The unloading of supplies got rechecked, organized and monitored.
The cargo moved down the runway on hover-lifts in the order of its use during construction. Large balloons suspended beyond the great ships held gases and liquids. Like a massive 3D printer the ships mixed the gases and liquids for the molding of parts. The parts would self-assemble into a matrix that would extend out to deep space. The matrix was a massive superhighway. The executives and military brass were in awe as they saw the surreal factory push the highway into space. The end of the tubular highway vanished into blackness. The event happened in less time than it took the Emperor to make his speech.
“My god,” said a fat faced Admiral. “What have we done?”
“You have participated in the delivery of a bridge to a spacetime loop,” said the Emperor.
“We have opened the Pandora’s Jar,” said the Admiral.
“Oh, settle down Halsted,” said the Emperor with a grin from ear to ear. “You’re acting like a hysterical environmentalist. I need everyone present and in full position of their senses. This is heads-up warfare folks. If you are having trouble, go back to your ship and sleep off your journey.”
Chapter 10
_____________________________________________
THE VEIL OF INIFNITY
‘Pandora’s Box’ 1928
Performed By the Brilliant Silent Film Star and Dancer, Louise Brooks, 1906 - 1985
This Classic Film was Later Banned by Adolph Hitler as ‘Degenerate Art’
“We don’t know what’s going on in the multiverse,” said Admiral Halsted.
“Yes we do,” replied the Emperor. “We know to apply ourselves and realize our most valued gift.”
“That‘s easy for you to say,” said Halsted. “You are a multidimensional being. I am limited by the time I have, and that time has its limits as well.”
“There can be a fallacy for trying to think at the speed of light, Admiral,” said the Emperor. “The Universe does not limit itself to a time constant. There are advantages for using the executive files of a multidimensional super-highway. Wormholes are not for sending starships from one side of universe to the other. Although this occurs, it is a risk to the life-force and to the ship. No, wormholes access other dimensions. This is safer for travel and for guarding valuables. You are the key. You, I mean, Admiral, the individual life-force.”
“I am not the only one at risk,” My Lord. “This technology is beyond most of us here.”
“I am aware of that,” said the Emperor. “I am looking at this project as a theme park, or better still, an amusement park for grownups. This is a great opportunity to give the adventurous a challenge, like a new scene in a movie production. Let’s call it, an 'E' ticket to the Future. This future requires a type four body like mine. This of course leaves you to take part in your present form.”
“Are we to believe we can somehow transform. Then, travel to another dimension without corrupting our DNA? I’m not that naïve, Emperor,” said Admiral Halsted.
“Try not to cloud your judgment with fear, Admiral. I do welcome your comments. We are under no time constraints here. Only, let’s understand, time is of the essence on this space station. So, save political demagoguery for later.”
“I wasn’t
The Admiral got interrupted by the Amedan’s intercept course to his chair. They held their positions midair the moment he stopped talking.
“Fine, that’s fine boys,” whispered the Emperor. “Mark Kiterage, CEO of Triumph Corporation will make a presentation. His topic is the ultimate in virtual reality, our E-ticket to the future. Mister Kiterage.” Legion offered him the floor with an open hand.
Kiterage, in his iridescent gray suit, took center stage.
With a dramatic sweep of his arm, he pointed to the super-highway outside the observation windows. “Spacetime of all multiverses is not a river like most assume,” he said. “Multiverse continuums are more like a cube with an executive file that allows entrance to any spacetime you chose.
Let us assume one day an advanced being, say a type four, wants to control spacetime outside the cube. Let us also assume the same being wants to control entanglement of spacetime within the cube. Who is to prevent the advanced being from controlling all the multiverse within the cube?
Unless you can get there first, everything is subject to the originator or controller. A scalable type four body is necessary to manipulate the multiverse from within. If you can bypass all spacetime, you will be able to secure the first complete infinite continuum.
Infinite existence becomes defendable by not owning the information within the self-aware being. The structure of your infinite-self reorganizes as an autonomous universe.” Kiterage took a sip of his beverage to give the guests a moment to digest the information then continued.
“The trick is to use a relative power source equal to the target spacetime. Then, open a portal to deliver your payload.”
An officer with the insignia of an atom over a starship on his lapel stood up. He asked. “Is there enough spacetime for control groups to establish a network? And, if so will the network connect before bifurcation of the cube becomes activated?
“Yes, Robert,” said Kiterage. “The experiment is further tested so when you get there, a virtual landscape will be there with you.”
Robert spoke again. “The experiment will test when a second cube is able to sustain intelligent life?”
Kiterage, once again replied to the affirmative. “We start by perfecting wormholes within our own universe. Safe transmission of mass passes through signals of information. Then, we send in drones then robots.
Neutrino showers with organic and inorganic seeding will genesis the cube. Seeding continues until life-forms can self-sustain.
This scenario takes place without the prior knowledge of the self-aware being. In other words, evolution does not suspect it is being used in service of the cube.
The process is a wonderful engine for the conservation of energy. This includes information for self-organizing. This last point entangles with the instinct for survival within self-aware beings.”
Admiral Halsted raised his hand and questioned from his chair. “Is the soul at any risk of extinction during transmission or can death occur, one might ask? This I ask as the obvious safety question on everyone’s mind.”
“What risks could w
e face?” rejoined Kiterage. “I get that. We had this discussion involving almost every species in our galaxy. As well as, comprehensive integrations from entities in parallel dimensions.
We called this research our ‘Pandora’s Box’ scenario. The consciousness entangles within a three-fold cord matrix which behaves like a wave-form. Similar dynamics play out in a shell game shuffle. Or, the ‘Three Card Monty,’ slide of hand.
When the playing field is at the macro landscape, energy escaping from one cube is near speed of light. Energy will continue onto the next cube. The speed of light constant stabilizes the waveform. The true position of the frequency is uncertain. This of course is Heisenberg’s classic uncertainty principle.
To simplify, consider the yen-yang dynamic. When light reaches darkness its tail-end slips out of reach. Because of the exposure to light, darkness evades capture ad infinitum. The flow creates an infinite reality for existence in a fourth dimension. And, that is where your conscience mind finds itself.
The sole is within the safe harbor of a new self-organizing spacetime. This is a virtual reality scenario. The game theory works for some very exciting experimentation.”
“And your test subject is a probe then drones and robots,” said the Admiral.
“That’s right, that’s right,” replied Kiterage. “We hold the process as our discipline in: Piercing the Vail of Infinity.” Kiterage made a graceful hand wave motion of a figure eight. He played like the orchestra conductor lost in the emotion of his music.
Lao flew beside the Emperor. “My Lord, the infirmary has Walters. I will send him back to the Mastodon.” he said.
“No, this is perfect,” said Legion. “Ask Marco to work with him. I have an idea.”
“Very well, My Lord,” said Lao, “What idea?”
“We can use him like a guinea pig and send him through the machine. Then, the machine will change him into pure energy. But, that doesn’t mean the guys in medical have to treat him any different than any other patient down there. I don’t like it when people single out others and use them for some special reason or another. Okay Lao? And you can tell him I said that.”
“Very good My Lord. I’ll let him know how you feel,” said Lao slipping away. He raced from the meeting in a flash. He sailed between the two sentries guarding the entrance.
Grantham, standing next to Legion, turned and gave him a wild eyed stare.
“What? I was kidding. That psychopath, Lao will go down to medical and tell Walters exactly what I said. Then he’ll tell him, he’s not getting any privileges and will most likely be dead come morning.”
Grantham shook his head and said, “You are incorrigible.”
“I know,” he replied. “Isn’t it great?” Then smiling from ear to ear he broke into a belly laugh. Kiterage turned from his Q and A inviting Legion to let them in on the joke.
“Aren’t you done yet?” said Legion. “Come on, Kiterage. Let’s check out the babes.”
* * * *
Marco and Hector entered medical. Lao was beside Walters’ bed.
“How’s he doing?” asked Hector.
Lao raised himself. He moved toward the door then stopped. “He’s taken a rough beating,” he said. “He’s been slipping in and out of consciousness. If you think you can reach him, you have a lump of clay ready to shape any way you want.”
“Well, let’s see if we can help him help himself,” said Hector.
“So long, fellows,” said Lao. He flashed out the door and down the hallway.
“I’ve never seen Lao so happy with himself.”
“I don’t know,” said Marco. “Lao is a tough one to figure. So, what’s the plan?”
“It’s, right here in front of us,” said Hector while studying the injuries. Walters was bleeding on the examination table. “What we have to work with is his pain and disorientation. It’s the perspective of death fresh in his mind we can use. His raw emotions will make the difference when his body begins to feel the injuries. Then, we will make him new again, a wounded healer with a mission. He may be capable of doing his job, but his job alone will not help him. His days will become like dry sand for him. He will move about this starbase growing bitter. He will get driven with a deep seeded force because he carries with him the immortal wound of betrayal. So, he is a prisoner of his own betrayal. He will suffer until he takes up the mantle of the warrior and becomes willing to fight for his life.”
“That’s it!?” said Marco balking at Hector’s speech. “Don’t you want to pin a metal on his goddamn chest? This fuck-stick channels hatred from everyone here. Even the ones who want to save his sorry ass would rather see him dead.”
“Are you through taking a piss?” said Hector.
“Yeah, I’m done,” said Marco. “This shit-fuck reminds me too much of myself.”
“That’s a demon on your own back, ole’ buddy,” replied Hector. “How about I say, ‘no comment’ for now?”
Marco puckered his lips and replied, “Okay . . . So . . . Do you want to give him the speech or do you want me to do it?”
“You go ahead you’re the master," said Hector. "You lived with Balrug. I’ll get the nurse to give him a stimulant.”
“Hang on,” said Marco. “I’m not the master. Balrug is the master. I’ll give him a call. Let him do the honors. Plus, he is a close friend of the Emperor, that couldn’t hurt.”
“Sure, good idea” said Hector “I can wait.”
“Good, stay with Walters,” said Marco. “I’ll bring Balrug back here. He'll get lost if he doesn't have an escort.”
“I understand,” said Hector. “We’ll be right here. Won’t we Mr. Walters?”
“You better call the nurse and get him ready,” said Marco walking out the door.
Hector pushed the call button and a white light shown overhead.
“I did that already,” said the man lying on the table.
“Walters, is that you? It’s, Hector from the Eagle.”
“No, no, I know who you are. What are you doing here?”
“Making sure you don’t up and die on us. It happens, you know. By the way, The Emperor sends his regards.” Hector winced, regretting what he said after he said it.
“Shit, Legion is okay,” said Walters. “But, Lao is insane. He’s a nasty mosquito.”
Hector nodded in agreement. “Yup, that about describes the sentiment around here, about that one, I mean. So, what’s going on with you?”
“The thing is; why do I have to take a shit, and why do I have to take a piss and eat food that is never quite right?”
“You just got here, man. You can’t complain yet. You’re thinking too much,” said Hector. “Right now; it’s all about you, you, and more you. Try to relax, man. Tell yourself to be calm and don’t make things any worse. The nurse will be right in to give you something. Something that should settle any excess adrenaline you have in your system. You were in a fight and flight fear thing, and you have physical trauma. You have a few fractured bones. You have cracked ribs and a dislocated knee. You have a beat-up face and contusions from head to foot. But cheer up. Because the bad part is that you’re going to have to live with what you’ve done.”
“I shit my pants, you know?”
“No one gives a damn, Walters. I’m trying to tell you. But, for what it’s worth, in the face of death; if there’s something in there, it’s coming out. You’re Special Forces. You know the way it is. No matter you’re time or your rank, everybody shits.”
“This was different,” said Walter in a tone of regret.
“You did a bad thing. Karma is coming to kick your ass. Your imagination ran out of control. You lived through your imagination. Now you have to live with the facts. You’re a phony. But, if you know something I don’t know, save it. Now is not the time. No one wants to hear you got fooled into making a mistake. They’ll come in here and kill you just for that. So, keep your mouth shut and don’t be thinking of suicide. I don't want to load you up with Thorazine and watch y
ou drool all over yourself.
The door from the hallway opened. Chris Thacher walked in wearing a white physician’s coat. She was carrying a sealed syringe dart. She placed the dart in a latched compartment on the supply table and turned to Walters.
My name is Chris I am helping the staff assess your condition and to see if we can make you feel more comfortable.” Chris looking from Hector to Walters, “You guys getting along alright?”
Walters turned his head away. Hector chimed in and said, “I was giving him a pep talk.”
“Yeah,” she said with a doubtful grin. “He doesn’t seem very peppy.”
“No, he’s better,” said Hector.
“Oh, good,” said Chris. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to ask him a few questions. Are you having any trouble breathing, Mister Walters?”
“A little,” he said.
“How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Two.” Walters began rubbing his chest and fidgeting with his collar. “What place is this? I can’t feel the back of my leg?” he said falling on the examination table. His eyes darted around at something on the ceiling.”
“Okay, this will help. I’m going to give you an injection. It will help you to relax,” she said as she reached in the supply table. She placed the dart at Walters’ neck. There was a short burst of gas. She continued, “You’ll feel better in a minute, Mister Walters. You can order something from the cafeteria on the viewer. But first, the ladies will be in to get you cleaned up. They will also help you into some clean clothes.”
“Okay,” he said then fell unconscious.
“He’ll be out for about ten minutes. When he wakes he’ll be more relaxed. You can talk to him for a while longer.”
“Where did you learn to do medical?” asked Hector.
“I was the only one in the office when someone needed a Band-Aid. So, I had to study. I couldn’t leave the office, my dad would kill me,” she said as if she had no choice. “I had no choice. And, I tell you, I had access to research that no student would have. It was interesting.”