by Gary Starta
“By what, by whom?” Dan asked. His pulse was racing. He tried to feel for an answer via telepathy but failed.
“By our very human looking assistant, that’s who. She analyzed you as you read your paper. I’m sorry if you felt distracted or disturbed during the process. It’s quite harmless. However, you must understand the very nature of our business necessitates the screening of all applicants as thoroughly as humanly possible.”
“Yes, sir, then you must be aware of the type of asset I can be to your organization.”
Jorgenson smiled. Dan couldn’t recall why the man had.
“Tomorrow morning.” He flipped a sheet of paper from his desk into Dan’s hands. “Report there and be on time.”
Dan scanned the paper as quickly as possible. He was sure he was missing a few details in the fine print. “Oh, Mr. Jorgenson. Can I ask a question?”
Jorgenson nodded.
“Why should I report to a medical facility?”
“It’s not just a facility. It’s the best medical facility on the planet. You’re going to have your gift monitored so to speak. We can’t educate you further about our organization without the adjustment. Do you have any problems?”
“Ah. No.”
“Then sign at the appropriate marks.” Jorgenson handed Dan a pen.
Dan signed. He sighed and handed the paper back to Jorgenson.
“Very well, Mr. Camden, I can tell you’ll be a prime candidate for our position. Just keep the faith and let your heart guide you.”
Dan glanced at the watch his wife had given him. He felt his heart had just betrayed his family but didn’t quite know why. Just what kind of program did these people run? Were they behind President Reagan’s continued Star Wars Program? Dan stared intently at the dial on the faceplate. The ticking grew louder with a faint echo behind it. Dan felt if he listened hard enough to the ticking of the watch it would clue him in as to what his future held.
DJ FELT a rhythm. Her heart beat. She was confused to say the least.
Honking horns and the bustle of city traffic indicated she was alive. Her recent memory recall differed. She had died in the desert and was conversing with her mother.
Here, she literally felt the sway of heavy pedestrian traffic zigzag around her on a sidewalk that resembled downtown Colorado Springs.
A familiar voice jolted her. It was Darian, and he was exiting a movie theater with an older woman. She could only discern a few words of the conversation among the din. She was sure she heard, “that’s why you’re my favorite nephew.”
If she heard correctly, Darian’s aunt was well or, at least not confined to a sick bed.
She called out in their direction, but Darian did not pause or turn to her.
Was she in the time slip? Or was this just another doorway of death?
She envisioned her mother. “Mom, please come. I need you.”
“I always knew you did.” The quick reply from Mom wasn’t a surprise. But the nature of her voice and her very appearance was. Gone was the overly made up woman who attempted to conceal gruesome injuries.
Her pallor was correct. She talked with her mouth and not with her mind. DJ stared at her long and hard. She couldn’t be sure if the woman standing before her on a sidewalk was her mother. It defied all logic—even if you believed in the afterlife. A time clock standing atop a pole caught her attention and she blinked. When her eyes opened the sidewalk began rolling up as if a carpet.
Chapter Twenty-six
SHE SPILLED out of the liquid and into a vacuum of space. Iris Camden couldn’t feel a drop of the red liquid that had immersed her body mere seconds ago. Now everything was very dark and very blue, so dark blue it was nearly black. It was like that crayon color, midnight blue. It was also very much like a canvas. Was she trapped in a work of art? Iris fought to center herself, but she was not anything she had ever been before.
She felt as if she was tipping forward, slightly. And she was moving, but at great velocity. Stars whizzed past. Where was she? What was she?
Her normal fear would have raised her pulse and made her heart thud audibly in her chest. But instead of that . . . there was something purring, and it was inside of her.
She glanced sideways and found she had no arms attached. No recognizable appendage of any kind, in fact. What she had were wings, but they were made of some substance, possibly a metal alloy or other material, and for the life of her she couldn’t discern what that material was. Iris was in serious need of a chemist to tell her what her body was now comprised of. At the very least, she would be grateful for a multiple-choice option.
How can this be? More amazing than flight was her ability to exist in space. She had no breathing apparatus. She made scrunching motions with what she had thought was her face. There was no give. She panicked, fearing her entire head was now compromised by the hostile makeover as well.
She had only a second or so to ponder, far in the distance, a dot appeared to float lazily on the horizon. It captured her attention, and in those seconds it dawned on Iris what might be happening.
She was in the time slip. Yes, that had to be it. Iris had tried to mentally prep herself for shifts in time, of scenarios where she might meet her past and future versions. If she was here, what had transpired? To save what was left of sanity—after discovering she was a living, navigable ship in outer space—Iris had to believe the enemy had fired their weapon and missed. So what was the tiny dot on the horizon?
A voice within her spoke. “I think it’s something called revenge.”
EVAN STOOD with clenched fists. A pulsation in his neck convinced him his face would be beet red if he could see it, but he couldn’t; his eyes were closed. He could discern the digits of the clock that had become etched in his mind during what had to be the last minute or so of his existence in the time slip. He tried to grasp the reality of a concept he had only studied from books and lecturing astrophysicists: Time travel.
He had traveled to a future where Kassidy was his wife; the whining, compulsive, narcissistic woman who had brought a five-letter word beginning with “B” to his mind on more than one occasion. Yet Evan was referencing a past reality.
In essence, there really was no “reality” here. He chuckled at the irony. If this isn’t reality, then what is it? No matter how many times Evan tried to convince himself the events in the time slip were inconsequential another voice inside urged him to alter what had become an ugly situation. He had upset Kassidy but also feared a darker consequence. He was a hypocrite here. He should have been more supportive of Kassidy. He preached change was possible for all. It was just a matter of tweaking genetic coding. Yet when it came to his wife, Evan judged her solely by human emotion and none of the academic knowledge he was so proud to quote to friends like Mitchell.
Why couldn’t it be possible for Kassidy to change? Why couldn’t she stop drinking if she got the proper support? It sounded a whole lot easier than a light beam from space converting everyone’s DNA via photons.
He opened his eyes and found an electronic pad in his hands. He scanned a few lines and nodded in acknowledgement. They were his vows. But what had he written? When had he written it? The only space of time he could recall between now and his prior fight with Kassidy was the moment or so he spent focusing on a clock. He was sure if that time line was allowed to continue he would no longer be able to call Kassidy his wife—not that he ever really had. Oh, the paradox.
He glanced up to find himself locked in the most soulful, intense gaze he had ever experienced. It was Kassidy, and she was gorgeous. Her curls were lifted off her face, and a white veil framed her high cheekbones in a very flattering manner. He scanned downward and caught himself gasping at her flowing white dress and the dazzling pink and yellow corset pinned near her collarbone. He heard someone speak in jest. “Down boy, we need to get through the vows first.” It was followed by a feminine laugh. It was the bridesmaid, Rachel. She nodded at Evan, but he had no clue as to what she was referring to.
She nodded again. This time, a more earnest expression replaced her smile.
A man next to him cleared his throat. It was Gavin. Apparently, he was the best man. Mystified by his choice, he pondered where Mitchell was. Was he really in the time slip? Or had the alien weapon defeated the planet’s entire population? It would explain why Mitchell was not present. He would have died from the “change” due to his low resistance from inoculation. He shook his head.
“Man, get on with the vows,” Gavin whispered. “You know, the words Rachel helped you with last night.” Gavin winked and glanced toward the pad.
“Ah, yes. Let me continue. I apologize. This is all so surreal. Your stunning beauty, Kassidy, has left me bedazzled.”
Kassidy smiled. “Bedazzled—that’s quite a word for a scientist to use.” The priest laughed.
Evan smiled back at Kassidy. “In time, you will understand.” Pleased with the paradox, Evan continued smiling. He was prophesying a future to a future, future wife. In his old sense of reality, neither had occurred.
He expected the vows would motivate Kassidy to quench her curiosity with continued education. He also expected she would complete this endeavor with sobriety. He had cheated. He had glimpsed the future of this particular time line.
As Evan read the vows aloud, he realized the intentions of the message were veiled. He promised her total devotion, support in all her endeavors, patience to sympathize with whatever might impede her course. He had suggested a future with these words. They would be a catalyst for Kassidy to become a scientist and devote herself to a family without the aid of alcohol. It had come true in the coming years, at least in this time line, but he had—in another time line—jeopardized her foundation with dark insinuation. He expected her to succumb to the demons. In actuality, he was the demon doubting her.
He finished and added a few lines of his own. He ignored the daggers boring into him via Gavin and Rachel. Maybe this was no time for improvisation. But he had to be sure Kassidy was certain he was a man who would stand not only at her side but behind her as well.
“I take your hand in marriage to aid your further ascension into the light of knowledge and away from the darkness that might impede your quest.” He was amazed at the word choice. In the reality of his world, Evan the rationalist would never have offered such kind analogies. He would have chided her for her drunkenness. He would have expected her derisiveness of the past to be innate and unchangeable. In this moment, Evan would not give these thoughts permission to become tangible in the future going forward. He would not allow Kassidy to witness any seed of doubt emanating from mind, emotion or spirit. He was committed in body and mind to supporting his wife. Insinuations to the contrary would never see the light of this new day. If Kassidy were to change, he had to change as well.
Evan smiled, and he kissed her hand.
The priest raised a hand. “Not so fast, young man.” More laughter ensued. Gavin dished a ring from a jewelry case and gave it to Evan. Words were exchanged. She agreed to honor and cherish him. He concurred. It was not a rational thing to do, but Evan concurred. He gazed into Kassidy’s eyes once more. He hoped with his all heart she had understood his words and would never let doubt of his belief in her dissuade her from a happy life. In this moment, Evan believed it was more important for his wife to experience joy in life without dependence than it was for her to become versed in scientific formulas. He hoped he would never forget this epiphany no matter where time put him next.
GAVIN CHUCKLED. Damn! He had done it. He had swept himself and his taunting friends backward. It was the night he saw the shining, orange ball in the sky. It had to be because Gavin recognized the ledge overlooking a ravine. In that past, Gavin was despondent. He doubted his dream to become an investigator of unexplained and unidentified aircraft would ever be realized. He had only seen footage of alleged sightings via TV and the Internet. Could he ever become an investigator in a field where he had no firsthand experience? Moments later in that same evening, Gavin would recall those thoughts in jest. So what? Now he had firsthand experience thanks to the glowing orange ball in the sky but how much of the populace would believe him? More importantly, would friends and family support or ridicule his finding?
The answer was clear. No one in his circle of friends was going to believe him.
Thanks to time, Gavin might be able to change all that. Time was like a lever you could push up and down at whatever increments you desired. At least it worked this way in the fourth dimension. Now he would view the orb with companions.
“There!” Gavin pointed at the sky. At this instant, he didn’t feel quite like himself and considered the possibility something else was controlling his movements. It wasn’t all that different from a dream. Sometimes you felt in control of the dream, but more often than not, the dream felt like it was in control of you. This was so illogical, Gavin pondered. If dreams were manufactured from your subconscious, then how could they appear to be in control? Following that line of reasoning, what if your subconscious was another entity of you, perhaps your very soul? Maybe that’s why there were two halves of reasoning at work inside of one being. Gavin smiled strangely at this realization. It was possibly the surfacing of his analytical mind. TV scientists were adamant prospective investigators must possess such a kind of mind. His smile grew broader. The smirk appeared even odder to his friends who stared at him, sure that his sighting was no more than some faraway airplane.
“I’m out of here,” Jimmy said to Katy. The way Jimmy dismissed him without even addressing him astonished Gavin. It was more emotional than the sighting of the object that screamed to Gavin Up here, up here! I symbolize your future.
At this moment in time, Gavin was less concerned about his future all of a sudden. The sting of betrayal in the here and now seemed a lot more real than a dot in the sky, thousands of miles away; perhaps so far away it couldn’t even acknowledge his existence. So why was he so fired up about giving it credence? What had it done—or what would it do for him—in either future timeline of his continued existence? His consciousness realized in one reality he had become the investigator he dreamt of. But in this unknown and possibly still changeable future, what would acknowledgement by peers mean? Would it make him anymore of an investigator? Or was it just an adolescent desire to be accepted?
In a moment of inspiration, Gavin grabbed Katy’s arm. “No! Don’t go. You see, I’ve been here before, and I know it’s not an airplane. It’s something undefined. It’s a kind of light. It seems to follow people around. It might even create messages in fields.” Still holding onto Katy’s arm, Gavin scratched his head. “It might be another intelligent species. Doesn’t that interest you, Katy?”
She shook her arm loose from his grip. “No! It doesn’t. I can’t stand when my father puts on National Geographic or the History Channel. I don’t give a rat’s ass about anything that’s not tangible.” She harrumphed. “Especially if I can’t wear it as a fashion accessory or use it to talk to my girlfriends at will.”
“But,” Gavin said, “what if this is some kind of communication device, a very pretty communication device that lights up the night sky as if it were, as if it were jewelry.” Gavin stammered. His best friend Jimmy shook his head. “Dude, I never knew you were this desperate for Katy.”
“I’m not. I mean, I-I-I am,” Gavin stuttered. “Shit, I think the universe of both you guys.”
“Then for the love of God, please tell us how that thing,” Jimmy pointed at the ball of light in the sky, “has any relevance regarding our friendship. Shit, I mean, dude, it’s not like it’s going to pick us up and take us to the mall or something.”
Gavin held a stop sign hand out. “No. Don’t even think that. We don’t know what it’s capable of. We must proceed with caution. And, most important, we can’t jump to conclusions. Even me . . . you see, I’m excited because I can’t identify it. But I can’t say for certain it is extraterrestrial.”
“Come on!” Katy stamped her foot. “Which is
it? A second ago you inferred it was a species? You can’t even keep your lies straight.”
“Ah. No. I was just scared you were going to leave if I didn’t give you an explanation.”
Jimmy turned on his heels in the direction of a path. “Text me with your findings, whacko, I’m going to bed.”
Gavin opened his mouth but no words came out. Instead, there was a buzzing sound.
Katy shrieked and covered her ears.
Gavin shouted. “What? Did you think that was coming from me?” He winced and shielded his eyes with his hand. The light had grown exponentially brighter during their discussion. It appeared to loom over them like some kind of offshoot of the moon, perhaps a child of the moon if a planet was capable of such a thing.
“Listen!” Gavin shouted and gasped. “It’s communicating! We just don’t understand its language!”
Katy ran. Her shrieking competed with the buzzing sound until she was out of sight.
“That’s it, Gavin. There’s only one interpretation of that kind of language. Get the fuck out of Dodge.”
Jimmy ran after Katy. Gavin felt as if his feet were in cement. One part of him wanted to chase his friends, to convince them this was nothing to be afraid of, that it was a scientific discovery. Or, if he had to, he would falsely interpret the buzzing ball to be nothing more than a hoax. His heart yearned and burned with a need to keep his friends. On the other hand, his cemented feet wouldn’t allow him escape from his obsession.
I know you’re real. I know you’re not from here. I just don’t know what you want.
Gavin couldn’t recall another moment of the encounter. He had fallen to the ground and passed out, quite possibly from excitement or the buzzing sound, maybe both.
The next day his head felt fuzzy. He wasn’t certain what transpired. He didn’t believe the ball of light to be sinister, whatever it was.
He tried to patch things up with Katy, but she cowered from him, shielding herself with her books as if he had morphed into some kind of ugly beast.