by Gary Starta
Jimmy was a bit more approachable, but it was clear his friend wouldn’t easily forgive the events of the prior night. “Dude, why don’t you consider a more plausible explanation; maybe it’s some government experiment. Did you ever stop to consider that?”
“If so, then it’s quite possible the government acquired such technology off world, or possibly from an alien crash site.”
Jimmy threw up his hands and walked off.
Gavin stood there flabbergasted for a few minutes, wondering why another reality gave him the chance to verify his sightings only to fail. After a moment of consideration, he asked himself the same question. Had he really failed? Were his friends really the close and trusting kind he imagined them to be? Or, was the pull of the strange orb too grand a carrot in the scheme of the universe for Gavin to ignore—even at the expense of a social life?
DAN CAMDEN fumbled with a lighter. He’d promised his wife he had given up the nasty habit. But in a few hours, dawn would be here and so would a surgeon’s scalpel or whatever the hell kind of instrument they used to implant a chip in your brain. He cupped the lighter with both hands, cigarette in his mouth, praying for a second of placidity.
Who the hell am I kidding? He let the cigarette roll out of his mouth and onto the hotel floor. He capped the lighter. There isn’t going to be a second of peace. He realized a surge of nicotine or even the simple inhale of oxygen wasn’t going to calm anything down or quell what he had set in motion one day earlier when he signed on the dotted line.
He raced to the hotel window. He jammed a finger in the shades to open a slit and surveyed the parking lot. He looked to the left and to the right. He only saw campers and other recreational vehicles, the modes of transportation chosen by America’s sightseers and not the covert operators of an underground facility in a desert. How the fuck did I talk myself into going there? He continued staring out the window into the dimly lit parking lot. There wasn’t a van or black sedan in sight. Okay, they see me as a man of my word. Or . . . they know I don’t have a fucking chance of escape.
Dan pondered his options pacing the floor of his room. He flicked a switch on a coffeemaker. It was too bad coffee was his only companion out here in the middle of nowhere, but it was better than nothing. He resisted the urge to phone home several times. Twice, he actually lifted the receiver off its base but placed it back down, wearing a defeated expression that stared back at him from a vanity mirror. He wished his wife were telepathic. He could show her what was going on. She might have an answer. She always seemed to. So what if she had answers to little problems like how to cure the dog from vomiting or the baby from screaming all night? She might be capable of finding a way out of this jam. She just might . . . He pondered, imagining her smiling in a wedding day photo. He loved the way she looked in that moment of time. He loved the way she righted wrongs at any moment’s notice. Was this all about love or about time? Dan convinced himself to apply for the job, so he could repay her for her kindness. Would she really be pleased with his choice? He doubted it. He had never worked up the courage to tell her he was telepathic. Based on her negative reactions to TV programs that claimed telepathy was real and not the stuff of fiction books, Dan was certain the revelation of his gift would not have a positive impact on his family life. He recalled the look on her face when he feigned to possess the ability. He held a hand to his forehead, pretending his gift was imaginary like the fiction books and not the anomaly that caused him discomfort in social circles. She puckered her lips as if she had bitten into a lemon. “It’s all bullshit to make a buck, Dan. That’s all it ever was.”
The memory faded. He placed the palms of his hands on his thighs and inhaled deeply. It calmed him for a second or so, enough time to realize why he was actually out here. He desired approval. If he had to possess a strange gift that might alienate him from his family, he might as well use it to his advantage. He had been certain this firm, or offshoot of the government, would have embraced his telepathy. He had even heard of a government-funded Stargate program where remote viewers were placed in rooms to try and imagine the locations of enemies. So why were they dismissive of his gift? Was it old hat? Outdated and obsolete because maybe now the powers-that-be could spy on people’s minds without the need of biological assets?
He might never know the answer. He was certain his wife wouldn’t approve of him participating in all kinds of other endeavors she would never give credence to. So, how could he undo this mess? The coffeemaker beeped, and he jumped off the bed. This was no way to live. There had to be an out, a loophole. Every contract seemed to have one.
He stared out the window again, and this time, instead of seeing campers, he was staring into the cold eyes of the odd woman from the Mr. Jorgenson’s office.
Her eyes held no depth to them. They weren’t even a human color. She raised a hand and knocked on the window. Dan shook his head, partly from disbelief, and mostly from fear. There was no way he was going to let this “thing” into his hotel room.
Dan mumbled, “Just a minute.” He let the curtains close and hoped the woman couldn’t see through them. It might buy a few seconds of time. He scouted the room for weapons. He didn’t carry a gun. The knives he ate the Cheez Whiz with were plastic. In desperation, he grabbed a can of Coke from the mini-fridge and palmed it. He weighed it in his hand for a few seconds. Would it be heavy enough to take down the artificial bureaucrat? His answer came in the form of carbonation. A steady stream of fizz spouted from the top of the can. The removable tab had been compromised. Had she been in here, tampering, conspiring? Dan felt sweat beads pour from his forehead, and his pajama bottoms were damp as well but not just from soda.
“Fuck it! You got me!” He waved surrendering hands in the air. “You probably had me from the moment I answered the damned ad!”
Somehow, the curtains were no longer drawn. The artificial looking woman cocked her head. Her reflection in the glass made her appear to be two women. Violet eyes bore a hole in him. He felt transfixed to the floor. Dan was certain she was going to use some mind trick to shatter the glass and gain entry. Either that or she would teleport in. He balled his fists and held his arms toward the front of his chest and shook them like an overtired child. “Come on. Get it over with!”
The rap at the door was answered with a groan. “Come on, Mr. Camden. Let us in and we’ll discuss this matter.” It was a man’s voice.
Dan was sure his heart had traveled from his chest to his throat. With deliberation, he unlatched the door lock and unfastened the safety chain.
“Discuss what? How you’re going to kill me?” Dan stood in the doorway, vulnerable in nightwear. In black attire, Mr. Jorgenson loomed before the threshold, his formidable assistant at his side.
A moment of silence ensued, and then Mr. Jorgenson bellowed. His artificial looking companion cocked her head in response, doglike. The being’s eyes were no longer violet, but a pale blue, matching the cornflower shade of the bedspread and carpeting. It was as if she absorbed things. At least that’s the only conclusion Dan’s panicked mind could fathom. Was this how he would die? Absorbed by a fake being?
Mr. Jorgenson removed his hat and waved it across his body. “Please . . .”
“Oh, by all means,” Dan responded. “Please come in and eviscerate me.”
Mr. Jorgenson took a seat on the bed. The being continued to stand. She carried an attaché underneath one of her arms.
“No, Mr. Camden. No one is going to come to any harm. I’ve got to be honest. We were evaluating you . . . in your privacy.” He held out his hands. “Now, I know you’ve every right to consider this an intrusion. But from my standpoint, we may have just saved your life, not to mention your sanity and family life.”
The being nodded and set the attaché on the room’s dining table. “Please comply with our wishes.”
Dan cowered, falling onto the bed. “What are you going to do? What are you fucking going to do that is worse than putting a microchip in my brain?”
The being appeared to smile, her lips curled up at the edges unnaturally.
Mr. Jorgenson pointed a thumb in her direction. “Ain’t she something? Comply . . . comply . . . So official, so bureaucratic . . .”
Dan finished his thought. “. . . so unnerving.”
Mr. Jorgenson patted Dan on the thigh. “You wanted a way out. We’ll give you that . . . for a price.” The being handed Mr. Jorgenson a stapled set of forms.
“Just sign and we’ll be done with it.” Dan peered into Jorgenson’s face, and in response the man appeared to smile.
Okay, now I’ve done it. I should have just joined. Let them chip me.
“I heard that,” the being answered. “It is why you must be terminated.”
Mr. Jorgenson interrupted. “She means severed. Uh . . . no, that’s not the right word either. I . . . we mean . . . excused.”
“But I never was hired.” Dan balled a fistful of comforter in his hand.
“You can’t disclose anything we’ve talked about. And with your ability, that’s going to be a mighty hard promise to keep. So instead of promises, we’re going to make it easy.”
The being removed a syringe and bottle from her front jacket pocket.
Dan’s eyes fluttered.
You’re going to put me down.
He fumbled with the pen Mr. Jorgenson had handed him. “Sign here . . . and here . . .”
Dan complied. Jorgenson continued to speak, perhaps the way a predator might hypnotize its prey with distractions. “Are you familiar with short term memory loss?”
The being was now within arm’s reach. She rolled up the sleeve on his right arm. “Make a fist.”
This doesn’t sound like murder. They don’t tell you to make a fist when they kill you.
The being nodded in his direction and answered his rhetorical question. “No, they don’t. Whoever ‘they’ are . . .”
Dan felt the prick of the needle before the room went dark.
Morning light awakened him. He was fully dressed and in his vehicle. How he got there he did not know. The only thing Dan Camden did know for certain was that he must map a route back to Colorado and his new family.
“I CAN’T believe this.” DJ had taken her mother’s hands into hers. They were warm, loving and best of all, contained a pulse. The sidewalk had fallen wayside to a carpeting of stars.
She felt as if her and her mother were spinning together in some circular fashion, maybe on some kind of carnival ride. It was not scary like the car accident. It felt controllable and joyous.
“So, you finally are going to accept my love again, child?”
DJ frowned. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is that the way I made you feel? I didn’t mean that. I just couldn’t bear to see you after the accident. It brought me so much pain.”
“Brought you so much pain?” Doris Jean scoffed. “What about my pain?”
DJ inventoried her mother’s face. It was as if the accident never occurred. And it wasn’t the Plaster of Paris patchwork job her ghostly mother used previously to hide her scars. She had a natural glow to her. What was odd was the spiraling. She and her mother were contained in some sort of vortex. It spun along their perimeter without harming or even alerting city pedestrians of its presence. They were an arm’s length away and a galaxy away depending on DJ’s viewpoint.
“I could stay with you like this, forever.”
“So could I,” Doris Jean said aloud to her daughter.
“You can hear my thoughts, even here . . .” DJ made parentheses with her arms to encompass their private universe.
“Where do you think we are?”
“I . . . I don’t know. I was dead. You were dead. But this isn’t Heaven. If it isn’t . . .” DJ’s eyes widened. “We’re in the time slip.” She clapped her hands together. “That means Iris saved us . . . well, saved most of us.”
“I need to save you as well, child.”
“What do you mean? We’re here together, in peace, and we appear to be fine. Mom, I don’t need saving. In fact, I’ve never felt more serene and at ease with myself. I don’t care if I ever investigate another haunting or prep for another public speech.”
“That’s how you feel in the moment. You must return.”
DJ shook her head side to side. “No. I don’t need to. I don’t need to go back to a world under attack by freaking aliens.”
Doris Jean scowled. “That’s no way to talk. It’s your other half that begs consideration.”
“My other half . . . you mean, Darian?”
“No. I was referring to your Reptilian half. It helped save your sister’s mission. It’s going to save you. You’re needed.”
DJ hugged her mother and buried her face in chest. “This is the perfect moment. How could I be needed anywhere else?” A tear slid from her eye.
Doris Jean grabbed her daughter about her shoulders and pushed her backwards. DJ struggled. “You’ve got to hear what I say.” Tears slid from both women’s cheeks.
“I love you with all my heart. That’s never going to change. We can always visit. But if you are aware of your sister’s mission, you are also aware time is fleeting. We cannot continue this existence.”
DJ wiped her eyes. “What is this existence?” She slid a hand back into her mother’s.
“It’s beyond my scope of understanding. I bet your scientist friends can explain.”
DJ balled a hand and held it at chest level. “I think I know what’s happening. And it’s lovely. It’s the quintessential moment of existence. We are both alive and dead. We are both injured yet healthy. It is a conundrum. A paradox . . . The point is I don’t care how you label or explain it because this is what life really is.” DJ’s eyelids fluttered with excitement.
“No. I’m sorry, child. I don’t agree.”
“Why can’t you?” DJ pouted. “All my life I felt like I was living in a dream. Your accident and death were a nightmare. A part of me felt as if I could never accept it, more precisely, never believe it. And now I know why. Because it was a dream! Now, we are here in life’s reality. I just know it.”
Doris Jean hugged her child. “I know, child. I know.” She patted her back. “I’m not saying you’re right or wrong.”
DJ smiled. “Maybe here you can be both right and wrong. Simultaneously! Think of how better our relationship could be. No need to argue. Because there is no right or wrong answer! Mom, we’ve got to do whatever it takes to stay here.”
A strange look enveloped Doris Jean’s face. DJ could not decipher it but her mother appeared to have entered into a trance.
And in the next instant, the city street around their bubble morphed into an enormous basin. A strange coin-shaped item reflected off the ripples of water. A shadow of a serpent slithered along the basin’s walls. The stars rolled up as if carpeting just like the sidewalk had done previously.
“What is this?” DJ growled. “Concentrate, Mom. We can use our minds to stop this . . .”
A shock froze DJ in place. It came in the form of lightning. The charge, blue and silver, enveloped both mother and child. It was spinning about the pair in a circular fashion.
Still frozen and unable to speak verbally or telepathically, DJ gazed into her mother’s eyes. Like some kind of master of balefire, Doris Jean pulled a strip of lightning from the arcing circle and grasped it as easily as if it were a branch.
She spun the balefire and drips of energy leaked onto her daughter’s chest, streaking it in silver and molten.
Although she could not converse, DJ still had the power to think. I love you, Mom. I love you more than you could ever know. The last thing she recalled was seeing her reflection in a basin of water.
HOW DO I operate? Iris’s thought sounded no less ridiculous in Time/Space than it would have in Space/Time.
She was puzzled. But it wasn’t simple curiosity that compelled Iris Camden to fathom how her body had morphed into a starship. The tiny dot on the horizon wasn’t so tiny anymore. She could make it out. Its appeara
nce was shrouded in black, much like the craft she had witnessed in mind shares with Galloway. There was no doubt about it. It was the enemy ship as suggested by that unknown voice in her head. It was coming to destroy her. Perplexed, Iris called out.
“Who are you? Why can’t you help me?”
The voice answered. “This is the situation you longed for.”
“What fucking situation? Are you space whacked? I never imagined myself to be a ship in outer space. I never even imagined such things ever existed!”
“You perceive only the mechanics of the situation, not the situation itself. There is a reason for this, and if you are ever to be at peace with yourself, you must face this challenge alone.”
For a long moment, Iris floated, puzzled by the voice’s quantum logic. Then, from a sensor, or what might have been the corner of a human’s eye, Iris detected yet another vessel. It communicated instantly. Iris could not discern if the communiqué was telepathic or delivered via some sort of outer space signaling system. The only thing she cared about at the moment was that she could read it. If she still had a heart, it would have plummeted to her stomach. Because she didn’t, she dipped and tumbled into an end-over-end dive. The communiqué from the ship, which was now positioned at her aft, was Mitchell. Mitchell was both the message and a ship in this paradox.
Iris understood the “situation” she was in now. She must protect a colleague and lover from harm. But how could she? Her ignorance of her propulsion system was obvious in reference to her free fall tumble. How much longer did she have? She wanted to ask the ship’s computer but realized she was the ship. So, what now? What now? Mentally, Iris pushed buttons. She scanned her mind for a control panel or something that could ignite propulsion engines, or at the very least, locate fuel in some storage deck or nacelle.
That was about the extent of her knowledge. She occasionally caught an episode of Star Trek or the remade Battlestar Galactica. It was all presented as fiction. How in the fuck was she supposed to learn the navigational ins and outs of her ship—or more aptly, herself—in the span of time it would take the enemy to bear down upon her and Mitchell?