Maggie considered her experiences over the last few hours. When the Arachniman entered her home, even before it became obvious that his intentions were malevolent, she’d been afraid of him. He inspired panic, stark fear. But here that was not the case. She wanted an explanation and was a bit nervous to hear what it was, but despite the two strange men, the alien surroundings, and the crazy-sounding history, Maggie was not afraid. She actually felt very calm.
She shook her head. “I suppose I don’t. Please go on.”
“One woman in the BCO found that she was able to interact with the fabric of the space-time continuum in such a way as to wrap it around herself.”
“Physically?”
“That I can’t answer with certainty. There are things we don’t understand about certain abilities. For example, you would probably say that telepathy is not physical. It has to do with thought waves traveling between two people but does not affect the physical body. Yes?”
Maggie nodded. “I guess.”
“Yet the ability for telepathy shows up in the brain chemistry. It takes a certain type of physical brain to have the ability. So where is the line between physical and nonphysical? We don’t know. This woman could envelope herself in space and time, but whether that was happening physically or in some other way, I couldn’t say. It was she who explained it this way—that she could wrap herself in the linear timeline, curling it around herself like a blanket.
“To what purpose?”
“Why to see beyond the present, of course.”
Maggie felt her eyebrows rise. “She could see the future?”
“Yes, but only bits and pieces of it. We can’t see every part of a blanket when it’s wrapped around us, can we? She became a prophetess, writing down what she could see. There was just one problem: immersing herself in this phenomenon took a lot of energy. It was exhausting and prematurely aged her brain. She lived only a few years after discovering the ability.
“She left us glimpses. If it was a pleasant future, we would have something to hope for. If not, then perhaps we could change it.”
“And?” Maggie leaned forward in her chair. “Which was it?”
“It was both. And neither. Most of her early prophecies were just what I said—glimpses. They were statements of fact. Just before she died, she gave a final prophecy. And you might say that we live our lives by it.”
“How so?”
“The prophecy states, and I quote, that a ‘too common slavery’ will come upon humankind.”
“Too common, meaning the collectives?”
He nodded. “Yes, we believe that to be the interpretation. It says that an end must be put to this slavery, or humanity—as a trait, you understand—may be lost forever.”
Maggie swallowed. This was heavy. “And who is to stop it?”
“Not one person alone but a group of people working together. It’s interesting to me that it’s a group working together that must stop it. A group that works together like a well-oiled machine shares many traits in common with a collective. The question is, where should individuality and collectivism meet?”
“So where’s the dividing line?”
“There isn’t one. We must simply be on our guard about becoming too like the collectives while still finding ways to work together for the greater good.”
Maggie frowned. “Sounds difficult.”
Doc smiled. “It can be, but not as much as you might imagine on a day-to-day basis.”
“So…what? You two are part of this group that’s trying to break up the collectives?”
“Yes, we think so.”
“You think so?”
Doc leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees again. “You may wonder why I don’t let you read the prophecy. I’d be happy to show it to you, but I don’t think you’d be able to read it. It’s not written in any conventional, communicative language.”
“What’s it written in?”
“Chemical equations. The only people who could hope to read and truly understand it are organic chemists. The prophecy mentions a group that must work together to end the collective slavery, but it only mentions specific traits about the members of this group. Each member has a specific function, and the prophecy gives the chemical formula for a specific brain chemistry that must perform that function.”
“So, if your brain chemistry matches the one named in the prophecy, then you must be a member of the group?”
“Yes, but please understand me. When I say the prophecy gives the formula for a certain brain chemistry, I don’t mean that it gives the complete formula for an individual’s brain map. A person’s brain changes so drastically from day to day, based on sense experiences and mundane decisions, that it would be impossible to pinpoint it in so specific a way. No, the prophecy simply mentions certain traits that must be present for an individual to qualify for that role on the team.”
“And let me guess,” Maggie said with a sigh, “many people could possibly fill that role?”
“Theoretically.”
“You don’t think so?”
“I think we shouldn’t second guess ourselves too much. If a person meets the criteria and happens to show up in the right place and time to know about it, they are the right person for the job, no matter that others possibly could do it.”
“So you believe in fate?”
Doc smiled. “I consider myself more religious than superstitious, Maggie, but I do believe everything happens for a reason, yes.”
Maggie held up her hands. “Could you give me an example of what you mean by these roles?”
Doc sat back in his chair. “Of course. There is one brain chemistry mentioned in the prophecy, whose role is Healer.”
Maggie nodded. “And that would be you?”
Doc smiled cryptically. “No. I am not the healer mentioned in the prophecy. The brain chemistry required is one that has neurochemical aptitude for healing. This is just my chosen profession.”
Maggie’s eyes slid toward Marcus, who was looking at the ground.
“Yes, Maggie.” Doc nodded. “You’ve guessed correctly. Marcus is the Healer. The roles in the prophecy have to do with our neurochemical abilities not our academic prowess, personalities, or outward appearances. And even then we don’t know their full scope.”
“What do you mean?”
“The roles are very ambiguous. I, for example, am named as Witness. I’m not sure what that means, and the prophecy gives no clues. I believe that I am the one who will not only live through the fulfillment of the prophecy, but also document it for future generations. I keep meticulous records of all we do and am acquainted with every aspect of our mission. That is what I believe my role to be, but I could be wrong. Or perhaps I am right, but there is more to it than I presently understand. There’s simply no way to tell. But that’s a discussion for another time.
“Now to the point. We reached a time a few years ago when three roles cited in the prophecy were still unfilled. We searched everywhere but couldn’t find anyone, anywhere on earth, that met the brain chemistry requirements the prophecy mentioned. Of course, we can’t count on those minds in the collectives, and that includes most of the earth’s population. We were at a loss.
“Then we found Karl. His brain chemistry matched one of the vacant spots listed in the prophecy. Karl is a Traveler, which means he has time-travel capabilities. He’s the first we’ve seen with that ability in years.”
The pieces clicked into place so quickly that it took Maggie’s breath away. Doc seemed to sense her comprehension and waited for her to speak.
“You started looking for people in other time periods to fill the vacant roles.”
“Precisely. I’ll let Marcus fill you in on the details of what happened last time you were here. The short of it is that a year ago we found you, snatched you up, and asked you to help us. You agreed and were with us for almost a year. We know you because we all formed close friendships during that time. Things happened that made it necessar
y for us to return you to your own time but without your memories.”
“So why have you snatched me up again?”
“Because once again we need your help. We only sent you back because we hoped that we had brought down the collectives. It was a small hope and one that took a long time to be certain of, but it’s obvious now that we’ve failed, and we don’t even know why. So we’ve brought you back.”
Maggie frowned. “So…you came to get me because the collectives are coalescing again?”
“That’s why we needed to bring you back in general. We have networks of individuals who are committed to helping us fight the collectives. We sent Marcus to get you today because one of those networks intercepted a message that said the collectives were going to assassinate you. We thought we had plenty of time to collect you. The message said they wouldn’t be sending the Arachniman for weeks. That he made it there before Marcus is…disturbing. They changed their timeline for some reason.” He trailed off, lost in thought.
“My memories…can they be restored?” Maggie asked.
“I’m afraid not.” Doc shook himself. “They aren’t blocked but completely erased. You will have to learn and meet everything and everyone anew. I know it will be difficult, but if we are to give humanity a future, all members of the team must be present. So here we all are.”
Doc leaned forward, taking both of Maggie’s hands. “Maggie, if there’s one thing we believe in, it’s freedom, specifically free will. If we undermine our own free will or that of each other, we’ll be no better than the collectives we fight against. I want you to know you have a choice in this. We’ve forced it on you thus far, and we need your help, so we’ll try and convince you to help us. But if, in the end, you don’t want to, we’ll take you back to your own time and leave you alone. The choice is entirely yours, and we will respect it.”
Maggie opened her mouth, but he put up his hand.
“Please don’t answer now. You still don’t have all the information you need. That may take a few days. You need to meet the team so you know who you’ll be working with. Give it some time. There’s no rush. Let me know when you’ve made your decision.”
Maggie nodded, relieved he wasn’t pressuring her.
“Well.” Doc looked around and stood up. “I know I’ve laid a lot of information on you, and I suspect you’re exhausted. I recommend that you get some sleep and food before Marcus relates the particulars of your time spent with us before. I’ll let him take you to your lodgings. I have some things to see to before I turn in myself.”
He started for the door then hesitated. “Maggie, I know you don’t know me, but may I just say that I’m glad you’re here. You and I were close friends, and…you’ve been missed.” His smile was affectionate and, had Maggie not felt vaguely sick to her stomach, she would have been touched. He turned to leave the room.
“Doc?”
Doc stopped beside Marcus and turned to look at her.
“What’s my role?”
Doc looked at the floor between them. Then he and Marcus exchanged worried glances.
“You said the prophecy named a role for each person. What role does the prophecy assign me?”
Doc swallowed before looking up at her. “Executioner.”
Chapter 7: History
After Doc left the room, Maggie and Marcus sat in silence for several minutes. Maggie hardly noticed Marcus’s presence at all. She was absorbed in her own thoughts.
The information Doc imparted was giving her a headache. Executioner? What did that mean? What would her role be? To execute the…bad guys—whoever they were? What if she had to kill someone other than the bad guys? She would have to discover the true meaning of the role as she went along. Her imagination reeled with macabre possibilities.
Maggie jumped when something touched her hand. It was Marcus. He pulled her out of her thoughts then gently to her feet. He led her out of the room and into the dimly lit corridor. They passed several doors as the corridor twisted in its course but never intersected with any other hallways. This time Maggie did not try to peer into the rooms; she was too exhausted.
They stopped outside a doorway that looked the same as all the others. Unlike Doc’s office, which gave the appearance of darkness from the corridor but was light inside, this room was dark when they stepped through the doorway. Marcus did something—she couldn’t see what—and brought lights on. These lights, unlike in Doc’s office, were dim and orange. There was a small cot, a bureau of drawers, a washstand, and two conventional doors that led off to one side.
Marcus guided her over to the bed. “Stay here. Try to relax. I’ll bring you something to eat.”
Then Maggie was alone. She flopped backward onto the bed. It wasn’t that she kept expecting to wake up exactly, but more that she thought she ought to expect to wake up. Everything seemed real. When you’re asleep, sometimes you don’t know if you’re asleep or awake, but when you’re awake, you knew for sure, didn’t you? Maggie was sure this was real. But how could she take everything she saw and heard at face value? It would sound insane to anyone else.
When Marcus didn’t return after a few minutes, Maggie got up to explore. One door led to the facilities, including a standup shower with a nozzle but no knobs. The other door led to a small closet. It was full of clothes, and she wondered whose they were. They had probably belonged to the previous occupant, but she wondered who it was.
Picking a green, long-sleeved shirt from the rack, she held it up to herself. She had no mirror, but it was obvious that it was a perfect fit for her. Doc said she’d been here before, so…did that mean…?
“I hope you don’t mind. I brought enough for two.”
Maggie jumped when Marcus spoke.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”
She hastily replaced the shirt. He glanced at it but said nothing, so she shut the closet door.
“Do you want company?”
She shrugged, hoping she looked nonchalant. “Sure.”
She wouldn’t admit it, but she didn’t want to be alone. She didn’t know Marcus well, but if he intended her harm, he’d had plenty of chances for it. She felt safe with him.
He’d brought a covered tray. He sat at the foot of the bed, facing the head, and crossed his legs. She sat down facing him and did the same. When he uncovered the tray, it smelled delicious. Her stomach growled loud enough to make her cheeks warm. Marcus didn’t seem to notice, but she knew it was all pretense, because the corners of his mouth lifted slightly.
The meat tasted like beef, though the texture was a bit strange. The potatoes had obviously come from flakes in a carton, but they were good. Marcus gave her a cup of sweet liquid. It tasted like water flavored with fruit and honey.
“What is this I’m drinking?”
“It’s water, but for meals we infuse it with a mixture of vitamins and greens. There is virtually no produce here, so in order to get what you would normally get from fruits, greens, nuts, and things, we have to use this.”
Maggie nodded. There were similar things in her time at health food stores, but they didn’t taste this good.
The silence as they ate wasn’t awkward, but Maggie felt compelled to fill it. When Marcus wasn’t looking at his food, he was staring at her, which was unnerving.
“So are you going to tell me about last time or what?”
Marcus shook his head. “Not tonight. It’s getting late, and you’re exhausted.” He smiled. “I think we’ve bombarded you with enough information.”
Maggie sighed. She wanted to know everything, but Marcus had a point. Besides, the insides of her eyes were burning for sleep.
“Can I ask you a question, Marcus?”
He regarded her warily. “You aren’t going to con me into telling you anything tonight, Maggie.”
“Not about that. About you.”
He stared at her steadily for a moment before shrugging. “What do you want to know?”
“How’d you get into this? What’s your
stake in it?”
Marcus chewed his food silently for a moment, his eyes searching a blank spot on the wall. “It was inevitable for me, only a matter of time before I found the team and became a part of it.”
“Why?”
He set his plate down. “My father was an individualist. By the time I was born, the collectives were in full swing. When my younger brother was born, the violence against individuals was just beginning.”
“You have a brother.”
“Had a brother.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. All of us have lost loved ones to this cause.” His eyes were far away, but he shook his head and continued. “From the time my brother, David, was born, we were in danger. The collectives were trying to forcibly assimilate all of us.”
“That must have been terrifying for a child.”
Marcus gave her a crooked half smile. “Not for us. My father was a remarkable man. He never lied to us, but he concealed harsh realities, especially when we were young. We traveled around, always looking for a better place to camp or to hunt. We never stayed in the same place for long.”
Marcus smiled his mischievous smile again, and Maggie could tell he was lost in memory. “I have these memories of my father coming to David and me, urgently telling us it was time to go. He would say he was craving adventure and that we should be off to seek it. He used quests and games and ruses to disguise what those journeys really were—us running for our lives.
“Looking back, he must have gotten wind of an Arachniman on our trail. He knew he had to get us out of there fast or…” Marcus blinked back to reality and looked at Maggie then smiled sheepishly. “Anyway…”
“What do you mean when you say assimilate? How do they do it?”
“We don’t understand the science behind it, but it nearly happened to you a few hours ago.”
Maggie frowned. “When?”
“When the Arachniman grabbed your ankle, you grabbed your head and screamed.”
Persistence of Vision Page 6