2219 A.D.
Three weeks after the war
Hope Stark scanned her inbox, ran her fingers through her hair, and glanced at the man next to her. Her half-brother. She’d not known it until recently, because the few people aware of the truth considered it a dark secret to be hidden away. “I know we made the right choice, Adam. I know eliminating Energy was the right thing to do. But with the emails we’ve been getting from people, I must wonder. We did make the right choice, didn’t we?”
Adam chewed on his lower lip, scanning his own batch. All similar, all initial concern about Energy malfunctioning, about a loss of feeling that familiar warmth coursing through their bodies, followed by shock and anger and even threats of violence when the truth came out. They’d told enough people what had happened on the island that once housed Aliomenti Headquarters by now that word had spread in viral fashion to thousands of others. They didn’t get the puzzled early emails now, just the anger and threats. “Truth and good judgement aren’t determined by majority vote,” he murmured. “The thinking was sound, the intention correct, and without an ability to see the future and determine the outcome of each option a thousand years out… we can’t know that another Arthur Lowell won’t rise from the ashes. If such a threat arises, we just know it won’t come in the form of a powerful Energy user now.”
She nodded. He didn’t need to run through the rationality of the decision for her; she’d come to her conclusion after decades of study and deep contemplation, running through scenarios he didn’t care to contemplate. “I guess it just means that it will take some time for everyone to adapt.”
Adam laughed. “I tried to teleport through a wall today as I walked and bruised my face. It happens. We’ll adapt, but yes, it will take time.”
“You bruised your face? I thought you looked better today.” She winked at him, throwing sisterly banter at him as if trying to make up for lost time. “Still… being responsible for such discomfort, I have to wonder if there’s something I can do to reduce the anxiety.”
Adam tapped his fingers together. “Most will tell you the best way to reduce the anxiety is undoing the effects of the weapon. Failing that, though…” He shrugged. “Why not go out and meet them? Those of us who were there. We’ll be blamed and threatened, at least until everyone adapts, so why not go out and meet with people? Let them ask questions, vent their anger at us?”
Hope nodded, thoughtful. After living for so long, she wasted little time assessing risks and making decisions. “I think it’s an excellent idea.”
Adam thought for a moment before pushing back from his desk and standing. “I’ll go and test the idea. There are a batch of people who’ve been emailing me from the old state of Florida. I’ll go there and talk to them directly.”
“Be safe. Brother.” Hope smiled. “I like the sound of that. So strange that I’ve had a brother for so long and never knew.” Her gaze hardened, though her eyes retained their humor. “Just come back here safely. Gena won’t be happy with me if you get hurt.”
“My fault if that happens. Not yours.” He gave Hope’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, and then he was out the door.
They’d returned to the site of the Alliance camp soon after the war. They did so in part because returning to the Cavern was impractical without teleportation, and in part because of the overwhelming anger at the Energy killing weapon deployed after the war against the Aliomenti elites had already been won. A bit of time apart from the rest of the Alliance and Aliomenti worlds seemed prudent.
He hopped into his flying sphere and checked the charge levels. They’d never paid much attention to them, as the nanos had eternally recharging batteries in their microscopic casing, and the navigation and coordinate system computers were recharged with Energy using inductive methods as needed. He’d not yet grown used to the power cables emanating from the large electrical generator. Thankfully, a check inside the ship revealed that his battery levels were fine. He hopped back out and confirmed all wires had been unplugged from the charging station, marveling at how things had changed in even so minor a matter.
He could certainly understand the angst of those who’d written in to the most experienced members of the Alliance, baffled at the sudden loss of power. And he had every intention of checking in with as many as he could, face to face, to do what he could to ease their adaptation to this new way of living, just as he himself was doing.
But he had another stop to make first, one that left him feeling a level of dread far greater than any felt recently.
He had to check in on Genevieve. And he had no idea what he’d find. He hadn’t heard from her since before the start of the war.
#####
He’d not been here since the week after he’d taken her back to Eden to see Hope. Given the obvious planning and what he assumed to be weaponry arrayed out across the island plains, he couldn’t help but think that, like him, Will and Hope were gearing up for an imminent war against the Aliomenti Elites, one in which casualties were likely. He’d done what he could to prepare Genevieve to live in this strange new world if he never made it back, but setting her up with an initial batch of nanos and the necessary comms seemed like the closest thing to insurance he could provide. She’d never lack for money since his card would draw from accounts that perpetually refilled from the vast fortune he’d built over the centuries. With the nanos, he’d given her the closest thing he could imagine to physical security.
The ship slid through the garage ceiling as it had before, and Adam exited the ship through a door rather than teleporting out. When he entered the main section of the house, though, he knew something was wrong. He could sense its emptiness. Not in the usual way; he couldn’t sense Energy that wasn’t there after the weapon deployment. But there were no smells, no sounds, none of the subtle motions one would expect from an occupied home. Perhaps, he reasoned, she’d gone shopping, off to gather supplies for her latest interest—she’d started woodcarving and had set up a more modern exercise room in the house—and he need only wait for her return.
He walked into the kitchen.
The handwritten note was there on the table, along with the phone and credit card he’d given her.
He skimmed the note, though he’d anticipated what had happened without reading the words.
She’d been planning to move out for some time, to set out on her own, to be her own person, something she would have done regardless of when the war started and ended, regardless of the outcome. She knew she’d need money, and so she’d made purchases as he’d taught her, but began taking the “cash back” option at the local stores, accumulating a modest sum of paper and coin. She’d researched how to get an identification card in a new name and had set up bank accounts of her own, which she’d start using once she moved out. She wanted to talk to him about it, of course, talk to him about the jobs she’d been researching.
But when the Energy had gone… she knew. Knew Hope was gone, knew Will was gone, knew Adam was gone as well. Didn’t know why she’d bothered writing a note, but it seemed appropriate to let someone know that she’d moved on from here, to start a new life in a new world, a final act of closure upon her old life, and end to a life of waiting for the reunion she knew would never come.
She finished with a profound thanks to him, even though she knew he was dead, deep thanks for the effort made to save her life, to give her a chance to reunite with her daughter, to see her one last time before the girl she’d lost had died in a future she’d only just begun to understand.
And that was it.
He stood there, jaw slack, unmoving, wondering how he’d missed it. He’d not been present for all her purchases, and the sums of money in his accounts would allow for large purchases—or cash withdrawals—without him noticing. He wandered over to the computer, pulled up the browser, searched her history. It was there, right in front of him, her research into how she could become an official citizen, how she could get identification when she had no birth records—not that any
one would believe her date of birth—and how she could set up the accounts she’d need to function. She’d researched a number of areas in the world, but all indications pointed to her traveling home, to England, to the land she knew best.
He wondered how she was doing now, wondered if he’d ever see her again.
#####
The meeting with the former Energy users had been tense, to be sure, but there were advantages to dealing with people who’d lived for centuries and had developed a remarkable degree of patience and adaptability in that time. While most understood the reasoning, they’d also offered forth arguments as to why those making such a world-altering decision ought to have chosen otherwise… or, at a minimum, offered some warning as to what was to come. There were bizarre complaints of things that only a powerful Energy user could think a hardship, like walking from one side of a large home to another with teleportation no longer an option. There were humorous comments; plenty of people reported walking into doors and walls, or hearing the physical voices of friends for the first time in decades or centuries. There were genuine tragedies as well. He heard the personal story of a woman whose daughter had been practicing levitation some thirty feet in the air in a secluded area when the Energy vanished; the child would require months of therapy to repair spinal damage, broken bones, and concussion symptoms suffered during the subsequent fall. And then there were those caught in mid-teleport as the Energy died. They were the people who’d vanished… and never reappeared.
To those, he could offer only apologies that meant nothing, and accept their verbal tirades with the calm of a man who knew he deserved it as a representative of the people who’d unleashed such drastic change upon the lives of so many.
There were other consequences, those he couldn’t define as minor or major. Those Outside would routinely age themselves to avoid attracting attention in their communities as the years passed; many were now stuck with their older faces on a permanent basis. Was it an issue of vanity, or a genuine complaint? Adam didn’t know.
He shared those stories with Gena and the others upon his return, watched the pain as the words registered with them. They’d known the changes would cause problems, but believed that, in the long run, doing so would prevent the rise of the next Arthur Lowell. They created a private site for affected ex-Energy users, logged the complaints, offered solutions, and structured the communication so all could share in possible solutions, or just offer each other comfort.
#####
The stories of hardship came in for a time, with the larger global community offering its collective wisdom for resolving those hardships. Over time, growing numbers offered grudging acceptance of the decision. Many realized that, even without Energy, they possessed immortality, perfect health, vast wealth, and skills perfected over long lifetimes.
Life was different. But it was good.
With the Cavern effectively shuttered, the old members of the Alliance transitioned to permanent Outsiders. Adam and the others moved to the homes they’d set up throughout the world. The Starks moved back to Pleasanton, purchased the land where their former home stood, and had it rebuilt on the same site. Gena finished work interrupted by the war, and Adam had moved back to the home he’d set up for Genevieve, hoping that at some point she’d come back, if only to see if she’d been wrong and he’d come back to look for her.
But she never did.
Gena finished her efforts a year later, and they relocated to the western coast of the continent, a move he welcomed. He didn’t need to deal with locals asking him what happened to the other woman while Gena was around.
He sent messages to Genevieve’s first email address every few weeks, hoping she’d reply, but she never did. He didn’t know if she’d lost the password, didn’t check the account, or was ignoring him as a means of retaining her new independence.
But she couldn’t hide forever. Not in a world of global interconnected webs of information.
And especially not from him.
The search clues on his old computer and a bit of sleuthing revealed that she’d moved back near the old North Village. She’d created for herself a new name—Elizabeth Pilgrim—and her background suggested she had studied medieval English history and languages.
She’d gotten a job in a museum, where her “older English” accent and ability to translate the words found on old artifacts made her a perfect tour guide and research assistant. It was for the latter that she’d earned some acclaim. Her tours of local excavations and new museum exhibits drew huge crowds; she kept visitors enthralled with her stories, told with such intensity and detail that visitors believed she’d lived in those times.
One of those visitors had been a professor from a nearby university, with books published in that field of study. They’d argued for hours over minute points, and she’d found flaws in his arguments about the nature of societies in those days. They’d eventually dated, though her social media accounts now suggested that the relationship ended.
He doubted she’d be single for long.
And then, in the first days of January 2224, he noted a curious entry on the social media accounts he’d followed.
Going away for a bit to see an old friend at a family gathering.
He sat up quickly.
His own social media accounts had made the “surprise” birthday party for Gena and Will a rather open secret. The only “old friend” he could think she might mean would be him; he was certainly old chronologically, but also the first friend she’d had in this time. And the family gathering… she couldn’t mean anything else, could she?
He frowned at the choice of the word “see,” though. He would think she’d want to “visit” an old friend, not “see” him. And wouldn’t she want to see and visit with Hope, rather than with him? Would Genevieve try to remain in hiding, even now? Would she try to spy on them, using the nanos she retained to hide as they’d done so often in the distant past?
He gritted his teeth at the idea.
If she showed up, he’d figure out how to bring her out of the shadows, finally reuniting her with her daughter.
And if that happened, it would be the best birthday present he could ever give Will.
Even better than the steak dinner he’d promised his friend so many years earlier.
~~~61~~~
2224 A.D.
The present day
“And you know the rest of the story.”
Adam glanced at the faces of those staring at him in rapt attention. He’d almost forgotten they were there, reliving every narrow escape and intensely emotional aspect of the journey as he described it aloud. He somehow dragged his mind forward to the present once more, a present where he wasn’t nudging his father toward slavery or letting a small child suffer horrifically so he could sneak in to save her unnoticed. Now he was just Adam, a man who just wanted to make sure his wife was happy and his newborn son grew up in a world that would never again allow the rise of someone like Arthur Lowell.
He waited for some type of reaction, voices from the present to complete his journey back from the past.
Silence followed. And continued.
As one who’d lived for five centuries, Adam had developed a deep patience, and rarely noticed lapses of time that might make mortal humans experience a sense of discomfort. Yet as the quiet lingered, he felt that unease mounting, wondering if they’d found in his story reason to hate him, to expunge him from the eclectic group he called family.
He couldn’t tell for sure now, not without Energy. Not until someone spoke.
He looked around at them, eyes pleading for a reaction.
“If you’re wondering,” Gena said, finally breaking the silence as she looked around at the others in the room, “I knew about the trip.” She glanced at her husband. “I didn’t know about the extra passenger until… well, until everyone else found out.”
Genevieve looked up. She held Cato, Adam and Gena’s newborn son, cradling him in her arms. Though technically unrelated, she’d
already started calling herself “Auntie Gen” when making noises designed to entertain the senses of one so young. She glanced at the silent faces, then at Adam. “Am I causing a problem?” Her accent still carried a notable English tint, and most in the twenty-third century would find her pronunciations a bit unusual. Nobody in the room struggled to understand her words, though.
Will finally stirred, shaking his head. “I think we’re all just… stunned that something so complex escaped our notice. Especially considering when it happened.” He frowned. “I guess the first question I’d offer is… why the secrecy?”
Adam offered a wry smile. “People making trips a thousand years back in time, trying to avoid detection, trying not to change anything… who’d understand that, Will?” After the mild chuckles, Adam frowned. “The simple answer is that if I’d failed to make the trip then, I would have told all of you after the war and asked for help.”
Hope’s mouth formed an O. “We would have asked why you had to go back and nudge events forward for both of them. For Adam—your father—and for Eva.”
Adam nodded. “It might have made sense for Dad. After all, it’s pretty obvious who my father is.” He caught Gen’s facial expression out of the corner of his eye. She’d been watching him closely, to the point of occasional discomfort, and it was clear his startling physical resemblance to his father would take some time for her to accept. “But you’d wonder why I felt the need to ensure Eva’s survival, especially since we all thought Will took care of that. I wasn’t ready to answer that question. Not then.”
“I would have encouraged it, though,” Hope replied. “Eva was someone incredibly important to me, and I couldn’t fathom the idea that there was even the slightest risk that Will’s work alone might have left her dead in that field so long ago. In fact…” She paused, thinking, and then nodded again. “I would have asked to go with you, to help out. That’s the other reason, isn’t it? Several of us would have wanted to go with you, and…”
Adam's Journey (The Aliomenti Saga - Book 8) Page 30