by Thomas Zman
I aimed my truck towards them, roving slowly over the lumpy, beat down grasses and pull up to the hence aforementioned trucks. I parked as they, facing out, and realized no one else was there. I had been the last to arrive? I sat there several minutes, alone, thinking of where I was: the middle of nowhere on a cold spring night. I noticed the awaiting smart-car, just off to the side, ahead of me and running. I remembered this to be my ride home.
So, I left the truck with its headlights on, like the other trucks, and hopped into the little car. It was comfortably warm inside. As I drove the tiny vehicle back down the dirt pathway I noticed above me, from the clear star lit sky, one of the stars had begun to move, brighten, and come towards me at a tremendous rate of speed. Again, I felt my heart race as I witnessed this light increase into a large oval shape, a saucer craft, that whooshed over my head and ultimately stopped to hover, engulfing with illumination the circle of trucks I had just left behind. Watching in my rearview mirror, terrified, I drove as fast as the little car allowed, fighting to keep it from veering out of control. Frantically I exited under the archway, skidded onto the gravel drive and sped off, the alien phenomenon disappearing in the distance, down behind the tall shrubbery.
Chapter Three
The Raid
I was just exiting the highway ramp that led me to work. I had told the store I would be in at eleven, two hours later than my usual start-time; I did not want to clock-in any later, store management having already ‘warned’ me twice about tardiness. I was swerving through the evening’s traffic, trying to make a little time, when my phone buzzed.
“Jimmy!” Mother was frantic on the phone. “Where are you? I called the store and they said you weren’t in yet. What’s going on? You said --,” her voice was garbled, emotional. “You need to come home - now! There’s FBI agents here and they’re searching through everything. They told me to get you home right away. They’re asking all kinds of questions. Here, talk to your father.”
I spoke with my dad, who seemed much calmer. He told me that his lawyer was coming over -- but that I needed to be there. He said the Feds were combing the house, and they were especially interested in my room. That was all I needed to hear. I continued around the exit ramp a second time and headed straight for home.
When I arrived, there were several unmarked sedans pulled up out front, roadside; two black SUV’s were parked in our cobblestoned circular driveway. Agents, all wearing long trench coats, were standing outside, some smoking cigarettes. They watched me intently as I parked the little car on the lawn and ran
into the house. Mom was somewhat tipsy, and frantic, in the living room; she looked to hug me but I was distracted as I saw the last of my computer equipment coming down the stairway, wires dangling. The agents had been to other parts of the house and were removing electronics there, too. My sister was ranting, as she stood cross-armed and infuriated, the ‘search and seizes’ warrant in her hand. An agent warned her as to ‘obstruction of justice’. Next to Grandpa’s chair Evvie stood quietly, she no doubt worrying about the marijuana she had stashed in her room. There were two Feds in the kitchen with my father; I was ushered in by a third, and I asked my dad what this was all about.
“Seems they’ve mistakenly traced some dark web activity to this house.” I felt my face flush. “All our electronics have been confiscated and are going to be examined.”
“I’ll need your cell phone,” an agent with narrow features requested of me, he smelled of stale cigarettes. My father nodded, and I handed it over.
“We’ve found something upstairs.” A thick-necked agent had poked his head into the kitchen. “Bring them both.”
We ascended the stairs; my heart was racing. Upon entering my room there were several more agents, inside. My Captains’ Bed had been raised and the secret stairway exposed.
“We had a heck of a time prying this thing open,” reported one of the agents. “Seems it operates off a bunch a bunch of servos, activated from a series of computer commands. Nice handiwork. We were waiting on your word before we went down to see where this thing leads.”
“That won’t be necessary, gentlemen,” explained a tall, thin man in a glistening suit. He had just appeared in the hallway and
walked into my room. I hadn’t seen him before that. “My name is Stardom, and I now deem these investigative activities be discontinued. Immediately! Do I make myself clear?”
A change of atmosphere enveloped the room. The intensity of the FBI agents’ receded into a docility that escaped explanation. “This entire event will be stricken from the record; the Examination Dossier expunged, and everything returned to proper and forgotten.” Stardom swooped his hands in an almost forgiving gesture and the house full of agents diligently returned all our things to as they had been.
“These improprieties occur more often than I’d like to admit,” Stardom explained; his tanned face wizened, his fine white hair smoothly combed. “Please excuse me, I feel my work here is complete,” he said upon exiting the room. “You should have no further incidents at these coordinates. Peace be with you.” His blue eyes sparkled as he gave a slight bow and turned to walk down the stairs. I stepped to look out my doorway. By the time I did so Stardom was gone.
I looked to my father who watched intently as the agents returned the computers and servers to my room. My bed couldn’t be lowered, for the automatic hinge system had been forced; it stood awkwardly agape. My dad ignored this, as if he’d caught me in some unseemly act.
“Excuse me,” I said to them. “Please, just leave our items. I can take it from here.” The agents left the rest of my boxed electronics in a neat pile on the floor, and then retreated, sullen.
“That includes the rest of the house, if you would be so kind,” my father added, giving me a wink.
The narrow-featured agent handed back my phone, and my father’s. “Do accept our apologies, Mr. Vincent,” he said. “Sometimes we get the wrong Intel.”
“Understood.” My dad smiled; that bright wash of teeth conveying covertness.
“Jimmy,” don’t you need to get back to work?” said my mom, unsteadily from the hallway, not wanting to look inside my room. She was always respectful of my privacy.
“That’s Okay, mom. I told them I’d need the rest of the night off,” I lied. “Besides, looks like I’ve got a lot of cleaning up to do around here.” I needed to talk to Grandpa. Things had gotten strange around here. Real strange, real fast.
* * *
I spent the night reconnecting my computer and fixing my bed. When I had finished in my room I made my way down to the study where the Feds had removed the ‘family computer’ and server; but dad had already placed everything back in working order. (Good -- one less thing for me to do) I was walking past Grandpa’s room where I could hear him sleeping; the ‘night life-monitor’ glowing in the dark with an eeriness that we had all long since grown accustomed to. He slept comfortably in his bed, just an under-the-nose oxygen tube perched above his lip, which I would sometimes adjust if it seemed to have slipped to an incorrect angle.
Evvie’s room was adjacent to my grandpa’s; her door opened -- she seemingly slept with one eye open, sitting in a chair near the doorway, listening for any alarms or distress. Though we provided her a bed, she preferred the chair; she was very proficient with our grandpa: an attribute that allowed her and my mother to bond, almost as if she were family. Somehow, I felt she knew I was looking in.
I made my way into the dimly lit kitchen for a drink, and after having secured myself a long draught of cool tap water, I stood looking out the back door as I had so many times in the past. Only this time I noticed some peculiar activities. There, around my backyard, were these glowing orbs, golden, way off in the middle of the great lawn, some hovering, and some darting erratically. One of them even zoomed up to the back door and levitated right before me. No larger than a soccer ball, it tilted oddly, as if teasing me, then speed away and disappeared up into the clear night sky. I smiled; unfazed, s
omehow knowing this was part of the alternate reality into which I was now being indoctrinated.
* * * *
I slept late the following morning. Mom, Evvie, and my father were in the kitchen when I had managed my way downstairs for some breakfast.
“We missed you at church this morning,” commented Mother. “You didn’t answer when I knocked on your door,” she continued; Evvie helping her arrange fresh bagels on a large serving tray. Coffee was already brewing. “It is the Lenten Season, and you had promised me you’d make it to church, regularly. God knows the implications.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just that I was up late last night fixing everything,” I defended. “What about Angela? Why – “
“Someone had to stay here with Grandpa,” said my sister, who was just now following Grandpa into the kitchen, parking his wheelchair at its large center island.
“Fixing what?” Mom had that confused look on her face (that she brought out all too often). I couldn’t understand her denial. Didn’t she remember the FBI had raided our home last night? Did all that just fade from her memory? I thought a moment: that man, Stardom, had said expunged.
“Jimmy will make it next Sunday,” said Dad, giving me that solicitous look. He removed his jacket and loosened his tie.
James, I realize you have your interests,” he began, helping with breakfast. “Your work will someday make us all stand in awe of you. But you also need to make time for the really important things in life: God and family.”
I hated it when my dad spoke as if I were a child. Though I knew he was right – as usual. No gray areas in his logic.
Evvie had been quiet, readying cups for coffee. No doubt she was withholding comment, just a slight sneer when we made eye
contact. I wondered if she too had forgotten of last night’s raid? Did the past twenty-four hours ever really exist?
Chapter Four
Retail
It was late afternoon. I had just dropped my dad off at the airport; he had to be in Seattle for a nine am meeting in the morning. There had been no words between us as to what had transpired last night -- or the fact that I was driving a totally unfamiliar car, that same loaner, smart-car, that I had picked up at the Rendezvous. I was now on my way to work, having been called in early because of last night’s ‘No Show’.
My work was the ‘polar-opposite’ of what my dad did to earn a paycheck. Dad would have meetings with some of the most successful people in the world; I worked for some of the most conniving scoundrels of society. But as I contemplated this, for what must have been the thousandth time in my life, I always reminded myself that it was by ‘my choice’. I had four years of college: Computer Programming and Software Development! -- which landed me stacking shelves at Savemark for $10 an hour. Yet I prided myself on being a self-starter. I had my online retail business and was working on my latest creation: Photon Pyrates.
During our drive I had asked my father the reason for his meeting with the famous Technology Tycoons in Seattle; he gave me the same roundabout obfuscation as he always had. Yet this time, instead of just brushing it aside, accepting what was said, I thought it through . . . Why does my dad ‘consult’ with these corporate moguls? Are there ever any tangible transactions
that occur? Or is it just the brandishing of ideas/ideals? Dad, for as long as I could remember, always met with the World’s Business Titans. Knew them all. Traveled regularly to Saudi Arabia, the Philippines, Russia even – all these wealthy, influential people . . . Kings in their own right.
I then wondered if he somehow had ties with what’s going on under our own backyard . . . He must – he must know! Just at a different level. A higher, global scale: he must undoubtedly arrange things – very lucrative things. The way he simply brushed off the events of last night, taking it all in stride -- Matter of Factly. Now that I think of it there must be a source of funding, a channeling of monies and brainpower to keep this operation going. But where did it all go? And what about that flying saucer? Is that our government or . . .? Just now I’m being brought into the workings of all this. What about Mom and Angie? Evvie, too? She’s probably closer to Grandpa than any of us. I wondered what the bigger picture held. Could I even comprehend the bigger picture?
I pulled into the parking lot at Savemark. I chose my usual space, way back in the corner, behind the store in ‘employee parking’. I guided the little car into a vacant spot, next to my car, since I never had the chance to retrieve it from last night. I had parked several spaces away from Mary, my co-worker, where she and a friend were sitting in her car, listening to music, and smoking. Mary enjoyed life through a drug-hazed perspective: she an intelligent thirty-something who lacked motivation in finding her True North.
“What is that you’re driving?” she coughed as I walked over to them.
“It’s a long story,” I said.
“I bet it is,” she returned, lowering the music.
“You ladies enjoying the day?” I asked suavely, resting my hand on the roof.
“Suuure,” they giggled. Then Mary sobered. “So, what happened to you last night?” she asked, flicking her hair back. “I see your car, but not you. And now you have this. What’s the situation?”
“Long story.”
“Sticking to that one, huh?”
I smiled.
“Well, I’m afraid Skopes is aiming for you.”
Skopes was the Store Manager: an overly stressed man of meager intellect.
“He’s needing to talk to you. Told me, to tell you, if I saw you before you came in. Which I am,” she giggled.
“So, that’s why I’m here early.” I realized what this was coming down to. I would not give Skopes the satisfaction. I took out my phone and texted him.
“Well ladies, seems I’ve just solved that problem.”
“Did you just quite?” asked the other girl, all of perhaps twenty years old.
“Been thinking about it lately. Time to move on.”
“To what?” the girl asked.
“Jimmy’s family has bucks,” Mary said, indicating my car – a slightly used BMW.
“Hah,” soured the other girl. “All my family has is a flooded house.”
“That why you moved up here to this god forsaken land?” asked Mary.
“You betcha,” she said. “The insurance company covered shit! Now we rent. My old neighborhood on the island is under two feet of water.”
For the remaining meanwhile their mouths were spewing forth their personal dramas, and directing questions at myself -- which I would solicitously dodge: why my car had been left there overnight; why I would now leave the smart car parked in the lot; and why I was suddenly quitting work. Admittedly, I rather embraced severing ties with these work friends I had come to know over the past few years.
By the time I had pried myself away from the two, I had surreptitiously formulated a plan for the next time -- if there was a next time -- I was called upon to participate in a Rendezvous for the Intellect.
Chapter Five
The Encounter
It had taken a long while for them – The Intellect -- to contact me. I was becoming a little concerned. Meanwhile, I had tried to talk with Grandpa, but was never alone with him long enough to get into a meaningful conversation. Besides, his speech synthesizer’s volume could be heard practically throughout the house. But it was just this weekend; I was in my room working on my video game – actually playing another as I thought about writing more code – when The Intellect overtook my screen. I followed the procedures Grandpa had walked me through, before (Yes, I had tried to contact him via my computer, but somehow it just wouldn’t link to him) and found myself once again beneath my house in the fantastic complex, Portal One.
This time I took more notice to detail of the facility. It consisted of smooth nebulous walls, illuminated from within, and the floor was highly polished granite, a tinged blue mist rising up from it. There were lifts, circular transparent tubes off to the sides of the complex that inva
riably led down several levels, and then successions of computer terminals set about in a semi-circular fashion. I stood, unnoticed by the silver-dressed futuristic people milling about, until finally I stopped one, a slender woman, who’s blue hair was tied in long beaded braids, reaching down the length of her back. Her dark features were striking, her tapered eyes, again like the other women I had witnessed, sparkling blue and complimentary of her hair. I asked where I could find Veetra.
“Veetra is arriving on floor, just now,” she announced – again with a Northern European tenor; indicating one of the lifts, which had arisen and parted its transparent doors.
“James,” Veetra greeted me from across the floor, extending her hand as she neared. I gently took hold of it and she gave a slight bow. “So good of you to return. I take it you had no problems with your first Rendezvous?” Her words rang in my mind, stirring questions as I looked into her eyes.
“Things went Okay,” I hesitantly returned, consciously omitting the FBI’s raid.
“James, I have for you again the same assignment,” she stated, studying my face. “I take it you’re still on board with us?”
“If I could ask you some questions, first?”
“By all means,” she replied. I would imagine you’re full of such.”
“These supplies. The Fiber Optics. Where do they go? I mean, there were trucks full of stuff when I got to that old yard, the abandoned estate. Then I saw a . . . what I think was a flying saucer, landing. And all this, this complex down here?”
“James, we have known you since before your birth. Members of your family have aided us for near over a century, now.” Veetra was reassuring. “You have recently achieved a maturity to the extent where we could ask for your help in joining The Intellect. There are many like you, couriers, liaisons, from around the world that we have also recruited by various means, to help support our cause. You see, mankind has long been in a state of spiritual decline, while at the same time hyper-advancing in all manners of technology. The Intellect has helped to administer a directive by which the two factions can be divided.