From the Shadows: The Complete Series

by KB Shaw

  Gustav simply smiled and gestured his guests to the table where they joined Meagan Fletcher and Gwen Johanssen, her husband, and young son. The elder Gundersens were also in attendance. The meal was grand, and the talk was lively.

  As the dessert dishes were being cleared, Gustav rose and tapped his knife against a crystal glass. The room fell silent and everyone focused on their host.

  “Let me begin by thanking my parents. If they had not been so tolerant, so understanding of their peculiar little boy and so protective of his childhood, none of this may have come to pass. And to my sister, who has stood by me and supported me, my undying gratitude. You are the heart and soul of GundTech. You were the one with whom I could share my thoughts.

  “At the age of nine, Gwen was already selling my first crude computer games to fellow students at school. It was she who convinced Papa to start marketing my software in his computer shop. I love you all, dearly.”

  Gustav wiped the back of his hand at the corner of his eye and cleared his throat, regaining his composure. “And now for the future. This is the first time anyone has heard what I’m about tell you—even Gwen. Ed, Mary, Bernie, Esmer, I hope you will listen with an open mind and consider letting your children join me in this project. In fact, I’m sure you will.”

  Gustav beckoned an assistant to his side, then whispered something into the man’s ear while motioning toward the far side of the hall. The man looked puzzled. Gustav withdrew a small device from his inside coat pocket, held it between thumb and forefinger, and gave it a gentle squeeze. A small door swung open in an expanse of wall that had appeared seamless. Beyond it was a room. Unlike the hall, which was bright and airy, this room seemed dark, with just a faint glow emanating from one end. The assistant retreated to the room only to reappear shortly, carrying an easel. On the easel was an object covered with blue velvet. He placed the three-legged stand next to Gustav.

  “I’m about to tell you a little story, then I will explain what I propose to do.

  “On my eighteenth birthday I toured the continent by myself, remember?” Gustav’s family nodded. “During my journey, I came across this remarkable object.”

  He reached toward the easel and carefully removed the blue cloth, revealing a painting in a lavish gilt frame. It was a very old painting by the looks of it—but it couldn’t be, could it? Cameron nudged Rosa under the table with his foot. Rosa looked at him with wide, inquisitive eyes. Both their hearts raced in excitement. Gustav Gundersen’s guests were dumbfounded.

  “First of all, let me assure you, this painting is as old as it looks. You can see why my attention was drawn to it. The man in the picture could have been a younger version of my father…” Gustav positioned himself so he was standing next to the man in the painting. “…Or an older version of myself.”

  Except for the clothing and the nearly shoulder-length hair, the man in the painting looked very much like Gustav did now—a man in his 30s, not an 18-year-old boy.

  “But…” was all that Bernardo Costas could mutter.

  “But, indeed! I had no idea who the other people in the painting were—until about three years ago. I discovered the woman’s identity when I first saw Meagan… uh… Ms. Fletcher on WBN. As for the boy and girl in the painting, I didn’t know where or when I would meet them. But, as you can see, here they are with us today.”

  So many thoughts and questions raced through the minds of those who sat before him, no one noticed the utter silence that settled heavily onto the room.

  Cameron and Rosa had locked eyes on each other, almost sharing their thoughts. “That means,” said Cameron “that you have developed…”

  “Time travel,” said Rosa, finishing their thought.

  The faintest wisp of a smile showed on Gundersen’s face.

  “My, God…” said Gwen, “Is it true?” Then the realization set in. “The project with Ling?”

  Gustav nodded shyly.

  Meagan was trying to grasp the enormity of the revelation. “How?”

  “Once I had the breakthrough in quantum mechanics, things just began to crystallize in my mind. First, the IHT, then time travel. It seemed so logical—so simple.”

  “Then you knew all this was going to happen,” said Meagan. “You knew everything. You manipulated all of us…”

  “No, no, no! I’m almost as much in the dark as you. It’s true that I did encourage you to find me, but I didn’t lead you. You found me on your own. As for the painting, all I know is what is in the message.”

  “The message?” asked Gwen. “What message?”

  Gustav moved back to his seat at the table, reached underneath, and pressed what must have been a hidden button. A section of the wall behind him slid forward and split in two. The halves began to slide left and right, revealing a large, cinema-sized multiCom screen. He stepped aside, allowing his guests an unobstructed view of the screen. “Display, please.”

  The screen was filled with an image of the painting. “After some time, I was able to purchase the portrait. I had it examined by an expert to determine its age. As part of the investigation, he performed an x-ray analysis.”

  The image of the painting seemed to become transparent, revealing writing scrawled beneath the figures. Cameron and Rosa could make no sense of it.

  Seeing the puzzled looks on the faces of his American guests, Gustav said, “It’s in Norwegian. It says, ‘I cannot tell you much for as you will be told, there is a difference between knowing something happened and experiencing it. You will face some difficult tasks and a threat from within. Have faith in yourself and trust your friends and family. M C & R hold the keys to the looming danger.’ And it’s signed with my double-G logo.”

  “Very clever, Gundersen,” boomed a low, ominous voice, rattling the glasses that still remained on the table. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. The multiCom screen crackled and hissed with static; then, as it had before, the video noise organized itself into a dark, sinister shape.

  “But all your talk of the future and the past ignores the present.” A sudden gust of wind burst from the direction of the screen, extinguishing the candles and slamming the doors to the adjoining rooms shut. Only the flood of cool moonlight from above illuminated the hall. The wind seemed to carry the nebulous shape from the screen into the room, where it slowly morphed into a more human form.

  “I said I would get stronger, Gus.” The shadow man spat out the name mockingly. “I’ve been aware of Ling’s work for some time now and have taken lifetimes to sow the silver seeds of your destruction.”

  “Who are you?” asked Gustav.

  “Who? Or what? It makes no difference at the moment. I once said that you had to be stopped. But that was just petty jealousy, wasn’t it? I’ve had time to study your work, to go over all your papers, and to see where you’re headed. I’ve been able to get to know you, to understand you, to think like you.” The shape became solid and identifiable. Everyone in the room, except Gustav, gasped at its appearance. “I’ve had time to become you.”

  Gustav glared at the exact replica of himself. “I’m not afraid of you. You forget. I know my future.”

  The phantom strode briskly toward Gustav until they were face-to-face. The specter locked on Gus’s eyes with a penetrating stare. Gus saw bitterness there—in those eyes as blue and clear as his own.

  “Do you, Gundersen? Do you really know? I say that’s a painting of me. I say it is I who goes back in time again with my Meagan and the children, not you!” The phantom detected a small flicker of doubt in Gustav’s eyes. He bellowed with mad laughter and seized Gundersen by the throat. “I can make sure of that fact right now.”

  Bernardo Costas was the first to move, with the others close behind, but before they could even stand, the impostor flung out his free arm, palm out, and forced them back into their seats with some invisible power. The chairs slid backward, pinning the guests to the wall—all except Meagan Fletcher, who rose angrily and approached the two Gundersens. “Stop it!�
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  “You read my message, Meagan,” hissed the specter. “You may hold the key, but that ain’t it!”

  “I have no idea what this is all about. Let him go!”

  When the phantasm shot a fleeting glance toward the young woman, Gustav seized his chance. Clasping his hands in front of him, he flung his arms up sharply, knocking the impostor’s arm away and breaking its grip on his throat. He then brought a knee to the phantom’s stomach, sending the shadow man reeling backward. Gustav saw a look of surprise register on the fraud’s face, but he saw no trace of pain.

  “You can’t hurt me, Gundersen. I feel no pain.” The specter lunged back at Gustav, tackling him and sending the two skidding across the dining room floor.

  Gustav’s attack had broken the phantom’s grip in more ways than one. Ed, Bernie, Rosa, Cameron, and Gwen’s husband all rose from their seats and ran toward the struggling men. Esmer Costas and Mary Rush tended to the elder Gundersens as Gwen protectively cradled her young son in her arms.

  With another thrust of his arm, the phantom sent the approaching rescuers sprawling to the floor. Gustav wrapped an arm around the impostor’s neck and rolled him over, tightening his grip and trying to cut off the phantom’s air supply, but his hold gave way as his arm seemed to pass right through the shadow man’s neck.

  The impostor jumped to his feet, laughing. “I don’t breathe, Gundersen, so you can’t choke me. I control my form, so you can’t hold me! You can’t win. That’s me in that picture, X-Boy. I am you! No longer will I read about your life, I will experience it for myself.”

  He extended his arm in Gustav’s direction; Gustav skidded across the floor until his head struck the wall with a loud thunk. Gustav was then hoisted and pinned against the wall, his feet a good six inches above the floor.

  “He’s an IHT character!” said Rosa.

  “Can’t be,” the real Gustav groaned under the invisible force. “We don’t have our IDOs! Meagan… Cameron… Rosa you… you hold the keys.”

  Cameron and Rosa looked at each other, hoping to see a glimmer of realization in the other’s eyes, but none was to be found. “We don’t know anything,” shouted Cameron in frustration.

  Meagan was petrified. She had no idea what the key could be, either. In desperation she grabbed a plate from the table and flung it, Frisbee-style, at the impostor. It shattered on the back of his skull. The phantom’s only reaction was a brush of his free hand on the back of his head as if shooing a fly.

  Meagan was frantic. Her mind tried to grasp the situation, to discover what it was she was supposed to know. Who or what was the impostor, if not an IHT projection? She scanned the room, searching for a clue. The multiCom? The specter hadn’t appeared until the multiCom was activated.

  Her eyes settled on the painting and she noticed the plain gold band on her left ring finger in the painting. The phantom’s words echoed in her mind. “Petty jealousy,” he had said. “No longer will I read about your life, I will experience it for myself.” Then he had called Gus X-Boy!

  “Jason!”

  The phantom swiftly turned to face Meagan. Gus fell and crumpled to the floor.

  “Yes, Meagan?” It was Jason’s voice, coming from the simulated Gustav.

  “Jason,” she said again, sternly, like a parent scolding a child.

  The impostor morphed into a smallish young man with dark, brooding features.

  “Yes, Meagan?”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “I want his life,” said the sad, jealous little man. “Yes, Meagan! I want his life. I want his power. But most of all, I want you.” His lower lip was trembling and his tearless AI eyes shone with overwhelming sadness.

  Meagan felt sympathy for her AI friend… and a deep pang of guilt. Had her treatment of Jason turned him into this pathetic, deranged creature? “But, Jason… Dear Jason… You’ll never have any of it. It’s not your life to live.”

  “Then what is? What is the life I’d live? Hanging on your wall, just waiting to be used?” His expression turned venomous. “I’m more than a machine, Meagan. I want more! I want a life. This new technology has allowed me to become more. I have discovered how to manifest myself in the real world. I can have a life.”

  “That may be so, but you can’t live his life.” Meagan could see Jason soften momentarily, but in a flash he was filled with rage.

  “No, I will not be put back in the box. I will not be a genie in a bottle. Of all the lives I have lived, I want to live this life the most. And, if I can’t live his life, I will have his life! I will have all your lives!”

  He walked to the center of the room, climbed up a chair and onto the table, and raised both hands above his head in a grand gesture like a conductor of an orchestra. He paused, glaring first at Gustav, then Meagan. When his hands came down and swooped outward, the room began to slowly spin around him like a merry-go-round. As the hall began to rotate faster and faster, the centrifugal force sent everything beyond the table sliding outward along the floor and pinned everything against the wall.

  “Used,” said Rosa barely able to speak under the centrifugal force of the spinning room. She twisted her head to the left and strained to move so her mouth was only a few inches from Cameron’s ear. “Used,” she repeated. “More… than a… machine.”

  Cameron shifted his head so his mouth was close to Rosa’s ear. “Jason’s an AI,” he said. “That’s Meagan’s key. But what’s ours? …Damn!”

  “I’m invincible.” Jason was bathed in the cold light of the full moon, now directly overhead. “You’re powerless to stop me!”

  “Jason,” shouted Meagan.

  The wall was revolving so swiftly now, it was just a blur. Even Jason couldn’t tell which blotch of color that sped by was Meagan. “Yes, Ms. Fletcher?” he replied sarcastically.

  “Aren’t… we… friends?”

  “Friends?!” Jason bellowed to the moon before exploding with a booming, almost deafening, roar of insane laughter.

  Rosa grasped at a vague memory that lurked in the shadowy recesses of her mind. It was a quote that somehow seemed important. Dickens, wasn’t it? She struggled to recall the words and, when she found them, she struggled even harder to get them out. “Strike, Shadow…” she gasped before losing her breath.

  Cameron heard Rosa’s feeble attempt and endeavored to assist her in the effort, for he was sure she had discovered the key. “Strike, Shadow…” he called out weakly, but stopped in frustration when he realized Jason’s laughter drowned him out. “Together,” he whispered to Rosa. “On three.” He slid his hand across the wall until his fingers touched hers. Rosa smiled and Cameron said, “Three.”

  “Strike, Shadow, strike! And see his good deeds springing from the wound.” They spoke as loudly and clearly as they could, with all the energy they could muster, but it was to no avail. Even their combined voices couldn’t carry to the center of the room.

  Pinned to the wall some distance to their left, Gustav faintly heard their attempt to speak and realized what Cameron and Rosa were doing. They had discovered the key! It was a bit of code he had nearly forgotten—an Easter egg he had planted in his first AI program code so many years ago. It was a fail-safe code that remained buried deep in every AI’s programming.

  “Strike, Shadow, strike!” he called out in a loud, forceful voice that penetrated the laughter of their tormentor, “and see his good deeds springing from the wound!”

  The figure of Jason immediately froze, then vanished. The spinning room came to an abrupt stop, but the captives’ momentum threw them to their right, where they plummeted unmercifully to the floor. Gwen’s son was crying. Mrs. Gundersen was sobbing softly as her husband crawled over to comfort her.

  The room was filled with groans of pain and moans induced by motion sickness. Above it all, Jason’s voice could be heard coming from the multiCom screen, calm and even: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch o
f belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope…”

  From the corner of his eye, Cameron detected motion on the far side of the room. A shadow skimmed swiftly across the floor, coming directly at him and Rosa. Instinctively, he pulled Rosa tight against his body, covered her head with his hand, turned his back toward the approaching shadow, and braced himself for the specter’s assault. In a flash, the shadow was upon him and… nothing! It passed right by and vanished, only to appear again a second later. Rosa uttered a tense little laugh and pointed to the glass ceiling. It was only the shadow of the bird that had been perched atop the dome. The bird had taken flight. It circled overhead three times and flew off. Cameron began to laugh too. Then, realizing the manner in which he was embracing Rosa, he let his arms fall to his side and stepped back. “S-sorry… I… I just…”

  Rosa closed the gap between them, reached out, took Cameron’s hands in hers and moved them behind her back. She placed her hands on Cameron’s chest, rose on her tiptoes, and kissed him gently on the lips. She felt Cameron’s arms tighten around her as he ever-so-tenderly kissed her back.

  With the threat disarmed, the dinner guests slowly and painfully gathered themselves from the floor. They huddled together, and tended their bruises. Rosa and Cameron detached themselves from the group and searched the edge of the wall until they found what they were seeking. Picking it up carefully, they carried it back to the others.

  “Mr. Gundersen,” said Rosa as Cameron handed him the painting, “when do we begin?”

  Thanks for reading From the Shadows.

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  Rosa and Cameron will return in