by Lea Tassie
The next day Ben boarded a flight that would take him from Istanbul to Seattle in the western United States. His seat companion turned out to be a frail-looking old man with long gray hair, wearing the creased pants and shirt of a workman.
"I'm Professor Opinhimmer," the old man said. "I've been working on a dig in southeast Turkey."
Ben didn't want to talk about the monastery, though it was in Anatolia and probably close to the professor's dig, nor about his own work and his grief over leaving it. "I'm traveling," he said. "Just call me Ben."
"You're Australian," said the professor.
"I guess we never lose the accent."
Given the flight was going to be a long one, nearly seventeen hours, Ben hoped to catch some sleep, but the professor apparently felt like talking.
"I don't want to go home," he said. "But I want to see my nephew, Danny. I like that boy; he has a head on his shoulders. I just wish he'd use it. But my half-brother never used his, so perhaps it's genetic."
"Families are always problematic," Ben offered, already bored.
But the professor's mind had wandered elsewhere. "I taught astrophysics for many years and all during that time, I thought about retiring and trekking off to Turkey. I'd read about formations that hinted at extraordinary knowledge waiting to be found and I wanted to be the one who found it." Dr. Opinhimmer paused. "Besides, I thought a career in archaeology might be nice. More peaceful than teaching."
It might be more peaceful, Ben thought, but one would also have to endure dust and flies and the great grinding heat of the desert. Perhaps the old boy doesn't notice.
"You know," said the professor, "The church holds back advances in knowledge but now that society is turning away from religion, we're rushing headlong into technological chaos. There is a staggering amount of pollution on our fragile world today, factories, transportation, growing technology, all capable of destroying us. But the biggest problem is the rapidly growing number of humans breathing today. Remember, in goes the good air, out comes the bad."
"You have a bleak take on humanity," Ben said. If he were honest, though, his own take wasn't much more cheerful, now that the church's betrayal had caused him to lose faith in the future.
"Maybe I'm just old and fretful," the professor said, pulling the fingers of one hand through his tangled gray hair, "but I fear for the younger generation. We humans live in a world of choices, but few of us ever take responsibility for our decisions. It will only take one misstep and something even as infinitesimally small as a virus could be the death of all humanity."
Do I care? Ben wondered. Before he could answer his own question, the professor was off and running again.
The old man leaned forward and rubbed his hands together. "Here, I will cheer us up by looking at the big picture, at the universe, which is immortal. First, to gain true understanding, we have to discard the 'many worlds' theory and, instead, realize that a universe is just an evolution of particles expanding in time and space, which always exist."
The church said nothing about time and space, except that it was bounded by God. And could the church be believed?
Not anymore.
"It's really quite simple," said the professor. "There is only one universe in existence. How it works is like a lake that has a rock thrown into it, which sends out ripples that fade, while new ripples are forming. My theory is called the two-state universe or duality complex system."
"That's wild," Ben said. "I'm not sure I understand, though."
"When I was teaching," the professor said, "I would explain it this way. I'd draw a circle on the chalk board and say: 'Imagine a child's balloon. You fill it with air and, as it expands, you have a representation of one universe, say a positive universe; where everything exists in a positive-toward-negative charge state.' Then I would draw a second circle inside the first and say, 'Now you insert a second balloon inside the first and begin to expand it with air. This is the formation of the second state, a place of negative-toward-positive charge state.'" He peered at Ben. "Are you with me now?"
"I think so."
The professor smiled wryly. "I hope you are. Only my brightest students would sit still and listen to me. The rest of them were more interested in frat parties, or just getting away from the sound of my voice droning on."
With seventeen hours to kill, he might as well listen to the old man. Besides, this theory of a dual universe sounded interesting.
"All right. Then I would draw a third circle inside the second circle. When civilization ignites a big bang event, we find that a third balloon is created. A third balloon cannot exist, however; so what happens is that all the matter from the outermost balloon is forced, through the explosion, into the empty space created by the third balloon, thus always creating the two in-balance universe states, one of light, one of dark, one positive, one negative, one of matter, one of antimatter. This continues infinitely, for the two universe states are always in balance, like yin and yang."
"I see," Ben prompted. What the professor said seemed logical, but whether it was true, he had no way of judging. He had never studied science. Only faith, which was dead. "But wouldn't a big bang happen naturally?"
The professor shook his head. "No, it would have to be a civilization which caused it, for nothing in our universe could naturally cause that type of event. Only meddling fingers and minds could create this type of catastrophe. That is why I believe CERN, The European Organization for Nuclear Research, should have been stopped."
"But I thought CERN was a good thing," Ben protested. "Doesn't it use particle accelerators and high energy to experiment with particles? Isn't it probing the fundamental nature of the universe?"
"Oh yes, it's doing all of that. But humanity must come to understand that at some point in the future, it will inevitably discover the ability to ignite another big bang event. In our hurry to learn the mysteries of the cosmos, we may inadvertently discover the pin on the hand grenade of existence, and rush blindly into disaster."
Ben found himself inexplicably shivering. Then he forced himself back to calmness. They were flying to the United States, an ordinary sort of thing to do, and tomorrow he would be searching for work where his talent at research might be useful. In the meantime, this conversation was better than worrying about his future. "But we don't know that there is life on other planets and we can't see another universe."
"Do you have any idea how enormous this universe is?" the professor said sharply. "Even with our sophisticated telescopes, we can see only a little." He paused for a moment. "When we look through the Hubble telescope toward the center of the universe, we see the light from the big bang we live in, an explosion caused by a civilization so advanced that they had the ability – through creation or mistake – to restart the universe, but in its opposite charge."
"I wish we could see more," Ben said. Oddly enough, he did wish that. Perhaps because he was freeing himself from the bounds and prejudices of the church.
"So do I. If we had a magic spaceship to travel to the center of our universe, we'd find a negative universe forming, one we couldn't survive in because we would be the antimatter. And, if we traveled outward to the rim of our visible universe, we would again encounter the negative universe and again be annihilated. But we might see that negative universe shrinking, or receding into the formation of the new universe being created at the center of our known universe."
"I'd go up in your magic spaceship," Ben said. "I'd be scared shitless but I'd go. I'd like to see what's really there."
"And what you would see," said the professor, "is that both universes look the same since both are just a formation of particles. But our instruments would find the place of opposite-charge particles. The idea that we exist on a membrane in a multiverse is almost right. But instead, we live inside the expanding balloon and the membrane is the edge of the expanding universe we occupy."
Ben nodded. "If you say so. It sounds plausible. But I don't think my brain is capable of comprehending
the vastness of space. To me, Earth is almost too big to comprehend."
The professor nodded. "I understand. So I will finish my little lecture the way I always did for my students. Our universe is one of only two that can ever exist. We are simple humans living in a world of opposing forces, tugging at our very existence. Thanks to science and human curiosity, we rush into a future that we can't predict, which may be bright or may cause our demise. And, thanks to religion, we live in a world that stagnates our ability to think, our ability to grow."
The professor fell silent for a few moments, then said, "Do you follow football?"
Relieved that he could let his mind relax, Ben said, "A bit."
The conversation was confined after that to sports and the weather in Turkey, interspersed with naps and the occasional stroll up and down the aisle to stretch his muscles. In spite of that, Ben was feeling very stiff and tired and looking forward to disembarking. He was sure the professor, with his old bones, felt much worse.
The pilot made an announcement. "Attention, passengers, we have been asked to land at Los Angeles International airport rather than SeaTac in Washington. There is no reason for concern, and arrangements will be made for all passengers to be sent to their respective destinations as quickly as possible after we touch down."
Conversations resumed among the passengers up and down the aisles. No one seemed concerned about the situation.
Then the plane shuddered, suddenly banked sharply and dropped like a stone toward the ground. Passengers screamed as it pitched and rolled. A flash of intense light burst past the windows, followed by several loud booms. The plane shook and rattled violently. It pitched up, then plunged straight down, spiraling as parts of the hull and the wings broke off. Several seats, with people strapped into them, tore loose and tumbled out into the sky.
The pilot managed to correct the plane's descent just long enough to belly-land the stricken craft on a farm field, spraying the air with dirt and debris. Like a held breath, there was silence for a moment. Then came the whimpers, sobs, and panic-stricken screams.
When Ben came to, he found that he and the old professor were still strapped into their seats together, and had been thrown some fifty feet from the wreckage. Struggling to disentangle themselves, they discovered they had survived with no injuries beyond a few bruises. Finally, free, they set out to help as many of the others as they could. It did not take long for Ben to realize that the disaster was far from being over. In the distance, thunder rang out, and though the skies were clear, it seemed to be drawing closer.
"Dear God, what the hell is that?" Ben cried, gasping in horror.
Across the fields, what looked like many small tornados dotted the horizon, and a dark greenish mist rolled across the ground toward them like a blinding desert dust storm. Wicked streaks of light flashed from the mist, darting in every direction. Even more unbelievable, between the plane's survivors and the impending storm, were hundreds and hundreds of cars and trucks rushing along the road near the downed plane in a desperate attempt to escape.
Many failed. The tornados swept up cars, trucks, and the people inside them, and whirled all into oblivion. Where the crowd was thickest, a large jagged spike burst upward from the ground to about sixty feet in height. People scattered to get away from the spike, but they had only gained perhaps twenty feet when the thing was activated. Hooks attached to tentacles shot out from the spike, and struck fleeing people in the back. Thirty or more humans were thus instantly paralyzed and the spike began spinning clockwise, drawing the victims back toward the rotating machine. With the victims drawn up tight to the spike, it gave a shudder and plunged back into the ground.
The survivors around the wreckage of the plane now left the wounded where they lay and bolted, hoping to escape the onslaught. Ben and the professor helped a couple of women as they made their way, running and tripping, toward a town that lay on the other side of the fields.
Darting all around the four, as they fled, were thin steel rods, seemingly self-controlled, flashing through the air and destroying everything they crashed through, vehicles as well as people.
The professor called out, "Here, inside this tavern!"
They struggled desperately to get inside, while around them, cracks opened up in the streets. The two women hesitated, staggered as if off balance, and were sucked into the ground. Only Ben and the professor made it into the tavern.
>>>
Ben had already decided that the only sensible thing to do was hide and he didn't object when the professor tugged him into a broom closet at the back of the tavern. If the strange weapons couldn't see them, perhaps they would stay safe.
Dr. Opinhimmer kept talking. Ben didn't pay much attention. He was trying to move stuff out of the way and pull the door of the closet shut.
The old professor finally shouted, "I don't think you understand what I am saying here! If I die, so do all the people of this world. I am the linchpin, the fulcrum that may tip the balance of life. Without me, this place as we know it will cease to exist. As life drains from me, all life ceases to exist."
"Just a bit dramatic, don't you think, Prof?" Ben grunted.
A startling apparition appeared in the gap between door and doorjamb. It was shaped like a small human but looked like a moving, quivering column of liquid, refracting light so that what might be a solid core appeared to shift back and forth. Behind it loomed several more such beings. Desperate, Ben drove his buck knife into what he hoped was the creature's neck. Liquid spurted everywhere, but the creature kept pushing into the closet.
Now Ben could see eyes, multi-faceted gold-colored eyes, like those of dragonflies. Terror drove him to attack with all his strength and he jammed the buck knife into one of those eyes, twisting the blade. The eyes went dark and the creature collapsed right at his feet. Now Ben was able to slam the door shut.
This created a frenzy of noise and pounding on the other side. Ben could only conclude, as crazy as the idea seemed, that these creatures were aliens and that they'd never encountered a door before and didn't know how this simple wooden object was preventing them from killing the two humans.
"Not so dramatic, my friend," the professor said, clinging to Ben's shirt sleeve as if that were the only thing between him and total panic. "I have information this world needs to defeat these beings."
Ben kept trying to move the professor farther back into the broom closet so that he had room to move. He fumbled for the light switch and turned it on to reveal the carnage at their feet. "Woo hoo, that's a very dead alien," Ben said to the professor, his flippancy designed to cover the horror he felt. The light showed that the professor's face was gray and seemingly ill from the sight of fresh death.
"Don't you puke in here," Ben snapped, "or I'm going to open this door and toss you out."
The professor regained his composure or at least swallowed any vomit that might be forming in the back of his throat. The scratching and clawing and smashing on the other side of the door dropped off suddenly and Ben felt confused as well as terrified.
Bang! A thud so hard upon the door that the hinges and Ben's chest reverberated with the impact. "Shit," he snapped. "Move, Professor, let me past you for a sec." Clearly the professor did not want Ben to move behind him and leave him to face whatever had just hit the door. Shoving the professor aside, Ben slid his ass down to the floor and, bracing his back against the wall, stretched his legs out and slammed his feet against the bottom of the door. He did not have to wait long for the next impact. Bang!
"Get down here and give me a hand, you fool!" Ben yelled.
The old man complied and they both braced their feet against the bottom of the door.
Bang! Small splinters of wood from the shattering door fell to the floor. Bang! What sounded like the loud rumbling of a diesel engine starting on a cold winter's day came from beyond the door, intensifying Ben's fear. The sound of wood cracking became louder. Boom! The top of the door split open and large splinters fell to the floor.
A long, metallic, snaking object entered through the crack, forming spikes along its length. The limb became rigid and smashed into the one light, sending glass and ceiling debris everywhere. The room went black.
Ben felt as if his heart had stopped beating as silence followed the shattering of the light bulb. Beyond the door gunfire erupted; not the automatic gunfire of the military, but from a hunter's rifle. The long, spiked tentacle was slowly withdrawn from the closet, and new sounds indicated that the aliens were moving off in the direction of the gunfire.
"What do you do for a living?" the professor asked.
What an insane question! Ben thought. But it had broken the tension and he was breathing again.
"Are you a boxer or some kind of kung fu fighter?" the professor persisted. "Maybe you're ex-military?"
Maybe the old boy had snapped. Better just answer him and see if that would keep him quiet. Relaxing and rubbing his legs after the ordeal of holding the door firmly shut against the pounding of the aliens, Ben answered. "I was a monk, in Anatolia in Turkey." He could not quell the sad note in his voice. "I left the monastery when my faith in God was destroyed by what I learned from some old manuscripts I was translating."
The professor seemed shaken by the response. "I never would have guessed you for a priest. You're so Rambo."
Ben responded quickly, "Well, I never would have pegged you for a professor. Your actions were less than intelligent when you got us stuck in this closet. I thought hiding in the vault of the abandoned bank across the street wiser; it has a better door."
After an awkward silence, Ben relaxed a bit and asked, "What about you? I know you're a professor, but a professor of what?"
"I'm a retired professor now, but in my day I was a member of an elite American academy of advisors to the president. My specialties were astrophysics and math. But these days I occupy my time on an archaeological dig site." Shuffling his feet against the base of the splintered closet door, he continued. "My students and I are rediscovering an ancient site in Turkey, called Gobekli Tepe."