by Lea Tassie
He paced to the door and back again. "Or, beyond the rim of the visible known universe, there's another universe, an anti-universe that is being sucked into the empty space at the center of our universe to fill the void that is the result of the original explosion. There is evidence for this in the form of antimatter, which is a scientific fact. I ask you both, how could all that be designed to work, except by a God with a divine purpose?"
"Arrggh! Mark, you always do that!" Mickey said, his tone betraying irritation. "You use science to prove one thing, in the broadest strokes possible. It's like a game with you, your team has to be right, has to win, no matter the cost. You use science when it suits your personal needs, to better your team's chances of winning, and reject science when it contradicts what you believe in. Science that disagrees with your team's position is disregarded. It's like having only half an argument."
"But don't you see, Mickey, that's exactly how I feel when you disregard God as a possibility, you're doing only half an argument," Mark said, his tone almost pleading.
"There you go again, playing the sympathy card. It's your typical game, like I said. I might as well suggest that blue monkeys crap out golden pigeons in the forest, which then fly off and start forest fires with their acidic urine. Science exists for the betterment of knowledge, no matter what the cost to our own personal beliefs. When a theory is proven wrong in science, it is summarily dismissed. Not so in religion; you twist things until they fit your beliefs."
Andy could see that Mickey had lost patience with Mark's 'dogma,' but they'd resolve the argument. They always did.
"I am entitled to believe in whatever fits with my personal needs," Mark said firmly. "I would also suggest that the missing keystone we never seem to find might actually be humans, in our belief."
"What, are you crazy? Have you finally lost it?" Mickey said in a teasing way. "So we all hold hands and sing Kumbaya around Stonehenge?"
Andy finally decided to add his thoughts. "Mark might be onto something. He might be right, but for the wrong reasons. I don't think a god would design a keystone of humans, but a man might. What if the missing keystone is some type of human DNA fragment to activate the thing? What if the lost human culture from so long ago used personal DNA typology in the activation of their computers?"
"There, Mark, you see that!" Mickey's words were gleeful. He jumped up from his chair, pointed at Andy and waved his arms dramatically. "That's a theory, a truly crazy and terrible nut-bar type theory, but a theory nonetheless. It proves that our friend Andy has been watching those old library videos of spacemen traveling the galaxy in tight leather suits. He can now take his DNA and mix it into the dissimilar metals that have been proven to be the main ingredients needed, and presto, the combination will result in Andy losing the respect of any logical, thinking human on the planet." Mickey laughed. "Wait, wait, it gets better! Andy can just piss in the cosmic mixing bowl, activating Stonehenge in a bid to communicate with your buddy, god."
"So you're saying it's a bit out there?" Andy asked, trying to look serious.
The room was quiet for a moment, then Mickey burst out laughing. The other two joined in and the small Bat Cave rang with the laughter these three men often shared.
Mark finally said, "Okay, we've got to stop doing this daily exploration into the workings of logic. I'm getting tired of always being the religious guy. Maybe Andy should be the religious guy for a while and I can do the science thing. That leaves Mickey as the 'Aliens were god' guy."
"Oh no!" Mickey exclaimed. "I did the 'Aliens were god' guy all last week. It has to be someone else's turn."
Andy held up his hand for silence. "Since I am the leader of this little society, I get to decide that. Remember, we can never truly understand all facets of an argument until we have fully been immersed in each part. We don't do this to be assholes; we do this to fully adhere to the basic principles of a fair and even debate. To do justice to an argument, we need to be able to distinguish truth and reasoning from emotion and belief."
Andy rose. "Besides, Mark, I don't get the feeling of a truly religious understanding from you. You need to do more research on the topic, to create more robust and complex arguments. Also, Mickey, you need to tone down the snide comments and refocus your thinking in a more logical manner. You're adding too many emotions to the process."
"Yes, I guess you're right," Mickey said, looking sober now. "I'll try to tone it down in the future."
Andy knew, and so did the other two, that they could never hope to find the answer of the missing keystone. But they could contribute to a full understanding of the topic, given enough time. After all, their thesis papers for graduation depended on it.
The door to the Bat Cave burst open and a young pimple-faced kid stuck his head in, saying, "They did it, they got it, they figured out the keystone, it's on the vid, you got to come see this!"
Mark tripped over Andy in a rush to get out the door, as Mickey, falling out of his chair, gathered himself up off the floor. They raced down the hall to a large, crowded room where several other students huddled around different monitors, all talking and pointing in disbelief at what they saw.
There, on the video, was the image of Stonehenge, fully rebuilt to its original historic condition. Flashes and arcs of brilliant violet light mixed with sprays of blackened sparks emanated from the stones and launched themselves into the air in random patterns.
The cameramen at the site fought to keep their footing, for the very ground seemed to heave and shudder. Dark green clouds formed in the skies above the area, with thunder echoing from them. Scientists close to the calamity were retreating.
The blue stones of the circle began to emit a faint glow, like an electrical wire short-circuiting. Someone near a mike gasped that the air was foul and hard to breathe. All around the stone circle, grass spontaneously caught fire. A few of the expedition team members standing too close also burst into flames. The scene was chaotic, with people yelling, or scrambling for cover, or trying to render aid.
Suddenly, the center of the stone circle burst to life. A huge white beam of blazing hot light shot from the ground straight up into space. Several violent blasts of air exploded out from the ring, sending those nearby flying through the air like rag dolls, knocking instruments and light stands down everywhere.
"This is impossible! This can't be happening!" Andy bellowed.
"I'd agree with you Andy, but shit… there it is!" replied a bewildered Mark. "I think the keystone to the creation of man has been found!"
>>>
Dart speaks to Reader:
Andy was right. It was impossible. No amount of dissimilar metals mixed with rocks in any configuration could possibly have been responsible for this.
And it wasn't.
But deep below Stonehenge, below any investigations with ground penetrating radar, lay the remains of one of the first technological cities of the old world's culture. A city that tapped the very center of Earth for power, a city built by the first humans who left Earth eons ago as pure energy. A city now revived to life with the aid of the stone ring. A city built by people descended from the First Ones, with stories and forgotten technologies based on the transmission of power through wireless means.
Yes, Reader, Tesla had been right.
Far below the stone ring, a city stirred to life, sending a signal back to the surface. For several days the light beam blazed from the center of the stone ring into space as the planet rotated, then weakened, and finally shut down.
It had been seven years since the war with the Mahoud people ended, during which time a devastated Earth struggled to regain its footing. Even though the descendants of Earth had colonized a new world, Neo Terra, and technology was expanding in all directions, humanity was still barely clinging to existence.
What had man just triggered?
What humans always trigger, Reader. Trouble.
>>>
Two years had passed since the signal from Stonehenge beamed out into spac
e at light speed and, in that time, much of the soil covering the city deep beneath the site had been excavated. Andy had gained a professorship and taken Mark and Mickey as his grad students. All three joined the dig team studying this ancient city and, almost daily, something new and important was brought back to the surface.
On this particular day, it was an old piece of broken pottery which brought new insight into the daily lives of the city's people. So far, it had been learned that these people lived much like early Romans, with the same type of clothing and simple stone houses, and that they used pottery for cooking and eating. The climate then had been consistently warm, with enough rainfall that their diet was abundant and varied.
Classes were held outside, and it appeared from wall pictures that walking and a type of bicycle seemed to be the norm for travel. There were, however, remnants of vehicles which had a type of ceramic combustion engine that ran on water and radioactive particles from the earth. They were steam-powered but, instead of piston-driven, these motors were disk-driven, like the Wankel engine on its side, mixed with centrifugal force weights. Roads were well-paved with a heavy, solid limestone, and buildings were placed in accordance with the lay of the land, not in straight rows.
It appeared to be a life in harmony with its environment, mixed with as yet unknown technology. A central place of knowledge was discovered, based on fossilized remains of unique computers. Rather than copper wires and diodes, mixed with plastics and gold, these people used a biological mass, determined from impressions left in the fossils, much like the feather imprints in Mesozoic birds.
The data these people had gained were lost forever. The biomass had long since rotted away and been replaced by minerals. But they did have writing and now Andy held a piece of pottery made of silicate and carbon elements marked heavily with ancient words.
Making his way to the surface and then into the building that housed his office, he entered the small room and spoke to Mark. "Here! See, I was right! The words on these containers must describe what the containers hold. I found another jug containing coal, just like the one found on the eastern side of the city, and both have the same pattern of symbols." He placed the piece on the table for Mark to inspect.
"Damn it, man! Why don't you start publishing this stuff? It could help a lot of people," Mark said as he turned the broken piece over in his hand.
Mickey came in. "Just heard from the dig master, they got through the door to the temple complex in the center of the city. Wanna go have a look?"
"Hell, yeah!" Mark said, and the three hurried back down to the old city below. The center complex was shaped like a pyramid with crystal spires reaching skyward from the four sides, and was thought to be the point from which the beam of light had emanated and passed through Stonehenge into space. Gaining entrance to this place might finally answer a lot of burning questions.
The dig master said over the loudspeakers, "The robot has been sent in for a good look around. No one else goes in until I say the word. And only some of you will go, based on my opinion of who needs to see what's there. That is final."
With faces glued to the monitors set up all around, hundreds of scientists waited patiently for the first images. A small robot about the size of a house cat, attached to a helium balloon and powered by small motors, hovered into the dark room. The command was given to 'light it up,' and a few dozen small spot lights blinked on, unveiling an incredible sight. The small robot sent back to the monitors stunning images of pictures on the walls. These pictures seemed to move with the motion of the robot, as if they were three-dimensional.
Everywhere there were pictures of people doing daily tasks. Hands outstretched seemed to welcome the viewer, as eyes appeared to blink, and mouths moved, forming smiles. Pictures of several cities and a map came into view, showing the vastness of this old culture. The walls seemed endless, depicting information that would certainly take generations to decipher. The small robot hovered around several obstacles, small pedestals that showcased amazing technologies. Each wall picture sent scientists of different disciplines into raptures of excitement.
The robot went down several hallways and finally into a vast room, almost too large to fully illuminate. At the center stood a large statue on a pedestal. Oddly, the figure did not look entirely human. It appeared to be something like a bipedal dinosaur, characteristically humanoid, but with reptilian features. This stunned the crowd to silence, for the implications of this discovery were devastating.
Chapter 19 Blackmail in New Denver
Once the chaos of war had ended and the world started picking up the pieces, Pam and Dieter tried to celebrate each day of their survival in some small way. On this particular day, they decided to celebrate the seventh anniversary of the end of the war as well as the continuing gift of life. They drove to the coast, which was still barren and desolate, but they were happy with each other and with their six-year-old son, Gerry.
Therefore, the phone call that interrupted their walk along the shore was more than annoying. Pam had been looking forward to a day free from work.
When she arrived at the media station, Dean said, "Sorry to spoil your day, but I need you to talk to Danny and see if he'll release more information about the Revenge Program."
"Why can't you do it?" she asked.
Dean shrugged. "You're his friend; I'm not. I've tried to pry some facts out of him, but I can't get anywhere."
Pam finally got a call through to Danny, but she didn't fare any better than Dean. Had the Revenge Program been delayed so long by reverse engineering alien ships that people were losing interest? Maybe seven years was too long to maintain the white-hot anger people had felt against the aliens. The first thing they'd wanted when the last alien on Earth had been killed, was to go to the aliens' planet and wipe out the rest of them. Danny had been elected world president because he promised they could have that revenge.
Pam sat in her car and mused for a moment on how much Danny had changed over the years since the war. He still had a sense of humor, but it was beginning to crack. The conversation she'd had with him lacked even a shred of his famous quick wit. But maybe it wasn't surprising. As world president, he had heavy responsibilities. Only two continents were being occupied, and the peoples of those two continents had decided that they would be governed by a single prime minister for each continent and these prime ministers would report to a common president.
It began to rain again, and she decided that going home was her best move. With the windshield wipers slapping across the front window of her car, Pam drove into the night, heading back to New Denver, back to her husband and son.
The main roads she traveled were almost deserted. With so much of Earth burned to a cinder by the invaders, cars were scarce and only a select few had the privilege of being able to drive. Pam turned her car down the lane to her house and slowly drove the remaining distance, staring through the rainy windshield at all the empty or burned houses on her street.
She placed her car keys carefully on the wall hook, and made her way to the living room. "Funny," she commented to Dieter, who lay sprawled on the living room sofa, "I spoke with Danny today. He seems so different now, like all the fun has been sucked out of that playful noodle he has on his shoulders."
Pulling the bag of potato chips off his chest and sitting upright, Dieter replied, his German accent thicker than usual. "Vell, I guess it is to be expected. He was the one that killed the alien leader."
"Vell…" Pam teased. "The word is 'well,' and when are you going to learn to speak English well?"
"Ven you learn German, I guess." Both of them laughed.
Morning came too soon. The light shone in the bedroom window, waking Dieter first, who always staggered off to the bathroom to gargle loudly. Pam did not mind much, but she pulled the covers over her head again.
"Rise und shine, sleepy head," Dieter said as he entered the bedroom.
"'And,' the word is 'and.' You are such a blockhead," Pam said. She giggled and hid und
er the bed sheets.
Dieter jumped on the bed and said, "And, and, and get up, or I slap your big round ass." At that moment, Gerry trotted into the bedroom.
"Are we going to play today?" he asked.
That seemed like a great idea to Pam and Dieter, and part of the remaining morning was spent rolling and playing on the bed like three over-sized kittens.
The phone rang and, when Pam answered, Dean asked, "Where the heck did you get to last night?"
"I didn't succeed with Danny, so I decided to come home and enjoy the last hour or two of my so-called vacation. Is that a problem?"
"Damn right it is. I just got chewed out for the last few hours by General Harris. Rode my back side hard and never even offered to kiss me after."
"Dean, this gay joke kick you've been on for the last month is getting old," Pam said with a sigh.
"Well what do you expect? Nearly seven billion people wiped out and almost no gay survivors. At least you have a man!" snapped Dean.
"So what do you want?" Pam was exasperated.
"Can you come in today? I think I found a lead on the Revenge Program."
Pam agreed, and soon she was making her way toward the news tower. The day was bright and the sky blue. All seemed good in the world. She had just turned the corner, about a block from the tower's basement entrance, when a missile screamed overhead and slammed into the news building. A huge fireball erupted and the blast shattered windows and doors, sending debris and smoke everywhere, knocking her car sideways and deploying the air bags.
When Pam regained consciousness, she was in a stark white hospital bed, with Dieter hovering nervously close by. "What happened?" she managed to ask.
Dieter spoke quietly. "There was a terrorist attack. The police have already received a letter from those taking responsibility."
"Terrorists? After all we have been through, terrorists? What do they have against the news?" Pam managed to squeak out as she tried to sit up in bed. She had not been hurt badly, just a few bumps and bruises, but she winced at the pain.