Jump Starting the Universe

by John David Buchanan

  “I didn’t tell anyone about this, not even your grandmother,” said Livingston, “although I suspect in the end she knew what I was up to.”

  “Why Dad?”

  “I was afraid of it wasn’t I? I don’t know about you, but with me it started when I was in secondary school. I was walking home one day after soccer practice and happened upon the alley between Schroder’s and Pennington’s on Main Street. A young man from school was being beaten up by a group of thugs. I ran down the alley intending to help; they were beating him senseless and I’m sure they were going to rob him. When I got close my hands began to glow and I instinctively pointed the palms of my hands at those bullies, and I thought I’d killed them. There was dust and debris everywhere from the blast hole where the light beam hit the wall behind them. The thugs saw me and knew I had caused the explosion. I yelled at them to let the guy go and told them if they ever bothered anyone again I wouldn’t miss next time. Apparently they weren’t as dumb as I thought they might be - I never saw them again; an outcome which I am thankful to this day.

  “I tried to put that incident out of my mind but I shouldn’t have shied away from who I am, I should have embraced it, but I couldn’t overcome the feeling that it might be something bad, that there might be something wrong with me. I should have asked Gram. I discovered later she could have taught me how to use it, to control it.”

  “It’s not too late to learn,” said Joules.

  “Oh I learned,” said her Dad, “I finally gave into my curiosity even though I was scared. I’d sneak out and practice where no one could see me – down by the creek or in the old gravel pit or out in the woods by Gabe’s berg. I honed my ability until I could throw a rock in the air with all my might and blast it into dust. By the way, your mom doesn’t know.”

  “She won’t care Dad, you’ve proven over the last 30 years who you are.”

  “You’re sure she won’t care?” he asked.

  “I’m positive,” replied Joules as she took his arm and they walked back to the courtyard, “besides, how do you know Mom doesn’t already know? Not much gets by Mom.”

  Joules and her Dad joined the group in the courtyard as they were finishing their speculation about the Jump Starter’s abilities, those known and unknown to the Jump Starter Corporation.

  “I’ll buy dinner at the hotel if you’re hungry,” offered Mr. Livingston to the group. Wayne thought the offer seemed like a thinly-veiled attempt to get them out of the open courtyard and back to the hotel where security guards were making their rounds. But by now everyone was hungry. The offer was well timed since Mark was starting to wonder if any of the landscaping shrubs were edible. As expected they accepted the offer, notwithstanding Wayne’s unspoken dissenting opinion, and proceeded in the direction of the hotel. Blackie positioned himself so he could talk to Mr. Livingston as they walked.

  “I’ve been leaving the hotel almost every day,” he admitted. I wanted to research the Shumbrans and a few other things,” he finished noticing that Joules was deep in conversation with Amelia.

  “Oh I’m fully aware of your clandestine visits to the museum,” replied Livingston.

  “You are?” said Blackie more as a statement of fact than a question. “I suppose Joules told you I was coming to see her,” he added.

  “No, actually Carter has been reporting your whereabouts; he and I are old friends and he thought I should be aware that you had fooled the security guards and were 'gallivanting about the neighborhood' as he put it.”

  “Well I didn’t fool Carter,” said Blackie.

  “No one fools Carter, and the security guards still do not know about your outings,” said Mr. Livingston, “there’s no sense in telling them, it will just make them feel bad. But you must tell me how you popped over to see Joules every day without being detected,” he finished in a way that implied he didn’t have a problem with Blackie’s interest in Joules.

  “Well, it wasn’t every day,” replied Blackie and he explained his daily routine to fool the security guards as they made their way back to the hotel.

  “You might have a bright future in the security business,” said Mr. Livingston after Blackie had finished his explanation. They entered the hotel lobby and Carter was there to greet them.

  “Back from another adventure,” he said to the group and turning to Mr. Livingston asked, “Are you having dinner at the hotel this evening?”

  “Yes, and you should join us,” came Livingston’s reply.

  “Thanks, but I’m on duty. I’ll ring the restaurant and let them know you’re on your way.”

  Dinner was great. Since Mr. Livingston was there the chef must have tried extra hard and the result was completely delicious food, which is not usually the case at hotel restaurants – passable maybe, good maybe, but rarely delicious. Mark ate his meal and Amelia’s leftovers. Joules was quick to let the group know that her Dad knew exactly what had happened at the museum; she did not mention what happened during her meeting with her Dad - she didn’t think it was her place to disclose her Dad’s ability. After that there was considerable discussion about what happened that day. Mark and Wayne opined that after the display Joules put on, the Shumbrans would be complete dupes to come snooping around again. Blackie had his doubts but he kept his thoughts to himself and tried to look as if he didn’t disagree or agree with Wayne and Mark. Nita didn’t hide her feelings on the matter and let everyone know she thought the Shumbrans were imbeciles incapable of retaining enough information to distinguish between a good decision and an irrational one.

  Blackie thought to himself, “That’s not far from how the library book described them.”

  “Don’t hold back Nita,” suggested Mark, “tell us how you really feel.”

  Nita launched a napkin spit ball that hit him squarely in the forehead.

  “Nice shot, Nita, he doesn’t dodge very quickly does he” said Wayne wryly.

  The conversation continued for another half an hour or so until Mr. Livingston announced he needed to attend a brief meeting and that afterward he would swing back to the hotel to pick up Joules. He leaned over and kissed his daughter on the temple, stood up and said goodbye to the group, “I shouldn’t be too long,” and he walked quickly from the restaurant.

  “Busy guy your dad,” said Wayne.

  “You have no idea,” replied Joules.

  “Looks like we have some time to kill, I say we each get a carafe of Gorgas Cavitas from the bar, order an additional pitcher for refills and go swimming,” said Amelia.

  “Brilliant idea, but I don’t have a suit,” replied Joules.

  “Not to worry, Nita and I will escort you to the hotel shops and we can meet the gentlemen at the pool,” said Amelia. Joules quickly found a suit that fit her almost perfectly and within 20 minutes she, Amelia and Nita were at the pool. “

  Where do you think the guys are/” asked Nita. “There is simply no telling, but they will show up sooner or later,” replied Amelia. It was later.

  Mark, Wayne and Blackie got sidetracked when they walked by the main ballroom of the hotel. The doors were open and the expansiveness of the room was like an invitation beckoning them to visit. “This would be a great place to have a concert,” said Mark. “I’ll bet this room would hold a thousand people.”

  “It even has a built in stage,” remarked Wayne pointing to the far end of the room.

  From behind them a voice asked, “Are you interested in the ballroom.” They turned to find a hotel employee standing nearby.

  “We are always interested in concert venues,” said Mark, “we are guests at the hotel.”

  The employee offered to check availability of the ballroom and Blackie reminded Mark that Buster, the band’s lead singer, was not with them.

  “That is potentially problematic,” offered Wayne.

  “Could you fetch him in time to play two nights hence?” asked the hotel employee. “The ballroom is not booked and we could make it available to you at no charge if you’re willing to
split the entrance fee.”

  “How do you know anyone will attend,” asked Blackie.

  “Oh, hotel patrons always fill the room; they usually have nothing else better to do in the evenings,” replied the employee who introduced himself as Larry. This was like a knife in the stomach, a chance to play to a thousand people in a gorgeous venue and Buster wasn’t there.

  “Maybe we could play without Buster?” said Mark.

  “We take a lot of cues from Buster Mark, it wouldn’t be the same and besides who would sing?” asked Wayne.

  “Blackie could sing couldn’t you Blackie,” was Mark’s immediate response.

  “Couldn’t you just fetch this Buster person?” asked Larry.

  “It’s not that simple,” offered Blackie. “Buster’s whereabouts relative to our whereabouts is currently unknown.”

  “Well if you decide to accept the offer while you are here, and you locate your Buster chap, just let me know and I’ll check the schedule,” said Larry as he turned and left the ballroom.

  “I’m going to kill Buster when I see him,” said Mark. For obvious reasons Wayne and Blackie felt the same way.

  Apparently, an innocent person should sometimes be sacrificed just to make a statement; and to make everyone else feel better. This may be true more often when dealing with musicians but that association has not been scientifically proven. I’m sure Dr. Nigel Toffingten could sort out the ins and outs of the entire moral dilemma effortlessly.

  Mr. Livingston pulled his transport into the parking lot of an old building that looked like it hadn’t had a visitor in months. He walked toward the front door, opened a panel mounted on the adjoining wall and pushed the red button. A retinal scan identified him as Colonel Edward R. Livingston, commander of Special Forces Unit CE-#24; a finger print scan verified the retinal scan and the front door lock buzzed indicating he had 10 seconds to enter. Mr. Livingston made his way to the conference room in the west wing. He entered the room sensing he wasn’t alone. “Carter, I’m going to need your assistance,” he said to the dark room before the lights came on.

  “That’s why I’m here Colonel Livingston, I’ll help you anyway I can, you know that,” replied Carter from the far side of the conference table.

  “It may require using some of your unique and special skills,” replied Mr. Livingston.

  Carter didn’t hesitate, “We go way back Livingston. “If you think I’m the man to help you then I’m in.”

  “It involves the Shumbrans.”

  “Oh, I knew that. This isn’t my first rodeo Livingston.”

  “I have to tell you, you may see some things you can’t talk about.”

  “That’s the usual drill,” replied Carter.

  “Carter, you may see some things you have never seen before and I need your word you will keep it a solemn lifelong secret.”

  Carter had served in a unique capacity for the military and he had served part of that time shoulder to shoulder with Livingston. They conducted the type of operations you never read about in the newspapers or online, and no one makes movies about them because real life often conspires to be one step beyond imagination. Together they had seen everything a military operation could muster. Carter was convinced he was going to see a new military technology that hadn’t been deployed yet, and that Livingston was about to deploy it against the Shumbrans. “It couldn’t happen to a nicer group of fellows,” he thought. “Your secrets are my secrets. I’m in” he told Livingston. And with that the planning began.

  “I’ll need intelligence on the Shumbrans’ operations center,” stated Livingston.

  “That would be in here,” replied Carter as he placed a file folder on the table, “I suspected this would escalate after the red nail incident so I took the liberty of discreetly obtaining information you might need to plan a strike. That is what we’re doing isn’t it, planning a strike?”

  Livingston never ceased to be amazed at Carter’s instinct; it had saved his life on at least two occasions. The file had observations of Shumbrans arriving and leaving their headquarters on the wharf near Pier 13. There were estimates of total personnel, types of weapons likely to be encountered and very importantly how many were on duty at any given time. Once each month all the Shumbrans are at the wharf for a meeting.

  “That’s the day we strike,” said Livingston.

  “When they are all there?” asked Carter.

  “The more the better,” replied Livingston, “did you get any information on the contents of the building?”

  “Do you mean specifically the Usilite Corporation safe?” asked Carter with a satisfied look on his face. “It was delivered 9 months ago; there’s a copy of the delivery form in the file. It has dimensions of twenty by thirty two on the inside, 10.5 feet high and it’s made of 18 inch thick Usilite steel,” he said. “That puppy is virtually impenetrable,” remarked Carter.

  “We’ll see about that,” replied Livingston who added, “we’ll need a tractor trailer and a fork lift.”

  “I assume that means we are going to borrow the contents of that safe,” said Carter.

  Livingston smiled, “That we are, which means we will need a crew on standby to load the contents after you and I are finished inside. By the way, see if the Perlucidians will loan us one of their new weapons.”

  “Man, I’d love to get my hands on one of those for an afternoon at the practice range,” remarked Carter, “I’ll see what I can do but if the answer is no, how about getting a Perlucidian to accompany us?”

  “Only if they won’t lend us a weapon,” replied Livingston, “the fewer potential witnesses the better. Livingston wondered if the Perlucidians already knew about the incident at the museum and his daughter’s contribution to the Shumbran fight; he wondered if they might suspect him to have the same ability. It didn’t matter really, besides Perlucidians by nature are not rumormongers prone to gossip. “It is entirely likely, he thought, that they know exactly what happened in the museum and it is also likely they won’t discuss it outside of their own collective'.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  THE HALL OF HALLS

  The origin of physical, temporal beings has been debated throughout the ages. The debate has raged on every planet, in every solar system, in every language in every universe known and unknown. For some the answer to origins is easy; for others not so much. There are legends surrounding the origins of virtually every type of being in the universes, and legends regarding the Shumbrans are no exception. In fact they are a favorite subject of legends and speculation; second only to the Desredeedese Shades. One legend maintains that the spirits of all beings return to their origin upon the death of their host, and are stored in clear crystalline phials until the day of some great future event whose details are known to few and speculated about by all. But the legend also says that all spirits are not stored in the same manner and that each spirit is burdened, some less and some much more, by the realization of how its previous host conducted themselves during their physical life. When a spirit returns to the place of its origin it enters The Great Hall of Halls where all new and returning spirits are protected. Legend has it that there are three distinct sections of The Great Hall of Halls; the first is the unfettered section where spirit that has not yet been hosted resides. This is spirit that is completely pure, completely unspoiled and it is kept in The Hall of Virtues. It is not contained in a vessel or bottle or any other such device but it freely occupies space within the Hall, lingering in anticipation of its ultimate purpose, to be assigned to a living entity. The other two sections hold spirit that has been hosted, has returned, and that has disclosed itself. Legend has it that disclosure occurs when the previously hosted spirit arrives and enters The Great Hall of Halls and gathers itself into one of the crystalline phials in the foyer, also called The Hall of Returning. Once gathered, the phial is sealed and disclosure begins. If the spirit within the crystalline phial remains clear and embraces light, it blazes like crisp new sunshine and it is stored in t
he second section called The Place of Those Remembered. This second section is dazzling beyond imagination as the brightness of the phials stored there illuminates the room, its light dancing along walls, floor and ceiling, chasing away any possibility or hint of darkness. In The Place of Those Remembered there is only light; bright, clean, pure light.

  But there is another possible fate of returning spirits that becomes evident at disclosure. Not all phials remain clear and light but some turn dark and prevent light from entering or passing through. The darkness within those phials swirls like the blackness of the deepest night caught in a whirling wind as if it wished to deflect every ray of light and blanket itself in abject darkness. Those phials, with their dark impenetrable darkness, are stored in the third section. There are not nearly as many phials there as in The Place of Those Remembered, but sadly there are some. The dark phials that fight against light and seek to prevent all illumination are sent to The Place of All Consuming Fire.