Test of Magnitude (The Torian Reclamation)

by Kasch, Andy

  Brandon looked back across the room, but the window he saw a moment ago was gone. Whatever. Brandon suddenly wanted to do the side-wall spring trick the other guy just did. He ran and jumped up at the wall, care-free and happy again.

  * * *

  “We are fortunate,” Professor Yob3 said. “Both subjects have fully resuscitated and are without physical injury. Their breathing is unlabored, which makes me suspect our worlds have a higher oxygen content than theirs.”

  “Are their implants working?” Mip7 asked. He was alone in the hallway with the professor. Arkan9 had left to meet with the Amulen Chancellor yesterday and was due back later today. It had already been a week since their initial meeting with the scientists, during which Mip7 learned more about cryonic preservation than he ever cared to know. He had come to like Professor Yob3, however, whose interest in the resuscitation project had grown considerably. He seemed almost downright enthusiastic about it now. Director Markin1 had only stopped by occasionally to ask a few questions here and there, and seemed more concerned about his authority being usurped than the physical condition of the Earthlings.

  The first and the last subjects to be abducted had been identified and found within the vast cryonic chamber network maintained at RL-71. The Earthling section occupied nearly a third of one of the large octagon-shaped buildings. Special apparatus was built which allowed the two subject’s individual chambers to be removed from the network without disturbing their personal environment. They were moved to a dedicated room, and then a slow process of altering the chamber environment, little by little, was engineered by two of Yob3’s assistants. That process began two days ago. Yesterday, the chamber atmospheres finally reached equilibrium with the outside air, so the cryonic tanks were opened and the subjects, now fully “thawed,” were bathed and put on normal life support tubes for rehydration. They were kept asleep by anesthetics while Torian transmitter implants were surgically installed along the Earthling’s auditory nerves. They were then taken off anesthesia and life support, removed from their chambers, and allowed to revive naturally inside a “soft room,” where they were now. The subjects began to wake and stir several hours ago.

  “Yes, the implants are transmitting accurately,” Yob3 replied. He pushed a button on a panel in front of him and some wave patterns in different colors scrolled across a screen. “These signals are good. As to whether or not the implants will correctly translate audio into their native language, it’s my guess they will initially be about 90% accurate, and will then need a little fine-tuning after communications begin. We should start to get a feel for that in the next phase.”

  “The orientation videos?” Mip7 asked.

  “We need to get them eating, drinking, and using the hygiene rooms first,” Yob3 said. “They will probably remain in this abstract state for a while longer, thinking they are dreaming still. When they start to come out of it, we will provide food and drink, which should help bring them into sharper mental focus.”

  “Maybe a tube of Redflower-20 would help,” Mip7 said.

  “No, alcohol would prolong their chimerical condition. A stimulant would be more appropriate, but I’m hoping a dose of pure water will suffice.” Yob3 hit another button on his panel and a different image appeared on the screen, one of many small dots pulsating and forming a solid field at the bottom.

  “We need to start adjusting the gravity field in the room now. Their bones are healthy and their muscles seem to be functioning properly, so let’s start getting them anchored to the floor.” He adjusted several knobs on the panel.

  * * *

  Brandon noticed his jumps were becoming shorter, and he was starting to get tired. The other guy in the room was apparently having the same problem, as he fell flat on his back this time when he tried to launch himself up on the side wall for the hand-spring trick.

  “Bummer, man! It’s like …someone turned on the gravity or something.” He looked up at Brandon. “What’s the secret to flying?”

  Brandon shook his head. “I wish I knew. There’s something not right happening here, though. I’m getting a bad feeling again.”

  “Don’t be a drag, brother. If you don’t like my dream, you can cut out. Just turn the gravity off for me again when you split, all right?”

  Brandon studied the man on the floor for a moment. He reminded him of his stupid hippie-throwback brother-in-law, Derek. This guy wasn’t an exact match for Derek, but usually one person changed into another in Brandon’s dreams, or sometimes their face would change while still representing the same person. So, he decided to just label him as Derek.

  “Your sister is a whore,” Brandon said. He wasn’t sure what made him say that. Probably, it was just something he had wanted to say for a while.

  Derek laughed. “My sister’s a square, man. A total virgin. She’s going to marry a square someday. Mr. Establishment, no doubt. Then she’ll get to be Mrs. Establishment, and raise little panty waist kids who will grow up in the establishment and then go to Vietnam, or some other war, and kill other dudes and then get killed themselves. I’ll probably have to be a pallbearer at their funerals.”

  Brandon’s uneasiness was replaced by sudden surge of repulsion. “Well, someone’s got to fight to protect our country,” he said, “so guys like you can lay around all day, get high, and look at shapes in the clouds.”

  “Oh man, I thought you were cool. Why am I locked in this white room with a dude whose karma is dragging down the gravity? Maybe I need to wake up before this goes nightmare on me.”

  “That’s a good idea, Derek. Here, let me pinch you so you can wake up.” Brandon stepped towards him, bent down, and reached out his arm. Before he could touch him, however, Derek rolled over and sprang to his feet. Brandon chased him to the other side of the room—where a doorway was now open.

  Both of them stopped in their tracks. The running had been more arduous than before, and Brandon’s steps had lost their springing effect. Maybe bad karma was dragging this dream down after all. Brandon always wanted to punch Derek, though, and hoped it wouldn’t end before he got the chance.

  The smell of food drifted in through the newly-opened door. Brandon could now see a slightly-darker room with metallic-looking walls through the doorway. It smelled like warm biscuits. Brandon hadn’t smelled anything good in a dream like this since the early days of his marriage, when his wife used to get up early on weekends and cook him breakfast while he was sleeping in. Maybe today was his birthday and Sheri was cooking breakfast for him.

  No. It wasn’t his birthday, it was some other holiday. Christmas, maybe? Wait—didn’t they just have Christmas? New Year’s Day. Was it New Year’s?

  Sheri. Wait a minute. Something was wrong with Sheri. There was something he was supposed to do, something he couldn’t remember. Damn. He was in some kind of trouble, wasn’t he? What was it?

  “That food smells righteous,” Derek said. “Like the bakeries near the Berkeley campus.” Derek walked through the door.

  Brandon followed him. The new room was considerably bigger than the white bounce-room. As his eyes adjusted to the darker colors, he could see video screens and chairs against the far wall. The floor was like a hard rubber, and it was comparatively more difficult to walk in here. There were two doors against one of the walls, which were both closed. A portable table with food on it was placed between the doors and the video screen area. Brandon followed Derek to the table. He had to admit, it did smell darn good in here.

  “Groovy, pita bread,” Derek said. He took a round piece of flatbread out of a bowl and began to eat it. “Wow, this is good, man.”

  Brandon took a piece and held it under his nose. Nothing like the smell of warm, fresh bread. He tore off a piece with his teeth and began to chew. The bread had a slightly nutty taste to it, and filled his mouth with the flavor of fresh grains.

  “We just need some falafels to go with this,” Derek said.

  Brandon looked at the table and noticed there were several open jars of spr
eads of some kind, in different colors. He picked up an odd-looking utensil, a spreading knife he supposed, and spread some of the lightest-colored spread on his bread. It was sweet, similar to honey, but not as sticky.

  The other spreads tasted nutty like peanut butter or spicy like brown mustard—but not exactly like those things. Derek and Brandon ate the entire basket of flatbread with the spreads. They then noticed the cups next to the pitcher on the table and poured them full. It was water. Good, clean, pure water that was incredibly refreshing for some reason.

  The largest video screen on the wall lit up, drawing both of their attention. There was a picture of two cups of steaming coffee on the screen.

  “Whoa!” Derek said. “Man, this is like some kind of futuristic scene or something. Crazy science fiction. Like Star Trek.”

  Brandon felt his digestion system begin to work, and suddenly began to have doubts as to whether he was really dreaming or not. He looked behind him, back to the doorway to the white room, but it was gone. Not closed, but completely gone. The wall was a solid metallic gray where the door had been.

  “Want some coffee, man?”

  Brandon looked back over and saw that Derek was standing next to a small table in front of the large video screen, pouring another pitcher of something into a cup. Brandon walked over to him. Normally, Brandon was not a coffee drinker—but the image of the steaming coffee cups was still on the screen, and was strangely compelling. There was an empty cup on the little table, so Brandon filled it.

  “No cream or sugar I guess,” Derek said. He sat down in a chair in front of the table, facing the big screen. “These sure are some far out futuristic chairs, though.”

  Brandon sat next to him and sipped at his coffee. It was mild tasting, and smooth, but had a discernible caffeine kick to it. He liked it. The chairs were unique, but nothing Brandon would be surprised to see in a modern furniture store.

  “Maybe this is actually tea from the far east,” Derek said. He took another sip and looked over at Brandon. “Sorry about calling you a dude back there. You may be a warmonger, but that doesn’t give me an excuse to act like one myself. I say peace, brother.”

  “I don’t care if you call me a dude,” Brandon said. “I am a dude.”

  Derek laughed and spit coffee out of his mouth. “That’s cool, man. Humility is righteous. See, right there it proves you aren’t a dude.”

  Brandon found he could focus better now. He felt a sense of awakening. Only, he was still here. That nagging feeling of being on the verge of an unpleasant memory returned. He recalled something about Sheri flirting with other men again, and him getting mad about it. He probably retaliated in some manner. Maybe he and Sheri were fighting. But it all seemed so distant, so long ago. The slight pain behind both his ears felt real enough, and the hot coffee in his mouth was a little painful as well. Then there was the digestion action in his stomach, and now his ability to hold a focus on everything in the room. This was no ordinary dream. Derek was remaining the same person for too long, and the scene was holding steady for the most part. Brandon began to get the uncomfortable feeling that this was all real, and he was indeed awake.

  He studied Derek for a long moment. No, that wasn’t actually Derek, was it? He was just someone who reminded him of Derek.

  “What’s your name?” Brandon asked.

  “Yeah, right on. Peace, brother. Star Jumper. They call me Star Jumper.”

  “They may call you that, but I’m not. What was your given name at birth?”

  The hippie refilled his coffee and said, “I don’t like that one, brother. I like to be called Star Jumper. If you don’t dig it, call me whatever you like. Don’t blame me if I don’t answer, though.” He topped up Brandon’s coffee as well, and then sat back down. Nice enough guy for a wannabe hippie.

  “I’m just going to keep calling you Derek then, if that’s all right. You remind me of a Derek I know. I think you’d like him.”

  “Derek, huh? I guess that’s better than Dirk. I thought you were calling me Dirk back there.”

  “What’s the last thing you remember, Derek, before the white bouncing room, I mean?”

  Derek looked up at the ceiling. That caused Brandon to look up at the ceiling, too. It was the same gray metal look as the rest of the room, except there were smoked glass bubbles here and there, the type that hide video cameras in casinos.

  “Those might be cameras up there,” Brandon said. “Maybe we are under surveillance.”

  “Spooky, man.”

  “Brandon. My name is Brandon.”

  “Brandon. That’s a good name.” Derek was still staring at the ceiling.

  “Hendrix,” he said. “Camping in the park in Oakland. We got tickets and we’re going to see Jimi tomorrow. That’s going to be boss, brother.”

  “Jimi Hendrix,” Brandon said. “Now you’re talking my language. Sounds awesome. What, like a tribute band or something?”

  “Tribute? No, He’s playing with The Experience, brother. Vanilla Fudge and Soft Machine are opening for him. Three bands. Gonna be a groovy show.”

  A low humming sound came on above their heads. Brandon and Derek looked up again. Brandon thought it sounded like an audio system turning on.

  “Maybe they’re about to play some Hendrix for us,” Brandon said.

  “Oh, that would be boss, brother.”

  The caffeine, which he wasn’t used to, was heightening Brandon’s senses even more. It was time to find out what exactly was going on. Was this a dream, or not? If not, where was he?

  “Derek, can I ask you a personal question?”

  “Yeah man, as long as it isn’t about my name, my family, or my sister’s chastity.”

  “Did you drop acid while camping in the park?”

  “No, man, I’m not into that. I like my Mary Jane and a good cup of Joe. They heighten the senses, you know. You don’t happen to have any Jane, do you?”

  “No. So, you don’t do any harder drugs?”

  “No need, brother, no need. Of course, that don’t mean I haven’t had the L slipped into my drink by my dude friends. Sometimes they just can’t leave a man to his own peace. I figure that’s why I’m here with you, although you probably aren’t real. They must have slipped me a good dose this time.”

  The food and coffee must have been affecting Derek as well. He was now attributing his presence here to a hallucinogenic drug trip—so he no longer thought it was a dream, either. It seemed he was beginning the have the same kinds of doubts Brandon was, in his own way.

  “You set your drink down and weren’t watching it?” Brandon asked.

  “No man, I learned not to do that. I finished my drink. I was heading to the trees to take a wiz—”

  Derek jumped up and dropped his coffee cup. It hit the floor, but didn’t break. A look of horror and distrust fell over his face. He pointed his finger at Brandon.

  “You’re freaking me out, man!”

  Brandon’s own fears suddenly surfaced, prodded into acceleration by Derek’s emotional outburst. He set his cup down on the table and stood up as well.

  “Well I don’t think we’re dreaming, and I don’t think we’re on a drug trip, either!” Brandon shouted back. “I’m just trying to figure out where the hell I am, and what I’m doing here with a hippie from the ‘60’s!”

  The two stood staring at each other, both poised to start running, at or away from each other, which way Brandon couldn’t tell. That’s when the overhead audio system began to play. It wasn’t a Jimi Hendrix song. It was a man’s voice—a calm one, thankfully.

  “The two doors you see on the wall lead to hyena rooms,” the voice said. “Please use them at your convenience.”

  Brandon and Derek looked around the room in a panicked reaction. The only change was the image on the video screen. It now showed a picture of the two doors that were against the side wall. An outline-figure of a man appeared on the screen and walked up to one of the doors, and it opened in front of him. The figure walked
in the door and it closed behind him. This scene then repeated itself several times on the screen.

  The voice spoke again. “The doors to the hyena rooms open automatically when you approach them.”

  “Stay away from those doors!” Derek said.

  Brandon looked at the doors, and then looked back at Derek. “Why? If this is a dream or an LSD hallucination, you can’t really get hurt, right?”

  “Don’t turn this into a bad trip, man! Please! A friend of mine almost lost his arm, after gouging it with a tree branch over and over during a bad trip. Brando, please. Don’t let those hyenas out!”

  “Brandon,” Brandon said, “not Brando. And I don’t want to go into a hyena room any more than you do, believe me. Let’s just calm down. All right? Peace, brother?”

  Derek hesitated, but then made the peace sign with one of his hands. Brandon returned the gesture, and they both sat back down. Brandon leaned over to pick Derek’s cup up off the floor, and refilled it for him. He handed it to him as an olive branch offering. Derek accepted it.

  “Now don’t freak out,” Brandon said, “But I think we might be dead.”

  Derek looked at him like he was nuts for a second, but then started laughing uncontrollably.

  “That’s the funniest thing I ever heard, brother! You’re a comedy genius! Oh, man! Don’t freak out but you’re dead!”

  Brandon thought about what he just said and began laughing as well. It was good that the mood had been lightened some.

  “Well,” Brandon continued, “it’s not so bad, right? They have good coffee here, wherever we are.”

  Derek stopped laughing and said, “All right, Brandon, you tell me the last thing you remember, before the white room.”

  Fair play. Brandon tried to focus. He decided to just start talking as he was thinking.

  “A party. I think. Yeah. A party. Your sister—I mean, my wife, is…was…drinking and flirting with other men. I got upset. I think I left her there at the party.”