“What is that?” I inquire.
“You’re now an honorary member of the Coalition of Superheroes. Many of us wish you could stay here with us, but we all understand why you must take your leave.”
I touch the insignia and smile.
Cronos projects a temporal bubble on his side and TAINHA adjusts the modularity inside the temporal distortion so we can use it as a portal to return to our time.
“Thank you; all of you. And, I guess, this is goodbye.”
“Goodbye,” says Cronos.
“Goodbye, Cole Seeker,” adds Phaser.
I step through the portal and the strange, yet familiar sensation of time travel engulfs me once again. Soon I am back in a familiar setting. Rewind temporal chamber. I feel dizzy and can barely stand up for the few moments that follow our longer than usual time jump.
It’s good to be back, isn’t it? I ask.
It is…Cole.
Somehow, I feel a little sadness in her statement. I push the thought aside, maybe I’m imagining things.
Temporal Officer, Gary Thompson welcomes us. He has a new blond lock of hair on the left side of his head. It suits him well.
“We didn’t expect you this early. You just left. General Richardson has been notified, and he’s on his way to conduct your debrief.
Swell.
After a boring, two-hour debrief with the general, I’m finally allowed to enter my regeneration chamber. My nanites did a great job of patching my shoulder tissues, but I’m feeling quite weak and disoriented still. I think I simply lack energy, and a cycle in the machine will do me a world of good. It’s standard procedure anyway after any mission.
Inside the regeneration chamber, the lights turn blue and a sensation of peace envelops me as the machine releases calming drugs for both body and mind. I can feel myself falling asleep when, from the corner of my eye, I see a tech looking at me funny. He notices and turns his head away and starts talking with a co-worker.
A bad feeling in my guts, I feel compelled to try and understand what he’s saying, but I don’t have a good line of sight to read his lips. I try accessing either my auditory augment or my drugs augment in an attempt to delay falling asleep, but I have lost access to them all.
I’m too weak to talk, so I use thought communications.
TAINHA, are you still online?
Affirmative, Cole. You should go to sleep; we had a long day.
Yeah, in a minute. I can’t access my augments. I need to dose myself with a stimulant.
It’s standard procedure to disable your augments once in the regeneration chamber.
I know. Do you still have control over them?
Only for a few seconds. Rewind is currently downloading my memory banks. Once finished, they’ll shut me down as well.
Then hurry; please dose me with as much stimulant as we have left and have my auditory augment activated so I can hear what the techs are saying.
What good will that do, Cole?
TAINHA, please.
I can feel energy return as the drugs enter my bloodstream, and I start hearing words exchanged outside the chamber.
“I don’t like this part of our job,” says one tech.
“This doesn’t concern us, John. We do what we are asked.”
“But, don’t you ever feel sorry for this poor sap? He’s saving many lives on a daily basis, and we don’t even tell him he’s just a—”
A random static discharge in my augment prevents me from hearing the tech’s last word.
What the feck did he just say?
“We’re not supposed to talk about this, John. In fact we’re not even supposed to know this, but you had to snoop as you always do.”
“He’s already out, Alex. He can’t hear us. Even if he could, he’ll soon be gone.”
My heartbeat accelerates and I feel a sudden helplessness and claustrophobia. I know if I fall asleep, I won’t wake up. But how can that be? I always remember every trip to the regeneration chamber.
“Memory transfer complete,” says Alex. “I’m initiating the memory upload now.”
What the hell is this?
TAINHA? What is this? Did you know about it?
She must be off-line as she doesn’t answer. The effect of the stimulant is short lived, I barely have a coherent thought anymore, but I feel panic at my very core.
“Seriously, Alex, what kind of humans are we to be doing this to our top agents? Wouldn’t you like to know if you were in his shoes?”
My eyes are almost closed, but I can see Alex rise from his chair and point an accusing finger.
“This is the last time I tell you this, John. If you want to keep your job, you listen and listen well! This is how this facility operates. If our bosses think not telling him about this will make him a more efficient agent, that’s their right, and if we want to keep our jobs, we’ll keep schtum about it, understood?”
“Still, it’s not fair.”
“I’ve had it with you,” says Alex, storming away.
“Where are you going? Can’t we have a simple discussion?”
Alex stops.
“We’re not having a discussion. You do this every time, and one day it will cost me my job. I’m requesting a transfer. I can’t have your conscience and mouth running be a Damocles sword hanging over my future all the time.”
By this point, I can’t understand their words anymore or see them. My world is turning black. I feel alone like never before in my entire life. I feel my life being stolen from me with each passing second. What is usually a peaceful slumber after a hard day becomes my last requiem.
Before I can form another thought, my mind turns blank and is swallowed into Oblivion.
A Word from Christian Kallias
If you have enjoyed this story about Cole Seeker and time travel, I encourage you to check out the full novel, Rewind 717, here at this link: http://myBook.to/R717
A BETTER GIG
BY A.J. McWAIN
A BETTER GIG
BY A.J. McWAIN
On a small gig, it’s easy to keep track of everyone, but even on a well-paid, big band jazz gig with trumpet players, trombones, saxophones, plus piano, bass, and drums, when it’s over everyone’s so eager to pack up and get out of there, you’re lucky to even get a goodbye.
I was pretty hungry, but I always say, “yes” to free food on gigs just in principle.
Those who did stay after, ate the luxurious food quickly and headed out. I had never seen such a lavish backroom spread—especially presented just for musicians who, at big corporate functions like this, are often considered “the help.” I had some extraordinary pumpkin ravioli, several perfectly cooked asparagus spears, and the most amazing potatoes-au-gratin I had ever encountered. Before I knew it, almost all of the other musicians had left and I was left staring at the colorful and majestic spread on the buffet table that looked like it was set up for the cover of a French foodie magazine. I’ve never smelled such incredible aromas, and everything I tasted was world-class. The few of us who lingered devoured as much as we could, and after a trip to the ladies’ room I got into a conversation about the music business with the waiter, Rik, and his floor manager, Marcy. The last couple musicians left to go check out another nightclub gig in Providence.
Then I woke up here, and really wasn’t sure what happened.
“Catch up with you later—Going to an after-party to talk about a paid internship in NYC. #WISHMELUCK”
Three musicians on my Newport big band gig received that simple text message, even though I never sent it.
• • •
Dr. Rieko Tanaka and her team of researchers work in a laboratory complex hidden near the summit of Mount Wachusett on the border between Westminster and Princeton, two small Massachusetts towns. For years, this facility has been secretly funded by anonymous support given to the Endowment Fund at Princeton University in New Jersey. The assets earmarked for the Mount Wachusett Lab are funneled through an account marked simply as the �
�Princeton General Research Fund (Legacy).” By necessity, only a few people at the Ivy League university are aware of this invisible account.
Dr. Tanaka’s staff was discussing the long-awaited Phase Two of their project, when a wall-mounted screen above the large table switched on. The lead scientist knew it was activated by a motion-sensor camera in the barracks.
“Looks like she just woke up,” Rieko said, glancing out the conference room window at the morning light as she stood. “Let’s head in there.”
In a large open barracks with white painted concrete walls, there were sixteen metal-framed beds, polished industrial floors, and a closed-circuit surveillance monitoring system. The cavernous space enveloped the disoriented musician who was slowly regaining consciousness. Leenie stretched and looked around the spacious room, with its high ceilings, open floor plan, and bright morning sun streaming in, and felt unexpectedly calm even though she found herself in a strange, clinical environment.
“Good morning, Kathleen, Ms. Doran,” said a woman in a white lab coat. “But I could call you Leenie, is that right?”
“Who the heck are you?” said Leenie, beginning to focus on her situation. “How did I even get here?”
As she rubbed her hand over the top of her head, it occurred to her something was missing. “And where’s my trumpet?”
“My name is Rieko—Dr. Rieko Tanaka—and this is my facility. What’s the last thing that you remember?”
“Did you people kidnap me?” Leenie asked. “Where’s my stuff?”
“Please, just tell us what you remember?”
“When my gig was over, that waitress Marcy told us that we could eat something after we packed up. No one knew we were going to be fed after we played, and then the food was pretty amazing. I had a conversation about the music business with a waiter named Rik and—” Fighting back a yawn, she stretched her arms and shoulders noticing for the first time, a band-aid and cotton swab on her left arm. “What’s this? Did you take blood‽”
“Relax, please,” said Dr. Tanaka. “Yes, Marcy and Rik are my right-hands in this lab: Dr. Marcelle Gauvin and Dr. Rik Lloyd.” She gestured toward her staffers who entered the room with her. They both nodded to Leenie showing concern for her agitation.
“You crazy people kidnapped me? What is this place?” said Leenie again. “I don’t want introductions, I want answers!”
“Well, yes, we did bring you here from Newport without your knowledge or prior consent, so technically that’s probably kidnapping, or abduction, or something like that,” Dr. Tanaka said with an embarrassed grin. “But your life was in danger as soon as we ran the test.”
“What test? What are you talking about?” Leenie said, even more agitated. “And I want to know—right now—where I am!”
“Calm down, please, “ said Dr. Gauvin. “Dr. Tanaka will answer all your questions. Just give her a chance…”
“Okay,” said Rieko. “Currently you—we—are about two hours north of Newport, Rhode Island, at a facility on Mount Wachusett, in western Massachusetts. It’s the second largest mountain in the state and—”
“And why am I here? Why did you kidnap me after that Goat Island gig?”
“Well, it’s actually pretty simple. We need your help,” Dr. Tanaka said. “And please call me Rieko.” She walked closer to the young trumpet player so she could speak more softly and to help calm the situation. “It’s okay for you to be angry, Leenie…and skeptical. But just hear me out first before you decide whether you want to leave right away.”
Rieko looked down at the small tablet in her hand and pressed a few buttons before continuing. “My team—with Rik and Marcelle and the seven other scientists and staffers who work at this lab—has detected a miraculous alloy embedded inside a number of musical instruments made in Europe in the early twentieth century. This alloy has strange molecular characteristics and properties, and tends to morph—or change its shape—upon command.”
Dr. Tanaka lifted her control tablet and switched on a massive computer monitor on the far wall, activating a video clip. “This is a simulation, but here’s what I mean.” The screen showed a rotating instrument, in full 3D, slowly morph into a strange shape. “As you can see here, the instrument completely changes its shape and adapts into an extraordinarily large, wearable curved shield…that is also still technically a sound conductor.”
“Okay, this makes no sense. How can a trumpet— from what year?” asked Leenie.
“These instruments are from the 1930’s,” said Dr. Lloyd.
“How can anything from the 1930’s do that?” she said. “And you’re just showing me a computer simulation, so why should I even trust any of this?”
“I know you just woke up, and this is all pretty strange,” Dr. Tanaka said, looking tired herself, but beaming at the accomplishments of the last twenty-four hours, “but believe it or not, we went to great trouble to get you on that gig so that we could perform a final test, and you passed. Then we moved you by boat from Goat Island to Quonset Point, and a late night chopper flight up here. We have been looking for you, Kathleen—um, Leenie. And somehow we found you…”
“You know people must be wondering where I am?” said Leenie. “I’m sure the cops have already been called because—”
“Well, we cloned your phone and sent enough text messages that no one will be looking for you for at least a few more hours.”
“But what about my Sunday church gig—”
“Yeah, they got a voicemail from you that we assembled from recent calls you made on your wireless carrier…” said Dr. Lloyd.
“What?” Leenie huffed, and turned toward the two scientists still over near the doorway. “You can do that?” She brought both palms up to her forehead and closed her eyes for a moment. “Okay, but what do you mean about a test?”
“We have determined, by something we can hopefully discuss over breakfast, that you are the musician we’ve been searching for. It means that you possess the extremely rare genetic ability to control this morphing effect and use the power that is unlocked by doing so,” Dr. Tanaka said. “It’s not just that you have very special DNA nucleotides in your chromosomes, it’s also that you have had extensive training in music—sound waves—and that you have displayed genuine empathy on many occasions. Our research and your personality profile leads us to believe that beyond all other characteristics, you are, above all, a selfless person. You care about others…”
“This is total crap. I’ve heard enough. I want to go home…now!” Leenie snapped. “Not sure what kind of game you’re all playing here, but this is a federal crime—kidnapping, drugging me, taking me over state lines. You guys are all in pretty big trouble.”
“Just bring it in. Show her,” said Dr. Tanaka, gesturing towards her fellow researchers.
Dr. Lloyd quickly popped out into the hallway and reentered pushing a large steel laboratory cart in Leenie’s direction. This mobile rig featured a laptop and control screen on one end, and had a plexiglass case on top filled with an ornate vintage brass instrument lying on a large, soft, black square. Down below a long strip of lights revealed another set of monitors and wires that attached to the underside of the cart.
“Is that a Courtois trumpet in C…from Paris?” As Leenie stepped forward she noticed a temperature reading below (72*F) and a yellow and red sensor meter. It was clearly active, but simmering at a low point on its digital grid.
“Yes, Leenie. Good!” said Dr. Tanaka. “My team has been studying a lot about the history of these vintage instruments. This one is quite old, but it seems to have been overhauled. Don’t mind those meters and monitors at the bottom of the cart. It’s perfectly safe.”
Dr. Lloyd opened the plexiglass hatch and carefully picked up the old silver-plated trumpet, and handed it to Leenie.
“Is this for me?” she asked. “Is this a bribe since you—”
“No,” Dr. Tanaka said. She glanced in the direction of Dr. Gauvin and Dr. Lloyd and they both backed away from Leen
ie, who was looking at the trumpet and not noticing the space they were now giving her.
“Play it if you want,” Dr. Tanaka said. “It’s definitely not a bribe…”
“I’m not playing it without boiling this old mouthpiece. Sorry, that’s not going to happen!” She looked down at the instrument in her right hand again and quickly moved her fingers over the valves, rotating it as she touched the bell’s silver finish with her left hand. “It feels pretty good though. Where’s my horn? Maybe I can try it with my own mouthpiece.”
“Let me ask you a question, Leenie,” Dr. Tanaka grinned again as she regained her attention. “Have you ever wanted to stop something from happening but it was completely out of your control?”
“Not really sure what you’re asking.”
“You know, something dangerous… You see a car accident about to happen and you wish you could do something…or maybe a broken-down truck blocking an ambulance from passing…” she said. “Those sound familiar?”
“Yeah, actually! Those things both happened to me over the summer.” Leenie forgot about the trumpet and glared at the scientists. “You people! Have you been following me?”
“Behind you!” Dr. Tanaka replied quickly.
As Leenie turned around, she saw that Rik had climbed up on top of the lab cart closed his eyes and was stepping backward slowly toward the edge. He looked frightened, but was clearly determined to fall.
Intuitively, Leenie lifted her arms in what felt like exaggerated slow-motion and the Courtois instrument shimmered in her right hand. It quickly morphed into a smooth sleeve of metal over her right forearm and created a new sound funnel at the end above her fist, broader than the trumpet’s original bell. A glassy sonic pulse coil came out from above her knuckles just as Rik fell and it caught him in mid-air. The translucent waves and ripples continued to emanate from the silver-plated horn that now looked more like a combination of armor and some kind of handmade bracelet. Rik was lightly bobbing in the air, but suspended.
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