1
THE AURORA CITY
by
E.R. Mason
The Aurora City
by
E.R. Mason
Copyright 2013 by E.R. Mason
All rights reserved
All characters in this book are fictional
and any resemblance to persons living
or dead is purely coincidental
ISBN: 978-0-615-81218-2
EDITOR:
Joe Summars
FLUXFAZE Creative Enterprises, LLC
https://www.fluxfaze.com
COVER ART:
Futuristic City 2
by
Scott Richard
to view more fantastic futuristic
art by Scott Richard visit:
https://rich35211.deviantart.com/
Chapter 1
They looked like the men-in-black. Shadowy individuals you only hear about from people who claim to have witnessed UFOs. Their ivory skin was sharply contrasted by dark, precisely cut hair, coal black suits, and dark sunglasses. They were disproportionately tall. All along the jog route, they had been occasional ghosts in the shadows, feigning disinterest in Scott Markman’s passing, but at the same time seeming to want him to notice.
Markman cruised past the horse head mailbox on Bradbur Avenue, grabbing at the stopwatch dangling from his waist. Twenty-four minutes at the four-mile mark. The Florida sun was now above the treetops; back dropped by clear blue. Pristine green lawns and well-trimmed flower gardens offered pride for the middle-class neighborhood. The morning air was losing its cool. Markman turned the corner back toward the home of Professor Cassell where his cold, home-brewed energy drink waited.
Even from a distance, the Professor’s place was a mess. The home was being expanded to almost twice its size. Lumber and brick were everywhere. Carpenters were beating on things as trucks came and went. A chainsaw was grinding away. The smell of sawdust met Markman as he ran. Two more MIB were waiting a short way down the street, parked in the shade of a giant elm. They sat in an unmarked black sedan. Markman decided to slow and take refuge behind a pest control truck, his back against the rear doors. He bent over to catch his breath and then dared to steal a glance around the side. They had not seen him approach. They were not speaking to or even looking at each other. Markman tugged at his black jogging pants and unzipped the long-sleeved sweat jacket. Subconsciously, he touched the center of his forehead, checking for the bruise that had been there, an injury now fully healed. It would be easy enough to sneak up on these guys and surprise them. Years of growing up near a Tibetan monastery in Lhasa had impressed those kinds of talents on Markman. Perhaps in this case discretion was the better part of valor. These guys had been popping up for weeks now with no indication of what they were after. Maybe it was time to force the issue. Markman jogged out from behind the van to discover the mysterious sedan had somehow disappeared. A solitary, odd-shaped puff of cloud drifted by overhead. The roadway was clear of cars as far as the eye could see. There was no sound of traffic anywhere, only the busy hammering of the carpenters.
At the Cassell’s, no one was home. Markman’s life companion, Cassiopia Cassell, and her father, Professor Cassell were on travel to a conference concerning the use of autonomous machines in war. Only the Professor’s TEL robot and its beloved adopted beagle were inside.
How many months had it been since the devastating airplane crash that had left him and Cassiopia on a frozen mountain top with no hope of rescue? How long since Cassiopia had somehow dragged his unconscious body down that mountain and into the hands of rescuers? There was unfinished business left from that. Intimate personal commitments had been made. Lifetime devotions implied. It was possible he was expected to ask her to marry him now. At the same time, it was impossible to anticipate what was going on in her high IQ brain. It did not bother him that she was so much smarter than he. Women always matured more quickly than men. It was nature’s way of preventing men from accidentally killing themselves before reaching maturity. It was only natural that women were generally smarter about some things.
But, marriage was not something Markman had ever considered. What did it mean, really? Was it simply a contract between two people to secure personal finances? It seemed like that was what it meant to some. What would it mean to Cassiopia? Would he have to take orders? Would there be a schedule of sorts? Attend dinner parties? In some ways, Cassiopia was even more a recluse than he. She had said their plan would be to have no plan, but he couldn’t recall where or when she had said that or even if she really had. Fortunately, this was not something that had to be decided right away. In fact, if he was careful, this could probably be dragged out for a very long time.
Markman abruptly stopped in the middle of the street, dumbfounded. A stark realization set in. It was frightening. He suddenly realized he wanted to ask Cassiopia to marry him.
An oncoming car honked. Embarrassed, he waved and hurried to the sidewalk. In a daze, he looked around and down at his stopwatch. That twenty-four minutes at the four-mile mark meant he was now fully recovered. He could have run further. He headed for the front door and slowed as he approached, pulling the blue cloth key strap from around his neck. At the door, he took pause. Something felt out of place. The banging of construction continued. Maybe that was it. Or, maybe the thought of proposing to Cassiopia had instilled a certain fear; his instincts suggesting a danger that should not be ignored. They had saved him too many times. Markman backed out and headed for the rear entrance.
The back door was unlocked. It should not have been. He twisted the knob, pushed it open, and took a step back. The Professor’s home had been broken into before. With all the construction going on, that would make an intrusion even easier now.
He waited a few moments outside the door. No assault seemed to be forthcoming. He edged in sideways and listened, mentally blocking out the noise from outside.
The place was quiet. He switched sides in the hallway and brushed one hand along the edge of the hall table as he went. He stopped and listened again, but picked up nothing. The door to the basement was directly across from him. It was shut and locked. From his position, he could just see out the windows of the front door. To his amazement, the black sedan with the men in black had returned. Its two occupants were reading folded up newspapers. Markman shrugged off his apprehension and walked to the front door window, peering out at the mysterious figures. A voice from the living room startled him.
“They are waiting for me, nothing more.”
Markman lurched back and raised his hands in defense, then sidestepped to get a better look into the living room.
A strange man sat on the couch; the silver TEL robot stood glistening beside him. The man’s dress looked Victorian, a single-breasted dark-brown morning jacket over a striped light brown vest with a starched white shirt and narrow bow tie. He wore light brown plaid trousers covering deep brown boots. A pocket watch and chain were attached to a button on his vest, and a dark derby hat sat on the cushion beside him. He paused to sip something from one of the Professor’s antique tea cups, holding the saucer in one hand and the cup in the other.
“Your TEL robot was kind enough to prepare this for me. I asked him to bring me your favorite, as well,” he said. He gestured toward a second cup on the coffee table.
“How did you get in here? Who are you?”
“My name may as well be John Paul. Won’t you sit? It will be a discussion of some length, I think.”
Markman held his place and searched for others. There was no one. “How did you get in here?”
“Your most amiable TEL robot invited me in. There’s something peculiar about this machine, have you realized that?”
“The TEL is programmed to stay out of sight and
not to let anyone in. How did you get in here?”
The intruder remained casual and sipped his tea. He winced in delight and held up one hand. “They all have a global password built into one of the BIOS routines. They came from the factory that way. Few people are aware of it. I used it to assure the TEL that I meant no harm. By the way, the organization I represent is the real reason Professor Cassell was allowed to keep this robot after the TEL Corporation was destroyed.”
“I don’t know you from Adam. Why shouldn’t I call the police right now and have you arrested?”
“Because you and I need to have a long talk about the world and our places in it.”
“What?”
“Please, Mr. Markman, won’t you sit and try your drink before it cools?”
Markman sensed no aggression. He had been thinking of confronting those following him, anyway. Clearly this was an opportunity to find out what was going on. He entered the living room and slowly took a seat facing the strange man. The man’s expression was slightly weathered, but content. Dark brown eyes complimented the antique suit. His face and hands were heavily lined but had good color. He seemed to be in his fifties or sixties but unusually healthy and vibrant for that age.
Markman sat back and folded his hands. The TEL robot continued to stand passively by. “Okay. Let’s have it. What do you and your friends want?”
“That one is easy. We need your help.”
“Who is we?”
“That one’s not so easy.”
“So start at the beginning and stop when you get to the end.”
The man smiled at Markman’s impertinence. He stared and sipped, in no hurry to reply. Finally, he began. “Because of some of the federal agency affairs you were exposed to before your recent accident, along with your own quite exotic knowledge base gained from your unorthodox upbringing, I am allowed to offer you access to some very sensitive information about the world around us, its myths, and its subversive reality. You understand that the world is a collage of paradigms built atop larger paradigms?”
“What?”
“Pictures hidden within pictures. The real world is made up of them.”
“Personally, I tend to take things at face value.”
“And that philosophy has served you well, Mr. Markman. Nevertheless, the world you know is supposedly managed by its governments, governments that in reality have little influence over the course of society. Most people feel protected by their elected governments, but the truth is they are only superficial paradigms that hide the true nature of this world. That is, governments are the most visible, most widely believed illusion, one that conceals the real truth.”
Markman lifted his cup, sipped and waited.
“The top layer of this reality paradigm I speak of, would be those world governments and the misconception that they regulate the world. In reality, world governments are merely a means for the peoples of the world to interact with those who actually control it. Even in democracies, people are allowed to vote, but only on the choices permitted them by the groups who are really in power.”
“I’m not liking your view of the world very much, Mr. Paul. Are you trying to say that a shadow government controls the world? And why am I having this conversation with a stranger who entered our home without having been invited?”
“It is not my view of the world, Scott. It is only the truth. And, I would not use your choice of words. Shadow government suggests a unified organization. The global tier we are talking about that is one step above the world governments could not be construed as any form of government at all. You might call it the aristocracy tier. It consists of groups or conglomerates of wealthy, powerful people. Not all the wealthy are a part of it, just those concerned with their own enrichment and power first, and the welfare of the world and its people second, if at all. Many of them believe that the law of the jungle is the natural way of things and that the world is a place provided for ambitious people to practice their skills by accumulating wealth and control over others. These people are just as disloyal to each other as they are to the general population. You can visualize this higher tier of power by imagining a weather radar map. Storm cells form, divide, break up, and reform continuously. It is the same with the conglomerates who manipulate the world for their own ambitions.” Paul paused to take a drink. He replaced it on the table very slowly and very precisely and watched Markman for reaction. Markman sat silently and returned a skeptical stare.
“And now for a leap of faith that should not be too difficult for you, Mr. Markman. There is a third tier, above and invisible to the two tiers below it, and far more powerful. You could call this third tier the Celestial tier. Where the first two tiers consist entirely of humans, the celestial tier is comprised of both very evolved humans and non-humans as well.”
“You’re beginning to lose me, Mr. Paul. You may have the wrong address and the wrong person for this talk.”
“Oh come now, Scott. After your spiritual upbringing in Tibet? The things you were taught and witnessed there? And, you seem to subscribe to a belief in the current version of the Bible, as well. In it, do not angels visit the Earth quite often? Are not demons cast out repeatedly? Firmaments in the heavens? Chariots of fire? And of course, there’s your last involvement with Ms. Ann Rogers and her federal agency. You discovered an early invasion of Salantian creatures who were using extraterrestrial vortport technology to enter Earth. How can you possibly deny the existence of alien, nonhuman life forms, if that’s what you’re implying?”
“You seem to know an awful lot about me, Mr. Paul.”
“My group is an operating arm for the Celestial tier. We have access to technology and resources that are beyond those you are familiar with. We know more about you than you do, Scott.”
“And why are we having this conversation again?”
“As I said before, we need your help with something extremely important. Something you are more than familiar with.”
“It amazes me that this is the second time I’ve had to say this to someone, but why would people at your level need my help with anything?”
“Call it a curiosity of destiny, if you like. In life, occasionally only one specific, unique equation will fit a problem. In this case, you are that equation.”
“Tell me something, if you represent a level of authority so high and so advanced it is secretly managing the world, why are such terrible things allowed to go on down here? I could mention 9/11.”
“We operate apart from and above the laws of any government. The rules are very different for us. We fall under the umbrella of the non-interference tenets. Do you know what the most basic law in the design of this world is, Scott?”
“Live and let live?”
“Not bad. But what I meant was, what is the most underlying tenet that life here is based on. The answer is, free will. This world is fundamentally designed around the theme of free will. That is why there is so much suffering. You can tell a child a thousand times that if he touches the flame he will harm himself, but sooner or later that child will try it. It’s the same if you tell someone something they desperately want is bad for them. If you refuse to let them have it, they will spend their lifetime thinking you’re wrong. So in the larger scheme of things, there has to be a vehicle, a realm of experience where free will is allowed to rule. And in the multitude of mistakes that follow, both the victims and those who err learn. So why do we not intercede when terrible things are about to happen? That would be overruling the very reason this short-term world of experience came to be. Our job is to preserve the system, not interfere with it.”
Paul studied Markman as he paused for another sip from his cup. “The worst problems occur when people firmly believe they are right about something even though they are not. They have the maturity to reason out that the action is wrong, but either they do not think it through or they are so overwhelmed with desire they cannot. For one reason or another, they believe their idea is correct and no friend, enemy, or
teacher can change that. In those cases, nothing will ever change their mind except the consequences from actually making the mistake. They will not advance beyond the misconception until they do. They will not understand until they touch the flame.”
“And so, such terrible things must happen every day?”
“Yes. But, there is much more angelic intervention than anyone realizes.”
“Still, the suffering in this world is a hard thing to accept, Mr. Paul.”
“And for that reason, life in this experience is kept quite short, especially from the point of view of eternal beings, which all humans are.”
“It’s been a very long time since I’ve heard anyone talk in terms like you’re using, Mr. Paul.”
Paul gently put down his cup. “I am telling you these things so you will have some understanding of who I work for and why we are here. Because of the knowledge you already possess, I can explain quite a bit, but I am not at liberty to tell you everything as long as you remain a part of this world, which brings us to the first real difficulty. There are two ways we can proceed. One is that you join us in which case I can be very forthcoming in answering your questions. The second choice is that you do not join us but you agree to help us. In that context, I can give you some answers, but not all, and everything we discuss must remain absolutely confidential. A third possibility is that you decline our request, but I do not think you will do that.”
“If I were to consider joining this secret, far-fetched organization you claim to belong to, what would it cost me?”
“You would give up your current life completely. A cover story would be created to explain your sudden absence, one that was the least traumatic to family and friends. And, you could never return.”
“Why would anyone ever do that?”
“So that you could devote yourself to the greater good without the constraints of domestic existence.”
“I think I need Cassiopia here to translate for me.”
“No, Scott. That is why we arranged to be here without her being present. You must understand all of this yourself. These decisions are too serious.”
“And you understand that I do not trust you, and this all sounds completely ridiculous, don’t you?”
“Of course. You are not a gullible man. That’s why we’re taking this one step at a time. As I’ve said, there are two ways we can work together. You have the option to join us, or not.”
“Give up this life, join a celestial group of beings, and become a ghost? Even if you really are who you claim to be, I doubt that’s going to happen.”
“It’s not a decision anyone should make lightly. You need to take some time. There is more to know before you decide.”
“Is it just me, or are you trying to recruit Cassiopia, too?”
“The three of you, actually. Professor Cassell has been getting too far ahead of the rest of the world for quite some time now. Were he not so responsible about it, we would have had to intervene already.”
“So you do interfere. I thought you did not?”
“Only when the construct of the design of this world is threatened. When someone discovers something or embarks on something so advanced that it will change, or interfere with the purpose of this world, we intercede in those cases.”
“You’re saying you know something about the Professor’s work?”
“The inter-dimensional doorway he has created in his secret laboratory downstairs? Of course. In fact, it has been a blessing. We have a similar resource, although it’s in the shape of a recovered spacecraft rather than an actual door like the Professor’s, but we are not allowed to use it the way an Earth resident human is. That would be a violation of the non-interference tenet. When Ms. Cassell and Ms. Rogers recently used that doorway to prevent nuclear chaos in Washington, I cannot tell you how relieved we all were. We would have had to allow that just as we had to allow 9/11.”
“My God!”
“Ultimately, yes.”
“What?”
“You have a question?”
“When I said, my God, you said, ultimately yes. What did you mean?”
“Scott, I’m taking up a lot of your time.”
“I’m starting not to mind so much. You didn’t answer my question.”
“Perhaps we should get on to the reason we need your help. That will confirm to you who we are.”
“By all means, continue.”
“As I’ve said, before your unfortunate aircraft accident, you were involved in an investigation with Federal Agent Ann Rogers and the agency she works for. They drafted you as an outsider so that the people they were after would not identify you as an agent.”
“You know, I still wonder exactly how I got into that mess.”
“Working for Rogers, you managed to gain entry to an illegal organization called the Dragon Masters, and using a piece of borrowed equipment known as a sensesuit, you entered into the Dragon Master computer games. During the entry phase of the first game you were defaulted to a selection called The Aurora City.”
“I was told never to discuss any of this.”
“Yes. We were the ones who told you never to discuss it. That special, computerized suit allowed you to get inside a computer world, an extremely sophisticated simulation of an actual world that exists elsewhere. You did quite well in there. In fact, near the end of it, you were about to win the game when we intervened and confiscated the suit.”
“That was no great disappointment. People were dying in those suits.”
“Shortly thereafter, you were on the verge of discovering where the Dragon Master’s main computer system was hidden. Unfortunately, it was destroyed in an accidental explosion.”
“So you guys are not infallible. You don’t know everything.”
“What?”
“As you say, that entire system was destroyed. I’m guessing you still have the sensesuits you took from us, but there is no longer a Dragon Master computer system to use them with. So where is all this going?”
“Very perceptive, Scott. But you are mistaken. From the beginning, we suspected that the individuals operating Dragon Master’s system would not rely on a single computer. We expected to find a redundant backup somewhere. We found it in the caves you led our SWAT team to, the caves that so conveniently adjoined the New York sewer system. It has taken us quite awhile to understand the equipment and learn how to operate it, but we are there now.”
“You aren’t wanting me to put a sensesuit back on and go into that game of death? You can’t be.”
“The suits contain biological properties. Some of our scientists have joked that they are surprised the suits have not already become self-aware. When the suit is first worn by its user, there is a bonding at the DNA level. Once that mating is made, no one else can ever wear the suit. The suit will kill anyone who tries. Back when you were involved in the Dragon Master’s investigation, Ms. Cassell was also forced to put on a suit. It originally belonged to a man named Leeds, but he had discovered how to switch the suit to diagnostics mode. Because her suit remained in diagnostics mode, she survived the game and won. Her victory was purely symbolic, however. The Dragon Master computer thought that the suit was being tested and not really in competition. For that reason, Ms. Cassell did not actually receive the reward that the game had promised, a reward that was supposedly beyond imagination.”
Paul stopped and drank once more. “I cannot emphasize to you how close Ms. Cassell came to death in that sadistic gamble forced on her by Leeds. Had the suit she was wearing accidentally switched out of diagnostics mode for so much as a microsecond, it would have self-destructed. Leeds was not so lucky. He was killed by the individuals using the sensesuit computer system.”
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
“The entire affair was a very dark episode, Scott. Had you not located the lair when you did and led our SWAT team to it, many worse things would have happened.”
“To be honest, I hate even thinking about it.”
>
“And that brings me finally to why we’re here. We have one fully functional sensesuit whose DNA-matched user is still alive.”
“No. You have one fully functional sensesuit without a user.”
“And your next question should be, why would we want to go back into the Dragon Masters’ game? The answer is, because it’s not a game at all. It is the most sophisticated simulator we’ve ever seen. It is a repository of worlds from all over the known universe, all represented in exact detail. The opportunity to learn is beyond imagination, but even that is not why we need to go back in.”
Paul leaned back in his seat and rubbed his temple as though the telling of it was tiring him, as well. “As you know, the Dragon Masters computer was being operated by a race not from Earth, the Salantians. They used another off-world technology called a vortport to turn a wall of solid rock into a doorway into our world. They were setting up to invade Earth, and using the sensesuit computer to help them do that. They can do it again. In fact, we believe that the lair you found was the first outpost intended to pave the way for a much larger invasion. Using the captured Dragon Master computer, we believe we can learn enough about them to defend against their return. For Earth, it is not an option. It is an absolute necessity.”
“And this celestial group of yours, so incredibly powerful, needs help against these kinds of outside invaders?”
“This is a turning point in human evolution, Scott. When nuclear weapons were first discovered on Earth, there was an understood message that came along with them. The message was; the human race has become too advanced to have any more world wars. The consequence of such a conflict would be mutual annihilation. Given that, mankind somehow found a way to work together just barely enough to avoid all out global war –at least so far. This is another such fork in the road of evolution. This time the message is, either work together as a people to turn back invaders from another world, or be destroyed. My organization can help level the playing field, but can only go so far. It is time for the people of Earth to join together to defeat this threat.”
“Why would people at your level need information about an alien species?”
“The universe is too large to really understand, Scott. There are indeed channels through which some of our celestial members can obtain knowledge of distant off-world species. That knowledge is on a level you would consider to be spiritual. Spiritual knowledge does not carry down to the physical world too easily. It often distorts in the translation. Have you ever tried to translate a dream? Understanding what kind of impact an alien species can have on Earth requires more than an ethereal point of view. Only here on the physical plane do we actually see real effects manifest. The Dragon Master computer can show us in human terms how the Salantians operate. It is difficult to anticipate an intrusion without that kind of knowledge. Am I making this clear enough?”
“Not really. But I think what you are trying to say is that knowing something is going to happen does not fully prepare you for when it does.”
“Keep in mind, the Salantian invaders are probably only doing what comes naturally to them. They do not see it as evil or offensive. When a colony of ants overruns some other nest, that does not make them evil or wrongful. But, I think I’ve probably inundated you enough for now. We possess all the Dragon Master resources, and after recounting to you everything that happened during that sordid affair, obviously I must be who I claim to be. You now have a reasonable understanding of who I represent and why we need your help. We will need to go over all of this with Ms. Cassell, but it seemed appropriate to approach you first so that you could direct us in how that should be done. I know she and her father are presently taking a train to Knoxville, both still too traumatized by the aircraft accident to fly. We arranged for their attendance at the RIA Conference just to facilitate this meeting. Their conference is located near one of our facilities. Quite a remarkable woman, Ms. Cassell. I must say, our group is quite in awe of her. We had been following you quite closely back when your aircraft went down in the mountains. We secretly searched apart from the conventional rescue teams and even with our advanced resources were unable to isolate the wreckage. For a time we feared we had lost our chance to solicit your help. When Ms. Cassell came down off that mountain dragging you along, our task force headquarters people were beside themselves. Quite a remarkable woman.”
“Are you following her now?”
“Two of our operatives are on the train keeping a low profile. No contact is to be made. We waited as long as we dared for you to recover, Scott. We were the Niela Group who paid for all your medical expenses and made sure Ms. Cassell was not impeded in any way in her attempts to effect your recovery. But, we do not force anyone to help us or join us. That must be of your own choosing. If you refuse, we will use every other means at our disposal to help Earth against this threat, and we will bother you no longer. I shall take my leave of you now. This particular mission has an urgency that seems to task me a bit. Here is my card. The address there is where we’ll need to meet. It’s a four or five-hour drive from the conference. When you are on your way, just say my name and the word, enroute, out loud. You have an implant that will alert us.”
“I have a what?”
“An implant. A micro-tracking device under the skin.”
“You’ve implanted a device in my body without telling me?”
“You were still in the hospital, comatose. It is a tiny thing that runs off your body’s own electricity. Once removed it dissolves very quickly. We can also send a command and tell it to dissolve if you wish.”
“You are eavesdropping on everything I say and do, against my will?”
“No. Our system monitors the implant for keywords only. Were you to say the word help standing alone; it would trigger an alert. We would take action to be sure you were not in any danger. Only certain keywords are flags to our system. Otherwise, there is no monitoring at all. It is the same with your physical location. We can check where you are but only do so as a precaution. As I’ve mentioned, we will dissolve this implant any time you wish, but I strongly recommend you hold off on that decision until we’ve talked again. The implant is a benefit, not an abuse.”
“I am afraid to ask, have you done this to Cassiopia and the Professor, as well?”
“Yes. Your wife…oh! Please forgive me. A slip of the tongue. Ms. Cassell is an extremely unusual woman, as I’ve said. Professor Cassell is a walking textbook that some unethical groups would like to have control of. The implants will guard them both. Would you really want those removed, Scott?”
“I’m going to need some time to get my head around all this crap. The implant thing is pissing me off.”
John Paul rose from the couch, leaned over, and took a final sip of his cold tea. He nodded to the robot and took his derby hat from the couch. Holding it near his chest, he headed for the door. Markman rose and moved with him, opening the door with a glance of consternation. Without speaking, John Paul returned a last, knowing nod and disappeared out. Through the curtains, Markman spotted the two men in black waiting by the sedan with a rear door open. He leaned his head against the glass, exhaled, and wondered what had just happened.
Chapter 2