John Paul sat at the commissary table looking like a man who had been dealt a curve. He shook his head and gave a long exhale. “There can be only one explanation for ruins of American cities on Crillia’s moon. My analysis group and I have struggled over this, and it’s also been processed through the analytical branch of our computer network. There is only one possible answer.” John Paul leaned forward against the table and stared in thought.
Markman, looking like a starved man, dipped a fork into his spaghetti. He took a mouthful and stared at John Paul, then paused from chewing. “You’re serious, then? Couldn’t it all just be a made-up computer simulation? I thought time travel was impossible? How could the Crillians have gotten sensesuit computers that show the future? I know they were an advanced race, but could they do something like that? And, if it is the future we’re seeing in there, shouldn’t the Crillians still have been wiped out? Is this kind of stuff unusual or just everyday craziness for you guys?”
“Highly unusual. The laws vary greatly from sector to sector, planet to planet, but tampering with any timeline is strictly forbidden. Something is happening here beyond what we envisioned.”
“No kidding.” Markman stuffed his mouth and tried to talk as he chewed. “Well, if you’re really telling me this sensesuit computer is showing us the future, that’s it, I’m out of my league. So tell me, what do you make of it all?”
John Paul’s tone was thoughtful and uneasy. “You found an old vortport that hadn’t been used in many, many years. You have now identified Terra, the Crillian moon, as actually being a remnant of the Earth we know. There’s no mistake because our analysis of the collapsed structures you found match up to Earth structures perfectly. They are one and the same. The fact that you chose to make a brief extra stop in what was Washington, D.C. only further confirmed that, and analysis also indicates there’s no chance of a parallel dimension being involved here. Back when Cassiopia was being held captive by the Salantians, they told her that the sensesuit computers were taken from the Crillians. We have been assuming all along that the Crillians designed and built them. That was wrong. At this point, we can hypothesize that Crillia was indeed attacked and all but wiped out by the Salantians, and at some point soon afterward the Salantians moved on to Earth and destroyed it, as well. The Crillian people we are seeing must mean that a few Crillians somehow survived, and after many years repopulated their planet.”
Markman placed his fork back on his plate. “So if the sensesuit computer’s version of the future is correct, the invasion of Earth we have been fearing did happen and we were not able to stop it.”
“Yes.”
“Boy, that’s funny.”
“What? Why would you say that?”
“If the Crillians had these sensesuit computers that show the future, why didn’t they see the invasion of their planet ahead of time and get prepared for it just like we’re trying to do?”
“Maybe they acquired those computers too late. Maybe the invasion was already underway.”
“Yeah, or maybe they didn’t possess the computers. Maybe someone else we don’t know about had them and kept them a secret.”
“Until the Salantians took over, but there is a third option, also,” added John Paul.
“Yeah, I know. Maybe the Crillians did prepare for the invasion, but they still lost.”
“Not a pleasant thought.”
“You know what I have planned for the next trip in, right?” asked Markman.
“What is it you expect to find behind that wall?”
“I don’t know, but the Crillians have gone to great lengths to help their people forget what happened back then. I’m betting stuff related to the invasion is stored behind that wall.”
“And if it’s not?”
“Then I think we should go shake down those high council elders for the book of Exodus. It would be nice if we didn’t need to do that, but there will be information in there, that’s for sure.”
“You are thinking of these people as real again, Scott.”
“They still seem like it to me.”
“We’ll need time tomorrow to finish working the new data we have. Now that we know the Crillia we see inside the sensesuit computer is from the future, we can work with the star fields from your moon trip. We want to begin computer matching those star fields and see if we can place Crillia in time and space. It would be nice to know how Earth came to be in a system with two suns.”
“You saying I get the day off tomorrow?”
“You’ve done enough today to keep us busy. You’ve earned a day off, I’d say. I expect you’ll be heading for Richmond.”
“My very next stop.”
“Please give her my warmest regards.”
Markman made a quick exit. The Corvette was waiting by the front door with the top down. The driver’s door popped open, and the engine started as he approached. It was late, so there was no sense stopping by the hotel. His athletic shoes, jeans, turtleneck and black Naugahyde jacket would do. Besides, the open road beckoned. The Route 3 portion of the trip was a hilly, winding road. Perfect. Markman checked the fuel gauge and sat wondering for a moment why it was always full. He decided he had better continue reading Core’s operator manual. He had left off on the section that told how to change body color using only a verbal command.
With black sky and stars overhead and the wind swirling, he leaned back and once again enjoyed the smooth hum of Core’s engine, whatever it was. His headlight beams traced the lines in the road ahead, the silhouette of tall trees passing by on either side. The air was cool and smelled like country. As he drove, the subject of his most discomforting problem slipped back into his consciousness.
The power. Power over physical objects in the real world. His decision to keep it secret now comforted him. Even John Paul did not seem to suspect. What was the good of it? How could it be used benevolently? If he happened to be present during some accident like the winged horse in Aurora City, he would be obligated to use it, but his identity might be exposed. And, what else was it good for? Maybe this wasn’t such a big deal after all. His masters had taught him that sometimes doing nothing was a very good thing to do. Maybe no use for this power would ever arise. It was just there if he ever really needed it. More testing had to be done, however. So, no worry now. Let life take its normal course and provide the answers if there were any answers.
That brought Markman to his second most irritating problem. He still wanted to marry Cassiopia but did not have the faintest idea of how to go about that. Just asking her outright was a minefield of possible disasters. If she said no, she might never see him as the same man ever again, and in fact, he probably would never be the same man again. The rejection would be too much to bear. She might even be insulted that he asked. After all, she was not a normal woman. She was smarter than most men on the planet, especially him.
What did she want? Was there any chance she wanted to be married? How could he find out? She was too smart to try for any hints. She’d put that together in a heartbeat. She said she loved him, but in a mind as complex as hers that did not mean marriage by any means. The John Paul affair continued to make this complex problem even more complex. Wait and see. That was all he could do.
Markman pulled into Richmond just before midnight. He stopped in front of the hotel and texted Cassiopia. A reply came within a minute:
At 24 hour mart. Am starving. Meet you at Denny’s near the hospital.
Markman found the restaurant and parked. As he headed inside, a car leaving the parking lot backfired. A small, frightened bird darted out from bushes nearby. It flew by Markman and crashed headlong into the glass front door, just as he was about to pull it open. It fell to the sidewalk and lay motionless. Markman stooped over and picked up the limp, lifeless body. This was another of life’s sad motifs; running from a danger that doesn’t really exist, creating real danger in the effort. Humans are no different, he thought. At that moment, the bird suddenly fluttered in his hand and sat
upright. It jumped and landed on his shoulder. Still dazed, it looked around, decided his shoulder was not the best place to be and took off for nearby trees. Sometimes we make it, thought Markman. He went in and took a booth.
There were quite a few patrons, despite the hour. The restaurant was well lit and clean. The green embroidered seats looked newly upholstered. There were two servers in green uniforms behind the counter across the room. The smell of coffee dominated the place. Markman ordered one for himself and sat back playing with his cup on the table top. When no one was looking, he pointed a finger and slid his salt and pepper shakers in an arc to the other side of the table. While looking around for another all-clear, he noticed a woman’s wallet had slipped out of her purse and onto the floor beneath her table. She was completely engrossed in conversation with a friend and had no idea. Markman tucked his left hand under his right armpit and pretended to look down at his table. With one carefully controlled finger, he locked onto the wallet and very slowly lifted it off the floor. When it was high enough, the attempt to move it back over the half-open purse presented more of a challenge than expected. The wallet wanted to turn in place in midair rather than move to the right. As he struggled with it, a voice behind startled him. The wallet fell back to the floor.
“Will this booth be alright?” the server asked her new patrons.
“Perfect. Coffee for me and ice tea for my wife, please,” said the customer.
“I’ll be right back.” The server paused at Markman’s table. “Do you need a refill yet?” she asked.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
When things settled down, he began again. This time it was easy to get the wallet to float up to purse level, and with a different twist of his hand, it moved over and above the open purse. When it looked just right, he snapped his fist closed and the wallet dropped down into the purse and out of sight. He sat back proudly and looked around the room, smiling as though applause was due. He laughed at himself and sipped his coffee.
“Just coffee? I would have guessed you’d have cleaned the place out by now.”
Markman rose instinctively at the sound of Cassiopia’s voice. A flash of gladness filled his heart. He turned and hugged her tightly and stood back to gaze at her. She wore a gray wraparound shift with a pearl necklace. Just seeing her made him feel good about everything. He motioned to the booth, and Cassiopia smiled and sat.
“You are not going to believe what I’ve discovered!” she said, and she reached across the table and took his hand. Her excitement was overflowing. “By the way, it’s good to be with you.”
“Me too,” said Markman, then he wondered if it was a stupid thing to say.
“You were in the sensesuit today, weren’t you?”
“Yes, wait till you hear about that.”
“I have something that may top it. Something about the system that will make John Paul’s day.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I found an error in the sensesuit computer’s design specs. A big one.”
“When did you do that?”
“Are you kidding? Sitting around the hospital room all day and night while my father drifts in and out. I’m three-quarters of the way through what they gave me, but this horrendous error is going to mess them up a bunch.”
“How’s your father?”
“He’s fine. They’ve had him sedated, so he drifts in and out, sleeps most of the time, good for him, too. Only thing is, now they’re weaning him off the drugs and he’s getting back to his ornery old self, asking questions. You and I will have our hands full now. He wants answers to what’s been going on. We’re not going to be able to put him off any longer.”
“Oh boy.”
“Yes. A story will need to be told.”
“Might as well be the truth, don’t you think?”
“Yes, the truth cooked up and presented with the culinary skill of Rachael Ray.”
“So what about this error thing in the sensesuit computer? Am I in danger of getting fried alive even more than I thought I was?”
“I don’t think so, but it means we don’t understand shit.”
“Wow, I love it when you talk dirty. Why are you talking dirty all of a sudden?”
“Maybe you bring out the slut in me, Markman.”
“Hold that thought.”
“Anyway, the design of that system is so far ahead of us it’s just beyond belief. It’s fortunate my specialty is in computer systems. Half of this system is beyond my understanding. My father could manage through it maybe because he’s quantum physics. I’m not, so I’m lost when the systems begin talking about translation.”
“Okay, duh....”
“It’s like this; I would not describe this system as a simulator. I would describe it as an adaptive convergence of environments with simulation attributes.”
“I am so dumb.…”
“No, no darling you are not. We are talking about something so far ahead of anything we know; it’s hard to describe it.”
“You called me darling.”
“Let me put it another way. This system is more like a machine that allows something from one world to coexist in another world.”
“You mean it’s like a doorway to somewhere else?”
“You can’t really call it a doorway because the word doorway implies that you can just pass from one place to the other. That can only happen if both worlds support the same kind of physical constructs. In our case, for example, both worlds would need to provide oxygen, atmospheric pressure, temperature and all that. This system allows someone to visit worlds that are inhospitable to us. Are you still with me?”
“Always, darling.”
“So with the sensesuit, you could walk around on Venus and not be crushed or cooked. You get it?”
“I guess so, but you’re saying this is not a computer simulation?”
“That’s another part of the beauty of this thing. The sensesuit computer can translate any environmental components as necessary to support this coexistive capability.”
“So, are you trying to say that Crillia could be a real place?”
“I don’t know. It’s possible you see a real Crillia through the eyes of the computer’s understanding.”
“But I’m in a suit. If it was a real place how would others see me?”
“They would see an image projected by the computer and suit. The same image you see when you’re in there.”
“Well, I think I may have some info for you that says Crillia is not real, but first, exactly what is this big error thing you’ve found?”
“Okay. You know about radiocarbon dating, right?”
“The thing they do to date ancient artifacts.”
“Yes, but it’s much more than that. Lucky for us Carbon-14 has a fairly short half-life which allows us to measure how much degradation has occurred in certain isotopes and then we can produce dates based on that.”
“Ya wanna watch TV later or something?”
“Okay, too technical. I get it. Here’s the bottom line. The sensesuit computer is so advanced that the specifications for its circuitry stipulate that the materials used in them must be of a certain age span as measured by a process similar to radiocarbon dating. So, you cannot use materials or substances in the sensesuit computer unless they are of a certain age.”
“I think old reruns of Lost In Space are on tonight.”
“Scott, please, stay with me on this. I looked at the half-life spans of the materials being used in the sensesuit processor system and was able to compare some of those materials to our own isotope measurement tables, and it comes out that the dates required for the materials used in the sensesuit computer are beyond present day.”
Markman sat with his chin in his palm. “I’m trying. I really am…darling.”
“Scott, some of the materials used in the sensesuit computer would have had to come from the distant future to exist in the state described by the specs. So, it’s a big screw up. There’s somethi
ng wrong with the data we have on the sensesuit computer.”
Markman sat up and stared at Cassiopia in disbelief. He shook his head. “I don’t believe it. You figured that out just from the paperwork John Paul gave you?”
“What? It just means there are typos in the documentation.”
Markman shook his head. “That’s unbelievable. Do you see what you’re saying? You’re saying that the sensesuit computer is from the future.”
“Oh now, I never said that. That’s ridiculous.”
Markman smiled. “Let me tell you about today’s trip inside.” Markman leaned back and with as few flourishes as possible related his trip to the Crillian high council, and the subsequent journey to Crillia’s moon. Cassiopia’s expression kept shifting from amazement to disbelief. When Markman was done, she stared at him silently for a long time, until a waiter interrupted the impasse.
After an ample selection of food had been ordered, Cassiopia challenged Markman’s tale of two cities. “You’re saying John Paul agrees with this? John Paul’s group thinks the sensesuit computer is from the future?”
Markman locked his hands behind his head. “He says it’s the only possible explanation.”
“And so, at some point in the near future, Earth is destroyed and eventually ends up in a solar system with two suns?”
“Yep.”
“My God!” Cassiopia paused and stared off into the distance. “It can’t be. It’s too much.”
“Yep.”
A waiter interrupted the sobriety of the moment to place their food on the table. Cassiopia sat staring into the distance, ignoring the steaming plate in front of her. Markman stabbed his fork into the food and watched silently, not knowing what to say. He had just informed her that the planet they were on would soon be destroyed.
“What will John Paul do about this?” she finally asked.
“I’m not sure. He seems kind of off-balance about it.”
“He must have access to higher powers.”
“Wow! That coming from an eminent scientist? You know what he’s said about intervention.”
“I’ve been expanding my concepts. He must have higher authorities he can call upon.”
“Yeah, but remember, he’s always saying how they don’t interfere with Earthly affairs. It’s up to people to do that themselves.”
“But in this case? Invasion from another world?”
“The atom bomb was kind of like that. We could have been destroyed by it, but so far we have somehow worked together to avoid that. Maybe this is like that.”
“Well, one thing’s for sure. I’m scared.”
“Me, too.”
“What will you do on your next visit to Aurora?” Cassiopia took a slice of bread.
“Cut a hole in that other wall.”
“What do you hope to find?”
“Artifacts from a time the Crillians are trying hard to forget, that is if the Crillian High Council doesn’t have me arrested and imprisoned.”
Cassiopia munched on her bread. A far away look came over her.
Markman waved one hand. “Hello? Where’d you go?”
Cassiopia refocused. “A time they’d like to forget, you say? Funny you should put it that way. There’s something else I haven’t told you.”
“At this point, you are looking at a very open-minded man.”
“Let me show you something.” Cassiopia tapped a few icons on her cell phone and brought up an old, grayed image. It was a group of Union soldiers during the civil war, standing at a table in front of a battered tent. A caption below the photo read;
Major General Alfred Pleasanton confers with engineers and officers during the Battle of Brandy Station, June 9, 1863.
Markman surveyed the image and looked back at Cassiopia for an explanation. “Cool, but what am I looking for?”
“All the time I’ve had for study. I mentioned how beautiful Culpeper is. I began reading up on its history just for breaks from the John Paul stuff. Brandy Station was one of the largest cavalry battles of the civil war, if not the largest cavalry battle of all.”
“And….”
Cassiopia held up her phone once more. “Look again at the person standing third to the right from Major General Pleasanton.”
Markman took the phone and stared down at it. It only took a moment. There, in a union officer’s uniform, stood someone that looked exactly like John Paul.
“No way. Must be a relative right?”
Cassiopia seemed unmoved. “Have you ever noticed the X scar on the left side of John Paul’s neck? It’s hard to miss. Looks like a bullet wound.”
“Yes….”
Cassiopia twisted around and dug her tablet out of her handbag. She tapped a few keys and handed it over to Markman. On it was a greatly magnified image of the X scar on John Paul’s neck. Markman looked up at Cassiopia.
Cassiopia nodded. “That’s blown up from this civil war picture. The man in that photo has the same exact scar in the same exact place.”
“The guy in this photo is in his thirties.”
“Yes.”
“That would make John Paul.…”
“Far past one hundred.”
“Not possible.”
“Is.”
“Wow! Only you would pick up on something like this.”
“I’m really tired.”
“Do we need to go back to the hospital?”
“In the morning. Let’s get to bed.”
“Twisted my arm.”
The next morning began with an uncomfortable meeting intended to allay the concerns of Professor Cassell. A hearty breakfast was procured in anticipation of it. The Professor was wide awake and fully empowered, expecting answers. At first sight of Markman, he broke into sardonic celebration.
“Scott! At last! Maybe now I can get some straight answers from someone other than my diplomat daughter. How are you? And more importantly, what the hell is going on around here?”
Markman laughed and pulled up a stool beside the bed. Cassiopia stood on the opposite side, ignoring the contentious glances from her father.
“Okay Professor here goes. The men in black are from a secret organization that is above all world governments. Their main job is to protect people from anything outside our world that would disrupt the world as we know it. They have been watching you. Actually, I should say the three of us, because of your secret work with the magic doorway in your lab.” Markman looked at Cassiopia. “Did I say that right?”
Cassiopia shrugged and nodded.
Markman continued, “Professor, your work has become so advanced that they are afraid others might want to use it for bad things. So, they’ve been keeping an eye on you trying to stop that. Unfortunately, the three men who kidnapped you were exactly the types the MIB had been worried about. So now, because two of the bad guys are still out there somewhere, you are secretly being watched even more by the men in black. How’m I doing so far?”
The Professor eyed Markman with annoyance. He stroked his graying beard and pushed himself up in the bed. “Well, why didn’t one of you just say so? I’ve feared this all along. Those men are protecting us, you say? Well, at least that part is more than I hoped for. So what are we to do? Live our lives in hiding now? Who are these criminals that they would misuse advanced physics? Can’t they be stopped somehow?”
Markman shook his head. “Yes, they can and will be. But Professor, you know there will always be more where they came from. There is no shortage in the supply of evil men.”
“What must we do? Where can we go? Is there a plan I have also yet to be told about?”
Cassiopia looked guilty. “Father, they expect to release you tomorrow. But, they will need one more EKG’s session after that. We’ll stay at a hotel until we get the all-clear. Then we can look at our options and decide what to do. Does that sound okay?”
“Daughter, are you in any danger here?”
“Father, this is actually the safest place I could b
e.”
“How unsettling. A scientist should not be distracted with this kind of intrigue. It is a terrible injustice.”
“Father, you are not just any scientist.”
“No, I am a scientist trapped in a blasted robe with no back, rescued from one captivity, only to find myself trapped in another where they threaten you with knives and sutures and bottles plugged into your arms. There is not so much as a chalkboard in here.”
“Father, I brought your laptop. It’s here in the drawer by your bed. Is there anything else you need right now?”
“My briarwood. I want my briarwood.”
“Father, there’s no smoking in the hospital. You shouldn’t anyway.”
“Still a prisoner I tell you. Still a prisoner.”
Cassiopia turned to Markman. “You don’t need to wait around here. You haven’t had much time off. Why don’t you take a ride around the city and see the sights or something? We can meet up later.”
Markman nodded. He waved at the Professor and led Cassiopia by the hand into the hallway. There, he looked around, then embraced and kissed her. “You will call me if there’s the slightest trouble, right?”
“You mean other than what you just saw? Right, I will.”
“Okay then.”
Markman headed for the nearest elevator. In his haste, he did not notice the sign that said “staff only.” Inside, there was no button to the lobby. He had to disembark on the second floor, and from there it was easy to become lost. He was about to ask for directions when a sign indicating Emergency beckoned him to a stairwell. On the first floor, there was another that said Emergency Check-in. Exit signs began to appear soon after, and finally, signs pointing to Waiting Room and Exit promised him a sure escape. As he approached the final exit sign, sounds of confusion began to fill the corridor. He pushed the last door open to find people in white rushing in every direction and yelling orders or asking for help. Seven or eight Gurneys lined the hall, with people of various ages moaning and calling out. The doors at the end of the hall were blocked open to the outdoors so that more could be wheeled in as space became available. An EMT passing by Markman yelled at the clerk behind the main desk. “It’s at least twenty cars, probably more. St. Mary’s and Humter Holmes are taking as many as they can, but we’re gonna get more.”
The desk clerk placed one hand over her mouth. “Oh God, no. The on-calls are calling in. They’re all calling in!”
“Not fast enough,” said the EMT, and he knelt and began digging in his medical kit next to a Gurney with an old woman who was unconscious.
Markman had to flatten against the wall to let others by. They paid him no attention. Trying to navigate through the bedlam seemed like his best option. He was clearly in the way.
As tactfully as possible, he squeezed through the tangle of injured and reached the exit door. As he pushed outside, a doctor in plain clothes with a stethoscope dangling from his neck yelled at Markman. “Over here, right now!”
After a split-second who-me look, Markman hurried over. The doctor was struggling to help a woman on a Gurney holding a baby. The woman had black eyes and was semiconscious. She kept moaning, “My baby, my baby….” The doctor had his hand clamped over a severe laceration on the baby’s forehead. The baby was not responding.
“Hold pressure right here. I’ll be right back.”
Markman came alongside and in a pleading voice said, “But I’m not a….”
“Direct pressure right here, right now,” yelled the doctor.
There was blood all over the Gurney sheets. Too much it seemed for such a small infant. Markman winced and reached out. The doctor grabbed his hand and placed it against the bleeding wound. “Just like that. Hold heavy pressure. I’ll be right back!” He wiped his bloody hands on his white dress shirt and tie, and disappeared into the melee.
Markman held tight to the child’s wound. It seemed hopeless. The injured mother had passed out. He could feel the tiny, faint pulse under the palm of his bloodied hand. He looked up in hope the doctor was already on his way back, but there were only people running and yelling in absolute chaos. He stared down at the baby with regret and suddenly began to feel electric shock in the hand that was covering the child’s wound, probably static electricity from the hallway carpet. Would that harm the child further?
To Markman’s surprise, the electric shock began to increase. It became difficult not to pull his hand away. He knew if he did that, the baby’s bleeding would be extreme. He struggled with the increasing shock, fighting to keep his hand over the wound.
There began to be burning with the electric shock. It made him flinch and twist. It brought a new realization. He could not withdraw his hand even if he tried. Somehow, he was locked together with the child. The shock and burn became even more intense. Markman fell to his knees, but his hand remained in place over the child’s injury. It felt like life was rushing out of him. He was moments from certain death. He bowed his head and cried out.
The shocking and burning abruptly ceased. Markman withdrew his bloody hand and braced himself on his hands and knees on the ground, gasping for breath. He did not have the strength to get up. He shook his head and tried to focus. It took all of the energy he had left to grab the side of the Gurney and finally pull himself up. The chaos going on around him had not subsided. His dilemma by the Gurney had been ignored. People were still running to and fro in a desperate attempt help victims. The world around had become a silent movie. Markman pulled up and in a daze looked at the baby. Blood was everywhere. It was on the sheets, the pillow, and the mother. It was on Markman’s hands and clothes. It was everywhere except on the baby’s forehead where the wound had been. The wound had disappeared completely. Markman shook his head and tried to focus. He wavered by the Gurney and checked again. No wound of any kind on the baby’s forehead. The baby was smiling up at him, kicking its feet playfully.
Chapter 14