The Final Testament

The Final Testament

  by

  Michael D. Britton

  * * * *

  Copyright 2012 by Michael D. Britton / Intelligent Life Books

  I blinked.

  And the world changed.

  That great orb or swirling white clouds, deep blue seas, and all-so-familiar land masses of green and brown – my planet – was all different now.

  Yes, there were those spiraling clouds, oceans, and land masses. But the globe I knew by heart was now rearranged, the continents all different shapes and in different places.

  I had arrived.

  #

  “You’re a spiritual leader, not an astronaut!” said Kinsman Lucas Crenshaw, my First Advisor.

  “That was my initial reaction, too,” I said. “But the Creator wills it.”

  The three of us sat in my office, overlooking Monument Plaza in downtown Diamond City. Rich hardwood paneling graced the walls, and an original hand-painted portrait of our Founder – the First Steward – hung on the wall opposite my desk.

  “It is not my intention to doubt your revelation,” Crenshaw said, his voice more calm than before, “but it just seems so – impossible. How can we send you to another world?”

  I took a sip of my water and felt the cool liquid run down my throat.

  “The Church has sufficient funds. We simply need to partner with a reputable aerospace company,” said my Second Advisor, Kinsman Azar Riggs. “If the Steward is to make this journey, we will make it happen. The Creator will provide a way.”

  “A way has already been provided,” I said slowly. “The filament is the answer. We simply need to do the necessary work to get me to the filament.”

  Crenshaw chuckled softly, his aging voice a little hoarse. “Is it not ironic, Steward, that this discovery – the filament – has been made by the very scientists who assault our faith as a matter of course?”

  “Our Creator does have a subtle sense of humor sometimes,” I said.

  “So, we’re really going to do this,” said Crenshaw, a question hidden in his statement.

  “Steward Morgan has had a vision,” said Riggs, smoothing the graying hair of his head. “We must act. Right, Steward?”

  “Indeed,” I said. “And although I am certain of the success of my mission, there may be those who will need some comfort. So, in my absence, it is proper that Kinsman Crenshaw be installed as Acting Steward.”

  Crenshaw’s mouth gaped open for a moment, then closed. He gulped. “Of course, Steward.”

  It would be another two years before that change took place.

  #

  Though I’d never doubted I would have this experience, it still took my breath away, seeing another world before my eyes.

  The world’s scientific experts had been dramatically split on the nature of the filament. Despite extensive testing, probing, calculating, and debating, there was still no consensus on the reality of the phenomenon.

  So no government in the world was willing to put a person through it. It took a private company – in a controversial enterprise funded by my church – to do it.

  To put a man into the wormhole.

  This was not a decision taken lightly, either. As Steward of my church, I know that I was called to this task. And that’s why I knew it would work.

  Still, traveling from orbit of our world to the orbit of another world, in the blink of an eye – it was an astounding experience.

  In addition to the shifting of the continents, the blanket of stars that hung all around had changed, too.

  And all the satellites were gone.

  This was definitely not my world.

  It was the place I knew I was called to visit.

  A place the faithful had come to know as Thalin.

  #

  “The press is having a field day with this,” said Kinsman Riggs, turning off the news. We’d just announced our launch would take place in less than a week.

  “We expected nothing less,” I said. “So many of the elites in the media view us with disdain and contempt – try to make us look bad whenever possible. This is simply making their lives more convenient.”

  “Always providing service to others, aren’t you, Steward,” said Riggs.

  I shrugged. “I do what I can.”

  “Well, at least they’re not rioting. Yet,” said Crenshaw. “We’ll see how they feel once your capsule vanishes into the filament.”

  “If the engineers at Quantix Labs are correct, my disappearance may not be all that significant. Given the time-space distortions associated with the filament, it may look like I am gone for only a fraction of a second.”

  “But it will be clear, when you return with the record, that you were really gone for longer,” said Riggs.

  “Yes. And when I do return with the record – that, my kinsmen, is when the riots might begin.”

  #

  We in the Church of Light have always believed in worlds without end – an infinite creation. It wasn’t until the filament was discovered that it was revealed that these other worlds exist not in distant corners of our galaxy, but in parallel universes.

  Right here.

  The theorists at Quantix believe each additional world exists in its own universe. And the filament is a doorway to those other universes.

  I agree.

  For I have seen, in a dream, the world of Thalin.

  A magnificent civilization, they’d thrived millennia ago. In fact, they’d been so righteous that they’d been taken up, en masse, to live with the Creator.

  But their world was left intact.

  As were their holy records.

  And that was what I was here for.

  To bring home those words, so we, too, could learn to live in harmony and achieve translation.

  Our own scriptures recorded these other civilizations as “isles of the sea.” I now understood that “the sea” was all of reality, and the “isles” were each of the universes.

  As I stared at Thalin, I was overcome for a moment, and had to wipe away my tears before proceeding on my journey.

  #

  The day of my launch was a very hard day for me.

  I knew in my soul that it would all work out, but it broke my heart to see so much turmoil.

  The media cast hateful aspersions on the faithful church members who supported my journey.

  The faithful church members murmured against the doubters within the flock.

  The doubters dissented from the church in great numbers, saying I had faltered – that I was a fallen Steward – and made motions to establish their own religion.

  And my dear wife of thirty years feared for my safety – in spite of her faith.

  A throng of protestors surrounded the launching grounds.

  My steadfast friends – my First and Second Advisor – accompanied me on this auspicious day.

  “Are you ready?” I asked Crenshaw.

  He nodded. “I will hold the keys of your office only until your speedy return, Steward.”

  “You’re the Steward, now,” I said.

  “Acting,” he corrected me.

  “Yes, acting. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  Little did I know I would never see Kinsman Crenshaw again.

  #

  My capsule was small and easily maneuverable. I’d spent only a few months in training, but could now pilot it with precision. I took it into Thalin’s atmosphere and gently circumnavigated the planet, just north of the equatorial region.

  As I reached the lower altitudes, I began to recognize the land below from my dreams. I followed my memories, guided by my night visions, and finally set down on a northern continent, near the west coast, at the edge of a great indigo lake.

  The steep, verda
nt mountains to the east felt almost familiar.

  The air was warm and moist as I stepped out to face the abandoned city of stone.

  It was just as I had seen it.

  And I knew exactly where to look for the record.

  But first, I dropped to my knees and offered a prayer of gratitude for my safe arrival.

  I opened my eyes afterward, and looked toward the empty metropolis.

  I hadn’t anticipated the stillness – the deathly quiet of the place. Once, this land had teemed with a people full of life and joy.

  Now, only silence.

  Though a little eerie at first, the muted city soon took on the sacred feeling of a temple or a monument – a shrine – since I knew this emptiness was not the result of a tragedy, but a triumph.

  These people had achieved the highest order of Gnaloam – perfection in the flesh. What was left behind were not “ruins” – they were relics.

  I walked the streets in awe, feeling closer to the Creator than ever before in my life. And I wandered not aimlessly, but like a boy rediscovering his childhood. Each street perfectly reflected my dream; I knew precisely where I was going and how to get there.

  I walked down the clean streets between glistening structures, somewhat surprised at how well-preserved everything was after centuries of neglect.

  A cool afternoon breeze carried the scent of native flowers as I stepped out of the sun into the shade of a great archway that led to the grounds of a huge marble pantheon.

  This was the place.

  I stepped reverently up the stone steps to the main entrance, and placed my trembling hand on the door. It opened silently.

  Even inside this ancient building, the air smelled fresh. Colored light spilled through tall windows that faced the sun, creating hazy beams that crossed from the high ceilings to rest in illuminated spots upon the floor.

  I followed those spots – blue, yellow, green, blue, orange – just like in my dream. My footfalls echoed in the vast chapel as I moved toward the front. Then, at the left side of the pulpit area, before me rested the record – a book on a stand, protected by a dome of clear glass.

  I caught my breath.

  Though this was my purpose – what I had traversed the dimensions to retrieve – I hesitated. Suddenly, I felt like a thief – a grave robber.

  I decided to kneel and pray once more.

  There in the serenity of the holiest site on Thalin, I poured my soul out to the Creator.

  Peace washed over me, and I regained my resolve.

  I stood, lifted the glass cover, and took the record into my hand.

  It was smaller and lighter than I’d anticipated. A black leather cover bound the fine gold-edged pages – probably only about a hundred of them. As was my custom when handling old books, I raised it to my nose and sniffed deeply.

  Then I opened it.

  The pages were filled with characters I did not recognize – another language.

  My heart sank, as I had hoped to begin reading immediately. Now I would face the long process of translation before knowing what wonderful mysteries this record held.

  I took a deep breath, turned, and left the pantheon, returning to my capsule on the outskirts of the grand city.

  It was time to go home.

  #

  I manually guided the tiny capsule up through the atmosphere, feeling a profound sense of sadness at having to leave such a beautiful, pristine – if entirely lonely – world.

  I felt like I’d been cleansed and renewed just by setting foot on that planet, which had been populated by such a wholly righteous people.

  Once I was back in space, I set the coordinates for the capsule to automatically locate the invisible entrance to the filament, and then released the controls to the little ship.

  The capsule curved around in a large arc, the heading allowing me to gaze one last time on Thalin.

  Then, in the blink of an eye, it all changed once again.

  I was home.

  #

  My own planet looked more or less like Thalin – except for the positions of the seas and continents – yet it also appeared so much less majestic to my eyes.

  Like a fallen world.

  But the sacred treasure I carried back with me could change all that.

  The words of those who had reached perfection had the potential to lift us up in our own eternal quest to become as the Creator.

  It would usher in a new era of peace and enlightenment.

  As I got closer to my home world, I noticed a strange phenomenon. The cloud of satellites that orbited the planet seemed to have become more dense since my departure several hours prior.

  “Unidentified capsule, please state your business in our space,” said a militant voice in my cockpit speakers.

  “It’s me, Steward Lane Morgan. I have returned. Is this Quantix Flight Control?”

  “This is Ralon Chen of the Planetary Defense Grid. Did you say you’re Lane Morgan?”

  “That’s right. What’s going on here?”

  “Please stand by.”

  I waited, allowing the capsule’s automatic system to send me in a wide circle, some distance from the highest of the satellites. Finally, another voice came on the line.

  “Lane Morgan, this is Suzerain Ben Tenley, Third Executive of Northern Hemisphere Grid Operations. We have scanned your vessel and confirmed your identity. Your return comes as a great surprise. Please pilot your capsule to the docking station of Orbital Four, which is directly ahead of your current position. You’ll be met by a welcome party at that location.”

  I docked and stepped aboard the orbital platform.

  Orbital Four.

  Strange, I only recalled there being two such structures when I left.

  “Welcome back, I’m Suzerain Wendel Jonas, First Executive,” said a dark-skinned, deep-voiced man in uniform with bald head and steely eyes. He scrutinized my face. “How truly odd – you don’t look a day older than when you disappeared.”

  “Disappeared? I entered the filament just a few hours ago – perhaps a day at the most. I lost track of time a little when I was on the surface of Thalin. But Quantix was expecting my journey to appear very short from your perspective – perhaps only a few seconds. How much time has passed?”

  Jonas smiled. “It seems Quantix miscalculated. Steward Morgan, Quantix went out of business fifteen years ago, shortly after your disappearance and the scandal that followed.”

  “What? What are you saying?”

  “You’ve been gone a very, very long time. Come, I will escort you planetside, take you to New Diamond City. Steward Riggs will want to see you immediately.”

  “New Diamond City?” I asked, befuddled. “Whatever happened to the old one?”

  “A lot has happened in your absence,” said Jonas. “A lot.”

  #

  Steward Riggs met me with a tearful embrace.

  “Steward Morgan – we were certain you were dead. Well, I mean, many were certain. I have continued to hold out hope – I always believed in your vision.”

  “Thank you – I know you did.” I took a seat on the firm couch in Riggs’ somewhat austere office of blues and grays and bare stone walls. “Where is Crenshaw?”

  “With the Creator. He assumed full stewardship one year after you left. It was necessary – the flock were becoming very anxious, there were dissensions –”

  “I understand.”

  “Well, within six months, there was so much turmoil, a war broke out. Steward Crenshaw was killed – right in the middle of a speech to the Assembly – it was so awful.”

  I closed my eyes tightly for a moment, pushing away the image of my old friend being murdered. “Then, of course, the stewardship fell to you.”

  “Yes. And it was not easy at first. Diamond City was under siege, and eventually we had to flee. The city was badly damaged in the war. We ended up creating this new city here to the north, rather than rebuild the charred remains of our former home.”

  ?
??How was peace achieved?” I asked.

  “Peace? We are not at peace, yet, Kinsman. The war is no longer hot, as it once was, but tensions are still high, and there has not been a true resolution to the conflict. Violence could break out at any time – and it does.”

  “You look especially worried.”

  “Your return. I am concerned how it will be perceived – the impact it will have on the flock, on the war.”

  “My return is far less important than what it is I brought with me, Steward. I have retrieved the record.”

  “I never doubted you would. But the world is a very different place than it was fifteen years ago, Kinsman. What will this new volume of scripture portend for our people? Have you had a chance to study it in any detail?

  “No – it is not in our language. I intend to begin translation immediately.”

  “How?”

  “I will fast, I will pray, and I will lock myself in a room with it until the words become clear. Surely if the Creator sent me to get the record, a way will be provided for its translation. With faith.”

  Riggs cast his eyes downward in contemplation. “With faith, yes.”

  “Steward. My dear old friend. You look as though far more than fifteen years have weathered you. Clearly life has been difficult during my absence. But I believe the record will begin to set things aright.”

  “I hope you are correct.”

  #

  It troubled me greatly to see Riggs so worn down. We spoke a few more times over the next couple of days, but he seemed despondent despite the great hope offered by the record I held.

  I spent the next three days resting privately and preparing myself for the task of translation that lay ahead. I ingested much information, getting caught up on the last fifteen years of history.

  A great deal had occurred.

  The Church was now divided, as were the governments of the world. A general line had been drawn between the northern and southern hemispheres, with people taking sides – aligning with those with whom they agreed – on each side of the equator.

  Many had lost their lives in violent battles over the years.

  It broke my heart to review such a sad story, and helped me better understand the woe I saw written all over Riggs’ face.