We shot upwards in the elevator with ten other people standing comfortably around us. I should say it was comfortable spatially. A journey of one hundred floors in forty-seven seconds tends to generate some G-forces. I was holding Arcon in a reinforced shopping bag. I didn’t expect to hear from him until we arrived at the observatory. True to form, he surprised me when his thoughts jammed into my head.
“I told you we’d make it through security without a hitch.”
I had never heard Arcon gloat before. Why now? Maybe he just couldn’t help it.
“How did you know it would be much easier than I expected?”
“It was a simple matter of deductive reasoning.”
“You sound like Sherlock Holmes,” I said.
“Who?”
“Never mind.”
The elevator slowed to a halt. My ears popped. The brushed steel doors opened. I gazed out at the empty maze of cordoned rows in front of the observatory. My heart literally skipped a beat. We were the first ones up here. I held my express pass in my other hand. We’d be inside the observatory in no time flat.
Two heavily armed National Guardsmen approached us. “Please get in line, “they said to the group” “It may be a while before we can let you in.”
“Excuse me, sir,” I said to the nearest guard. “Is there some sort of delay?”
“I’m afraid there is,” the guardsman replied with an undertone of sarcasm. “The observatory has been cleared for a foreign dignitary to tour the facility. He’s accompanied by a support staff and a security detail.”
“Any idea how long this fellow and his people will be in there?”
“None whatsoever. Our orders are not to disturb him.”
I closed my eyes. Despite what Arcon had explained to me earlier, I was now certain that God was punishing a sinful world.
While we waited in line, I tried repeatedly to converse telepathically. Arcon didn’t respond. He was no doubt making final preparations for whatever he planned to do to save the Earth.
As time passed, the people around me began to complain about the delay. The line kept growing behind me. Young tourists sat down on their backpacks. I kept glancing at my watch. Each moment that passed was excruciating. People read their phones and listened to music with earbuds stuck in their heads. After an hour, I sat on the floor cross-legged and thoroughly frustrated. I was past self-concern. I was concerned about the fate of the world.
Making customers wait like this was unconscionable. And, in this case, suicidal. I couldn’t talk to management. What was I going to say? Please, my alien friend and I need to go inside to prevent the world from disintegrating.
Another forty-five minutes passed. I was beside myself, but I tried not to show it. T-minus fifteen minutes and counting.
All this time, Arcon didn’t make a peep. I knew what he’d say if I asked. Worrying is a waste of energy.
Finally, two ticket agents appeared at the counter to collect passes and check ID cards. They examined my shopping bag and smiled at my cover story. We entered the observatory with less than ten minutes left to get the job done.
I could not help examining the giant hexagon mirror hanging from the middle of the ceiling. A kaleidoscope of views of the city were reflected in the faceted mirrors. There were enough exhibits in the observatory to keep the casual tourist occupied for hours. Many of the first people to enter with us made a beeline for the telescopes. Signs indicated they were allowed to gape for up to fifteen minutes. If things didn’t move along, the gapers weren’t going to have to worry about the time allotment.
Arcon and I were in a different world. We alone knew that everyone in the observatory and on the plant were living on borrowed time. To make matters worse, my fiancée was never going to show up.
I wasted no time in sitting on a bench in front of one of the floor-to ceiling reinforced glass windows. Placing the shopping bag next to me, I said, “Okay. What’s the plan? You owe me an answer after all I’ve done.”
Arcon wasted no time in answering. “I have to go outside, jump off the ledge, and plummet until I build up enough kinetic energy to do what I have to do.”
“I thought you were spending all this time saving up your energy?”
“I was. I need the kinetic energy as a trigger.”
“Have you noticed the thick windows we’re sitting against?”
“Why must you create problems when there are none? I’m going to reduce myself to sub-atomic particles, slip through the glass, reconstitute myself outside the windows, and let gravity take over.”
“Then what?”
“I’m not entirely sure. I’ve never done this before.”
I closed my eyes again. “So, I’m just going to sit here and see what happens?”
“You can try to have some confidence in me. Didn’t I get us through security downstairs?”
Now, I understood the reason for Arcon’s gloating. It was intended to inspire confidence. I still had my doubts.
I glanced at my watch again. Sixty seconds to Zero Hour.
I heard Arcon say, “Wish me luck.”
Thirty seconds later, the observatory and everyone in it blurred.
I regained consciousness sprawled on the grey-tiled floor of the observatory. Sitting up, I held onto the bench to leverage myself up from the floor. Checking my watch, I noticed that I had been unconscious for ten minutes. I observed the other visitors in the observatory struggling to awaken and arise from whatever had just happened to us. My eyes fell upon the reinforced paper bag I had used to carry Arcon up a hundred floors to the observatory. The bag was torn with half of the silver sphere sticking out. Arcon was no longer disguised as a 19th century Art Deco vase.
I panicked. I laid my hand on the sphere. It was cold. I rapped on it lightly. It sounded hollow. I called out to Arcon telepathically. “Where are you?” No answer.
I gazed out through the floor-to-ceiling observatory windows . . . and was greeted by the sight of another Earth hanging in the sky in the distance. Before I had time to react, a voice came through the sound system:
“We are evacuating the building. Please remain calm. Follow the flashing light indicators on the floor to the nearest exit.” I guessed that the light indicators were another safety measure installed in the building after the 9/11 attacks.
I heard moans, groans, chatter, and a single scream from the survivors in the observatory. Young children clung to their parents.
A young man wearing camouflage pants and a Clemson Tigers T-shirt bolted toward the exit. He was met by two National Guardsmen. They hauled the scraggly haired fellow away and out of sight.
The PA system chimed in again. “Please remain calm and follow the exits out of the building in an orderly fashion. There is no imminent danger. I repeat. There is no imminent danger. You will be subject to arrest if you cause a disturbance.”
And be sure to ignore the extra Earth hanging in the sky, I added for good measure.
I had to be the only person in the world with the vaguest notion of what was going on. Thank heavens for small favors. On the other hand, it appeared, for all intents and purposes, that the Earth and its inhabitants had somehow avoided a fiery extinction. That was no small favor.
As I was pausing to take a few grateful breaths, the room blurred again. I don’t know what happened next. When I regained consciousness, I found myself standing in the same place ten minutes later.
The people around me were starting to panic. I started to join them, until I looked out of the window and saw that the second Earth had disappeared. The PA system kicked in again to pacify the masses. “Please remain calm and continue to exit the building. Walk. Do not run. Everyone can exit the building safely as long as you follow these directions. I repeat. . ..”
I agreed with the PA system. No one was safe if we started a stampede.
When I finally reached the lobby, an elderly woman fainted right in front of me. At first, I thought I was losing time again. Fortunately for everyone besid
es the woman it was only the woman fainting.
The repetitive PA system and the constant sight of National Guardsmen and policemen watching us kept everyone under control. Walking in a slow line beat by miles the prospect of detention and possibly incarceration.
* * *
Two hours after exiting the observatory, I stood outside One World Trade Center opposite the Oculus transportation hub.
During the interminable process of exiting the building, I entertained a few wild ideas about what might have happened in the observatory. I had to find out what really happened. There was only one thing or person who had the definitive answer: Arcon, if he was still around.
While walking the two blocks to the parking garage where I had stashed my Mazda Miata, I was dismayed to see an immense traffic jam. Cars were barely moving. I’d have to deal with it, but first, I had to find Arcon. The sidewalks were packed with people. Intermittent fights were breaking out. An attractive, well-dressed woman asked me for a ride. Ordinarily, I would have been glad to oblige. Instead, I politely lied and said I didn’t own a car. I had my reasons.
Keeping a low profile, I unobtrusively found my way to the Mazda. Inside the garage, the ancient fluorescents emitted a sickly yellow light. Cars were lined up to exit the garage. Noxious fumes from the idling cars polluted the air. It seemed New York City had become one long line.
As I approached the car, I noticed a glow in the back seat. Could it be. . .?
I opened the driver’s side door. I sat and slammed it shut. Sitting in the front seat, I kept my eyes staring straight ahead. I was afraid to turn around. What if it wasn’t him? What if he was in some horribly debilitated state?
Reading my thoughts, Arcon said: “I’m perfectly fine, besides being naked.”
“Can I look at you?”
“If you must.”
I was relieved to hear Arcon’s characteristic ornery tone.
I turned to see a pulsing ball of light perched in the back seat. I felt a slight warmth on my face from the naked Arcon. I turned to face front again. Maybe Arcon was radioactive. Maybe I’d wake up tomorrow with a bad sunburn.
Instead of voicing my concerns, I said: “I’m glad you made it.”
“Me too,” Arcon replied.
“Please explain to me what happened, especially the part about the Earth hanging in the sky outside of the observatory window.”
“Theoretically, it’s simple. Before I tell you, you must agree never to share the information with anyone. Do I have your promise?”
“Yes. I doubt anyone would believe what you’re about to tell me anyway.”
“Good. Now listen carefully. I’m not going to repeat any of this.”
Arcon paused. I assumed he wanted to make sure he had my complete attention.
“First of all, we live in a multiverse. As an example, there are eleven versions of your Earth, each occupying its own dimension. When I reached a sufficient energy quotient during my freefall, I transported your world to the seventh Earth dimension. The seventh Earth dimension is the closest match to your dimension. I had to choose carefully. I wanted to minimize the repercussions in case both dimensions remained stuck together.
“As it happened, my calculations proved to be dead-on accurate. The two worlds occupied the same dimension for only ten minutes. That’s why you saw the second Earth in the sky. During the ten minutes, the pulsar passed harmlessly through an empty vacuum. Then, I transported your world back to the third dimension where it belongs.”
That explained the two intervals of lost time. We had saved the Earth. Humanity remained present and accounted for, although a bit confused.
“Unbelievable.”
“Entirely. So, don’t bother telling anyone, as you pointed out.”
I inhaled deeply, feeling Arcon’s warmth on the back of my neck.
“What do we do now?”
“We’ll go back to your friend’s house in Florida. Once the hysteria dies down, you’ll help to find me a new body.”
“That sounds relatively simple, compared to saving the world.”
“Yes, it’s the easy part.”
I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to hear about the hard part. I wanted to savor our victory, at least until we were safe and sound in the comfy beach house. Arcon ruined the moment.
“With the pulsar passing close by, I’ve been able to determine the coordinates of the planet where the control signal originated. Armed with this information, my government will deal with the perpetrators. There’s only one problem. I have to deliver the coordinates back to them.”
“And you’re telling me this why?”
“Naturally, I’ll need your help.”
The story continues in the next thrilling adventure of Jacob and the Silver Sphere . . .
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
After a career in marketing and business communications, David Gittlin began writing short stories and screenplays. He eventually graduated to writing novels. In addition to The Silver Sphere, he has written: Three Days to Darkness, Scarlet Ambrosia, and Micromium—Clean Energy from Mars. All are available at major online retailers worldwide.
For more information visit
www.DavidGittlin.com
The Silver Sphere: It's Coming--No Time to Waste Page 3
