“I imagine so,” Blake said. “So the fathers teach the sons.”
“That’s the way it has been,” Sophie said. “And it is the way it will be from now on.”
“Well, let’s meet him then,” Blake said. Sophie led Blake across the field toward the road. Oliver looked up as he walked and smiled at seeing Sophie.
“Well, good morning, Sophie,” Oliver said. “What brings you out here? I hear your husband had quite a night last night.”
“That’s what I heard,” Sophie said. “I’d like to introduce you to a friend of mine, Blake. Blake, this is Oliver.” They exchanged pleasantries. “Blake was very interested in seeing what you do at the Terraformer.”
“Why?” Oliver asked, his tone turning suspicious.
“Professional curiosity,” Blake said. “I have repeatedly promised to Sophie that I would keep my hands to myself.”
“I made him promise,” Sophie said. “The importance of its continued operation has been well impressed upon him.”
“I assumed this was common knowledge,” Oliver said. “I also assumed the general operation was also common knowledge. I don’t think anyone has ever asked to see what we do at the Terraformer.”
“Well, Blake is kind of new around here,” Sophie said.
“Wait, is this Blake as in the legend from the ship crash Blake?” Oliver asked, his look changing from suspicious to excited.
“That would be me,” Blake said uncomfortably.
“How is that possible?” Oliver asked.
“Well, my friends and I are time travelers,” Blake explained, “and I hope you don’t want to pick my brain over the crash because, for me, it hasn’t happened yet.”
“Hasn’t happened?” Oliver asked.
“It’s a long story, and you all can discuss at length,” Sophie said. “Suffice to say that my family was fully convinced of Perry and Michelle when they dropped in yesterday, and I have no doubt that he is who he says he is as weird as that sounds. Are you ok being a pincushion for questions?”
“I suppose,” Oliver said. “I am not sure what I can tell you.”
“I am not sure what to ask yet either, but I am excited to find out,” Blake said. “Part of the enjoyment of traveling the universe is learning as much as possible about the places we stop.”
“I don’t suppose you can travel to Earth, and let them know we’re here,” Oliver said.
“Well, the thing with our method of travel is that we don’t have any control over where we end up,” Blake explained. “I know that sounds a little odd and haphazard, but it is just how it works. I have no way to travel to Earth in this time to let them know where to find you. I’m sure there are people there who want to know, and I wish I could help with that, but I’m about as stuck as you are.”
“That’s not very helpful,” Oliver said.
“The best help I can always give is in the moment,” Blake said. “We believe we go to where we do because something is needed during that time. I’m fairly convinced we’re here to help deal with your unexpected visitors.”
“Yes, the Voraster ship that crashed down yesterday,” Oliver said. “I have of the persuasion that they are not out to harm us, but the proximity of that crash didn’t help their case any.”
“I need to run,” Sophia said. “Blake, if you need anything from me, you know how to find me.”
“Yes, thank you,” Blake said, and Oliver also bid her farewell as she left.
“So you convinced the wife of the leader of the society that you’re Blake of the Mirificus crash,” Oliver said. “No small feat that. Who are you really?”
“I can only give the answers I already have,” Blake said. “I don’t have much I can show to convince you. And since the incident conveniently takes place in my future, there is nothing I can tell you to convince you of who I am.”
“I have something,” Oliver said. “How is your memory?”
“Pretty good,” Blake said. “Why?”
“Well, the manuals we have are kept up ahead of us in the terraforming room,” Oliver said. “They call it a shrine, but it’s just a pod that contains the equipment. It was supposed to be ejected from the ship and run by itself, but due to the accident, it is still attached.”
“Is it running on ship’s power?” Blake asked.
“It is,” Oliver said. “Now, what do you think the chances of your ever seeing these manuals would be?”
“I have no idea,” Blake said. “Do I need to?”
“If you want to convince me, you do,” Oliver said. “I am going to give you a test. If you are who you say, and this crash is in your future, then you have already passed the test for me, and you will apparently remember it when you get to that point.”
“You want me to put something in the manual,” Blake said.
“Yes,” Oliver said. “I will show you the exact book. I will make sure you have a good look at the cover so that there is no reason you should not be able to remember it. I’ll even give you a moment to write it down. I have never met you before this moment, so there is no way you would know this. Prior to right now.”
“I would agree,” Blake said.
“All right,” Oliver said as they approached the entrance to the Terraformer. “Please remain silent and do as you are told at the checkpoint. This is simply procedural, but since you are a visitor, they may have something more.”
“Understood,” Blake said.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” Oliver said as he approached the guards. “I have an authorized visitor with me. He has been fully cleared and will be under my supervision the entire time.”
“Yes, sir,” one of the guards said. “He is your responsibility while here. You will answer for his actions. Is that clear?”
“That is clear,” Oliver said. He turned to Blake. “Let’s go.”
They walked past the guards unhindered through the open, decorated gateway of the Terraformer shrine. Past the entry, there was a sliding doorway with a keypad lock which Oliver entered the code to open. They both stepped through the door and allowed it to close behind them. A dry mist sprayed from overhead and covered them entirely.
“Is this supposed to be a disinfectant?” Blake asked.
“Yes, it clears us of contagions,” Oliver said. Blake pulled out his scanner and checked the mist for its contents.
“Maybe it used to,” Blake said. “What we got hit with just then was mostly steam and the dried remains of whatever that disinfectant used to be.”
“What is that?” Oliver asked.
“It’s the way I get things done,” Blake said. “I promised to touch nothing, but to be fair, I don’t need to touch much of anything to get answers. I can read most of what I need by scanning it.”
“That’s a pretty useful device then,” Oliver said.
“I never leave home without it,” Blake said. The inner door opened and Oliver led Blake into a round chamber with a tall cylindrical device dominating the center of the room. It stood twice their height, and overhead, windows gave them a view of the sky above. Panels covered the walls in the room, though the device itself had only a few buttons. The room panels gave persistent diagnostic readouts regarding everything in the Terraformer. Blake took a moment to view each one as Oliver opened a cabinet containing several thick books and removed one of them.
“This book, Mr. Blake Williams,” Oliver said. Blake looked at him and saw a white book with the title, Mk XIX Terraforming Device, Daily Operations and Maintenance written in thick light blue letters. Oliver held it up to ensure he could read it. “This is the title I want you to remember. This specific book. When you are on the Mirificus a hundred years ago in your future, find this book. It will be in this room with the Terraformer. I can only imagine the device will be all by itself for some time since it waits for our arrival. You should have plenty of time to come in here, find this book, and write something on page fifty-four.”
“Why fifty-four?” Blake asked.
“It’s
my age,” Oliver said. “I want you to write something on page fifty-four.”
“All right,” Blake said. “Look at page fifty-four, and tell me if I wrote what you told me.”
“I’m not sure whether to look first, or tell you first,” Oliver said.
“Be assured that I’m sufficiently nervous either way,” Blake said. “I don’t know what will happen when I get there, or if I will ever have a moment to end up in this room. I may never have gotten there.”
Oliver looked at him and opened the book. He flipped the pages to somewhere close to his target and then turned them one by one to fifty-four. As he turned the last page, he stared at it. His face dropped, and then he chuckled. He tossed the book on the countertop next to the cabinet. Blake glanced at the page which read, “You never told me what to write.”
“I’m guessing whatever you intended to tell me left your brain as soon as you saw the page,” Blake said. “Maybe you should have written it down first.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Oliver said. “I’m convinced - as ridiculous as that was. Well, what did you want to know from in here?”
“Mainly whether your terraformer is actually doing anything anymore,” Blake said. “A device like this is intended to create a world that is self-sustaining. I’ve never heard of one that had to be maintained for very long.”
“Ours does though,” Oliver said.
“How do you know that?” Blake asked.
“My father told me,” Oliver replied.
“How did he know?” Blake asked.
“I can see where this is going,” Oliver said. “We only know what we know because of what we’ve been told. That’s all we have to go on.”
“But you have all those books,” Blake said. “You have actual, printed books on how it works. No one does printed books anymore, but there they are. Have you read all of them?”
“No. We don’t ever need to do much. Just come out and make sure it is working.”
“Working on what?”
“Just functioning the way it always has.”
“So, just make sure it is doing today what it did yesterday?”
“That’s it.”
“Do you know what any of these diagnostics mean?”
“They only have to be there.”
“Do you, in fact, know how to fix this if it does break?”
Oliver looked at Blake with considerable frustration. Blake could read the answer on his face, but he did not wish to give it. Blake walked over to a panel with what looked like a time on it, but the time counted down. He pointed to the time without touching the panel (as he had promised). The counter read “00:00:12:34:42.”
“This number,” Blake said. “Do you know what this number means?”
“No,” Oliver said. “All I know is that it counts down. It is set to what I assume is Earth years, days, hours, minutes, and seconds.”
“You assume this is a countdown for something,” Blake said. “A countdown that has less than a day remaining, and you never thought to look it up?”
“What do you think it means?” Oliver asked.
“I think it means that in twelve Earth hours, your terraformer is going to shut down permanently.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Perry had taken his leave of Blake and Sophia when they had gotten close enough to the town hall, and he walked towards the building that no one knew he had visited the night before. Several workers were examining the stage in front of the town hall, and people randomly walked from place to place ignoring him. Before they had left, Sophia had given Perry a jacket of Harold’s to put over his T-shirt so he would not stand out since no one anywhere on the planet had a T-shirt on and to hide the symbol of the Maze on his shirt which might be recognized. The concern with this appearance had less to do with style and more to do with the slightly xenophobic attitude that could prevail in this current situation. If Perry looked like an alien based on his clothes, it could create a barrier to his speaking with the President.
He walked past the guards in the square and right through the front doors of the place. The interior of the town hall was not the buzz of activity he had expected. It was as quiet as an office on an average Wednesday afternoon with the occasional person walking from place to place, but still, no one paid him any attention. He knew that Michelle was here somewhere, but he had to put that out of his mind for the moment. He had to keep his priority on convincing the leader of this people that the Voraster were not a danger to them, and he needed to allow them to make contact with their people.
Sophia had said his office was the front right corner, so he turned to the right and walked down a short hall to a room labeled “President.” He opened the door and walked inside to find the anteroom that Sophia had indicated with a secretary sitting behind a simple, wooden desk. She smiled as he walked in.
“Good morning, sir, are you here to see the President?”
“I am,” Perry said, “is he available?”
“I will check,” the secretary replied. “Can I tell him what this in regards to?”
“The crash from yesterday,” Perry said. The secretary appeared uncomfortable.
“The President is not presently answering questions about that topic, sir,” the secretary said. “He will be delivering a statement later today to let everyone know what occurred.”
“I don’t have any questions about it,” Perry said. “I probably know more about it than he does. I wish to speak to him about what I know.”
“I will let him know,” the secretary said hesitantly. “Please wait here.”
Perry nodded and walked to a front window to look out on the town square as the secretary disappeared into the President’s actual office. That he would not be taking questions was not a surprise since everyone would want to know as much as possible. He suspected something to this effect had already come out since there was no one in here waiting to see him about this. People were insatiably curious about everything, even things they “didn’t want to know” about. He hoped wanting to talk about the crash but not having any questions would help him get the audience he required.
It felt like a very long time before the secretary returned to the anteroom. He turned to her as the door opened, and she smiled at him.
“The President will see you now,” she said.
“Thank you,” Perry said to her as he walked through the door to a modest office with a desk covered in paper and a single shelf of binders. Up close, the President was a man of strength and stature, easily six feet in height, as wide as a linebacker, and with hands large enough to cradle a baby with room to spare. In short, he was imposing, and Perry missed a beat upon seeing just how big he was, despite the friendly smile on his face.
“Good morning, citizen,” he said. “I don’t recall your face. I’m President Garaldu Rhysman. I’m sure you know me, but I always feel the need to introduce myself to those I’ve not met.” He reached out to shake Perry’s hand, and Perry’s hand disappeared into the big man’s grip which was firm but did not exact any of his apparent strength.
“Good morning, Mr. President,” Perry greeted, and he sat in a chair in front of the President’s desk. Rhysman sat behind it, leaned casually on one of the chair’s arm, stuck his legs out in front of him and crossed his ankles under the desk.
“Now, what can I do for you, Mr…,” Rhysman began.
“Newman,” Perry said. “Perry Newman.”
“Perry Newman,” Rhysman said, and his gaze drifted off as he clearly remembered the name, but did not immediately place it. He looked back to Perry. “My secretary says you have information about the crash. Know that I consented to this because you said you had no questions about it. I will release what I know later along with what we’re doing. I cannot give you anything at this time. I am here to listen.”
“Yes sir,” Perry said, “I understand, and I don’t need any information from you, I promise. I suspect I already know the official position on this, and of course, I saw the cra
sh yesterday and who came out of it. What I came to discuss was what I know that you probably don’t.
“I need you to keep an open mind, sir. I trust you are a good leader who will listen to every angle of any story and determine the overall course of action based on that information. I do wish to hazard one single question, and it is a simple yes or no answer. I am not asking for any elaboration. I know you have some of the visitors in custody. Has anyone spoken to them to hear their side of the story?”
“Not that I am aware of,” Rhysman said. Like a perfect politician, he ended his response right there without any other hint of information. It was not even a real “no,” but just that vague “probably not.”
“I know for a fact that you only have two of the five visitors who were captured,” Perry said, and Rhysman seemed immediately more interested. “I have spoken to them first hand. I know their story of what went on with their ship, why they were in orbit, and why they crashed. I know you are detaining them like criminals, and while I’m not discounting that where they landed is problematic for you, I think you need to consider their facts along with your own.”
“What if they are lying?” Rhysman asked.
“What if they’re not?” Perry asked in return. “Fair governing is a risk. Making these types of decisions is a risk. Everything we do every day entails some level of danger, and until we proceed down a path, we cannot know the entire truth. Were they in the wrong place at the wrong time, or do they have an invasion force perched up there waiting to kill us all? I ask you to weigh that question very carefully along with the consequences of each.”
“You have my attention, Mr. Newman,” Rhysman said, and though his face did not indicate a great deal of enthusiasm, his eyes were struggling to maintain this stoic politician composure. He was doing his job perfectly by keeping a poker face, but Perry hoped he was getting through to him. If nothing else, he hoped he filled the man with enough doubt that he would consider something other than the inevitable negative course they had to be on at this point.
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