by Deen Ferrell
As Willoughby took a cookie, he looked at the business card in his hand. He read; “H.S., Executive Director, Observations, Inc.” At the bottom of the card, in slanted italics, was a short catchphrase: Cryptic Spaces, Doorways to Distant Places.
“Cryptic spaces… what’s that supposed to mean.”
“Can’t you guess? Encryption is a way of hiding information in plain sight. In our lives, we perceive only those patterns around us our brains identify as important. The average brain perceives less than 10% of what exists. Part of the issue is distraction. Text messages, iPhone libraries, fashion choices—there are so many patterns easily accessible to occupy our time. Part of the issue is the chaotic nature of time itself. Time is a fleeting thing in an all-too-finite world. So, we cling to the comfort of routines. We block out whatever does not fit within the fringes of our expectations.
“Whatever the reason, much of the magic and mystery of our world goes unseen. Observations, Inc. was created to correct that—to operate within the unseen 90 percent, in places the average mind does not see and chooses not to comprehend. How many people, for example, enter and exit the Certus Grove building each day, having no idea that there is a hidden, unused space at the top of the building? How many have climbed the very stairwell you climbed, wondered about why the top ledge extends the entire length of the wall, well past the ladder to the roof, but stopped there, never guessing that a hidden door was there for the discovering? We are an elite group, Willoughby. You should feel honored.”
Willoughby listened, but gave no response. He flipped the card in his hand over. On the back of the card was the symbol 313, with the last 3 backward. Just above the numbers, a faint spiral of golden triangles drifted into infinity. He thought of how he had sensed that something was different about the space that became the Corner Barber. He then remembered how he had sensed more than seen the hidden door in the Certus Grove. He thought of the flares of light he glimpsed around this same symbol that was on the back of this business card. Everything seemed to be tied to this symbol! He placed the card slowly into his shirt pocket and pushed back into the couch. “What was that thing that brought me here? You called it a conduit. Does it sometimes appear as more a rip or tear?”
H.S. gave him a curious glance. “The conduit, or Negative Density Tunnel if you want a more scientific description, is a sort of punctured hole that momentarily creates a conduit by equalizing the density between points on a continuum, creating negative suction,” H.S. answered. “Of course, that means little to you. Further explanation would only confuse you at this point. It will take years for you to figure it all out, Willoughby. Could we get back to our…proposition for you?”
“You can propose what you like, but until I know more—until I have some idea how all this works—I’m not saying yes to anything.”
H.S. smiled. “Okay. I expected as much. I’ll give you the 10,000 foot view.”
Willoughby waited as the large man sipped at his tea. He decided to take a sip of his own hot chocolate. It was warm and rich. A thought occurred to him. He looked up; “What is Antonio’s connection with you? The symbol on the back of your card is over his door.”
H.S.’s eyes twinkle. “Antonio may not be what he seems.” He leaned forward in his chair. “I trust his opinion. He’s been observing you for almost two years now. He is part of my team. His whole shop was built primarily to attract you. Sam, your chauffeur, is also a part of our organization. Not every barber, or mundane worker, is what they may appear. When Sam isn’t driving you to and from that dreadful private academy, he coordinates multi-dimensional transportation for our organization and pilots my yacht. Antonio has even richer skills as a structural architect and a first-rate inter-dimensional engineer.”
“Multi-dimensional transportation? Inter-dimensional engineer?” Willoughby shook his head. “You sound like a character from some Sci-Fi Channel movie. Antonio is a barber! He’s good at cracking a joke and he may be smart and adventurous, but he sure doesn’t appear to me to be some kind of engineering genius. He was born in East Los Angeles. He received his training from his father, who was also a barber.”
“True. Would you describe yourself, then, as a typical teenager? That’s how you probably appear to those who don’t really know you.” H.S. pursed his lips; “You won’t be long with us, Willoughby, if you don’t learn to look beyond initial appearances. Did you know that, typically, less than ten percent of an iceberg is visible above the water? When you learn to truly observe, you’ll find life to be more fascinating than you ever imagined.
“Antonio, for example, designed the Certus Grove building and Antonio’s Corner Barber. Is he a Spanish-American barber like his father? Yes…but I rather think you suspected there was more to him than this.”
Willoughby was quiet for a long moment. Suddenly, H.S. didn’t seem as much like a dotty old Englishman. He seemed very bright, very alert, and very much in control of this conversation. “So, what has Antonio told you about me?”
“He thinks you have potential. He wants to personally supervise you on the team.”
“Antonio cuts my hair every other week. I solved a famous mathematical puzzle. How could he possibly know enough about me to suggest me for something like…this?”
“He has uncanny abilities of observation.”
“You rely solely on his observations? How do you know I won’t go straight to the police? Or the military, or something?”
H.S. raised an eyebrow. “You’d have a hard time finding them here. Besides, I do rely on my team, and Antonio is a key member. I trust his instincts. And, I…knew your father.”
Willoughby felt as if he had been punched. “Knew?” he mumbled numbly.
“Yes. He worked for me for a while. Then, he left us. I am speaking of your birth father, Willoughby, of Gustav.”
Gustav? He fought to keep the strange mix of anger, hurt, and hope out of his face. “My father knew about…about this?” Willoughby gestured toward the window where a pair of plesiosaurs darted past.
H. S. paused, considering the question. “Oddly enough, no. He worked for us as a civilian engineer, though I immediately saw in him great talent. I had planned to offer him the position that eventually went to Antonio.”
“Why didn’t you?”
H.S. shrugged. “I couldn’t. One day, he disappeared. We were never able to find him.”
Willoughby looked away. “He was good at disappearing.”
“I’m sorry, Willoughby. I know it’s been hard.”
Willoughby gritted his teeth. No, the man did not know what it was like to have your father walk away and never come back. Still, he wanted to somehow find Gustav. Could this man help? Controlling his expression, he managed a casual question: “So, you felt he was right for your team?”
“Yes. He had many of the same traits we observed in you—mathematical brilliance, modesty, an ability to look beyond the superficial, a wry sarcasm, a sense of humor, a stubborn resourcefulness, a guarded optimism—”
Willoughby cut H.S. off. “Yeah, but I wouldn’t just walk away from my family.”
H.S. peered at him curiously. “Remember what I said earlier about assumptions, Willoughby. I don’t know why your father left you and your mother, but I do know that things are not always what they may seem.”
Willoughby sighed, blowing out a long breath. It was time to change the topic of conversation. “Did you recruit Antonio as a kid, too?”
“No.” H.S. said after a pause. He took another sip of tea. “We don’t usually recruit this young, Willoughby. You’re a special case. There has only been one other.”
“Who?”
“A girl. She’s brilliant with languages and is a world-renowned violinist.”
“Sydney?”
“Yes. So, Antonio told you about her?”
“Not much.” Willoughby couldn’t help thinking of her shiny black ha
ir and haunting eyes. He looked down at his hands. “So, is your interest in me, in my mathematical skill, or am I here because I’m Gustav’s son?”
“All of the above. Gustav had an uncanny ability with infrastructure algorithms, but he did not solve the Riemann Hypothesis.”
“Infrastructure algorithms? …this is a lot to take in.”
“Yes. It is. And I’m afraid it’s only the beginning. Time seems to have a sense of humor, I dare say, a sense of balance. The more you delve in, the less you’re inclined to believe that chance is ever purely random. We believe we were meant to find you, Willoughby. Perhaps you were meant to find us, too. Perhaps there are questions in time that you are meant to answer.”
Like why Gustav left, Willoughby thought. He felt suddenly edgy. He didn’t like discussing his birth father, especially when his mind was so confused and he was speaking with a man he barely knew. Antonio a brilliant architect and engineer? Time travel to a Jurassic era sea? The chance to find out what really happened to his father? The possibilities collided and competed in his mind.
“Antonio and Sam are not the only people you’ve seen from our organization. Remember the men with the coveralls that sported the ‘O’ for ‘Observations Inc.?’ You’ve also mentioned Sydney Senoya. What is your impression from what Antonio has told you of her?”
“She’s beautiful. She’s creative. She likes surprising people. She doesn’t like to be thought of as ordinary.”
H.S. pursed his lips. “I would have said she likes shocking people, but you have the gist. Now, I suppose I should start explaining how we do what we do.” He paused a long moment to stare out the window toward the undulating sea. When he looked back, his eyes nearly glowed. “We are capable of wonderful things, Willoughby. We offer adventures beyond your wildest imaginations… We help connect the present with the past in ways that can safeguard the future.” The man carefully gauged Willoughby’s reactions. “You’re curious, but you’re cautious. Good.”
At that very moment, shadows darkened the window. A siren sounded as a plesiosaurus slammed what was left of the eel fish against the window. The panes of the enormous window not only pulsed red this time, but crackled with electricity. The beast jerked, sliding off the window to pull its prey away, over the edge of the coral reef. H.S. nodded toward the pulsing window. “That jolt of electricity was enough to kill a fair-sized elephant. There is danger involved in what we do, Willoughby. You need to know that. After all, we travel in time, we visit hostile environments. The decision to join us is not one to be taken lightly. But, there are compensations. We offer you a home among peers, challenges that will daily test your ability, and a place where your mind can grow without limits.”
Willoughby thought about something Antonio had said to him once. They had been chatting about James Glaisher, fantasizing about what it would be like to soar alone into the troposphere with nothing but a single weather balloon to hold you in the sky. Antonio had stopped clipping hair and looked at him wistfully. “Sometimes, my friend, the greatest adventure is the one right in front of your nose.”
Was this what he meant? With a single word, could his whole life really transform into a landscape of wonder and intrigue? He tried to hide the rush of exhilaration that tickled at the back of his mind. Leaning forward to pick up the steaming cocoa from the coffee table, he took a sip. “Okay,” he said, wiping chocolate from his lip, “you’ve got my attention.”
7
Nessie
H.S. placed his teacup down and gave a curt nod. “I should hope we have your attention.” He stood, fishing for something in his pocket. “So, let’s make the best use of it.” He turned his head slightly to the breathtaking view of the window. The battle in the water was over. The eel fish had gone limp as the beasts dragged it to a flat section of coral. One beast began to devour the carcass while the other bobbed toward the surface. It shot back moments later, bulleting straight down. It tore a huge chunk from the fish, leaving a new stain of dark blood diffusing into the water. The scene provided a dramatic backdrop to H.S.’s large profile. The large man turned to him.
“Should we discuss the how and the why behind our technology first?”
Willoughby pushed to the edge of the couch. He stood and moved toward the window, running a hand over its smooth, glassy surface. It was warm to the touch. “Why here? What do you do besides just observe? Did you plan this, this predator battle? Did you somehow know it would happen the moment you pulled me here?”
H.S. pursed his lips. “We observe, Willoughby. We learn. Timing is not always a happy accident. The Jurassic is raw and untamed. I could not predict the exact show you would be witness to in our great, natural theater, but I knew nature wouldn’t disappoint.”
“You can’t predict time with mathematics?”
“Mathematics is at the core of everything we do, but nature is mostly beautiful because it defies absolute predictability. We observe. We speculate. We laugh when nature proves us wrong. ”
Willoughby considered. “But why? What do you want from time? Money? Power? Treasure? What do you want from me?”
H.S. tapped his lip, leaning down conspiratorially. “Adventure,” he whispered, “a hunger to know simply because it challenges life’s limits. Treasure, money, power—these are hollow solutions in and of themselves. The real prize is the quest, the journey. What do we want from you? Eyes, capable of helping us see in the dark.”
“What?” Willoughby didn’t give H.S. time to answer. “Maybe I’m comfortable with my life as it is.”
“Then, by all means, go back to it. Our organization is not for everybody. If you worked with us, you would not be able to share what you discover with your family, with those who are close to you, Willoughby. The life we will ask you to lead as a member of Observations, Inc. will, at times, seem lonely. You’ll be asked to lead a double life—one as an ordinary person in a typical span of life, and another as an adventurer across multiple time spans. Is this a sacrifice you could make?”
Willoughby ran his hand over to the metal webbing that separated the glassy panes of the window. It had the same smooth, cool feel as the walls inside the hidden room at the Certus Grove building. “This isn’t an ordinary metal, is it?”
H.S. shook his head.
Willoughby turned. “Okay, let’s talk about the technology. I have to have some idea of how all this works. I also want more specifics about what you do.”
H.S. stared down at him thoughtfully. “The passages of time are full of wonders, Willoughby, but you don’t have to travel outside of time to find adventure. You may be destined to accomplish much in your life even without us.”
“What about with you?”
“With us, you will gain perspectives that change you in unpredictable ways. You will be like a rat that has escaped time’s clever maze. We observe patterns in the parade of life, patterns that written history and conjecture lack the perspective to see. We extract from those patterns understanding, to shape for life a brighter future.”
“Then you are trying to shape the future?”
“Of course I am. Men of destiny have always tried to shape the future, my boy.”
“With very questionable success.”
H.S. gave a good-natured shrug. “Agreed.”
“How do you know that your ‘observations’ won’t somehow darken the future of mankind?”
“How do any of us know that our footprints won’t have effects that are unintended?”
“Yeah, but your footprints, from what I see, are enormous.”
H.S. grinned. “Quite so… Which is why our ‘observations’ must be so keen. There is power in careful observation. Secrets are hidden all around us. For one with eyes that truly see, the world can be a most fascinating place. Just think of the top of the Certus Grove building.”
Willoughby did. He also thought of the Corner Barber and the glowing number strings
he had seen. Should he mention this to H.S.? The man continued to talk with animated enthusiasm.
“Even our name, Observations, Inc., was not randomly chosen. A willingness to open eyes and mind to new potential realities is essential to everything we do. In fact, the clues that allowed us to develop our time-travel technology have been in front of us since life on this planet began. We just had to learn to see them.”
“Some of those clues are hidden in the symbol, aren’t they? The symbol marks both the door to Antonio’s shop and the door at the top of the Certus Grove.”
“Yes, but the symbol is just a start.”
“A start…You mean a launch point for time travel? Does that mean we could somehow travel from Antonio’s Corner Barber as well as from the Certus Grove?”
“Not exactly—” H.S. started, but Willoughby cut him off. His mind was racing now.
“Are there number strings associated with the travel—strings you can see? Was Antonio planning some kind of travel last night?”
H.S. stopped cold. He was quiet for a long moment and then gave Willoughby a curious look. “Those are interesting questions. Antonio’s shop rests on a natural hole, a weakness in our present time/space that we have not yet exploited. What brought up your question about number strings?”
Willoughby stared at the man for a long moment, afraid that he had already said too much. “In that room at the top of the Certus Grove,” he finally said. “I thought I saw flickering lines of numbers. They lit the whole room.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Transport generally provides quite a light show—or, at least, the perception of one—but to see number strings…Extraordinary.”
H.S. was quiet for a long moment. “What you could not have known is that there are devices that help us translate gravitational potentialities into equations. They scroll very quickly, so it takes a brilliant mathematician to be able to follow and understand the number strings that branch from and to various time corridors. Perhaps you have some sort of innate sense of these corridors. You begin to see why we are interested in you. The theory is that these equations can help one navigate a natural hole successfully to unsecured points in time. We surmise, though, that this sort of navigation will only be effective in a natural hole, where travel is based on timing rather than on the enhancement benefits of technology anchoring both ends.”
