The Cantor Dimension

by Delarose, Sharon

  The Cantor Dimension

  an Astrophysical Murder Mystery

  In Rochester, New York, a woman disappears. The memory of her existence is wiped clean from everyone who knew her except for one friend with a crazy aunt.

  In Utica, Illinois, a young man disappears. Nobody cares except for the one person who doesn't believe in UFOs.

  In Memphis, Tennessee, Max disappears after a bank robbery leaving his clueless best friend Brody in charge of hiding his secrets from the police.

  What do these three disappearances have in common?

  The Cantor Dimension...

  Albert Einstein, Edmond Halley, Georg Cantor, and Isaac Newton come together in a series of true accounts which sets the stage for time travel in this astrophysical mystery.

  Solve the centuries old murder of Edmond Halley, Sr. in a place where the legendary Knights Templar hid their treasures and the Prince of Transylvania lost his head. Discover Charles Dickens' obsession, Thomas Becket's curse, bizarre occupations and even more bizarre laws in Kent County, England in the days of yore.

  Why did the Bats people worship the gods of time? What paradise did Cantor create from n-dimensional space? What was Isaac Newton's greatest quest? Meteorites, murders, mysteries, and mayhem surround the secrets that unlock the doors to another world in The Cantor Dimension.

  The Cantor Dimension

  by Sharon Delarose

  Dedicated to the Believers,

  for if no one believes

  then science will never move forward.

  Follow your passions

  with the dedication of the greatest

  names in science and math

  and maybe your name

  will be immortalized.

  But be prepared...

  those names who we now revere

  were once ridiculed.

  Their discoveries were not

  embraced in their lifetimes.

  Only the power of their beliefs

  which no one else shared

  kept them working late into the nights.

  The greatest discoveries

  of mankind

  were brought forth

  during those darkest hours.

  * * *

  Other Books by Sharon Delarose

  Bad Dog to Best Friend

  Yankee, Go Home

  Wedding Anniversary Gifts for Coin Collectors

  * * *

  Foreword

  Mathematical and scientific accuracy: For those who might claim that the Cantor Dimension is impossible, especially among the academics who would discredit the manner in which I've connected the many true facts presented herein, I would encourage you to keep an open mind in all of your studies so that perhaps you would make a discovery and yourself become another Georg Cantor1, Albert Einstein or Isaac Newton.

  Technology which we now take for granted such as cell phones, computers, and cameras would at one time have been considered magic, whose inventor would likely have been burned at the stake as a witch. New inventions and sciences are not created by people who are stuck in the mire of current beliefs; they are created by visionaries who see what might someday be possible if we expand our current beliefs. Those visionaries create new sciences which did not before exist and by that creation we grow. In this manner, yesterday's science fiction becomes tomorrow's science fact.

  I make no claim to be a mathematician, inventor, astrophysicist, or genius. My job is a simple one: to connect the existing true facts in such a way as to write an interesting story, one that might open the mind of the reader to new possibilities.

  It would put pure joy into my heart to discover that some strange connection I made between the various historical facts was actually seized upon and further explored by a young mind of science. Perhaps such an open mind might see a new possibility through my connections and go on to become the next world-renowned scientific or mathematical genius.

  Factual accuracy: The Cantor Dimension is a work of fiction as are the final conclusions. However, the story is built upon a series of fascinating facts and historical people of which I've attempted to retain factual accuracy. To this end, I've included a lengthy bibliography.

  As so much of the back story is factual, I declined to specifically number the bibliographical entries. The book would have been so riddled with numbers as to be nearly unreadable. I did, however, group the bibliographical entries by topic.

  A great many famous names appear in the book along with facts which connect them to other historical persons. Most of these connections are factual until you get to the primary characters in the book including Max and his family, and Jerome, who are pure works of fiction.

  The antiquities handed down through the generations from Cantor and Halley are also fictional. If such items did exist, their owners would surely have kept them a secret. Halley did, however, invent the object which is attributed to him.

  Asteroids, meteors, crystals, and the Bible: I've put forth a number of facts relating to asteroids, meteorites, crystals, and an obscure biblical reference that opened the door into another world. Using actual facts to make the connections that led to the Cantor Dimension took me on a fascinating journey of discovery. I encourage you to research such facts for yourself. Maybe you, too, will become a believer in the Cantor Dimension.

  -- Sharon Delarose

  * * *

  Memphis, Tennessee

  Max's notebooks were among the papers his friend Brody rescued after Max disappeared. Brody Myers was the first to realize that Max was missing. It wasn't unusual for Max to go off for a few days and not say where he was going or when he'd return, and he had always called Brody before he left with instructions on what to do if he never came back.

  Max always began by telling Brody the time and date of his departure. Brody's instructions were to water the plants, feed the fish, collect the mail, reset the timer for the lights, and open and close the curtains. Max called this "the standard stuff."

  Max always ended up by saying, "I can't tell you where I'm going because I don't know. I can't say for sure how long I'll be gone but if I'm not back in three weeks, take the Cantor papers. They're all over the apartment so you'll have to do a thorough search. You know how to spot them: they're the ones with the three-dimensional cube stamped in the upper right corner. It's very important - three weeks, and you take the papers. I don't want the police or anybody else getting their hands on them!

  "That's another thing... I don't want you calling the police. They wouldn't be able to find me anyway, not where I'd be going. You know the story: if anyone asks, you tell them I'm a writer and that I'm probably off working on an assignment. You know where I keep the articles I've written to authenticate this. Leave them in my apartment. I wish I could tell you more but I'm not ready yet. Remember Brody, if I'm gone more than three weeks, you come and get all of the Cantor papers."

  Brody was very upset. Max had been gone three weeks this time and Brody had gone through the apartment and removed all of Max's precious papers. Brody hadn't expected there to be so many of them. They were everywhere: in desk drawers, shoe boxes, suitcases, stuffed in books - he'd even discovered one neatly folded and sticking out of the back pocket of a pair of jeans. Brody tried to be as thorough as he could, going so far as to fish crumpled papers stamped with the cube out of the trash can. He emptied the rest of the trash to dispose of any other evidence that might be lurking there, just in case.

  Max had been so protective of the papers, so adamant that nobody but Brody have access to them, that Brody was afraid to leave even one document behind, however inadvertently. It puzzled Brody that Max would leave the Cantor papers scattered so haphazardly. If they were so important, why weren't they all together in a
safe place? A twinge of doubt tugged at Brody as to the wisdom of bringing the papers to his own home - doubt that extended to the faith he held in Max and his motives - doubt that overshadowed their friendship. After all, how well did Brody really know Max, the enigmatic man who was more of a mystery than the Yeti? Not very well, Brody concluded.

  All told, the Cantor papers filled three large cardboard boxes, a weighty mass that proved difficult to carry. Their sheer weight forced Brody to slide the boxes across the floor to the stairs, then bump them down the staircase one step at a time. Once he got them to the parking lot he slid the boxes across the ice to his car. The hardest part was lifting them up to the trunk, which easily worked off a couple of pounds of flesh. Once home, Brody had to work them up another flight of stairs to his apartment where he stacked them next to the sofa before collapsing with a loud groan.

  "Next time, ground floor," he muttered to himself. Brody hoped his friend would return soon. He still believed that Max had just been delayed and wasn't really missing. The Cantor papers made him nervous.

  Another thing that made him nervous was to be the temporary overseer of Max's possessions. Max's apartment was a burglar's paradise filled with expensive electronic equipment and high-tech gadgets. Brody wondered if he should pack up some of Max's more valuable belongings as well. The office alone, which completely filled Max's spare bedroom, housed nearly ten thousand dollars worth of office equipment.

  In the living room, a gigantic surround-sound television with four speakers and a dual-DVD player all but dwarfed the room. Max's stereo system had been custom built and there were four speakers in every room including the bathroom. Fancy electronic "toys" decorated shelves and tables throughout the apartment. If Max were to get evicted before his return for not being around to pay his rent, all of this techno-stuff would be tossed out into the street to be snatched up by whatever lucky person happened to be passing by. Brody made a mental note to call Max's landlady and ask about the status of his rent payments.

  Along with the office equipment and electronics, Max had an extensive fossil, crystal, mineral and meteorite collection as well. He had once told Brody that when he was growing up, his family often vacationed at the Finger Lakes in New York where he found a variety of fossils including trilobites and his prized possession, a fossilized beehive which had turned to stone with all of the bee chambers intact.

  Max came from a long line of collectors. Many of his geological wonders had been handed down through the generations, with each generation adding to the collection before passing it on. He also had an extensive collection of antique cameras, compasses, and clocks. Some of them appeared to be quite valuable and being antiques, they would be hard for Max to replace should anything happen to them. It would take a good-sized moving truck and additional manpower to move the equipment and collectibles and the whole idea of it made Brody very uncomfortable.

  The Cantor papers were a concrete reminder that maybe Max really wasn't coming back this time. Brody started to put the Cantor papers in his closet but had run out of space. There was one box left by the sofa. He considered calling the police in spite of Max's instructions but decided to put it off for a few more days. After all, Max had said that where he was going even the police wouldn't be able to find him - but where had he gone?

  Brody sat on the couch, unable to concentrate on anything but the unknown fate of his only real friend. He tried to watch TV but his heart just wasn't in it. He felt as if he were wasting time on trivial pursuits when his friend might be in trouble. The box on the floor was all he could think about. What was so secret that Max wouldn't even share it with Brody?

  He studied the photo of he and Max at Rock Island Park where it sat on the bookshelf next to the photos of Brody's parents, sister, and hiking group. Max reminded Brody of a German despot with his reddish-brown hair, ivory complexion, hard blue eyes, and thin lips that accentuated his perpetually stern expression. Judging by the face in the photograph one might guess Max to be a neo-Nazi but Brody knew better. Max would never get involved with any militant group or radical movement - he was too level-headed for that. So where was he? What was he doing? Brody's eyes kept straying toward the box.

  Max had never told him that he couldn't read the Cantor papers. Max had never given any instructions on what to do with them once Brody had removed them from the apartment. Part of Brody knew that Max wouldn't approve of his reading the reams of documents that he hadn't before shared with his friend. Part of Brody didn't care. Like a child about to embark on a journey expressly forbidden by his parents, a child with a sudden feeling of power over his own destiny, a child with a mischievous gleam in his eye, Brody pulled the box into the middle of the floor and opened it.

  Table of Contents

  * * *

  Rochester, New York

  Ellen glanced at her watch, irritated. She'd been standing for several minutes in front of the window. Snowflakes floated gently past the window covering the ground in a smooth, white blanket. Soft halos surrounded the streetlights in the parking lot.

  She searched for signs of Pat's car down below. You couldn't mistake Pat's old Volkswagen bug. It had originally been a dark green but over the years several body sections had been replaced turning it into a patchwork of red, yellow, orange and green. There was no sign of the multi-colored Volkswagen, only the rows of white hillocks which were suggestions of the cars that lie hidden underneath.

  Ellen left the window and slumped at the kitchen table, lines of stress creasing her forehead. She and Pat were due at a wedding reception in an hour and a half on the other side of the city and they were supposed to pick up Jimmy and Greg on the way. The reception was in Churchville, a small slice of farm country an hour's drive from Ellen's. Pat didn't have a cell phone so if she was on her way, there wasn't much Ellen could do but wait. The phone rang and Ellen grabbed it.

  "Pat, where the hell are you!" Ellen demanded.

  "Ellen, this is Jimmy. I take it you're still waiting for Pat?"

  "Oh, sorry Jimmy. I didn't mean to bite your head off. It's just that she's so irresponsible sometimes. She makes me nuts!"

  "Yeah, I know. So what do you want to do here? Greg wants to get going. He wants to get there early and mingle."

  "How much time do we have?"

  "You need to leave in fifteen minutes if you're going to get to my house on time and even then we're pushing our luck. Fairport isn't exactly around the corner from me, you know. Why don't you move up my way like we talked about?"

  "Then I'd have to drive it every day to go to work. You know how much I hate rush hour downtown! Let's not do this right now, okay? Look, why don't you guys just go on ahead without us. Maybe we'll catch up with you before all the cake runs out. No sense for all of us not to be there."

  "Yeah, I guess. Look, why don't we come get you and the three of us'll go?"

  "That's ridiculous, Jimmy, and you know it. Then all three of us would be late. There just isn't time."

  "Well your car sure picked a hell of a time to bug out on you!"

  "Forget it, Jimmy. There's nothing we can do about it tonight. Just go to the party and take lots of pictures, okay? I'm counting on you."

  "Okay, Ellen. If you're sure."

  "I'm sure. Bye Jimmy. Enjoy."

  "How can I if you're not there? This is the last time we include her in our plans. The last time Ellen, understand?"

  "I understand, Jimmy. She's got hell to pay for this time!"

  "I hope so, Ellen. You've been promising to have a heart-to-heart with her. You haven't done it yet, have you?"

  Ellen sighed, sounding totally defeated. "Look, if you keep hanging on the phone with me, you'll be late."

  "Okay then, we'll go on ahead and hope to meet you there. Bye hon."

  "Back atcha, Jimmy."

  Two hours later Ellen kicked off her emerald green pumps and threw them at the closet door. She wished there weren't such animosity between Pat and Jimmy; she hated playing peacemaker between them.
She caught her reflection in the mirror -- auburn hair piled on top of her head, wearing an emerald green dress with a pink sash. She'd chosen this dress to match her only decent dress shoes so that she wouldn't have to buy another pair. She'd gone to so much trouble. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

  She turned away from the mirror and tugged angrily at her pantyhose, snagging them on a long, rose-colored fingernail. "Shit," she muttered. In spite of her anger she took great pains with the dress, carefully hanging it up. Ellen wished she could have wadded it up and kicked at it but it was a rental and she wanted to make sure she got her deposit back.

  Ellen slipped into a grey sweatshirt and jeans, pulled on a thick pair of socks, and folded herself up in the chair next to the phone. She sat staring morosely at the four foot plastic Christmas tree in the corner. Tiny lights twinkled cheerfully over the array of brightly wrapped packages underneath. The spirit of Christmas cheer eluded Ellen as she dialed Pat's number for the umpteenth time. Unexpectedly, someone answered.

  "Hello?" a man's voice queried.

  Ellen was outraged. Apparently Pat had made other plans. She hadn't even had the decency to call Ellen and cancel.

  "Hello?" the man repeated.

  "Let me talk to Pat if you can keep your pants on a few more minutes!"

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "Let me talk to Pat!"

  "There's no Pat here."

  "Well, maybe she gave you a phony name then. Let me talk to the girl you're with."

  "I'm not with any girl and I don't know what you're talking about, lady!"

  "This is 555-0126, isn't it?"

  "Yes, that's my number."

  "Then I've got the right number and if you don't put Pat on the phone right this minute..."

  "Look lady, I don't know what the hell your problem is and I don't particularly care! I don't know anybody named Pat. This is my phone number and if you call here again I'm going to call the police and file charges against you for harassment. Got it? Maybe this Pat gave you a wrong number!"