The Two Worlds of Billy Callahan

by Richard Friedman

  Macintyre gave orders to the technicians working behind the computers and they shifted into full gear. The monitors displayed a constant barrage of messages. Within minutes, the computers were ready to go.

  Rubin scanned the bank of computers and said to Macintyre, “All set sir, let’s do this.”

  Robert Stinson was the first candidate to volunteer to encounter the orb. Stinson was serving a life sentence courtesy of the United States judicial system. He pled guilty to manslaughter and four counts of sexual abuse of a corpse ten years ago, and had a date with the electric chair in two years. When the opportunity to sign up for an undisclosed experiment arrived, Stinson figured the machine was going to do sexual things to him, so he instructed his lawyer to agree to the terms of the experiment; allow the government to attach him to the orb in exchange for commuting his death sentence, and change it to a life sentence.

  Two guards brought Stinson into to the room. The soon to be conduit to the orb stood slightly over six feet tall and weighed one-hundred and seventy pounds. The staff attached the required probes to various parts of his clean shaven skull.

  He rested his arms at his side and with no pillow to cushion his head, it laid flat. The staff glued gel pads to his head and affixed thin red wires to the pad. Additional pads connected to various parts of his body to the orb.

  “Mr. Stinson, I’m Doctor Theodore Macintyre, and I want to make sure you understand what’s going on. Can you please confirm where you are?”

  Stinson craned his neck to his right, and to the left, and faced Macintyre and said in a voice that lowered the temperature in the room by two degrees, “I’m lying on my back in the middle of a white room with a bunch of tight-ass scientists and I have no fucking idea what in the hell is going on.”

  This time it was Rubin that took two steps back. Thick metal clamps around his ankles and forearms locked Stinson in place. His wrists remained free to move. The medical staff gave him a mild sedative to keep him calm. He gulped it down in one sip. He licked his lips to get the last drop of the strawberry flavored medicine.

  “Hey Mac, I’ve never done this thing in front of other guys before. Is that shiny thing going to do weird things to me? Does it have probes that are going to pop out and touch me?”

  His questions went unanswered.

  Macintyre picked Stinson to be the first volunteer. The first subject interacting with the orb would be at tremendous risk, and Stinson’s crimes were so offensive, that if he died on the table, Macintyre knew there would be no tears shed on Stinson’s behalf.

  Macintyre jotted a few notes on his notepad and said to Rubin, “December 9th, 2061, at 13:30, we are ready to begin operation “Billy’s orb.”

  Stinson yelled, “A dude! I ain’t having sex with no dude named Billy! Forget this shit. Call my God damn lawyer right now you God damn motherfuckers. I ain’t gonna lay here and let some dude stick his dick up my ass, no fuckin way!”

  “I see we need a few more minutes for the sedative to take hold. We can wait Mr. Stinson. We can wait a long time,” said Macintyre.

  Rubin directed the three technicians to bring the cart holding the orb closer to the patient.

  The four wheel cart moved into position, next to Stinson.

  The Orb was as Billy had described, perhaps slightly smaller. He was a young man at the time of his exposure to it. On one side of the orb there was a plate fastened to it with writing on it. This was the writing that the teacher mentioned to Billy. On each side of the orb there were three small indentations. A human finger would fit precisely in those spots and this apparently was where Billy placed his hands during his meeting with the orb in the Negev Desert. In the spot where Billy’s fingers once rested, small metal contacts now fit snugly. The assistants took a section of copper tubing and attached one end of the tube to the metal contacts on the orb, and the other end they attached to the empty contacts to Stinson’s headset.

  Rubin pressed the “GO” button on the side of the cart and a hydraulic lift slowly lifted the orb. The motor stopped when the orb halted in front of Stinson’s chest. The patient’s eyes showed the trepidation that ran throughout the room.

  Macintyre instructed Stinson, “Place your hands on the orb. There are indentations on the side for your fingers. Please do that right now.”

  Stinson couldn’t move his forearms, but the restraints allowed him to move his wrists to the proper positions on the orb. He did as instructed and closed his eyes.

  Rubin was the first to see it, “Mac, do you hear that? It reminds me of sitting on my porch, and hearing the air conditioning unit off in the distance.”

  “I hear it too,” said Dr. Macintyre.

  Everyone in the room could hear it, even Stinson. The low rumble of the orb was similar to what Billy experienced in his head years ago in the middle of the desert.

  The bank of computers connected to Stinson’s health status began to light up and chirp.

  “What is it!” barked Macintyre.

  “We don’t know! The systems are going crazy! Respiratory is climbing at an alarming rate, pulse is racing, blood pressure going up, his vitals are flipping out,” said chief technician Cindric.

  “Let me know if he reaches critical,” said Mac.

  “He’s not far from that right now!” yelled Cindric.

  Macintyre turned his attention to his patient, “Stinson, can you hear me? Stinson!”

  Robert Stinson couldn’t hear the doctor, or the technician, or anybody in the room. He was traveling back in time and watching space ships circle the earth, searching for a landing spot. A man named Hargudus remained unaware the beverages were hidden amongst the crew and a toast in his honor would be held shortly.

  “Stinson, can you hear me! Stinson, you in there?” asked Macintyre.

  Robert Stinson was in there and only moments away from meeting his own teacher, likely a bit older than the one who guided Billy Callahan through the ages of the tall people on Tenegraw. His vital stats were returning to normal.

  Macintyre walked briskly to the telephone mounted on the wall near the exit. He picked up the receiver.

  “Yep, complete conversion. He’s unresponsive, like the initial reports from the Negev when they found Callahan.”

  A pause while Macintyre waited for instructions.

  “Yes sir, I understand, we’ll try again tomorrow with patient number two. Send Stinson to Intensive Care for the time being. My hunch is that he’s going die from natural causes before he wakes up. Callahan was thirty years younger than this guy.”

  Macintyre ended the call and informed the staff of scientists of the next step.

  “Ladies and gentleman, we’ll try again tomorrow with the next volunteer. Keep tabs on Stinson’s vitals. Contact me if his condition changes in any way. Report for duty at o-seven-hundred tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER 38

  December 16, 2060

  The White House, Washington DC

  Special Agent Richetti opened the high level cabinet meeting.

  “Mr. President, we’ve connected four other men, and one woman to the orb, and the results have been consistent. Each time the patient touches the orb they become unresponsive. We’ve been unable to wake any of them. It’s fair to say that each of them have shown the identical symptoms to Billy Callahan’s back in 2012. I’ve read the reports from the medical teams that treated Callahan in Israel, Boston, and in Cleveland. We’re at a loss right now. We tried to connect to the Orb without the human interface and the orb did not respond in any manner. It was like trying to talk to your toaster oven. A human touches that thing, and bingo, they’re gone. For how long? We’re not sure, but it wouldn’t surprise us if the test specimens don’t come out of their funk for decades. Our subjects are much older than Callahan was at the time of his union with the orb.”

  The President frowned. He didn’t respond well to bad news.

  “God-dammit, Richetti, failure is not an option. I need to know what in the hell is inside that damned orb. Am I maki
ng myself clear?”

  “Yes sir, of course. We’re trying to decipher the inscription on it, but we don’t have any reference points and trying to make English words out of that, well, it’s a tall task. You do understand that we’ve never seen anything like this. It didn’t come with a set of instructions; we’re working around the clock. The staff is under a lot of pressure to come up with some answers for you, sir.”

  “I’m responsible for the safety of all Americans. You want to talk about pressure? Try sleeping with that on your head at night? There’s something going on inside that metal object and I want to know what the hell it is.”

  “Yes, Mr. President. I understand. If you don’t want to wait for our team to come up with another option for you, I believe that leaves us only one choice. Do you recall what that was?”

  “I do. Plan B.”

  “That would cause enormous negative fallout for you if it became public knowledge,” said Chief of Staff Demonde.

  “I know that all too well. We better be damn sure nobody finds out,” said the President.

  “Kidnapping a citizen is frowned upon in these parts of the world,” said Demonde. A slight smile crept into the corners of his mouth.

  “Figure out the details and make it happen. I want answers. I’ve got about two years left on my term as President when I can still impose my will on Congress and the people. Much after that, and I’m a lame duck. That’s not my style. Besides, it’s not kidnapping if the citizen chooses to make a choice to help the people of the United States of America.”

  CHAPTER 39

  December 30, 2060

  “When we get there, stand up straight and tall, you can’t walk in the White House like an old man,” said Billy.

  Greg laughed, “I am an old man!”

  The two men entered the limousine. The driver held the door open as Greg tucked his head in in first. He plopped on the leather seats and held his hand out for Billy. The driver held one of Billy’s hands while Greg guided him inside the vehicle. Billy stared at the luxurious surroundings.

  “I’ve never been inside a limo before,” said Billy.

  “I didn’t think I’d be sitting in one of these with you while you were alive. I thought I’d be inside the one while you were in a hearse in front of me.” Greg waited for Billy’s reply, but when none came he spoke instead. “A hearse is the vehicle that they usually put the dead body in while they drive to the cemetery.”

  “Oh, I get it. Because I was expected to be dead by now? That’s hysterical.”

  They sat silently in the back of the limo, admiring the route that took them from the airport hotel to the Pentagon. Billy had seen pictures of the magnificent buildings in the nation’s capital, but didn’t recall the building from his 8th grade trip to DC.

  Billy tapped Greg on the shoulder, “Are you nervous? I’m nervous.”

  Greg tried to allay his fears. “There’s no reason to be nervous. The government asked us to come here. Maybe President Dodge wants to talk about your pollution proposals? Answer his questions to the best of your ability. You learned the hard way that people will do anything to stay in power. Don’t expect him to endorse any of your ideas. I know you don’t have experience with this sort of thing, but you can expect the same rhetoric from any politician who has ever been in the White House, Republican, or Democrat. I can hear it now, ‘We’ll take a good long look at your ideas and get back with you, thank you Mister concerned citizen.’ In the meantime, the world accumulates more pollutants each day.”

  “Wow, Greg, you sound more like me. The teacher was right. I just have to spread the word, and people will listen. It’s just taking a lot longer than I thought!”

  The limo stopped at the front gate. A guard stuck his muscular neck inside the vehicle and confirmed the identity of the passengers.

  “Pull ahead,” said the guard. The limo driver followed his instructions and the rear doors of the black car stopped at the main entrance of the building. Two armed security men assisted them out of the limo and whisked them into one of the meetings rooms located on the first floor. Billy’s feet barely touched the tile as the escorts practically lifted him down the corridor to room 117.

  The first guard stood beside one of the leather chairs. He pointed to Billy, and in a clear tone, said, “Please sit here”. He looked at Greg and gestured to the chair next to him, “Mr. Miller, please sit there.”

  They waited patiently for fifteen minutes. The door opened and a stream of uniformed, military men entered the room. They took their positions by the silver table and motioned for them to stand. Within a minute, the President of the United States entered.

  Billy’s knowledge of the current world was limited, but he certainly knew of President Dodge, and even though he despised the man, he and Greg rose out of respect.

  “Please be seated,” said the President. Dodge plopped down in the oversized leather chair at the table.

  A man sitting next to the commander in chief handed his boss a folder with a red and black sticker on the front of it that read, “Top Secret.”

  Dodge surveyed his two humble guests and said, “Gentleman, let me be the first to welcome you to the nation’s capital. Are you thirsty?”

  “I’d love a glass of water,” said Billy.

  The President continued, “Mr. Miller, your perseverance proves that friendship has no bounds.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President. Billy would have done the same for me.”

  Billy blurted out, “Don’t be so sure!”

  That brought a small laugh from the room.

  President Dodge stared directly at Billy with his next comments. The time for small talk was over. Dodge was the type of man that usually got directly to the point.

  “You claim to have lived through an ordeal that no other man in the history of our planet has experienced. I’ve read your version of the events, and frankly, I don’t know what to think. A few of my brightest scientific advisors believe you concocted some fabulous story while your brain suffered a long lasting injury. Even the most ardent science fiction fans would have a hard time believing your story. I found it hard to believe that you could imagine this in your head, although I’ve had some rather bizarre dreams, too. Perhaps that comes with the territory when you’re in charge of a nuclear arsenal great enough to destroy the world a hundred times over.”

  “That’s enough to worry about,” said Billy. “When I was with the teacher, right at the end of my time with him, he gave me specific orders to tell people how his world was ruined. Whether you believe what happened to me or not, the world is in a mess right now, and you’re the guy that can help fix it. He told me to try and stop the pollution crisis. You must support this idea? You’re the President. Why would you want pollution to kill off mankind?”

  President Dodge eased back in his chair. “You’re clever Callahan. They told me about you, but I had to see it and hear it for myself. You are presentable and you do not appear to be the crazy man I saw during your first interview….the one in Chicago. That was not the greatest first impression a man in your shoes could have made, however, it doesn’t change the fact that you believe you possess, a special, unexplainable association to another race of people that we can learn from. You understand that I can’t publicly come out and say I believe you. None of us can do that. It would be like us saying we believe in little green men from Mars.”

  Billy interrupted, “Or tall men from another galaxy?”

  “Exactly. If I’m going to lead 400 million people in these tough times, it’s essential that I present myself as a stable force that the citizens can depend on. If I state publicly that you were given a tour of our planet millions of years ago, can you imagine the type of scrutiny I’d receive? Ah, yes, of course you can.”

  Billy tucked his nerves away, and didn’t let the moment overwhelm him, “Doesn’t the truth matter to you, Mr. President? I read about what is happening to our planet and there are similarities to what I saw. They tunneled deep into the eart
h to get minerals. In today’s world, companies come and dig deep into people’s property for minerals and oil. That’s not good for the land. I witnessed the tall people dig close to the earth’s liquid core. Greg told me that it’s impossible based on our current level of technology. The teacher told me that ‘extreme extraction,’ as they called it, had catastrophic consequences for the planet. In addition to that, the poisons that the ancient people spread throughout the land, sea, and air were bad. Instead of protecting the land they lived on, they ruined it. When the last war began, the weapons were so destructive that the people didn’t have time to get off the earth and get back to their original home planet.”

  “Where exactly did the teacher say that original planet was located?” Demonde asked.

  “He didn’t say,” replied Billy.

  With a snort and a turn of his head, the chief mumbled under his breath. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  The President scooted his chair closer to Billy, “We’ve tried to decipher that orb. Five people have tried to communicate with it in our laboratory, and all of them have failed. You had your hands on it approximately 50 years ago, and something terrible happened to you that day. We need your help to communicate with it again. I’d like Mr. Demonde to speak about the writings on the orb.”

  Demonde flipped open his manila folder, and took out a sheet of paper and walked over to the two civilians in the room.

  “As you can see from the picture, there’s a line of writing on it in another language that we’ve never seen. We had our top linguistic expert review this picture and we have not been able to come to any agreement on what it means. Do you recall if this ‘teacher’ of yours mentioned what the words meant?”

  Billy sat quietly for a moment, “He did say that he didn’t want history to repeat itself.”

  “Interesting,” said the President, “we’re going to do everything in our power to help clean up the environment. Can you help us translate those words?”