Socrates and the Ionian

by Thomas Fay

  ‘We know there’s nothing in the building we arrived in. Forward it is, then.’

  ‘Very well, John. The closest structure is one point three kilometres from our present location.’

  ‘Lead the way.’

  The android set off at a steady pace, his feet sinking into the soft white sand. John followed a step behind. The heat continued to rise and he was beginning to find it hard to breathe. He kept his eyes focused on Socrates’s back, taking one step after the other. His mind began to wander, attempting to make sense of the situation they had found themselves in.

  ‘I still can’t believe this is Iona,’ John said.

  ‘While we cannot state for a fact that this is Iona, the evidence is overwhelming to support the hypothesis that this is an alternate reality Earth,’ Socrates said.

  ‘But that means the Ionians aren’t aliens, that they’re …’

  ‘Yes, John. I believe the Ionians are not interstellar beings as they have claimed. They are in fact inter-dimensional travellers from an alternate Earth.’

  ‘So, they’re … human?’

  ‘In a way, yes.’

  ‘I guess that explains a lot.’

  John took a shallow breath. The hot air seemed to fill his throat and lungs. He coughed, then took another breath. It was getting harder to breathe. He suspected the increased gravity was compounding the effect of the heat.

  ‘How much further?’ John asked.

  ‘Three hundred and two metres.’

  John nodded as the gravity and heat pressed down on him, making each step an agonising chore.

  ****

  The building they had entered was similar to the one they had arrived in. It was a single storey about thirty feet high. The floors and walls were made of the same reflective material as the outside. Again there were no symbols, no markings, nothing indicating the building’s function or purpose. John breathed easier out of the light of the twin suns, although the increased gravity was still taking its toll on him. He felt tired and his legs were aching.

  ‘Anything?’ John asked.

  ‘Negative. I am not detecting anything inside this structure,’ Socrates said.

  ‘What happened here? I mean, the Ionian technology we’ve seen back on our world is advanced and that city on the horizon looks incredible.’

  ‘I do not know, John. There are a number of significant forces affecting this world, from the increased gravity to the heat and high levels of EM radiation.’

  ‘I guess that explains the highly reflective nature of the Ionian architecture. It was clearly designed to reflect the heat of the twin suns.’

  ‘That is a logical conclusion although I suspect it also acts as a form of energy network.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘My active scans bounce off the surfaces.’

  ‘You mean you can’t get an accurate scan?’

  ‘Quite the opposite, in fact. The surfaces enhance the signal from my scans and extend their range considerably. I would postulate they were used for a range of purposes from communication to data transmission and active scans.’

  John nodded. He felt tired, hungry and, above all else, thirsty.

  ‘Wait a second—how far are you able to scan?’ John asked.

  ‘Utilising the Ionian architecture I have been able to scan an area approximately one million square kilometres.’

  ‘Surely you’ve found something that could help us?’

  ‘I have detected several energy signatures of unknown quantum. I believe they are remnants of Ionian technology which continue to function.’

  ‘That’s great. We need to get to them.’

  The android turned to look at him, his artificial eyes staring directly at John’s.

  ‘John, the closest energy signature is located over forty kilometres from our present location.’

  ‘Okay, so it might take us a few days to get there.’

  ‘No, John. There is no way for both of us to reach the energy source.’

  A cold shiver flowed through John’s body despite the warmth of the surrounding environment.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  The android’s artificial eyes continued to stare into his.

  ‘I have not detected any signs of life or vegetation within the range of my enhanced scan.’

  ‘That’s not surprising; we know the Ionians travelled to Earth.’

  ‘I have also been unable to detect any source of water. The combination of increased gravity and high ambient temperature has dehydrated your body rapidly. I estimate that if we are unable to locate a water source within the next hour, your body will begin to shut down.’

  The realisation that he had just over an hour to live was too much for John. His legs gave way beneath him and he slid to the ground. His back leaning against one of the reflective walls, he stared at the floor without really seeing it.

  ‘I am sorry, John.’

  Sixty

  In that moment, when it felt like John’s luck had finally run out, that his reckless approach had finally gotten him into a situation he couldn’t get out of, something completely unexpected happened.

  His phone rang.

  John stared at the telephone, the same one Professor Daniel Holstein had given him, even as he recalled the eccentric scientist’s words that Qallan Frost had given him the phone and that it had been intended for John. Finally, he pressed the answer icon.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘John? Are you alright?’ Qallan Frost asked.

  ‘I’m alive. For now.’

  ‘Good. Now listen very carefully, for this connection won’t last long. By now you would have figured out where you are and that the world you’ve found yourself in is not very hospitable.’

  ‘That’s an understatement—what happened here and why didn’t you tell me the truth about what you are?’

  ‘John, we really don’t have time for that now. We need to get you back to your Earth.’

  ‘How do we do that?’

  ‘You need to locate a functioning wormhole generator. There should be a number of them scattered throughout the city. I assume by now Socrates has detected their energy signatures?’

  ‘Yes, but … we can’t reach them.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  John took a deep breath. He was finding it difficult to do so, whether from a lack of water or the increased gravity, he couldn’t tell. Not that it would matter in the end.

  ‘They’re all too far away for me to reach. Socrates could make it by himself but without water and food there’s no chance for me.’

  There was a momentary silence. Then that familiar out-of-breath voice of the Chairman of the Iona Corporation returned.

  ‘There is a way you can reach the generator in time. Let me speak to Socrates.’

  John handed the strange device to Socrates. The android grasped it in his right arm and brought it up to his face.

  ‘Hello,’ he said, then listened to Frost. ‘Yes, I have detected energy signatures matching those frequencies.’

  ‘The closest is located forty kilometres from our location.’

  ‘All my systems remain fully operational.’

  ‘I understand. Goodbye.’

  Socrates ended the call.

  ‘Did Frost find a way to get us out of here?’ John asked.

  ‘I have analysed the probability of his plan working.’

  ‘And …?’

  ‘I have calculated there is an eight point five per cent chance it will achieve the desired outcome.’

  John felt what little hope he had fading away rapidly. Then he realised that eight point five per cent was better than zero. He struggled to a standing position.

  ‘What do we need to do?’

  Socrates held the Ionian telephone in the palm of his hand. He touched the screen and scrolled through the icons. Activating a series of them, he placed the phone on the reflective floor and took a step back.

  ‘What are you—’

  In one
fluid motion Socrates raised his left arm, shed the exterior polycarbonate coating and activated his arc cannon. The plasma-based weapon spun up to a million revolutions per second, filling the building with a high-pitched sound. The Ionian telephone began to glow as it projected a holographic field, filling the air with strange and complex symbols.

  Then Socrates fired. An azure beam of energy struck the Ionian device.

  ‘No! What are you doing?’ John shouted. He had rushed towards the telephone but felt himself held in place by Socrates’s vice-like grip.

  ‘Do not approach the device,’ the android said. John could only stare as the arc cannon’s energy was absorbed by the Ionian device. The symbols vanished. A buzzing sound filled the air. Then the telephone projected a single beam of light several metres away from them. It formed a perfect circle two metres in diameter, suspended just above the floor.

  ‘Is that …?’ John asked.

  ‘A wormhole. The device Qallan Frost provided you with is capable of generating a portal for intraplanetary travel. All it needed to function was a sufficient charge.’

  ‘Your arc cannons.’

  ‘Yes. Qallan Frost designed the device to be capable of absorbing and converting the energy from an arc cannon blast.’

  ‘Wait a second—if Frost thought this through so well, why do we only have an eight point five per cent chance of succeeding?’

  Instead of replying, Socrates pointed at the shimmering field of light.

  ‘Because there is no way of predicting if the energy signature that the intraplanetary wormhole has locked onto is in fact a portal capable of taking us back to our dimension.’

  ‘Okay, but can’t we just try again?’

  ‘Negative. The device must remain on this side and the wormhole will only work in one direction.’

  ‘So, we get one shot at this and there’s no way of telling where that will take us?’

  ‘That is correct and why there is only an eight point five per cent chance of success.’

  ‘Do we have any choice?’

  Socrates released his hold on John and walked towards the shimmering circle of light. He stopped just in front of it.

  ‘We could remain here and wait until your body expires from dehydration,’ Socrates said.

  ‘That’s not really a choice, is it?’ John said.

  ‘No, not really.’

  Sixty-One

  There was a momentary feeling of disorientation and bright white light as they passed through the intraplanetary wormhole. John stumbled slightly, taking a few steps to regain his footing on a floor made of highly reflective material. He took a cautious breath. The air had a stale quality to it but at least it seemed to be cooler. The building they were in reminded him of the Ruling Council Chambers, with highly reflective material on the floor, walls and ceiling creating a disorientating effect that receded into infinity. Turning around, John saw the other side of the wormhole terminus—a rift two metres wide hanging suspended in the air. Unlike on the other side, which presented as a shimmering circle of light, from this side it appeared to be a tear in the fabric of reality. He resisted the temptation to touch it.

  ‘Are you alright, John?’ Socrates asked.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine. Do you know how far we’ve travelled?’

  ‘I estimate we have travelled approximately seventy-two kilometres from our previous location.’

  ‘Just like that? Okay, that is definitely a quick way to get around.’

  ‘Based on the amount of residual exotic particles I have detected, I would postulate that the Ionians utilised a network of intraplanetary wormholes to travel around the planet. Given their single direction of travel, they would have required dual gateways to facilitate travel between locations.’

  John nodded. He looked around the large room they were in, trying to gauge its purpose. The reflective nature of the materials made that task difficult but it did not appear that the place contained any sort of equipment. John had no idea what a large-scale wormhole generator would look like but he suspected it would be fairly easy to spot.

  ‘Please tell me we landed in the right building?’ John said. He was almost afraid to hear the answer.

  ‘My scans have not detected any energy signatures on this level—’

  ‘Wait, didn’t you say the intraplanetary wormhole device would take us to one of the energy signatures you detected earlier?’

  ‘Yes. If you had allowed me to finish, then I would have told you that I have detected a sizeable energy reading directly below us. The device appears to be dormant but fully powered. The signature is consistent with exotic energy particles.’

  John felt a weight lift as his breathing seemed to come easier and his parched throat relaxed for the first time in an hour.

  ‘What are we waiting for?’ John asked.

  ‘I have scanned the entire structure several times. While I can calculate the exact location of the wormhole generator, I am unable to determine how to access it from this level.’

  ‘Surely there has to be a set of stairs, or an elevator or some Ionian equivalent?’

  ‘No, John. There is not.’

  ‘So, you’re saying …?’

  ‘That there is no obvious way of getting to the generator.’

  ****

  The elation John had felt when Socrates had confirmed they had been transported to a building containing a portal back to their reality evaporated after ten minutes of searching for a way down to the lower level without success. His parched throat was now screaming at him for water. Despite the cooler conditions of the building they were in, John knew he could only survive so long without any water. Time was running out.

  ‘Anything?’ he asked.

  ‘Negative, John. I have been unable to determine how the Ionians physically accessed the generator.’

  John stared at the reflective floor, trying to picture the wormhole generator located beneath them.

  ‘Can’t you use your arc cannons to blast a hole?’

  ‘The material used in the floor construction would most likely reflect the energy back at us, which would be fatal to you.’

  ‘What about physically breaking through to the lower level? I know how strong you are.’

  ‘The floor beneath us is over a metre thick and made of an alloy I am unable to identify. I do not believe I would be capable of breaking through the floor.’

  John let out a long breath. He couldn’t believe they were so close to their salvation yet they couldn’t reach it. If only the device Qallan Frost had given him had opened the wormhole a few metres lower. His eyes found the shimmering rift hanging suspended above the floor. He stared at it for a long time.

  ‘There has to be something we’re missing …’ John said, quietly.

  ‘Based on my scans there is no way to physically access the generator from this level,’ Socrates said.

  ‘That doesn’t make any sense. How did the Ionians get to it, then?’

  ‘As I previously stipulated, I believe the Ionians utilised a network of intraplanetary wormholes to travel around the planet.’

  ‘Of course!’ John exclaimed.

  ‘What is it, John?’ Socrates asked.

  John pointed at the wormhole.

  ‘That’s how they moved around, which means the only way to access the level below us is to use a wormhole.’

  ‘Your logic is sound; however, I fail to see how this helps us. We cannot travel back to retrieve the device Qallan Frost gave us and we do not have any other way of generating a wormhole.’

  ‘Yes, we do.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  John pointed at the floor.

  ‘There’s a wormhole generator directly below us. I’ll bet you anything that’s how the Ionians got around—they used these generators to create wormholes around the city. We just have to figure out how they activated them.’

  ‘Do you have any ideas, John?’

  ‘Yes, I do. This is Ionian technology. Using this stuff would have
been second nature to them.’

  ‘I fail to see how that helps us. There are no Ionians here and we have no way of contacting Qallan Frost.’

  ‘We don’t need them. We have you.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes. You were built by an Ionian. I’ll bet my life that you know how to activate the Ionian wormhole network.’

  Sixty-Two

  It took Socrates five minutes to figure out the activation sequence for the Ionian wormhole network. After that it was a simple process of reaching the main generator and inputting the sequence Qallan Frost had given Socrates to open an inter-dimensional portal. They emerged from the wormhole into twilight. Darkened trees and shrubs surrounded them, while low-lying park lamps cast their soft ambient glow across the carefully manicured lawns. The city skyline with its countless lights was visible above the tree line. John took a long, deep breath, savouring the fresh plant scents in the air. He cast around, searching for something that would confirm they had returned to their own reality.

  ‘Are we back?’ John asked.

  Socrates’s eyes blurred momentarily.

  ‘Affirmative. I have established contact with a number of databases and confirmed this is our reality and we are standing in the centre of Hyde Park. The current time is 5.52 pm on the 17th of September 2052.’

  John ran forward, down the sparsely illuminated path. Reaching his target, he bent down and drank deeply from one of the public water stations located throughout the park. The cold water flowed down his throat as he relished its taste. He finally understood all the old proverbs about water. It certainly was the source of life.

  ‘John.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I have scanned news headlines and emergency law enforcement channels. The Flux Cell collapse appears to have abated. The Iona Corporation released a statement approximately ten minutes after we left this reality confirming they had found a way of shielding the remaining Flux Cells throughout Iona.’

  ‘At least that’s something. Frost must have figured out a way to block those devices Gage was using to draw power from the Flux Cells.’