Journey Into the Flame: Book One of the Rising World Trilogy

by T. R. Williams

  “An idea. How in the world did you know to use the lion’s hair?”

  “It was the hairbrush.” He picked it up off the mantel. “Look around. Everything in this room is perfect. Not a single thing out of place. Why wouldn’t the doctor clean the hair off this brush?” He pulled a strand from it. “I assumed he must have used it to access the safe.”

  “Well, that was quite an assumption.”

  Logan smiled. He picked up a small matchbox-shaped item he’d taken out of the safe. “What is this thing?”

  Valerie took a deep breath and walked over to the desk, still reeling from the risk Logan had taken. “Looks like you found the security dongle for the doctor’s HoloPad.” She took it from him and plugged it into the interface port. Within moments, the HoloPad sprang to life. “It seems we found the doctor’s personal notes,” said Valerie, as she sat down in a chair in front of the display. Logan found another chair and pulled up next to her. Valerie began to navigate through the many pages of notes, some of which looked similar to the handwritten papers pinned to the wall. Many of the notes and sketches were too technical for either of them to understand, but soon they came to one they both recognized.

  “Hey, isn’t that the painting you’ve been restoring?” Valerie said, as the HoloPad displayed an image of The Creation of Adam.

  “It sure is,” Logan said, perplexed. This piece of art seemed to be following him everywhere. He read the words superimposed on the painting and then the doctor’s notes beneath the image.

  The Chronicles of Satraya have led me to discover some very important characteristics of the human brain. While the books don’t explicitly state that it exists, I have found a quantifiable link between the human brain and God. I have further concluded that this secret has been known by others throughout history, one being Michelangelo. This link holds the key to our success. Simon and Andrea will be very pleased with this discovery.

  Valerie looked at Logan. “What is going on here?” she said incredulously. “Don’t tell me the painting you’ve been working on for months is at the center of this whole plot . . .”

  Logan shook his head in disbelief. “This is not good at all,” he said in a hushed voice. He pointed out the words overlaid on the painting. “The doctor knew exactly what this painting meant. He identified the various parts of the brain—central sulcus, cingulate sulcus, Sylvian fissure, optic chiasm, pons, pituitary stalk, vertebral, and medulla. He knew precisely what Michelangelo was alluding to.” Logan grew more worried as they turned to the next set of notes. “And look here. The doctor figured out that the space between God’s finger and Adam’s finger represents the synaptic cleft, where all of the brain’s electrical activity takes place. That’s what the lightning represented in my vision.” Logan shook his head again as he recalled his candle journey.

  “What does all this mean?” Valerie asked.

  “It means that he understood the interface between the brain and the spirit, or God,” Logan explained. “Do you remember my telling you that I met the owner of the painting at the museum and then again at the auction?”

  “Yes, that Quinn fellow.”

  “Yes. He explained some of this to me. For centuries, science and religion have been at odds with each other. Michelangelo painted this image about five hundred years ago and proposed that science and religion could be unified through the understanding of how our brains work.” Logan pointed to where the fingers of Adam and God were attempting to touch. “Mr. Quinn told me this part of the painting contains one of its most important secrets.” He pressed a button and went to the next display. Then he read out another passage written by the doctor.

  After all these years of research and testing, we now understand the link between God and the human brain. The Chronicles were correct: God does hide in the tiniest of places and around the most obscure corners. The secret lies in the synaptic cleft, with the VMAT-2 gene. Our tests have proven beyond doubt that the more efficacious the VMAT-2, the more pronounced one’s affinity to the spiritual realm. We have classified those with the most active VMAT-2 gene as Transcendental humanoids, or T-Noids.

  “Now we know what T-Noid means,” said Logan.

  “The VMAT-2 gene is the gene Sylvia was talking about back at the lab,” Valerie noted.

  Logan nodded and continued to navigate to the next page. It was a picture of a DNA strand with a circular disk around a single point on the helix. “It’s the collar we found around Cynthia Brown’s DNA . . .”

  Valerie nodded. She turned to the formulas and symbols written out beneath it. “We need to send this information back to the team in D.C.,” she said. She pointed to a paragraph that mentioned Andrea and Lucius:

  The isolation of the VMAT-2, which will lead to the Final Purging, has also had a beneficial side effect. I have been able to isolate the gene to cure Andrea and Lucius. I have created a custom serum for them. I am still working on their frequency modulation, but I should be able to isolate it shortly.

  “The Final Purging . . . this just keeps sounding worse and worse.” Valerie turned to look at Logan. “I think whatever they have planned is bigger than we originally thought.”

  Logan nodded. “And what about the cure the doctor mentions for Andrea and Lucius? I didn’t realize they were sick.” He went on and read another passage.

  Andrea has instructed me to stop working on Project Ryōshin. She told me it will no longer be needed and my efforts in this area are no longer authorized.

  “Project Ryōshin?” Valerie said.

  Logan could only shake his head again. He navigated forward a few more screens. “Here’s an entry from just two days ago.”

  To my surprise, Simon and Andrea have accelerated our plans. After Allegiance Pharmaceuticals first started delivering the serum via qMeds last December, we agreed we would wait until Freedom Day of 2070 before activating the agent. They now say that it must happen at Liberty Moment on Freedom Day of this year, 2069. I have lost control of this project.

  “Valerie, we don’t have much time,” Logan said, doing a quick calculation in his head. “Liberty Moment is less than fifty-four hours away.” Valerie remained silent as Logan continued to navigate through the doctor’s notes. “Here’s more.”

  We have learned from the experiments we have performed with the Biometric Chair that the serum is most powerful when the test subjects are focused on concepts such as liberty and freedom. If we flash before them images that correspond to these concepts, we see an increase in the potency of the serum and a reduction in VMAT-2 activity. It has been calculated that we should be able to eradicate 89.4 percent of the target T-noid population. This translates to just over 8.47 percent of the world’s population.

  Valerie took a deep breath. “All right. Let’s get this information and a sample of that green liquid we found in the testing room back to the D.C. lab. You and I are going to pay a visit to Allegiance Pharmaceuticals. Let’s find out if this serum really did get out and who authorized its distribution. You should call Mr. Kayin and confirm that the Council has delayed the Freedom Day celebration as we discussed.”

  Valerie’s PCD rang with a call from Director Burke. Meanwhile, Logan looked back at the doctor’s notes. He felt deeply disturbed—frightened, really—by what he’d just read. He took a deep breath. The scope and magnitude of Simon and Andrea’s plan was beginning to sink in.

  “Change of plan,” Valerie said, as she ended her call. “We’re going back to D.C. to deliver the serum and the doctor’s notes ourselves.”

  “What about Allegiance Pharmaceuticals?”

  “I’ll deal with that later. We just apprehended Monique at Dulles Airport. Looks like she was trying to flee the country.”

  43

  The past haunts you because you choose to remember it.

  Turn around—is it really there?

  —THE CHRONICLES OF SATRAYA

  WASHINGTON, D.C., 6:00 P.M., 48 HOURS UNTIL LIBERTY MOMENT

  After Valerie and Logan landed in W
ashington, D.C., Valerie went directly to the WCF building to interrogate Monique Sato. Logan had persuaded Valerie to allow him to go back to Compass Park to figure out the mystery of his father’s bench. And so, after talking with Mr. Kayin about postponing the Freedom Day rallies, Logan returned to the park accompanied by two WCF agents.

  It was a cloudy evening, and the park was empty. Logan walked quickly down the pathways to the bench across from the granite monument dedicated to his parents and the other members of the first Council of Satraya. The two agents patrolled the area nearby.

  Shortly after he arrived, his PCD rang. It was Mr. Perrot calling from India, where it was 3:30 a.m.

  “Logan!” Mr. Perrot sounded frantic. His hair was disheveled, and he looked as if he hadn’t had any sleep. “Are you and Valerie all right? Jogi just told me about the kidnapping and the explosion that killed Charlie. I tried calling Valerie, but she didn’t answer.”

  “Yes, everything is fine now,” Logan said, trying to calm him down. “Valerie and I are OK. The WCF just arrested Monique Sato, and Valerie is talking with her now. How are you and Jogi progressing?”

  Mr. Perrot brought Logan up to speed on his adventure with Jogi and the secret they discovered in Deya’s garden.

  “You have to be careful,” Logan said. “If Simon really is in India searching for the books, you have to make sure you never leave Jogi’s side.” He went on to tell Mr. Perrot about G-LAB and the threat they’d uncovered there. “Mr. Kayin refused to postpone Freedom Day. He told me that the Council received a very large anonymous donation yesterday. One of the stipulations was that the Freedom Day celebrations go on as planned, so that the world can honor the fallen Council members. Mr. Kayin said we were fooling ourselves if we thought that the celebration could be canceled. He said it would be like calling off Christmas.”

  “That is disturbing news,” Mr. Perrot said. “Any more signs of Andrea?”

  “Nothing yet, but we hope that Monique Sato will give us something we can use to catch her.”

  “Logan,” Mr. Perrot said with concern in his voice, “how is my daughter coping with the loss of her partner, Charlie?”

  Logan looked at the fatherly worry on Mr. Perrot’s face. “She’s coping with it the only way she can, sir,” he asserted. “She’s going after the bad guys.” Mr. Perrot smiled at this. “You’ve raised an incredible daughter,” Logan continued. “You should be very proud of her.”

  “I am,” Mr. Perrot said. “You must be careful in your search. Andrea and Simon have surrounded themselves with people who are as ruthless as they are. I don’t want Valerie to suffer another loss.” He gave Logan a heartfelt smile. “And I don’t want to lose you, either.”

  Logan smiled back. “We’ll be careful,” he said, and he disconnected the call.

  Turning his attention back to the bench, Logan couldn’t find anything on or around it that seemed out of place. He dropped to his knees and slid underneath it. In one of the corners, he saw a metal cylinder secured to the bottom of the bench by two rusty bent nails. He popped his head up to see if anyone was around, but he only saw the two agents continuing their surveillance. He ducked back down and easily freed the metal cigar holder without much effort. On the holder was etched a message: “Secrets are dangerous to all who possess them.”

  He unscrewed the cap of the metal container and saw rolled-up sheets of paper inside. This was not the time or the place to read them, so he put the cap back on and put the silver cylinder in his backpack. He indicated to the WCF agents that he was ready to leave.

  • • •

  Logan poured himself a glass of wine. The agents had escorted him back to Valerie’s apartment. After taking a look around inside, one guard stood outside the door, while the other kept watch at the main entrance to the building. Logan desperately needed to get some sleep, but he couldn’t rest until he read the sheets his father had stuffed into the silver cigar case. Sitting at one end of Valerie’s couch under the soft light of a lamp, he began to read the pages, which bore his father’s symbol in the upper right-hand corner.

  February 13, 2036

  The strange thing about Fendral and his copy of the Chronicles, known as the Train Set, was that they emerged a full year after Deya, Madu, and I reported our experiences. At first, I didn’t think much of it, but then something else began to bother me. Fendral never described having an experience with the blue orb as the rest of us did. When any one of us discussed our experiences, he conveniently left the room or changed the subject. We initially thought he just wanted to keep his experience private. I now know that his reason for not participating in those discussions was far more dark and ominous.

  I discussed my suspicions about the matter with Cassandra, and she urged me to go to Zurich and investigate for myself. I was reluctant to do so because we had just found out that she was pregnant. She urged me to address the issues right away and not to wait, as after our baby arrived, there would be no time. I told Robert and the rest of the Council that I was going to Europe. The work that we were doing with the Council took us to many places, so no one questioned my travel plans.

  It was widely reported that Fendral’s copy of the Chronicles was found at the Hauptbahnhof train station in Zurich. When I arrived there, I saw that little had changed in eight years. Zurich had been hit hard and was being rebuilt slowly. I entered the station through a missing segment of the outer wall. The main hall had been turned into a homeless encampment. It was winter, and people were tending small fires to cook by and to heat their humble living spaces. Even though I was a stranger, I found this place welcoming. I immediately noticed that the work of the Council had reached this improvised community. I saw copies of the Chronicles everywhere. As I walked through the maze of hovels, many people invited me to warm up by their fires or to eat their food and drink from their bartered wine.

  I was reluctant to take food away from these poor people who had so little, but I could not pass up an invitation from a man who was enjoying a pipe as he sat on his stool in front of his meager fire. He moved another stool near the fire and poured me a glass of some very expensive scotch, which I found a bit odd. We sat in silence for a moment, and I enjoyed a toke from his pipe. He asked me why I had come. He could tell from my accent and my clothes that I was not a denizen of the train station or a native of Switzerland. At first, I was going to tell him that I was a part of the rebuilding effort, but something inside me urged me to speak the truth to this man. I told him that I was Camden Ford. He knew exactly who I was and proceeded to grab his copy of the Chronicles. He called over to his neighbor, a woman by the name of Marilyn, and told her that a celebrity had arrived. It wasn’t long before a few others joined us. They each brought over a log of wood for the fire, as was the tradition in their community.

  They asked many questions about the Chronicles; they wanted to know what I thought of certain passages and how I interpreted certain others. I was glad to offer my perspectives. They had questions about the Satraya Flame and the other fundamentals presented in the books. I told them a little about my flame work, but I dared not tell them everything that Baté had taught me, for I was not yet a master of it.

  Our host continued to pour his expensive scotch for everyone. How he could afford it, I didn’t know. What they really wanted to hear was the story of how I found the books. I had told that story a hundred times before, and I was most happy to share it with such a congenial group. Even though these people did not have anything to their names, they had embraced the very essence of what the Chronicles attempt to impart. They reminded me so much of the misunderstood Forgotten Ones. I recounted the story of my long drive home, my narrow escape from the marauders, and my journey into the forest. I told them of my experience with the mysterious blue orb, and how it levitated me off the ground. I told them of my encounter with the Forgotten Ones, and how I unexpectedly fell in love and eventually married one of their kind. The woman who first spoke out to me in the darkness. The one who convinced the Forg
otten Ones to put down their weapons.

  My description of the orb was of great interest to them, but not for the reasons I assumed. They told me that they, too, had witnessed a blue light. It had engulfed the station, they said, and they all pointed to track number seven. They said it had happened around six years ago. I found it noteworthy that it coincided with my discovery of the books and also Deya’s and Madu’s discoveries. I told them that Fendral never spoke about his experience with the blue orb. They were confused by the reports that Fendral had found a copy of the Chronicles at the train station. They told me that the blue light they had witnessed there had been directly experienced by a man named Giovanni Rast. No one by Fendral’s name had ever lived at the station. When I showed them a picture of Deya, Madu, Fendral and myself, they confirmed they had never seen Fendral.

  I asked them to tell me more about Giovanni Rast. They said that he lived in the number fourteen car on track seven. Marilyn seemed to have the closest relationship with him. She said that after everyone saw the blue light coming from the car, she went to investigate its source. She found Giovanni in his car reading from some books. He told her that he had found them enclosed in a tin can on the tracks outside his car. When he opened the first book, a blue globe of light appeared. I asked if they had ever witnessed the blue light again. Everyone there said that the blue light had never returned; they had only seen it once. This was consistent with my story and those of Deya and Madu. I asked Marilyn to continue. She said that afterward, Giovanni’s life began to change. He somehow came into some money but nonetheless continued to live in his train car. Our host told me that Giovanni had given him the wonderful scotch that we were enjoying right before he disappeared. The others told of similarly expensive presents that Giovanni had bought for them before he left. I asked where he had gone, but no one could answer that question. I asked Marilyn if she would take me to the train car in which he had lived, and she agreed without issue.