by Linda Hawley
When I finished, I whispered to Françoise, “Tap the others.”
After Françoise pulled Chow and Edwin back from the remote view, they captured their observations on the clipboards for another ten minutes. We then turned our chairs to face one another. Françoise sat to the side of us, observing.
“Edwin, why don’t you begin?” I asked him.
He looked down at his clipboard drawings and then began to speak. “The room was large, dimly lit, with a low ceiling. There were no people in the room. In the center was a substantial conference table made of metal. There were papers on the table, but I could not read them.”
“What was your viewpoint?” I asked him.
“As if I were standing there.”
“Did you sense Chow or me?”
“Yes. Both of you.”
“How did we appear?”
“As color.”
I tried to restrain my excitement at this new discovery, but a smile slipped onto my face. I turned to Chow to get his perspective.
“Chow, what did you observe?”
“It was a very large, rectangular-shaped room. I observed the table as Edwin did, but I did not see any papers. I did not feel any human presence. My viewpoint was the same as Edwin’s. I didn’t see either of you, or any color, but I did sense significant energy to the left of me. I was trying to home in on it better when Françoise tapped me.”
“So you two had very similar views, with Edwin’s view giving some more detail and sensing two of us. My view was much like yours, but with more detail. There was a table on the far side of the room with weapons on it. But what I am thrilled about is this discovery,” I said, excitement oozing from me as I held my clipboard up for them to see.
“A prism,” Edwin said, looking at my drawing.
“Yes. When I tried to focus on the two other energies I sensed during the view, I discovered something new,” I said, smiling at them. “I believe that when the three of us viewed the same scene side by side, we created a prism effect. Each of us opened up a viewing channel as we arrived, and when we slightly overlapped the channel, the edges were extended, and we created a prism effect. When I focused on the edges of each of your channels—which overlapped with my own—I could see three monochromatic colors: green, red, and blue. The stronger the viewing channel, the more the monochromatic color was steady. If the viewing channel was weaker, the color pulsed. My own channel was blue, Edwin’s was green, and Chow…yours was red. I don’t know how I knew whose energy was whose…I just did.”
Chow explained, “When white light is directed into a prism, it diffuses into the colors we see naturally: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and violet. The ends of the spectrum are infrared and ultraviolet. We can’t see these without special equipment.”
“How did you know that off the top of your head?” I asked him.
“Remember my apartment in Vancouver?”
I laughed out loud. “Monochromatic.”
“Yes,” Chow explained simply. “I understand color.”
I smiled at him. “Did either of you sense anyone else?”
“No,” the brothers responded together.
“Neither did I. If we had sensed another viewer, how do you think it would have appeared? Would it have been another monochromatic light?”
“I do not think it would. The three of us went into the view intending to be within an arm’s length in proximity. This enabled the prism effect. If another viewer were present, I would think that they would have been somewhere else in the room,” Edwin surmised.
“Why wouldn’t another viewer end up right in the same spot we were in?” I asked.
Edwin quickly replied, “Humans are comprised of energy. Energy is matter. It is theorized that two particles cannot share the same quantum space. Or, said another way, matter cannot take up the same space at the same time.”
“It reminds me of when Bob and I talked about superstring theory. All particles and forces are composed of vibrating strings and membranes of energy. Energy vibrates everywhere without stopping. Oh my goodness…we sound like we’re having a quantum physics geek-fest,” I deadpanned.
“No kidding,” Françoise said, giggling discreetly.
Smiling at me, Chow said, “The point is that the other remote viewer could not be viewing in the same space we were occupying.”
“So…how would we sense the other viewer?” I asked.
Edwin responded, “Perhaps we would sense the viewer as a tunnel of light…with color…or not. I suppose we will not know until we experience it.”
“We could do an experiment, where two of us view a site, and then the third viewer comes in at a later time, thereby testing our theory,” Chow said.
“Let’s try it,” I said enthusiastically. “Same target, same time.”
* * *
We did a practice view with Edwin and I going in together, and Chow coming in after us. After that, we practiced again with Chow and I entering the view after Edwin was already there. The results were interesting.
When two of us entered the view together, side by side, we could see the monochromatic colors that emanated from us. But the other viewer, who had either entered in after us or was already there, no longer had a one-color tint. Instead, that person had a faded, colorless glow that took real concentration in order to perceive. That person’s energy seemed more like a vacuum of color, instead of truly black and white. We could perceive the energy itself better than we could see it. The other thing we observed is that when two of us would go in together, we were always close to one another in the view—about arm’s length away. The other, single viewer was always opposite our location. Through all three views, our individual single colors remained unique to us and never changed.
Edwin pointed out that all of these conclusions were simply hypotheses because we hadn’t conducted our experiments scientifically. I found that ironic, because none of the events in the past nine months made any scientific sense.
Chapter 16
As I made my way down Hankou road, I looked up at my destination and took in a deep breath, savoring the spicy smells wafting from summer blooms.
Just as I remember.
The neo-Gothic hotel beckoned me, and I crossed the threshold into the Bund. There were two older Asian couples in the foyer, standing together at the foot of the grand staircase. Beyond the foyer, I could see the garden, with the last of the day’s light shining upon it.
“Ann,” he said, calling out as he glided toward me. Dressed in khaki Bermuda shorts, boots, and a cotton shirt, which were offset by a deep suntan, he looked like an outdoorsy guy who might rappel cliffs for fun, even though he seemed in his fifties.
I met him halfway.
“I’m Tony Steele,” he said, looking into my eyes as he held out his hand to shake.
He was taller than me by six inches, very broad in the shoulders, and looked to be strong as an ox. With military-cut dark brown hair framing a masculine face with a smile that was all teeth, he could charm any woman.
“Pleased to meet you,” I said with a smile as he shook my hand firmly, but not finger-crushingly.
“Would you like to sit in the garden?” he asked me politely.
“Sounds good,” I said, as we moved towards the courtyard. “I’m glad you got in touch with me.”
We sat on a bench in the same garden that I’d taken Tai Chi lessons in, from the elderly Mr. Wan, not long before.
In the midst of the greenery, I felt vividly alive, the scents and sounds happily inundated my senses.
“I’m very different than the last time you saw me,” he said, his blue-gray eyes recalling the gloom of that day in 1995.
“How’s your life been since then?” I asked him.
“Good…it’s been good. I served our government honorably as a SEAL until I retired,” he said proudly.
“And personally?”
“Oh…better than ever. I was married in 1997, and we have four healthy boys. Two of them ended up ser
ving—one in the Navy and the other in the Air Force, like you.”
“I’m so happy for you,” I said with a smile, thinking his wife was a lucky woman.
He sat facing me on the bench, searching out my eyes for the one thing neither of us wanted to say.
Finding the courage, I softly asked, “So this is what your life would have been like if they hadn’t killed you?”
* * *
Awakening with a start, I sat bolt upright in bed, the look on Tony’s face still vividly present in my mind’s eye.
“That wasn’t just a dream,” I said to no one.
As I began to sort it out, I heard a knock at my door.
“Come in, Chow,” I said.
“How did you know it was me?” he asked as he came through my bedroom door, dressed in a pair of sweat pants and t-shirt, with bare feet and tousled hair.
“Lucky guess,” I said sardonically. Patting the bed in front of me, I said, “Come, sit.”
At the invitation, Chow crossed the room and sat.
“Let’s go through it, then. Can we cover the facts first?” I said to him and then continued on. “I was dreaming of the soldier in our present day. The facts are that Tony is dead, and the hotel was destroyed in an earthquake,” I said, my voice wavering.
“I think we can presume that you were not having a dream of fantasy. It seems too symbolic for that.”
“I agree,” I said, both of us considering possibilities of the fantastic.
I looked into his eyes as he broke the silence eloquently. “What about an alternate future?” The expression on his face was a mix of awe and thrill.
“The one he would have had, if he hadn’t been shot in the head twenty years ago,” I said bluntly. “What if this alternate future of his was his destiny? What if what we just saw in the dream was how Tony’s life should have gone, if the Pentagon wasn’t manipulating history to their timeline?”
He nodded, considering what I’d said.
“I remote viewed those soldiers in 1995. That day—at the CIA—Bob did tell me that the Pentagon wanted us to remote view that location to confirm the soldiers’ deaths…”
“Ann,” Chow said, interrupting me. “What if murdering those soldiers was their manipulation of history?”
“And I confirmed that they had been successful.”
Chow nodded. “Project Continuum had the soldiers killed, to manipulate the chronology to their planned history. Since you were the most skilled viewer at Project Stargate, they wanted you to confirm that they had successfully altered history. This would mean that Project Continuum has been operating long before 1995.”
My stomach was churning. “I don’t know how I can still be shocked by the depth of betrayal by my government and how willing they are to expend the lives of those who faithfully serve them, but I am,” I said, shaking my head in disgust.
We were quiet for a couple of minutes, processing the new discoveries.
I then asked him, “What do you think? Are there two separate timelines? Is one a destined history and the other an altered timeline that’s been manipulated?”
Chow’s eyes sparkled. “Or, are there two parallel timelines existing simultaneously?”
* * *
After Chow left my room, my mind was spinning with the implications of parallel timelines. It was hard to think straight about this stuff—multiple timelines, strings, dimensions—it was overwhelming. Here we were standing at the foot of a new era of knowledge, and I felt like an ant trying to figure out how a computer works. Still, I knew there had to be an answer—a celestial event. Or was it celestial intervention?
Just my luck, I thought, finding out there are two timelines, and I just happen to be stuck in the corrupt one!
Unable to sleep, I decided to take a bath.
As I soaked in the antique French, claw-footed tub, staring at the floral designs of the wallpaper, I wondered if what Chow had said was actually true.
But what else could it have been? I’ve never dreamed of Tony before. I never even knew his name until now.
I tried to rationally understand the dream, Project Continuum’s mission of altering history, and the role that Project Stargate had in confirming the timeline change. My mind wandered back to my old CIA remote-viewing days, and my boss there.
Did Bob know about the Pentagon’s remote-viewing project? I wondered.
As I remembered back to that day, I realized that Bob’s reaction was surprise when I told him about remote viewing the SEALs being killed.
Either he didn’t know about the other project, or he should get the Academy Award for acting. Maybe he was left out of the loop on purpose.
“Let’s assume Chow’s right, and the parallel timelines coincide,” I said, talking myself through it.
“If Tony has two timelines, then I can assume that everyone has two. What I want to know is whether we can remote view any alternate timeline,” I said, my thoughts becoming clear. I want to know what the government achieves in our future. Just what are they trying to do?
As I spoke the words, excitement began to course through me. Quickly, I pulled the plug and stood, drying off with a large, plush towel the color of ivory.
After dressing in sweats, a t-shirt, and my slippers, I padded down the hall to Chow and Edwin’s room and gently knocked. Chow opened the door within a few seconds. The lights were on, and he looked as though he’d been awake since I last saw him. Edwin was also awake.
“Still up, huh?” I said, winking at Chow.
“I heard your bath,” he said, chuckling as he opened the door wide. As I passed him, he added, “You smell good.”
I smiled. “I’ve got an idea,” I said excitedly.
“What is it?” Chow asked.
“Since you’re both awake, would you two like to come with me so we can discuss it?”
They nodded.
Once we were all seated in my room, I pressed on. “We’ve been talking about the government’s agenda since the GOG runner was here. Then it occurred to me…” I paused. “Why don’t we just co-dream into the future and find out what they achieve?”
Chow chuckled. “We were just discussing that exact thing in our room.”
“Synchronicity!” I exclaimed. “Wanna do it now?” I said eagerly.
Chow and Edwin looked at one another. They shared another of their glances, and then Chow turned to me. “We need to decide when we will go in, and where.”
I clapped my hands, full of excitement, wondering why we hadn’t thought of it before. “Five years from now—2020. We co-dream into the GOG safe house in the Washington, D.C., area,” I said, having thought it up while soaking in the bath.
“Are you talking about the safe house we met at in Arlington?” Chow asked.
“The very same. We’ve both already met Vanessa and Calvin.”
Chow looked over at Edwin, a look passing between them.
“What?” I asked, curious at what was going on.
“It is nothing,” Chow said quietly.
I frowned at Chow, feeling left out of the loop.
“It may be that in the future, it is no longer a safe house,” Edwin warned.
“If it’s not, we’ll just come out of the co-dream and then determine another destination,” I reasoned.
“Good idea,” Chow responded positively.
We talked about our goals for the co-dream and determined the date we would enter in the year 2020.
Chapter 17
ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA
The Year 2020
Using the Bald Eagle doorknocker, Chow rapped twice, paused five seconds, and then knocked once more. As we waited for a response at the two-story colonial, we shivered; we were underdressed for the weather. If we'd succeeded in our plan, it was the year 2020, and we’d arrived in the pitch dark, in what was clearly a raging winter snowstorm. With nearly two feet of snow on the ground, the wind blowing at more than thirty miles per hour, and the temperature below freezing, it felt like a blizzard.
“It’s really cold,” I complained.
“Try again,” Edwin said to Chow.
Chow again knocked twice, waited five seconds, and then knocked once. I subconsciously counted the seconds as we waited, moving my legs up and down as the cold flowed through my clothes. With still no answer, Chow moved next to me and placed his arm around me to share his body heat. It did help me cope. It was so cold, it burned, my skin feeling as if someone was pouring frigid water on me.
“Either no one’s here, or its purpose has changed,” I said, eager to either get in or exit the co-dream.
Edwin turned to Chow and I to discuss solutions, just as the vintage peephole opened. Chow quickly stepped up to meet the woman’s face, and without him saying a word, the door was immediately unlatched and opened wide. As I entered behind Chow, I watched Vanessa Pérez make the Sign of the Cross as she muttered a prayer that I couldn’t hear. Shock made her face pale, her eyes wide.
Just as Edwin was closing the front door behind him, Vanessa exclaimed, “Five years!” as she faced down Chow.
Confused and surprised by her outburst, I glanced at Chow. A curious look crossed his face—compassion and something I couldn't quite identify. It looked almost like relief, but not just because someone answered the door.
“You’ve been gone five years!” she exclaimed again, standing directly in front of him. She raised a hand and almost touched him, her hand hovering between them.
He said nothing in response but stared intently into her enormous, cat-shaped eyes.
“What?” I asked uncertainly.
Vanessa kept staring intensely at Chow, as if trying to find out whether she was seeing things. The silence that dragged out was palpable—charged with something I didn't understand.
I didn't have all of the information, so I repeated “What?”
No one said a word. Finally, Vanessa looked at me.
“You two…” she said, pointing to Chow and then me, “dropped off the radar five years ago.” She paused. “And you, buddy…” she said abruptly, pointing at Edwin. “I don’t know who you are, but these two are dead and mourned.”
“Dead?” Chow said, his vocal cords finally working while his face paled, shock bleaching his skin.
