The Marus Manuscripts

by Paul McCusker

  “You had your tonsils removed,” the doctor said.

  “When I was five.”

  “You did something to your knee?”

  “I cut it once and had stitches.”

  “Seven, to be precise. And you’ve been sick recently?”

  “I had the flu.”

  “Flu? Hmm. I don’t know what that is, and neither does my scanner.”

  “I feel better now.” Wade was amazed. “This gadget is telling you all that?”

  “That’s what it was built to do,” Dr. Lyst said. “Don’t you have them in your world?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Too bad.” Dr. Lyst put down the stethoscope. “You seem to be in normal physical health as far as your skin, tissue, and bones are concerned. I’ll make a note of the ‘flu’ you mentioned.” He picked up the blood pressure gauge. “Hold out your arm, please.”

  Wade stretched out his arm.

  Dr. Lyst rolled up Wade’s sleeve, then wrapped the pressure cuff around his arm just above the elbow. Again, he plugged the other end into the side of the box. Wade felt as if someone had a tight grip on his arm.

  “Is this reading my blood pressure?”

  “It’s reading your blood pressure and taking a blood sample.”

  “You mean, right now?”

  “Yes.”

  “But shouldn’t I feel a prick or something?”

  “No. It was designed to take the blood without you realizing it.” The box beeped at Dr. Lyst. He took the pressure cuff off Wade’s arm. “All finished. The analyzer needs a little while to evaluate your blood, but all in all, I’d say you’re no different from a normal, growing boy in our world.”

  “This is amazing.”

  Dr. Lyst put the box away. “Now let’s talk about your world,” he suggested. “Tell me everything.”

  Wade didn’t know where to begin and shrugged helplessly.

  Dr. Lyst smiled warmly. “Why don’t you start with your family? Tell me about your mother and father, your brothers and sisters.”

  “I don’t have any brothers or sisters,” Wade explained. “It’s just my mother and me until my dad comes home from the war.”

  “What does your dad do in the war?”

  “He’s a pilot, stationed in the South Pacific. But we don’t know where he is right now.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “We haven’t heard from him—nobody has—for a few weeks. All the other dads have contacted their families, but my dad hasn’t. We don’t know why. Mom keeps calling and asking, but nobody knows where he is right now.”

  “You’re worried.”

  Wade nodded.

  “How did your country . . .” Dr. Lyst’s brow creased with sudden concentration. “What’s it called?”

  “The United States of America.”

  “Tell me how it became united, and then tell me why it went to war with the South Pacific.”

  Wade laughed. “It didn’t go to war with the South Pacific. It went to war with Japan and battled the Japanese in the South Pacific. The South Pacific is an ocean. Here, I’ll show you. Do you have some paper and a pencil? I’ll draw it.”

  Wade drew a rough map of the world for Dr. Lyst and identified which countries were on whose side in the war. He explained about the Germans and the Japanese and the Italians, the Americans, the British, the French, and the Russians. He drew the United States and England to explain how the colonies became independent back in 1776 and had been dedicated to fighting for freedom ever since.

  “So, the United States and its allies defeated Germany and Italy by sheer force and skill in battle, then resorted to dropping the atomic bombs to make Japan surrender?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dr. Lyst drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “This is Tyran’s goal, you know.”

  “What is?”

  “To create weapons that are so superior to our enemies’ that they’ll have to unite with us or negotiate a peace. It’s identical to what your leaders did.” Dr. Lyst’s eyes lit up. “Your arrival here is a . . . a miracle of sorts.”

  “I’m glad everyone thinks so,” Wade said, feeling proud of his importance.

  Dr. Lyst gazed earnestly at Wade. “You help us, Wade, and I’ll do everything I can to get you home. I promise. Now, tell me about your technology.”

  Far into the night, Wade told Dr. Lyst everything he could. And when he finally felt certain he could trust Dr. Lyst, he pulled the drawings of the atomic bomb from his pocket. “Here,” he said simply.

  “What are these?”

  “Drawings of the atomic bomb and”—he pointed to the other page with the list—“some of the materials they used.”

  Dr. Lyst peered at them for a moment. “Where did this information come from?” he asked. “How are you so privileged?”

  “The father of a cousin of my best friend worked on the bomb. The cousin made these drawings from papers in his dad’s briefcase for us to see.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  Wade shrugged. “Because he knew we’d be interested.”

  “Fascinating! Crude, but fascinating.”

  Wade yawned and rubbed his eyes. Dr. Lyst noticed and said, “That’s enough for tonight. You’re tired. May I hold on to these?”

  “Yes, sir. I was going to burn them anyway.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the atomic bomb is a big secret in my world. I was afraid I’d get arrested or kidnapped by spies.” Wade chuckled. It all seemed so silly now.

  Dr. Lyst reached over to a button on the wall and pushed it. A servant seemed to appear from nowhere. “It’s time to show this young man to his room,” said the doctor.

  The servant, a stiff-gaited old man, nodded. “Come along,” he told Wade. He took Wade down another long hallway to a bedroom. It was luxurious, with a four-poster bed and velvet curtains, dark paneling on all four walls, paintings of rolling hills and countryside, an enormous fireplace with a marble mantelpiece, and two chairs and a table by a tall window. The servant pointed to a door next to the fireplace and said, “The bathroom is in there.” He then pointed to a cord hanging next to the bed. “If you want anything, anything at all, simply pull that cord and someone will be here immediately to serve you.”

  “Thank you,” Wade said.

  A tabby cat suddenly leapt up onto the bed and meowed at Wade.

  “That is Cromley,” the servant said. “If he’s a nuisance, I can put him out.”

  “He’s all right,” Wade said and scratched Cromley on top of his head. Cromley pressed himself against Wade and purred.

  The servant retreated from the room, closing the door behind him. Wade wanted to have a look around, but he made the mistake of trying out the bed first. He lay down and absentmindedly stroked the cat. His last thought as he fell asleep was that life in this world might not be so bad after all.

  Dr. Lyst stood in his laboratory and watched Wade on a screen, which had been hidden behind a curtain on the wall. Tyran walked into the room and stood next to the doctor.

  “Well?” Tyran asked.

  “I believe he’s the genuine article,” Dr. Lyst answered as he stroked his chin thoughtfully. “No one could come up with such an elaborately constructed fantasy world as he has. Certainly no one at his age. It all makes sense. He comes from some other place and time. I don’t know how, but he has.”

  Tyran smiled. “Will you be able to take what he knows and turn it into something we can use?”

  “I’ll do my best,” the doctor said.

  Tyran patted him on the back. “Of course you will. But you know that time is working against us. If we’re invaded . . .” he began, leaving the thought hanging.

  “I’ll work as fast as I can.”

  Wade was awakened by the sound of running water. He slowly sat up in bed. The servant who had brought him to the room the night before was in the bathroom. It sounded as if he was filling the bathtub. The servant emerged and looked pleased to see Wade awake.
/>   “Good morning, sir,” the man said.

  “Good morning, sir,” Wade repeated, stretching his arms.

  “Your bath will be ready for you in a moment.”

  “Thank you. But you didn’t have to go to any trouble. I could’ve run the bath myself.”

  “It’s what I do, sir.”

  “Oh. What’s your name, if I’m allowed to ask?”

  “I’m called Thurston, sir.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Thurston.” Wade scooted out of bed and shook Thurston’s hand. “I’m Wade.”

  “Yes, sir. Did you sleep well?”

  “Like a log.”

  “I assume that’s a good thing?”

  “Yes. Very good.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Dr. Lyst is waiting for you in his laboratory after you’ve had your bath and breakfast. He seems quite eager to begin working with you today.” Thurston began to make the bed. “I must say, I’ve never seen him like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, he’s like a little child with a new toy.”

  “Am I his new toy?” Wade asked.

  “I suppose you are, in a manner of speaking, sir.” Thurston hesitated, clutching the bedspread. “If you don’t mind my saying so, the entire castle is talking about you.”

  Wade self-consciously touched his hair. “Because of my hair, right?”

  “I suppose for some. But most of them are talking about your knowledge. I’ll speak honestly, sir: You have brought a tremendous amount of hope with you to this place.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you. I dare say that you’ve become something of a celebrity.”

  Wade was impressed. “A celebrity,” he repeated softly.

  After his bath, Wade was given new clothes to wear. Unlike the tunic he’d worn at Arin’s, he was given laced shoes; normal-looking gray trousers; a plain white shirt; and a V-neck sweater. Standing in front of the mirror, he thought of pictures he’d seen of students who go to colleges like Oxford or Cambridge in England. Thurston then took Wade to a large dining room where he was served eggs, toast, bacon, orange juice, and cereal. It seemed like ages since he’d eaten so much in the morning.

  Dr. Lyst was pacing anxiously in his laboratory when Wade arrived. The doctor stopped in his tracks and smiled broadly. “Hello, young man,” he said. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Very well, thank you.”

  The doctor picked up a clipboard and assembled some sheets of paper on it. “We have a lot of work to do today,” he said eagerly.

  “We do?”

  “I have to get everything I can out of that brain of yours.”

  “What if I don’t know as much as you think I do?”

  “But you do,” Dr. Lyst said matter-of-factly. “It’s all in there. I’m confident of it.”

  Wade grinned. If only the kids at school could see him now! They wouldn’t dare laugh at him for the science-fiction comic books he was nuts about or the stolen moments at lunch and recess with the science journals that Mr. Curfew, his next-door neighbor, lent to him. The kids thought he was weird and often said so to his face, but now he was important. Oh, if only Steve Calloway could see him!

  “Let’s talk specifically about how explosives were developed in your world,” Dr. Lyst said.

  “All right,” Wade replied. “But I’m a little rusty with my history.”

  “Do your best. Think hard. If I can establish any parallels between your technology and ours, I may be able to find the means to create here what you have created there. Now, tell me everything you can.”

  Wade took a deep breath. “Let’s see . . . I think it all started with gunpowder.”

  “What’s it made from?”

  “Oh. Let me think. It’s been such a long time since I read about that. Saltpeter and charcoal and sulfur.”

  “What is saltpeter?”

  Wade had to think for a minute. Then it came to him: “Potassium nitrate. When you put all three together, it creates a black powder that—”

  “Ah! Black powder.”

  “That’s one of the names for it.”

  “It certainly was,” Dr. Lyst said. “It’s mentioned in the writings of our forefathers. But the exact formula has been lost for ages.”

  “Then what are you using now?” Wade asked.

  “Solar bombs.”

  “You mean, you’re using energy from the sun for your bombs?”

  “Precisely. We created a catalyst that makes the solar cells explode. Not unlike the black powder, I suspect.”

  Wade was mystified. “That’s what the planes are dropping at night?”

  “Yes,” Dr. Lyst said. “But we’ve gotten as much out of them as we ever hope to. They’re a peacetime technology that’s ill-suited for war. They don’t have the power we need. Some explosions, fire, and a little bit of damage. That’s all. It’s more for show than for destruction.”

  Wade shook his head. “I just don’t get it. This world seems so . . . so advanced with some things, but so backward with others.”

  Dr. Lyst folded his arms, his clipboard pressed against his chest. “You have to understand that war hasn’t been a priority for us. For the most part, our nations have gotten along over the years. We had skirmishes and fights every now and then, but not major wars. Not until now. Now everyone has a bloodlust for power. Treaties are broken; trust is destroyed. Neighbor has turned against neighbor.”

  “Arin says it’s because everyone lost their faith in the Unseen One.”

  The doctor grimaced. “That’s just the sort of thing I would expect Arin to say,” he responded with obvious distaste. “This has nothing to do with the Unseen One. It has to do with us—with the abuse of power. Tyran wants to change all that.”

  “By being the most powerful, right?”

  “Power in the hands of a benevolent man like Tyran is a good thing.”

  Wade said carefully, “There’s a saying in my world: Absolute power corrupts absolutely. Or something like that.”

  “That may be true in your world, but not with Tyran. I’ve known him most of my life. His vision for unity and peace is real. But he’s no fool. The only way to impress these barbarians who call themselves our leaders is to carry a bigger stick than theirs. Now tell me: Your world started its explosives with black powder, but what was used after that?”

  “Have you ever heard of dynamite and nitroglycerin?”

  Their discussion went on from there. Wade told him all he knew about the discovery of nitroglycerin in 1846 by an Italian named Ascanio Sobrero. Dr. Lyst laughed when Wade mentioned that it had originally been used as a headache remedy. But it was too dangerous for Sobrero to use for blasting, so he gave up. In 1862, Alfred Nobel of Sweden began to experiment with it, accidentally killing his own brother in the process. But he persevered, and, in 1866, he successfully mixed liquid nitroglycerin with an absorbent substance called diatomite. As a result, dynamite was born. After that came TNT.

  “TNT?” Dr. Lyst asked as he scribbled on his clipboard.

  Wade rubbed his forehead. His head ached. “That stands for . . . for . . . tri-nitro-toluene. Or tri-nitro-toluol. One of those two. It comes from coal tar or gasoline, I think.”

  “Don’t stop, keep talking,” Dr. Lyst encouraged him, writing furiously.

  “All the explosives and bombs we use are directly related to TNT,” Wade continued. “There’s dynamite and amatol, which is TNT and ammonium nitrate. There’s ammonal, which has powdered aluminum, TNT, charcoal, and . . . and ammonium nitrate.”

  “Go on.”

  “I read that scientists just developed some new explosives in the war. Something called RDX, which is . . . is . . . hexamine and TNT. And something else called pentolite. That’s some other mixture with TNT. I don’t remember.”

  “Try.”

  “I can’t. My head hurts.”

  “What do these explosives have to do with the atomic bomb?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing!” />
  “The atomic bomb is completely new. It’s a whole different idea. But I wouldn’t know how to explain it,” Wade said.

  “You explained it to the elders.”

  “Those were just the pieces. It’s top secret. Most of us didn’t even realize the bombs existed until we dropped them on Japan. We’d heard about tests in the desert and hush-hush goings-on in the government, but we never thought . . .” His voice faded. He rubbed his eyes wearily. “You have the drawings. That’s as much as I know.”

  “That’s enough for now,” Dr. Lyst announced as he tossed his clipboard onto a lab table. He patted Wade on the back. “Well done. I’m sorry to push you so hard, but time is very important to us.”

  “But I didn’t tell you anything.”

  “You told me a lot more than you think. I can now point my technicians in the right direction, which is something I couldn’t do before. We don’t have to start entirely from scratch. We have an idea of what we’re looking for.”

  Wade stood up. His legs were stiff from sitting on the stool. “Do you really think you can create an atomic bomb?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. But you’ve given me the stepping-stones that your world walked on to reach that end. Anything we develop now is bound to be more powerful than the solar bombs.”

  “I hope so. My brain can’t take very much of this.”

  “I’m sure it can. But you’ve done an amazing job this morning. I’m very proud of you.” Dr. Lyst was standing at the window now. “Would you care for a walk to clear our minds for a while? It’s a beautiful day.”

  The golden sun lingered high above them, a large dot in the middle of a clear sky. From the walk along the castle wall, Wade could see the entire city of Sarum. Skyscrapers, government buildings, hotels, and shops rose impressively from the ground in an array of formations and styles. The scene reminded Wade of the view he’d had of New York City from the Empire State Building, though not so high up. Once again, he was struck by the vividness of all the colors compared to his world.

  “Quite a city, eh?” Dr. Lyst said.

  “It sure is.”

  Telescopes were set up at strategic points so visitors could look at landmarks, interesting architecture, and historical sites. Wade put his eye up to one.