The Time Stone (The Time Stone Trilogy Book 1)

by Robert F Hays

  Nagel turned back to Jim. “Jim, we’re receiving that photograph right now, may we show it to the viewers.”

  Andy’s voice. “Enlargement rerouted to Band.”

  “Be my guest,” Jim said, leaning forward and to his left. “Mr. Band there’s a copy of the enlargement going to pad.”

  Levin’s voice. “Last recipe sent.”

  Band picked up the pad and examined the screen.

  Colin’s voice. “Hey dad. That’s from our trip to Yellowstone.”

  “Yes,” Band said, looking up from his pad. “I do believe we can do something with this...”

  Jim, ring activated. “Colin, shut up!”

  “...we have an OCR analyzer that could bring most of it out.”

  Nagel smiled. “That’s good news.” He then turned to Nashada. “Professor, how’re you going with the recipes?”

  She looked up. “I see nothing here that would be any problem at all. In fact, I’d like to eat in such a restaurant myself.”

  Nagel nodded. “So would I. Thank you Professor Nashada and Mr. Band for being our guest experts here today.”

  “My pleasure,” Nashada said.

  Amy’s voice. “Am in contact with Band’s museum, the OCR scan will be done within the hour.”

  “Happy to be of help,” Band said.

  Both images faded from Jim’s view.

  Jason’s voice. “Copyright registered.”

  “Well Jim, looks like you could have another enterprise going.”

  “Possibly, but I don’t like the idea of a corporation running them. The ones I knew were Mom and Pop businesses, with the kids as cashiers.”

  “I’m positive that there’re families all over the galaxy who’d love to start such a business.”

  Amy’s voice. “Jim, make sure you mention the word franchise.”

  “Carl, I’m sure we could work out some sort of ah... franchise agreement.”

  The interview continued with further discussion on travel through the wilds of primitive Old Earth, then came the time for questions from the audience. Nagel announced that people wishing to participate should log in.

  Jim watched a number of individuals open a small cover on the right front arm of their chairs. Curiosity overcame him. He located then opened the cover on his own chair. There he found a collection of touch pads. A red one, a blue one, and a series alphabetically labeled with letters A through H.

  “Mrs. Hoganech of Tellingsberg on the planet Vandrare,” Nagel called.

  “Mr. Young,” said a woman in the third row. “What was education like where you’re from, I mean, your children did go to school didn’t they?”

  “Yes, five days a week,” Jim said.

  Colin’s voice. “Yeah Michael, I’ll tell him.”

  “How different was it from now?” the woman said.

  Redmond’s voice. “The University’s put together a…”

  Colin’s voice. “They want all our school books, dad”

  “I really can’t comment on that as I don’t know the current system…”

  Redmond’s voice. “a… uh… research team to study that.”

  “…The University will study the subject and have asked for all my sons’ educational material.”

  Doris’ voice. “Colin, it’s rude to interrupt.”

  First question over, Nagel announced a second. “Mr. Chew of Tashkent on the planet Brougham’s Folly.”

  “Mr. Young,” said a young man in the first row. “On Old Earth did you have sex the same way as we do now? I mean did you use any...”

  As Jim watched, the man and chair disappeared.

  Andy’s voice. “That guy’ll not get on another talk show.”

  “The next question,” continued Nagel without a pause, “is from Mr. Hatcher of Santa Clara on the planet New Hope.”

  “Mr. Young,” said a man in the second row. “I’ve seen pictures of your dog, a pure bred German Shepherd. Do you have any plans to clone him and will puppies be commercially available?”

  “Puppies?” Jim said.

  Amy’s voice. “Forgot to tell you about the idea of Ralph and Company. Commercially cloning your dog is up to you.”

  “Uh…” Jim said.

  “I’d like one,” Nagel said. “A real German Shepard.”

  Amy’s voice “There’s no such thing as a pure bred German Shepard any more, he’s unique.”

  Jim thought for a moment. The idea of hundreds of Ralphs sniffing around the galaxy appealed to him, that is, owned by those that could afford one. “Yes sir, just contact Ralph and Company.”

  Redmond’s voice. “It’s fortunate Ralph’s male. From a male they can splice up a female, but not vice versa.”

  “You’ll have to have a background check first,” Jim said. “I don’t want copies of my dog going to just anybody.”

  Jason’s voice. “Company registered. V phone number now in the directory.”

  “Reserve one for me,” Nagel said.

  Colin’s voice. “How can Ralph have puppies, he’s a boy dog?”

  Jim continued. “When you call, specify male or female. As you all probably know, from a male, they can splice up a female, but not vice versa. It’s lucky Ralph’s a boy dog.” Jim smiled and hoped that they wouldn’t ask him to elaborate. He had no idea what he was talking about.

  Amy’s voice. “Just hired a manager, sales staff of four, and a receptionist. They’re already taking calls.”

  Jim felt a bead of perspiration roll down his right cheek as the pace, hence the stress, increased. He wondered if the computer had the presence of mind to disguise it. The phrase ‘Never let them see you sweat’ flashed to mind as he decided whether or not to wipe it off.

  Colin’s voice. “Wipe your face dad, you’re sweatin’ like a pig.”

  Nagel glanced down at the pad on his knee. “Mr. Claus of Norleans on the planet Miramar.”

  Jim, ring activated. “Doris, would you stick a sock in Colin’s mouth.”

  “Mr. Young.” The question was from an elderly man in the back row. “Are you aware that, as we speak, there’s an emergency meeting of the Commonwealth Council going on?”

  “Ah... No I’m not.”

  Redmond’s voice. “Have it on split screen right now.”

  The man continued. “The council is debating on whether or not to restrict your activities and to screen all information coming from your sources. One member is pressing to have your property impounded, and you yourself held for security reasons pending an investigation. Personally I think this stinks, but I’d like to hear your comments.”

  The audience broke into general applause for the man’s opinion. Jim noticed that the eyes of many in the audience were darting back and forth, obviously watching two channels at once.

  “Did that one member have a French accent?” Jim asked.

  A roar of laughter came from the audience.

  “I think this would be a good time to call for a public opinion poll,” Nagel said, picking up his pad. “Let me see. How should we put this?” He tapped on the base of his pad. “Answer A for complete government control, B limited control and C leave Mr. Young alone. There’ll be thirty seconds for you to register your opinion.”

  Jim leaned over to Nagel. “Is this just for people in the audience?”

  “No, the entire viewing public can vote.”

  Redmond’s voice. “I voted.”

  Andy’s voice. “Voted here too.”

  Colin’s voice. “Doris just showed me how to vote, dad.”

  Jim could see people reaching for the right arm of their chairs. So, with a flourish of the hand, he registered his own vote.

  “One moment,” Nagel said, raising his head. “For those of you who do not have split image, it has just been announced that council Chairman Pang has called a brief recess awaiting the outcome of this vote.”

  Moments later the audience burst out laughing.

  Jim, ring activated. “What happened?”

  Redmond’s
voice. “Councilman De Poulet is objecting.”

  Andy’s voice. “And boy is he mad.”

  Colin’s voice. “Yep, he’s going redder than Simon did when I put a choke hold on him last summer.”

  “The vote is in...” Nagel turned his pad so that Jim could read. “...the results should be appearing to your lower left now.”

  The audience broke into a deafening roar of applause and accolades. Jim stared at the pad. Over thirty two billion people had voted to leave him alone. It was a crushing landslide. Jim sank back into his chair with relief. At least the people were on his side.

  “Well that should please you Jim,” Nagel said.

  Redmond’s voice. “It sure pleases me.”

  “Yes, it does,” Jim said while wiping the sweat from his forehead.

  Doris’ voice. “Doing just fine Jim. Hold on, soon be over.”

  Nagel continued with the interview. “So what are your plans now Jim?”

  “Well, I’m going to finish settling into my new home and start learning all I can about this time.”

  “Any plans to travel and meet the people?”

  “Yes. I would like to.....”

  “One moment,” Nagel interrupted. He raised a finger and bowed his head for a few seconds.

  The audience burst into a second round of thunderous applause.

  Nagel leaned back and laughed quietly to himself. “The council has resumed, it was moved by Councilwoman Rossetti that the matter be dropped from discussion and she called for an instant vote. Resolution carried one hundred and eighty two votes to twenty one.”

  “Who voted against it?” Jim asked.

  Nagel laughed. “I don’t know yet, and you appear to be tired after all this excitement.” Jim nodded. “We’ll let you go, but I would like to interview you again at a future date.”

  “I would like that too,” Jim lied.

  Nagel turned to face the audience. “This is Carl Nagel of Compton news returning you to network.”

  The audience faded leaving Jim and Nagel alone.

  “Hope that was not too much of a strain Jim?”

  “It was interesting, I can say that.”

  Nagel laughed. “I’ll be back on Batalavia soon, how about a chat without billions of people watching. Come to my place for dinner some time.”

  “Will take you up on that.”

  “Have to go. See if I can get an interview with, you know who.”

  “See you later.”

  Nagel waved then faded out. Jim was alone. He struggled to his feet, soaked in sweat, and staggered toward the door.

  “Computer, have an autoserve meet me with a cold beer would you?”

  “Autoserve dispatched,” the computer replied.

  Chapter 7

  The decontamination of Jim’s belongings was complete. Teams of biologists, botanists, microbiologists, bacteriologists, virologists, geneticists, toxicologists and the night janitor had covered every square millimeter of every item.

  Of particular interest was the lawn mower. It was now cleaner than the day Jim had wheeled it out of Sears. Their finds on that one item ranged from unknown varieties of Bermuda grass to soil bacteria.

  Jim’s belongings were systematized into four categories. Stuff he wanted to keep, stuff he’d keep but put in storage, stuff he’d sell, and stuff he’d loan to the universities and museums for further investigation or display. There was no fifth pile, the one for stuff to give or throw away.

  The majority of the decontamination had taken place while he was under anesthetic for his medical procedure. It was planned that way. There was nothing for him to do in the four days it took to accumulate or exterminate every organism present.

  Jim walked between the benches where his things were neatly arranged, labeled and categorized. He paused and looked at one of the many people in the room. He was standing at a bench covered with books. The man wore a modern business suit but had the turned around collar of a priest or minister. He gently handled the books wearing white gloves.

  The man looked up as Jim approached. “Mr. Young?”

  “Yes, what can I do for you?”

  “I’m Father Tailor from the office of the Archbishop of Batalavia. I came because we were notified you had a collection of books of a religious nature. They told me you were deciding on what to keep and what to send to auction. Are you overly attached to these books?”

  “Not really,” Jim chuckled. “I’m not religious. A sergeant in my unit was posted to Korea. You can’t take much in the way of personal stuff there; you have to get rid of many things. When I got home one evening there were two boxes of books on my doorstep with a note attached. What’re you interested in?”

  The Father delicately raised a book. His hands were shaking. “This,” he said. “The Complete Writings of St. Augustine.”

  “Is it rare?”

  “Rare?” the Father exclaimed. “It doesn’t exist in either paper or electronic book form. We have many references to it and a few small excerpts but not the complete book.”

  “I’ll sell it if the price is right.”

  The Father tapped the earplug in his ear. “I’m currently talking with His Holiness the Pope at the Vatican on Nova Roma. We don’t want this work to go to a private collection so we’re prepared to offer you one million six hundred thousand G. You’d get more at auction but we hope you’d consider our offer.”

  Jim thought for a moment. “Eight million dollars?” he chuckled. “Tell ya what. Seeing as it’s the Pope, I’ll give him a million dollar discount.”

  “How much is that?” the Father said anxiously.

  “One million four hundred thousand G total,” Jim said with a broad smile.

  “Thank you, thank you,” the Father said as his eyes filled with tears.

  “Tell His Holiness I said hello,” Jim said as he continued on to his couch and sat.

  He was trying to decide the pile on which to place a few objects. Techs walked past, eyeing him with anxiety. He was nonchalantly relaxing on what must have been the most valuable couch in the galaxy. It was a brown, high backed, colonial style and was cleaned thoroughly. The crevice behind the cushions attracted particular scrutiny. Coins, pencils, the odd peanut shell and dust bunnies received equal attention. The same thorough cleaning had befallen his two armchairs, mattresses, book shelves, stereo, and all other objects with a crack or crevice that could collect debris.

  Jim turned his head slightly to sniff the couch. It no longer smelled of Ralph. No matter how many times he had cleaned it, he couldn’t get the dog smell out. The techs had succeeded where he failed.

  Doris took a seat on the couch next to him. “Problems?”

  “Just figuring out where the furniture would go in the new house.”

  “You don’t like modern furniture? It’s a lot more comfortable and easier to keep clean.”

  “Yes, I love the modern things; they’re ‘rad’ as Michael would say. It’s just that I feel more relaxed with my own stuff.”

  “The contents of the new house are your own things now. I know at least thirty museums that would kill then pay a fortune for all of this.”

  “I don’t want to lose it. The cans, the old newspapers, books etc., I was going to throw out anyway, but this is mine. I paid a bundle out of my own money.” Jim gently ran his hand over the arm of the couch.

  Doris poked his upper arm gingerly with a forefinger. “You could make up one room as an Old Earth room, a little museum of your own. Go sit in it when you feel like. Get drunk and think of the old days.”

  Jim laughed. He realized the absurdity of his feelings. He put it down to mild insecurity. “I see. Maybe you’re right, I should sell it all.”

  “There’s another way, loan it to a museum, that way it’s still yours.”

  “Ah... good idea,” Jim looked around the room. “Where are the kids at the moment?”

  “In the control room. Colin has a new friend. Eastman is a former Ranger, he used to serve on a Commonwea
lth patrol cruiser. They’re having an intellectual discussion on the many and varied ways of blasting guys.”

  “A Ranger, eh? Say, how come that in two thousand years the language hasn’t changed. On Earth, in only a few hundred years it was completely different.”

  “Was that before or after the recorded voice?”

  “Before.”

  “Well, there it is. We have volumes of videos and recordings from the early settlers. The schools use them to keep the language standardized. You spoke a living language which was in a continual state of change. We speak a standardized language which changes very rarely and science usually uses a dead language like Greek or Latin which never changes. About the only thing here that changes is slang. If I called you a dork, would you know what I meant?”

  Jim’s eyebrows shot up in surprised. “Yes, and I’d get quite upset.”

  “Oh... it meant something different back then. Now, a dork refers to a good looking person.”

  “That word would be a hunk.”

  Doris put a hand to her mouth to cover a chuckle. “Now, that word refers to something one would leave in a toilet.”

  Jim thought for a moment. “I’ll have to be careful or some dork will punch me in the mouth for calling him a hunk.”

  “Mr. Young,” the Father called while raising another book. “How about this one? The Biography of Pope John Paul?”

  Jim thought for a moment. “Two million dollars,” he called. “That’s four hundred thousand G. Pick more and I’ll bundle.”

  “We’ll take it,” the Father said. “And there’s six more we’re interested in.”

  Jim turned to Doris. “Great yard sale I’m having.”

  Doris started to laugh uncontrollably.

  “If this is important enough for the Pope himself to get involved I should just give him the lot,” Jim said.

  “What? And give away all that money?” Doris said.

  “I have dozens of digital books on my computer and with the paperback novels I’m going to be double dipping. Amy’s having them converted to digital so people can pay to download them from the net. Then she’s putting the original paper books up for auction as collectibles.”

  “I’ve only seen a couple of paper books and they were in a museum.”