The Lost Pleiad

by Sesh Heri

  “That can’t be,” Tesla said.

  “Oh?” the ice cream man asked.

  “I just came out of the Westinghouse hall a moment ago,” Tesla said. “Only a moment ago. It must be over there. Is that it?”

  Tesla pointed to the back of a building 50 feet away.

  “No,” the ice cream man said. “It ain’t. You’re in the amusement zone. Are you all right, Pop?”

  “Yes,” Tesla said.

  “Want an ice cream bar?” the ice cream man asked.

  “Yes,” Tesla said. “I’ll take one. How much?”

  “It’s on the house,” the ice cream man said, handing the ice cream bar to Tesla. “Opening Day special.”

  “Well,” Tesla said, taking the ice cream bar. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it,” the ice cream man said. “Where’s the rest of your folks?”

  “My folks?” Tesla asked, tearing off the paper wrapping from the ice cream bar.

  “Your family,” the ice cream man said. “Your kids and grandkids.”

  “Oh,” Tesla said, “I don’t have any.”

  “Oh,” the ice cream man said.

  “Never had the time for a family,” Tesla said. “I’ve lived a very busy life.”

  “Must’a been a doozy,” the ice cream man said.

  “Yes,” Tesla said, “it’s been a doozy. I’m here by myself.”

  “Really,” the ice cream man said, taking the paper wrapping from Tesla’s hand.

  “I’m going to see the whole fair,” Tesla said. “Everything. Or as much of it as I can in one day.” He took a bite of the ice cream bar.

  “Yeah?” the ice cream man said. “Well, take it easy, will ya? I mean, you want me to call somebody?”

  “Who?” Tesla asked.

  “Somebody who could help you,” the ice cream man said.

  “Help me do what?” Tesla asked.

  The ice cream man shrugged, and said, “I don’t know. Get around. Get around the fair.”

  “Oh,” Tesla said, taking another bite. “I see. I’ll manage. I don’t need a tour guide. Just point me in the direction of the Perisphere.”

  “The what?” the ice cream man asked.

  “The big white ball and tower,” Tesla said.

  “Oh, that,” the ice cream man said. “It’s way over there, over there with Westinghouse.”

  “How far?” Tesla asked, taking another bite.

  “About a mile,” the ice cream man said.

  “A mile,” Tesla said, looking off into the distance. “I see. I see. Thank you. Thank you very much. Oh, this is good ice cream. Very good. Thank you for it. Good day.”

  “Yeah,” the ice cream man said, “ good day to you, Pop. See ya, now. And— watch out. Watch out, there. Don’t push yourself too hard— o.k.?”

  “O.K., “ Tesla said, with a wave as he walked off, finishing his ice cream.

  Tesla had started off in the direction that the ice cream man had pointed, but then slowed his pace. He now realized that he was no where near the Westinghouse exhibit hall. He either had an extended lapse in memory or…he had instantaneously displaced a mile across the fairgrounds.

  Tesla stopped and considered both possibilities.

  As Tesla thought about this, he looked up at a banner above his head that read:

  “SEE THE MAN FROM MARS”

  Tesla looked around. The people flowed by him, smiling people, young people. Tesla looked back up at the banner. It was still there announcing:

  “SEE THE MAN FROM MARS”

  This is a coincidence, Tesla thought. I am not foolish. I am not easily deceived. I know what is real. Just because this amusement has something to do with a fantasy about Mars does not mean that it is connected to my present spatial discontinuity. Yes, I know that some of us who have worked with force-fields have experienced spatio-temporal discontinuities— passing through walls, driving across a continent in the span of an hour of time…or…perhaps even walking a mile in an instant across the grounds of a world’s fair. Stranger things have happened, and have happened to me. Either my memory has been erased for the past several minutes that I walked the mile or I have been transported instantly, most likely by hidden scalar dynamics impressed upon the atomic structure of my body by my past exposure to force-fields. Yes, and this Mars entertainment has nothing to do with it at all. It is only a coincidence. Only chance. Nevertheless, I will go in and see the show…. It might be good.

  Tesla went up to the ticket booth and paid 75¢ to see The Man from Mars. He then entered the flap of the tent, gave his ticket to a circus-sideshow usher who tore the ticket and gave the stub back to Tesla. Beyond another curtain lay the show area with a ground covering of tanbark, filling the air with its fresh, rich, sweetly-sharp scent. In the curtained foyer, several spinning machines worked away under glass display cases. Tesla looked them over. All of the machines had signs inside the cases describing each device as a demonstration of the principle of perpetual motion.

  Tesla stepped around the curtained opening to the show area and looked over the heads and shoulders of a crowd of people. Beyond them, up on a platform, were seated two figures. One figure was a man in a dark gray suit; he was bald and was wearing a goatee. The other figure was stout— not actually a man— but a robot, similar to the Westinghouse Elektro, but built with a more detailed ornamentation. This robot moved its arm, picked up a chess-piece knight in its hand and moved it across the chessboard.

  “Checkmate!” the goateed man exclaimed. “Once again he has checkmated me in less than ten moves. My mechanical friend has concluded his mental concentrations. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, you may now applaud!”

  The people applauded as the goateed man leapt to his feet and bowed.

  “Thank you one and all,” the goateed man said. “I see that we have some newcomers entering at the back of the demonstration tent. Please come in, everyone. There is still plenty of room. I beg patience of the rest of you, but for the newcomers I should introduce myself. My name is Professor May and I have come from…afar…to bring you these wonders.”

  Tesla stepped forward into the crowd. Professor May had his attention, for the phrase “come from…afar” spoken with a three second pause between “from” and “afar” was once an identifier code phrase for agents of Majestic Seven and the U.S. Army’s Interplanetary Unit. The identifier phrase had been discontinued in the 1920s. Yet, Tesla had heard Professor May use the phrase now and use it in a presentation about a Man from Mars— and immediately after Tesla had just— apparently— displaced instantly a mile across the fairgrounds.

  Tesla took a breath, and thought, I am a reasonable man. I do not jump to conclusions. I do not allow myself to be deceived by fantasies. I know what is real. I will see more of this show.

  “And now to the main demonstration today,” Professor May said. “I refer, of course, to the Man from Mars. What? Did I hear someone say: ‘Bunk’? Did I hear someone say ‘hokum’? No doubt. Yet every word I speak is true— true as the nose on your face! Now that is the real wonder! True words in a false world! What will we think of next? My words are true, friends, because— they are true! Truth proves itself! That was the proposition of Euclid who received it from the secret scrolls of the Old Atlantean Kings. Don’t look for the proposition in the history books, because you won’t find it. It was expunged from history by the Churchmen of Nicea. Now that wasn’t very Nicea of them— was it? No. True words in a false world? Yes! Now I was speaking truly of Mars, that is, a man there from. A Martian man or Martian, as used in common parlance. Because of comic books and the radio shows, no one believes in Men from Mars anymore like in the Good Old Days when I was a lad. Remember Percival Lowell? I won’t tell you my age. Can’t give that one away. Even a truth-teller must have his little white lies. But I’m not lying about Martians here, my friends. People don’t believe in the Martians anymore because other people don’t want ‘em to believe in the Martians anymore! Well, I’m here today to tell you that
the Martians are real people! Real as you and me! It’s the truth! But this truth has been kept from all of you by the Powers That Be. What Powers Them Be you ask? Well, well, our own Good Ol’ Uncle Sam, that’s who! And the King of England! And… Wall Street…you know…the nice people who gave us the 1929 Stock Market Crash? Big lies in a little world, told by the Big People to all us little ‘uns— us chill’un who can’t be told The Truth or the Boogie Man Will Get Us! That’s what our Good Ol’ Uncle Sam says. You all heard Orson Welles on the radio a few months back, didn’t you? Last Halloween? Well, that was just a test, folks, to see what we’d do if the Big People told us little ‘uns The Big Truth About Mars. What happened? What happened when Mr. Welles pulled his stunt? We all got scared, folks. We all got real scared. So Uncle Sam and Wall Street and the kings are not going to tell you and me The Big Truth about Mars. We’re going to have to find out about That for ourselves, just like we had to find out about a lot of other things for ourselves, if you know what I mean. And that’s why I’m here today: To help all of you out there find out about The Big Truth without going STARK RAVING MAD. So stay calm. Relax. Take a breath in. That’s it. Now let it out. Slow. All the way. All right. All good. Fine. O.K. Now get ready. Brace yourselves. Gird yourselves, men. Latch on to the young ‘uns, ladies. Here he is. Right now. Right before you. Right…here— THE MAN…FROM…MARS!”

  The curtain slid aside, revealing a higher platform and throne covered in gild and glitter. Upon its seat sat a very large, muscular man in a white robe, like those worn in ancient Greece and Rome. The man himself appeared to be a white marble statue, completely hairless— bald or his head shaved clean. The man’s irises were a brilliant, shining pink. The statue-like man stared out over the audience with the contemptuous gaze of a monarch. He blinked once, and the crowd realized that he was either a living man or a very realistic wax-works automaton.

  Professor May said. “Yes, my friends, ladies and gentlemen, you see before you a living, breathing specimen of a GENUINE MAN FROM MARS! And no ordinary man, run-of-the-mill specimen, either. No, this gentleman before you all is nothing less than a Prince in his world— on Mars— the place he calls Khahera!”

  Tesla’s feet felt as if they had been riveted to the ground. He was hearing far too much that was secret knowledge— information that was known to only a very few on Earth, particularly the name Khahera, which was the actual name of Mars used by its native inhabitants. But it was not only the words of Professor May that riveted Tesla to the place where he stood; it was the other man on the stage seated upon the throne. This figure that appeared to be a marble statue looked exactly like the real Martians that Tesla had seen with his own eyes.

  Tesla thought, this is no coincidence. This is no chance. I have been drawn here for a purpose. I have been brought here somehow by this Professor May. But for what purpose? To what end? I will stay and see this show and play the Professor’s game— until I find a way to make him play mine.

  Professor May went on: “And now I will address this Prince of Mars, address him as the underling that I am, for I am only a humble American citizen born and bred in the state of Iowa. I will beseech him in his native tongue, the language of Khahera, a proto-Egyptian, proto-Atlantean based lingo. It goes thusly: ‘O, Kel-Kar ast af pu. Au-oo khemiu. Kher ast per ast af ast pu. Komeeche-ka-ka, komeeche-ga-ga, komeeche-ta-ta, pakadidipu?’ I have asked in the poetical royal tongue of Khahera if the high and mighty Prince Kel-Kar will deign to rise from his throne and display his powers to us today, if he will come down here and test his great strength by standing upon this live electrical plate COURSING WITH ONE MILLION VOLTS OF POWER!”

  Professor May closed a knife switch at the side of the stage and an electrical plate on the stage floor suddenly flashed with a blue halo of light.

  The marble-white man rose from his throne.

  “Ah!” Professor May said. “Prince Kel-Kar arises. All hail the Prince of Mars!”

  Kel-Kar slowly descended the steps of the platform and approached the glowing electrical plate. When he reached the plate, he stopped and looked down at it.

  “Only a royal Martian could withstand one million volts of electrical power,” Professor May said. “This will prove his lineage!”

  Kel-Kar raised his foot over the electrical plate.

  “It’s all fake!” a man shouted from down in the crowd. “I’ve seen this all before at the county fair! Why, he’s just a rube in clown makeup wearing cork-bottomed shoes!”

  “Silence!” Professor May shouted. “Silence! Or you will be ejected from the tent!”

  “Yer a fake!” the man shouted back.

  A burly circus usher appeared and grabbed the man in the crowd who was shouting. He grabbed him by the back of his coat and began shoving him toward the tent exit.

  “Let go of me, you damned crooks!” the man shouted as he was moved along and out. “This is all fake! It’s just a show!”

  Tesla watched the man being shoved out and noticed as he and the usher reached the tent flap exit, the two of them began laughing.

  A show, indeed, Tesla thought. But for whom? Could it be that this whole spectacle is being presented for me as sole audience? The demonstration on stage is a caricature of the one I presented at the Chicago World’s Fair of 1893. This whole thing is directed at me. I am the object of their impudent mockery.

  Tesla turned his glance back to the stage just in time to see Kel-Kar step upon the electrical plate. The marble-hued Man from Mars was instantly surrounded by a blazing nimbus of light. Kel-Kar raised his hands and began juggling balls of fire.

  Professor May said, “Do you call that fake, ladies and gentlemen? That’s real electricity coursing through Prince Kel-Kar’s whole body from head to foot! Cork-bottomed shoes, indeed! Utter balderdash! This is Proof Pure of Royal Lineage! Prince Kel-Kar of Khahera— the true and original Man from Mars! Let’s give him a big hand!”

  The stage curtain suddenly closed, veiling the view of the blazing Kel-Kar from the eyes of the audience.

  Professor May stepped forward, and said, “That’s it, folks! That concludes our demonstration! Thank you for your attention! And now please proceed to your left to view the Egress. Thank you, thank you. Proceed to the left and view the Egress. The Egress, ladies and gentlemen, the Egress. Thank you. Proceed to the Egress. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

  The crowd had funneled through the tent flap and back out to the fairgrounds.

  Tesla stood upon the tanbark shavings, looking up at Professor May. Then he turned toward the tent flap.

  “Ah!” Professor May said. “Must you go so soon?”

  Tesla stopped, turned, and looked back up to Professor May.

  “Mr. Tesla,” Professor May said, “we finally meet.”

  “Excuse me,” Tesla said, “you’ve mistaken me for someone else. My name is Warden. Yes. Warden. Cliff Warden is my name.”

  “Cliff Warden or Wardenclyffe,” Professor May said, “it all still spells Tesla to me— Nikola Tesla, the inventor.”

  “I once invented a milking machine,” Tesla said.

  “I bet you did,” Professor May said.

  “I am only a farmer,” Tesla said.

  “And I am only a father confessor,” Professor May said with an unsavory grin. “Come now, Mr. Tesla, I know who you are. After all, I’m the one who went to all the trouble to bring you over here from the Westinghouse exhibit hall. Yes, you were instantly displaced just as you have been suspecting— teleported as that diligent scribe Charles Fort calls it. Nothing wrong with your mind. I teleported you here using KA energy. Alayna! Bring out the Teleporter Ray!”

  Alayna, a young woman dressed in a Pocahontas costume, appeared from around the curtain, carrying a small box with a funnel mounted at an angle on its top. Professor May took the device from Alayna and held it out at arms length toward Tesla. Alayna went back behind the curtain.

  “The Teleporter Ray,” Professor May said. “It uses KA energy— or to use a more mode
rn term, astral energy. You know, our astral bodies can project anywhere in an instant, but they are also what gives the impetus to our voluntary muscles. The astral and physical bodies are loosely linked. If we increase that linkage, our astral bodies can take complete control of our physical bodies and project us to wherever we want to go in an instant. The catch is we’ve got to really want to go wherever we’re trying to go! We’ve got to have a very strong desire to get there, some real interest at the gut level, if you know what I mean. Now, we knew you had some real interest in Westinghouse, knew that, in fact, you are working for Westinghouse again— a consulting engineer, no less! So I was able to use that bit of information to my advantage. You see, the KA, the astral body, is attracted to opposites, to mirror doubles, to reversals. If you’ve got something you’re really interested in, say, some place you want to go, and there’s another place like it somewhere else— your astral body will want to go to that other place. All the while you’re going where you want to go— your astral body will be tugging in another direction to get where it wants to go. All that tugging and resistance usually gives people headaches. If you’re in a hurry to go somewhere and you’ve got a headache, it’s likely that you’re astral body is trying to get someplace else. Now… imagine if you could tap into that energy! Imagine if you could create a closer link between your astral body and your physical body! Don’t tell me that it can’t be done, because it can. Yogis and saints and magicians have been doing this very thing for thousands of years just using their minds! So imagine that you could create a closer link between your astral body and your physical body. Why, then, you’d have an entirely different situation. Then your astral body would pull— I say, pull your physical body along with it until your astral and physical bodies were both teleported to the place that your astral body wanted to go! Teleported instantly. Now, that is what I have just done with you, Mr. Tesla.”

  Professor May stood still, waiting for some reaction from Tesla, but none came.

  “Don’t you see?” Professor May asked in exasperation. “I have teleported you here by creating a duplicate of sorts of the Westinghouse exhibit hall. Westinghouse has an exhibit of machines that run on entropic energy. Therefore, I display machines out there in the foyer that run on a-tropic astral energy— perpetual motion, if you prefer. Westinghouse has a robot in its hall and I have a robot here in my tent. Are you beginning to get the picture, Mr. Tesla? The Westinghouse exhibit hall, point A— my exhibition tent, also point A— not point B. You have traveled from point A to point A— AA, is the name of the phenomenon— astral travel, the double hands symbol in Egyptian hieroglyphs. Do you understand, Mr. Tesla? Do you understand?”