Theo’s mind clamored for an explanation as he attempted to understand what they were witnessing. “But that could mean…”
“Any number of things,” Candor finished. “Humans send out probes all the time. What if this icosahedron is some form of alien equivalent? Let’s go around these rocks and get a closer look. Just be careful not to touch it, we don’t know anything about it yet.”
A few moments later they stood directly over the object. The air surrounding it was thick and the mist tangy, like biting into a raw mint leaf. Yet more pronounced was the low hum emanating from its center. It was a sound that became more intense as they drew closer. The cube continued to glow, and the power radiating from it cast a rainbow of colors against its white shell. Candor also noticed that the opalescent corners pulsed with an emerald green light. It was hypnotic, and he wanted to reach out and touch it. He wanted to know if it was as smooth and cool as it appeared to be. When suddenly he noticed something else, something that was more breathtaking than anything he could imagine.
“Look, up close. There’s writing on each of the twenty-sides.”
Theo leaned closer, his arms deliberately clasped behind his back. “That doesn’t look like any writing I’ve ever seen. It looks like a mix of cuneiform and hieroglyphics.”
“I’m just a geologist, so you’d be more of an expert on that than I would.”
“Wait a minute!” said Theo, breathless with excitement. “Why I’ll be damned!”
Candor stood beside Theo to see what he was looking at. On one side, the writing was framed in a series of concentric rings, with the outer ring containing a series of dots.
“What is it?” Candor asked.
“Whoever built this wanted us to understand it. They wanted us to translate this using math, the one language that’s universal. Look at the outer ring. It has one through sixteen in dots, and then a series of adjoining symbols. I’m guessing that it corresponds to their alphabet, the dots being ciphers that identify the written forms.”
“But there are sixteen symbols,” Candor offered.
“Look at the way the ring is constructed. I’ll bet that the first symbol, the one with the line through it, is zero.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Look at the corresponding side.”
Candor did, and it was obvious, as he noted a series of dots mixed in with dotted lines. “Binary?”
“I know! It sounds crazy, but this thing looks like a map of binary and written language.”
“Is it something that we could plug into a computer?”
Theo looked at Candor, the wheels in his mind turning. “You mean embed the programming into a modern computer and see what happens? I suppose so.”
And just then, Candor forgot his own advice. It was a small thing really, a reflex, not in the realm of conscious thought. His hand stretched out and touched the ring of circles. And indeed, it felt cool to the touch, and as smooth as silk. While at the same time, it retained an unyielding quality that he couldn’t describe.
“Candor, don’t touch it! Boss!” Theo shouted. Yet it was already too late, and Candor couldn’t hear him.
His mind drifted, as the hum from the object invaded his skull and reached into his soul. It was like being wrapped in a cocoon, soothed and cradled by the arms of the most loving mother he could ever imagine. Warm electricity moved through him, and his vision began to fade. Adrift in the void, Candor never felt such peace. Nor had he felt anything so familiar, while so alien at the same time.
I had no cause to be awake,
My best was gone to sleep,
And morn a new politeness took
And failed to wake them up,
~
So choosing but a gown
And taking but a prayer,
The only raiment I should need,
I struggled, and was there.
Emily Dickinson
1830-1886
One
Candor opened his eyes, and realized that he couldn’t breathe. Yet it wasn’t because of any obstruction in his airway. In fact, as far as he could tell he had no lungs at all. His mind struggled with the concept for several moments, feeling as though he was immersed in a tank of water. What’s happening to me! He shouted in his mind, desperately trying to force the sounds from his lips. A thin gurgling noise escaped him, and he felt hands holding him down. All around him a bright light burned his eyes, like stabbing shards of fire that seared his retinas and ignited the panic in his thoughts.
“Havs sieeetss! Candor, vienishh osse salvante etts?”
The voice that spoke to him implied a question. Yet Candor had no idea what was said, because it sounded like no language that he had ever heard. All the tones were amplified. As if they bore directly into his brain, with the s’s elongated like the hiss from a snake.
“Havs down!”
The voice stilled him, and not because he didn’t understand the last word, but because he did. His mind linked alien thoughts never imagined, and it was both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.
“Calm down! Candor, vienishh you hear etts?”
Suddenly Candor found his voice, although he had no idea how he was producing the sounds. To call what he possessed a throat, or vocal chords, was an oversimplification. Yet what rattled him was that he was responding in the same language.
“Who are you? Where am I?” He asked with a hiss.
“Candor, can you hear me?”
“Yes, I can hear you. I’m scared, and I can’t see.”
“Pentorak sier ets diemss ventropass em solus Tulacoss, Candor.”
“What?” asked Candor. Shielding his eyes with his hand, he was shocked to learn that his customary flesh toned skin was now a radiant green, like the color of uvarovite. His arm was also thinner than it should have been. And instead of five stubby digits he noticed six fingers that were long, slender, and hairless.
“You’re in my office in the city of Tulacoss, Candor,” said the voice.
Candor understood him this time, so he ventured a question. “Who are you?”
“You don’t remember, do you?”
Candor was frightened, yet he managed to keep his fear at bay. The voice was rational, soothing, and somehow familiar.
“No, I don’t, I’m sorry. Why is my vision fading in and out?”
“You injured your optic nerves in the crash. I have Healers repairing the damage, but it will take some time.”
“What happened to me? I remember touching the icosahedron and then waking up here.”
“Icosahedron, what are you talking about?
“There was an object, a twenty-sided cube that was ejected from the volcano. Theo and I…”
“Who’s Theo?”
Candor paused, because the memory was there. It was tangible and inescapable, yet somehow distant. “I…I can’t remember.”
“It could be a hallucination, my old friend. Healers reorganize conscious and subconscious memory, so my guess is that you were dreaming. And you above all others have the most vivid imagination I have ever known.”
Confusion overwhelmed Candor as he thought, But I’m a human being! My name is Candor Shubin. And it was real, it had to be real! Then he cried out, “What happened to me?”
“You were wind-surfing, Candor. Your skiff caught the opposing side of a thermal vortex and you crashed. You were fortunate that the Law Givers found you before the third day, or I would not have been able to revive you.”
“I was dead?” Candor asked in shock.
The voice laughed as though he had just told a joke. “Don’t be so literal, Candor. After all, this is your third time.”
“This is unbelievable! I’ve been dead two other times before?”
“Calm down, old friend. I think this time you suffered more damage than I initially detected, possibly a loss of some long-term memory. You are confused, and the Healers have not completed cellular reconstruction. You may require additional reeducation after the treatment cyc
le is completed. Try to relax. I will contact Seiss Sador, and Shajin Janesska, to come and attend you.”
“Who are Seiss Sador, and Shajin Janesska?”
“They are your parents, Candor.”
This is unreal! Candor thought. I was an orphan! “Then humor me,” he said. “Who are you?”
Candor could hear the gentle footfalls of the alien. Then a warm hand touched his forehead. The skin felt like his own, velvety, hairless, and smooth.
“I am both your friend and your physician, Candor. My name is Zyphon Olissar.”
A multitude of confused memories thrashed inside his mind. He felt the cool padding of the bed, and the table beneath it. He moved his feet and knew that he was covered with a blanket, although it felt different. The sensation was familiar, but strange. Yet more than what he felt, he wanted to tell Zyphon that this was all a terrible misunderstanding. He was a human, and none of this made any sense. But none of it would come out, as he felt something probing his thoughts. And like an acupuncturist spinning tiny needles all over his body, he identified the intrusion as Zyphon.
Some form of telepathy? Candor thought as he struggled against Zyphon’s connection.
“Relax, Candor.” His voice was calm, like a wisp of wind through the forest, or a warm gentle embrace. “I need to see how much damage there is. I shall not injure you, have no fear.”
Colors flashed in the depths of his mind, and he felt Zyphon peering through the folds of his consciousness. Yet the connection went both ways. For in his touch, Candor found that he could see into Zyphon’s mind. He could draw strength from his steady personality, and the peaceful emotional undercurrent that radiated from him.
“As I suspected, there is much damage. I am truly sorry, old friend. I will do all that is within my power to restore you,” Zyphon said, while terminating the connection.
“Will I die?”
“No,” Zyphon laughed, “but you will need extensive reeducation. For reasons I can’t explain, a large portion of your long-term memory has been lost. Fortunately, the crash did not damage your language skills, so this should go well for you. Will your memory return? I cannot say, only time will tell.”
“Well then,” replied Candor. “Since I’m not going to die it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Zyphon laughed once more. It was an odd sound that bellowed from somewhere deep inside his chest. “At least the crash has spared you your sense of humor. I go now, to summon your family.”
A moment later he heard a swooshing sound, followed by distant footfalls as Zyphon left the room. He lay there for a moment, wishing that he could see more than patches of darkness followed by burning flashes where his vision came into brilliant focus. He found it odd that even during the initial confusion his mind clung tightly to the notion that this was all a dream.
I’m going to wake up, he kept telling himself. I’m going to wake up and Theo will be there, and I’ll be back on the beach.
Yet the memories of that time were starting to fade. Candor could feel them slipping away, just like waking from a nightmare. The first few moments your recollection is crystal clear; but then after an hour or two the memory becomes jumbled, busted into fragments. And a few hours later you can barely remember what the dream was about to begin with. That’s what it felt like, as if he had awoken from a nightmare, and was fighting to keep the memory of being human fixed in his thoughts.
The silence in the room unnerved him as he tried to look around. He was afraid to move or even to touch himself, exploring this new body that encased him. A faint hiss popped in his ears and his vision changed. Instead of patches consisting of darkness and light, he could now see the ceiling above him. It was white and smooth like polished glass, and constructed of three recessed circles which rose in height to form a dome. In the center of the dome, a long arm extended down above him. A light affixed to the end of the arm glared brightly, making him squint with discomfort.
Still, Candor could tell that his sight had not returned entirely. Instead of his customary binocular vision his view was blurry, covered in a milky haze. It was like looking through a dusty windowpane, and yet he was transfixed by the sight, noticing black blotches undulating across his field of vision. He turned his head to one side and then the other, noting that the blotches were still there.
Must be inside my eyes, he concluded.
Another faint swoosh, and the door opened. “Are you well, Candor?”
He was amazed that he could understand, let alone speak the hissing vocabulary. It was an alien language, one that should have made no sense to him.
“I’m well, and my sight is returning. Although I see blotches in front of me, like something is literally inside my eyes.”
Zyphon chuckled. “That’s because there is, old friend. It is the Healers you see.”
“What are the Healers? I thought I was on a drug treatment, but these things act like they’re alive.”
“Drug…? What does that word mean?”
Candor struggled to come up with a synonym. “It means antibiotic, pharmaceutical substance, chemical.”
“Ah, chemical,” Zyphon replied. “Now that word I understand. Really, Candor, you never fail to amaze me. You have a vociferous imagination. Why before the accident I was looking forward to the unveiling of your latest moritainyoss iesuss.”
Candor was confused. “What am I, a performer?”
“I’m sorry, Candor, I forgot about your memory. The answer to that question is both yes and no. You are a tale-smith, a very important one, if I may be so bold. You will be pleased to know that communications are flooding in from the Interlink. And aside from the bonding proposals, they all wish you a speedy recovery, and a hasty return to your work.”
Great, Candor thought. I’m the James Patterson of an alien civilization, bloody fantastic!
“But to answer your first question,” said Zyphon. “The Healers are not entirely chemical in nature. Although I would not imply that they are alive. They are a cooperative collection of biomechanical organisms that can repair damaged tissue at the cellular level.”
“Nanites,” replied Candor. He remembered reading an article one of his colleagues gave him. Something to do with the study of nanorobotics. Microscopic machines constructed out of nanoscale, or molecular components. But if I remember correctly they were hypothetical. Then the thought struck Candor, following him like an anchor on a chain, and dragging him down into the depths of melancholy. So, what happened to me? And why would I dream about hypothetical machines in a life that never happened?
“Nanites, what are nanites?”
Candor shook his head, attempting to shrug off the dark feelings that threatened to overtake him. “The Healers,” he said finally. “I meant to say, the Healers.”
“Nanites,” Zyphon said again as he tried the word on for size. “You know, I have been working on a new strain of Healers that are capable of reorganizing Penticorian deoxyribonucleic acid. You have such an eloquence of words. Do you mind if I use your word to classify them?”
“Penticorian, what’s that?”
“Surely the damage has not made you forget your race?”
Panic gripped Candor’s spine, a sudden kneejerk reaction to an utterly overwhelming series of events. “This isn’t right, Zyphon! My name is Candor Shubin! I’m a human being! What the hell is going on here? I was studying an oceanic eruption when an object shot out of the volcano. I touched it by accident and now I’m here. You must help me! I can’t even breathe the way that I’m supposed to! Hell, I can’t even tell if I am breathing! Am I alive, or am I dead and just don’t know it?”
Zyphon reached in and took Candor by the shoulders, easing him gently back onto the bed. For the first time since he regained consciousness, Candor finally got a look at Zyphon. And the reality of his appearance shocked him into silence. Zyphon was not a human being, although there were features that bore some striking similarities. He had green-gray skin and a lean frame, the same color that Candor had seen
when he caught a glimpse of his arm. At the time, he thought that his eyes were playing tricks on him, but now he knew better. The notion that he was an alien sent his mind spinning into wave upon wave of vertigo and shock.
His attention locked onto Zyphon, watching the thin bluish-pink lips of the alien frown with concern. His eyes were a penetrating green with large pupils, and thick expressive lids. Candor noted the way they curved, his visage denoting Asian ancestry, even though the thought of it was ludicrous given the rest of his otherworldly appearance. His nose was small, but eloquently contoured, with a perfectly shaped dimple connecting it to the top of his upper lip. While at the top of Zyphon’s head, a mane of golden hair rested just below the nape of his neck.
Beyond that, his appearance was more alien in nature. Candor thought with some discomfort that he looked more like the descendant of a reptile than an ape. His cheekbones were set higher into his skull than that of a human. With small ears splayed out at the ends, resembling the petals of a lantana flower. While instead of a square jaw, Zyphon’s was curved outward in a gentle ark. Yet the largest giveaway was his skin. From his forehead to his cheeks he saw flecks of gold, red, and green. To Candor they looked like the remnants of scales, just as a human might have freckles to accent our mammalian ancestry.
“Candor, please calm down. You’ve had a traumatic experience, and it appears that at some point your mind separated you from the pain by creating an elaborate fantasy. From your test results, it took over thirty hours for you to die. That is a long time to be in excruciating pain with twenty-three broken bones, and eight severe injuries to four major organs.
“Your name is Candor Shuveen. And you are the son of Sador, and Janesska Shuveen. You live in the city of Tulacoss, in the Regent Province of Lockheem. And you, Candor, are my dear friend. Now please, I implore you to ease your mind. Rejuvenation is a distressing event, even by itself. If you continue this agitated path it is likely that you will exacerbate the frailties of your delicate condition, both mental and physical.”
The room was spinning, and the sounds in the vacuous space assaulted his ears like the gong of a cathedral. He attempted to take a breath, discovering that he could feel the air seeping into his skin in a quick exhilarating rush. Slowly the air expelled through the same mechanism, while at the same time he felt something expand inside his chest. And although it felt like a lung, it didn’t appear to take in air. Only expel the waste matter from his respiration, while allowing him to vocalize.
Penticore Prime Page 2
