by Agster, Joe
The Final Six Days
Time Crossers: Book 1
A novel by
Joe Agster
© 2016 Joe Agster
All rights reserved
www.timecrossers.com
Publication Date: July 4, 2016
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored for redistribution, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission of the copyright owner.
Cover design by twinartdesign
Female Image: © Christopher Gardiner / Shutterstock
Additional cover modifications by Jennifer Agster.
E-Book ISBN: 978-0-9977919-0-7
Table of Contents
Title
Copyright
Dedication
Table of Contents
Author's Note
Part 1: The Escape
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
Part 2: The Awakening
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
About the Author
For KEEP.
Author's Note
Thank you for taking the time to check out my novel, The Final Six Days. It is a science-fiction adventure story that has been over five years in the making. In the beginning I would think about plot points, cool story ideas, or other tidbits and just take notes. In the fall of 2015, I got serious and began a rough outline. And so my journey began.
I took great care to make my story as true to reality as I could, studying asteroids with profound interest. I spent months pouring over websites and papers written by NASA, IAU, Asteroid Day, etc. I also scoured message boards to really get a feel about how people thought about asteroid and their potential for destruction. But with any fictional story, some liberties were taken. Please forgive me for that.
In the coming years, asteroids will be an increasingly important topic of interest. A renewed space race will begin, ushering in thousands of start up companies looking to cash in on the great asteroid boom. Rockets and space vehicles will be rapidly improved to enable traveling at longer distance at reduced costs, as we are already seeing with Space X and Blue Origin. Trillions in private investment will inevitably prompt the nations of the world to regulate the vast asteroid mining trade. When the dust settles we may see the next Apple of space technology pave the way for space travel that we are just dreaming about today, enabling travel to Mars, Saturn, and beyond. The 21st century is an exciting time to live!
I want to thank everyone who has or is planning to take the time to read my story. Your feedback is important to me. Please visit my website and post discussions on Facebook.
I want to thank these individuals who have provided essential and technical insight:
• My dad Howard Agster, for lending me his airline pilot expertise and his vast knowledge in space science.
• David Haywood Young, an experienced author who provided me with constant advice on getting my book project off the ground.
• Asterank, man what an awesome tool.
• Anna Childs, Jerry, Matt, mom, and others who helped make contributions.
• And finally my wife Jennifer, who supports all my zany ideas.
If you enjoyed this book, please write a review and/or submit a rating on Amazon and Goodreads. Thank you!
Part 1
The Escape
1
Day 1 – December 26
Sand. Lots of very cold sand. They feel like particles of ice on his skin. He looks up to a distant sun before finally sitting up, dusting off what he can. The sun provides little comfort from the cold; his dark clothing absorbing what little heat there is. He calmly and curiously looks at his rusty brown and black jacket, then his black boots and worn black pants. He stands up and looks around, observing the sagebrush, desert flowers, and a few other small diverse species of cacti. He notices a smoothed dirt trail from where he stands, curving through the vastness of this desert. He is unsure of where he is, but even more importantly… who he is.
Let’s try to figure this out, he tells himself. He looks off into the distance. From his higher vantage point he has a full view of a strange city. A random array of colorful square and curved structures, towers, and wheels shapes sit perfectly clumped in the center of this vast, mountainous valley. Surrounding the center is an endless mix of green and brown terraformed land seemingly made up of tiny dwellings and buildings. But none of these observations can provide him with any clue.
Along his arm he discovers a large black circular piece affixed to a strap that wraps around his wrist area, displaying 8:23. After staring in wonderment, he determines it is some type of chronometer, a useful time keeping device. He then searches his garments, finding a foldable, hard fabric enclosure of some sort. Within it, some type of paper-based documents, imprinted with the words Federal Reserve Note, decorated with the head of a man and containing the number 100. He quickly deduces that it’s some kind of currency that could be useful. He continues searching, but nothing else. No type of document with any sort of name or identity. He wonders if his clothing may offer a clue, but finds nothing but strange markings, probably that of a tailor. Not being able to find any clues to his identity is slowly getting frustrating.
He realizes the only thing to do at this moment is to venture out. This winding dirt path may lead him to a clue to his origins. He follows it slowly and trepidatiously, careful to avoid an ambush. Even without any past memory, his instincts tell him that served him well before. But as he walks along the path, there is nothing of note. No enemy soldiers, no friendly acquaintances.
Many steps later he draws closer to what appears to be the edge of the city. The terminus of this dirt path leads into a much larger, smooth tarred black one. Situated right along the tarred path is a small outpost, possibly a trading post of some kind. Finally, signs of civilization. Perhaps he can find a friend or an associate, or even an enemy who will recognize him and help him remember things.
The signage reads Mini Mart. As he walks through the automated door to enter, he looks on and is amazed at the quantity of supplies, rations, and refreshments. An older man watches him from behind a counter with a quiet curiosity. He is gray, bearded and slender, and appears to be the merchant.
“Hello, friend. How can I help you this morning?” the merchant calls out.
“Friend?” he responds, somewhat startled. The man speaks with such a peculiar dialect. Why is he calling him “friend”? Is this his name, or just an expression? He stays quiet, hoping the older merchant will reveal more. Instead, he smiles and tends to another customer.
He then notices the interesting holographic display, projected from a large rectangular box mounted on the ceiling, situated behind the merchant. Emerging in the three-dimensional, light-projected hologram is an image of a female, accompanied with the sound of her voice. It appears she is giving a briefing, a report of her find
ings on her latest mission. He barely understands her manner of speaking… the linguistics are unique, but not foreign. It’s as if he has voyaged to a new land with its nuanced dialects, thousands of kilometers from his home. But where is home then? As she speaks he becomes intrigued at the importance she projects in her tone.
“The world waits anxiously. Speaking from Johnson Space Center in Houston, NASA Administrator Clay Alder held a press conference earlier this morning, assuring the public the Asteroid Defense System has been mobilized and is ready to destroy asteroid 2009 WZ104, commonly known as the Icedragon asteroid. Others remain skeptical that the ADS can fully neutralize the asteroid threat. There are reports of families throughout the country taking shelter in remote mountains, some heading to Canada or Mexico as they prep for the worst. Authorities are pleading with the public to remain calm.”
As he studies the hologram with profound interest, the older merchant glances back at him before turning a dire eye at the hologram, looking on with disgust.
“I’m sick of all this fear mongering over an asteroid. Trying to scare away visitors. Millions of those things in the sky. Let the government do its job and blow the thing up!” The man opines, then breathing a sigh of relief. “So friend, you must be a tourist. Heading to the Strip?”
Tourist? He pauses to try to understand. The Strip? This must be the name of the center with all the clustered colorful structures. Surely that’s why people would travel here. That must be the center of all commerce and government in this land.
“The Strip? Is that the place with all the colorful buildings?” he asks.
“Yeah,” the merchant snaps back. “You realize you are in Las Vegas, right?”
“Oh, yes. Las Vegas. The Strip. That’s where I’m headed,” he retorts back. “How do I get there?”
“There’s a train depot down the road there. Runs every hour or so. I can sell you a ticket now if you’d like. It’s thirty dollars.” The merchant smiles at his unusual demeanor. This one is not a typical tourist, he realizes.
The concept of a train sounds familiar to him. A mode of transportation, he instinctively recalls. He pulls out the enclosure, hoping the currency inside is indeed one of these so called “dollars.” He pulls one of the bills marked one hundred to hand to the merchant. The merchant returns the correct change without incident. He thanks the merchant and swiftly heads for the exit.
The chronometer indicates the time as 9:01. He follows the road as the merchant indicated. He quickly learns to stay on the side, as large, shiny wheeled speeders emerge in random continuousness, some at high speeds and unwilling to slow down for any kind of person or creature. As he walks further he marvels at the efficient interwoven patterns of these roads, neatly engineered for harmonious travel, as these speeders decelerate and stop as other, intersecting ones speed through without incident.
As he gets near, he discovers the only thing that could be the train depot. A minimally covered, steel framed shelter covers the track and passenger loading platform. The platform itself is encased by a gate framed with some type of flexible glass. The gate contains an opening where passengers hold some type of card to a scanner, others using their timepiece, all receiving a green light indicating their admittance into the platform area. Simple enough. He walks through, holding the ticket card and getting the green light. Along the platform is a large, single steel track, with about four or five meters of clearance on each side. The time telling device on his wrist now reads 9:22. Observing that several people are waiting, he deduces that the train should be arriving shortly.
At 9:31 the train arrives, an interesting looking one at that, with curved sidewalls, possibly for aesthetics. There is a head on each end, meaning it is designed to move forwards or backwards along the track interchangeably. The doors on the opposing loading platform allow the remaining passengers to exit. Immediately after, the ones on his side finally open. He carefully finds himself an inconspicuous seat, ideal for observing the other passengers who may offer further clues to the customs and rituals of this land.
Minutes into the ride he observes the quiet patience of the passengers. He also looks around and perceives the different styles of clothing. A darker toned woman, clothed in a gray and dark brown uniform, possibly on a route to report for duty in a dining establishment. Another man wearing a black hat, possibly made from the hide of an ox or steer. The rest sit or stand in a blissful meditation as the landscape scrolls through the viewing windows, bringing us closer to the center of the valley, toward the city.
In the quiet he attempts to diagnose his condition. Amnesia perhaps? But in most cases amnesia is temporary. Even if severe, why can’t he recall anything before this morning? Why do some things feel familiar, like riding a train, and others feel foreign, like these clothes? Perhaps the answers are in the city center. For now, he will need to rely solely on his intuition and intellect.
A holographic message suddenly interrupts the serenity of the train. It projects from the roof of the train, downward along the edges on both sides of the train car. The message shows several seductively dressed women, all dancing to highly oscillating, energetic music, while several well-dressed men stare and admire these women. Then a man’s voice reiterates, “Find yourself. Find yourself at the Vyxx, The Strip’s hottest dance club. The Vyxx, located inside the Metropolitan Resort,” the message concludes.
Find yourself? Maybe this is just what I need, he tells himself. At this Vyxx socializing club could be an intimation to his origins. At worst, this is a serendipitous message intended for him to hear at this very moment in time. His instincts remind him he comes from a world where they don’t believe much in chance or luck. He had been trained to pick up on such cues, no matter how faint.
As the train nears close to the city center, or this “Strip” as it is called, he wonders what stop would be ideal for him to get off. As the train accelerates from each stop, the train eventually reaches peak velocity. At that moment an automated voice announces the next stop, synchronized to a hologram showing its immediate surroundings for visual confirmation. As he waits for this moment after the most recent stop, the voice announces, “The Fashion Shopping District.”
Shopping? Perhaps they mean an assemblage of merchants. He concludes that this could be a useful stop to disembark. He will need new clothes if he is to make his way to this Vyxx and cohere with its patrons.
Through the train’s exit platform doors, he walks through a connecting underground tunnel. Others walking in the opposite direction carry bags with goods and merchandise. As he emerges through the tunnel, he is in awe of its size and depth. A large hangar of some sort, its ceiling engineered with skylights for natural light, containing hundreds of merchants offering diverse goods. He marvels at the efficient arrangement as he gazes around.
It doesn’t take long for him to spot a clothing merchant matching his tastes. Inside, he finds rows of finely tailed garments, suitable for socializing in the club-like atmosphere. A young and friendly man approaches, a slender man who exhibits this style of clothing they are selling. He sports a unique style of hair, long and spiky and featuring multiple colors.
“How can I help you today, my bro-him?” the smiling merchant inquires with a soft yet firm tone.
“Is this attire suitable for a club such as the Vyxx?” he questions back, holding up a selection of charcoal gray dress pants and a cream-colored collared shirt.
The man exudes a curious laugh. “Hahaha… sure, my man. But let me help you fine tune your choices.”
After some trial and error on the sizing and matching, he makes his purchase, insisting on keeping the new clothing on, and bagging the old. This is perfect, he thinks, but at a cost. Three hundred and fifty of these dollars. He asserts to himself that he will need to conserve what remaining currency he has for more urgent circumstances should they arise.
He wanders around until he finds an eatery. Sustenance, just what he craves. He curiously muses at the various meal options, wondering if h
e’s ever eaten such a thing before. It doesn’t take long for him to find and choose his meal: a vegetarian rice bowl. This perfectly balanced meal is optimally nourishing for a strange foreigner such as himself. He finishes up and checks the time, 13:12. Only a few hours left before nightfall, when this Vyxx socializing club opens.
He ventures outside, following the signs to the Strip. He discovers that the Strip is in fact a road, the largest road in the land, full of speeders and other shapes of vehicles, crowding their way slowly back and forth. The signs decorating the streets indicate that this Metropolitan resort, a lodging and leisure establishment commonly called a hotel, is a couple kilometers down this road heading south. Perfect, a nice long walk to pass the time and take in the sights, and further explore the customs of the populace. After all, he doesn’t want to sound foolish in a critical moment.
Nightfall comes. He had been so busy walking in and out of various buildings, studying the other folks, listening to their linguistics, and memorizing their customs, that he failed to keep pace with time. This city is a center of entertainment, not government as he had first thought. People gather here to enjoy each other. Many of them are tourists like himself. He feels much less alienated and more confident in his conversing abilities. Perhaps he’ll encounter others of different customs in this Vyxx club, and perfectly acclimate.
He enters the Metropolitan resort, where the Vyxx is located. The ambiance is dark and edgy, with dark marble flooring interwoven with dark purple and gray carpeting. The walls and ceilings are adorned with various darkly colored crystalized patterns mixed with bright fluorescent ones, like being in a tall, well-lit cave with perfectly placed stalactites. The effect of the interior seems to play tricks with the mind, meshing light and dark throughout the prodigious layout, daring you to enter without scaring you away.
