“I am the leader of the group,” Michael said. “I wasn’t elected, I was selected. By that I mean that when the six of us were placed into the canister, it was pre-ordained that when we emerged, I would be the principal spokesman and the leader.”
“What do you mean it had been pre-ordained? How could that be? You were an embryo, all of you were nothing but embryos,” one of the professors said.
“I’ll explain that, later. First, we want to thank you for agreeing to meet with us,” Michael said. “And, even more importantly, we want to thank you for rescuing us from our long, long, very long sleep. We, quite literally, wouldn’t be here if you had not been humanitarians as much as you are scholars.”
Michael smiled. “But, I can now tell you, with absolute certainty, that none of you...in fact, not one human being on the face of the earth, would be here if not for our people.” Michael took in the other five with an inclusive wave of his hand. “Our fathers are also your fathers, and so, in a matter of speaking, that makes all of us brothers and sisters.
“From the time we were born, we have been processing information, information that has been embedded into each of us. Some of us have information of one kind, others of us have information of another kind, but, as many of you have noticed, we do have telepathic abilities and that allows us to access each other’s reservoir of knowledge.
“Think of it as files on the desktop of a computer. Anytime any of us need to access information, we have only to dip into one of these files.
“Now, I will begin the story by telling you that in the ‘Before Time,’ as I call it, Earth was inhabited by five billion people who referred to themselves as the ‘sentient beings.’ At one time in their history they had divided into three races, spoke over eighty languages and were formed into hundreds of countries, tribes, city-states, and ethnic groups. Over the latter one thousand years of our civilization’s existence, however, there was a gradual consolidation so that we became one race, and though there were three nations, everyone spoke the same language. The largest and most powerful country was Amalon, which occupied the entire continent of Laurentia.
“Laurentia was one of the three continents that were formed after the break-up of the super continent of Pangea. The other two continents were Gondwanaland and Baltica. The nation of Korsra occupied Gondwanaland, while Kambye was on Baltica, the smallest of the three continents.
The sentients were a highly advanced and technologically sophisticated people, with a rich history of religions, prophets, myths, mysteries, wars, kings, warriors, explorers, builders, scientists, politicians, thinkers, writers, artists, musicians, actors, sports personalities, heroes and villains.”
“Michael,” Damien said, raising his hand.
“Yes, Dr. Thornton?”
“You said we had awakened you from a long, long sleep. Do you have any estimate as to how long that sleep was?”
“There is no need for an estimate, I can tell you exactly. As embryos, we were placed in the canister one hundred seven million years, six months, and two days ago.”
“One hundred seven million years ago?” Damien shouted out in surprise. The reactions of the others indicated that they were equally as astonished.
Michael and the others of the Six smiled and held back laughter. “We thought you might be a little surprised. Now, as we were programmed to do, we are going to tell you our story. I say that ‘we’ are going to tell it, for that is exactly as it will be. You will hear my voice, but I will be tapping into the historical reservoirs of the others, to provide you with all the details. In the telling of the story, I will use words as much as possible, before time words that apply to familiar things, as well as words that are familiar to the people of this time so that you may better understand.
“For example, I will refer to the people of the Before Time as ‘sentients’ because that is how they referred to themselves, and I feel that speaking of them in such a way helps to preserved the history of their existence.”
Within moments after Michael began talking, his words of a world that existed long before this one held everyone spellbound. Damien Thornton sat close to Ava Glennon and squeezed her hand throughout the narrative that followed.
Part II
The Before Time
14
An uneasy peace existed between the three nations because an all-out war would involve the use of both nuclear and anti-matter bombs and missiles. There were enough such bombs in the arsenals of the three countries that unrestricted use of them could easily result in total destruction. News media and philosophers referred to this concept as ASA, Assured Self-Annihilation, and it was the assurance that the world could be destroyed by an all-out nuclear war that managed to keep an uneasy peace.
Some of the technology which had evolved as a result of building more powerful weapons had peaceful applications, primarily in space exploration. Two years ago Amalon had successfully sent a manned mission to Mars. Korsra had tried to maintain equity by sending a mission to Venus, but the Korsra mission had ended in failure, and the death of all four crew members.
There had been some extreme technological advances in communications, by using satellites to facilitate instantaneous image and audio transmissions to and from any place on the planet. Another innovation was in data processors which not only made extremely complex mathematical calculations, but also stored information for rapid retrieval. The data processors were connected by worldwide internet which allowed the instantaneous transmission of knowledge and information.
A space-based, super telescope gave the sentients a broad understanding of space, not only in their immediate solar system, but in their immediate stel collective, as well as other stel collectives in the universe.
In the office of the Director of Scientific Affairs, Atar Mitron, one of the planet’s most senior and respected physicists, stared at the large monitor. He was looking at a live transmission being sent from the space-based telescope. The picture was of space beyond the solar system, and the screen was black and deep and filled with thousands of stels, what would later be called on Earth, “stars”. Moving a small control shaft, Mitron highlighted one of the little stellar bodies. An information flag identified that particular point of light as the Plym Stel.
Another control movement overlaid the picture with an earlier picture of the same scene. All the stels were aligned except the Plym Stel. In this presentation there were two of them. After repeating the same maneuver three more times, he had, according to the information printed across the bottom of the screen, a “one hundred-day progressive track of the trans-celestial presentation manifested by the Plym Stellar-body.”
There were now five Plym Stels, though Mitron knew that there was actually only one. What he was looking at was a time-lapse representation that showed the Plym Stellar-body moving. A bright green arc traced the path of movement. It was obvious that the Plym Stel was moving quite rapidly, for it had covered a rather significant distance since its motion was first noted.
Another movement projected the green arc all the way across the screen. There, more information was printed. Projection of Plym Stellar-body showing orbital intersect. Probability of catastrophic interception is 99.9999 percent.
It wasn’t until that moment that the process stopped being an academic procedure and became an event of devastating impact. Mitron leaned back in his chair and, in an unbidden memory, recalled his lunch today. He had bought a take-out meal then sat on a bench in Capital Park, eating, as he watched children at play, children who would never become adults.
His painful contemplation was interrupted when the communication screen indicated he had an incoming message. He pushed a button and the screen showed three people in an office. He recognized only one of them, the astronomer Onkhar Plym – perhaps the only other scientist of Mitron’s stature – who had discovered the Plym Stellar-body, and for whom the star had been named.
Like Mitron, Plym was Amalonian.
“Director Mitron, allow me to
introduce the people who are with me,” Plym began. He pointed to the female. “This is Lea Vedra, Chief of Astronomy from Korsra.
“And this is Dax Molodoma, Chief of Astronomy of the nation of Kambye.”
He knew their reputations, but he had never met any of them before. And though he gave no voice to his musing, Mitron thought it fitting that for this discussion of the gravest event ever to occur in the history of sentient beings, representatives of all three continents and nations were here.
“Have you processed the information?” Plym asked.
“I have.”
“What is your response?”
“Is there any chance of this stellar body being captured by the gravity of some large nova, and pulled into its orbit before it even reaches our solar system?” Mitron asked.
“None,” Plym answered.
“What about being captured by our own planet’s gravity? There are planets in our solar system that have moons. What would keep us from having a moon as well?”
“If the declination angle could be changed by as little as one half of one percent, that might be possible,” Molodoma replied. “But we have calculated the figures many times, and no matter what equation we use, we always come up with the same, inevitable conclusion. Barring any external effect on the Plym Stel, there will be a catastrophic intercept.”
Mitron sighed. “Yes, my calculations show the same result. I would give anything to be able to find some way to dispute you but, may Omo help us, you are right.”
“My colleagues and I have calculated the exact moment of the terminal event,” Plym said.
“How soon?” Mitron asked.
Plym nodded toward Vedra, who answered for him. “We have three hundred fifty-two days,” She said. “Exact TE will be 34/3, 5M657, at fourteen hours plus 23 minutes.”
Mitron looked at his calendar. “Catastrophic intercept. Terminal event,” he growled. “Don’t sanitize it with such sterile language. Say it like it is. On the thirty-fourth day of the third quarter, in the six hundred fifty-seventh year of the fifteenth millennium of recorded history, we will cease to exist.”
There was a beat of silence, then Plym spoke. “Yes,” he finally said. Mitron swallowed hard. “Now that you come right out and say it, I think perhaps I prefer the sterile terminology after all. Terminal event isn’t quite so – foreboding...”
“Mitron,” Molodoma said. “We must tell the people.”
“Why?” Mitron asked.
“Why? Because they must be warned,” Molodoma replied, surprised by the scientist’s question.
Mitron shook his head, and held up his hand. “Warning implies that when armed with information, one can do something about it. There is nothing anyone can do about this. If we tell them now, we will have panic in the streets.”
“It won’t be too much longer before everyone learns about it anyway,” Vedra said. “All anyone has to do is call up the images on the internet grid. Within a couple of weeks even the most casual amateur astronomer will be able to see.”
“All right,” Mitron relented. “I’ll tell the First Director.” By which Mitron meant the head of state. “If he wants to tell the people, it’s up to him. It’s ironic, isn’t it?”
“Ironic?”
“Yes. For how many thousands of years have poets and musicians looked up into the night sky and used the beauty of the stels for their inspiration? And now, to realize that one of those heavenly bodies is to be the means of our demise.”
“Tell the First Director not to wait too long before he releases the information,” Plym warned. “If the people hear it from the government in a calm, controlled fashion before some sensationalist news person breaks the story, I think we are less likely to have people running amok.”
”Yes,” Mitron said. “Now, all I have to do is keep myself from running amok.”
“I beg your pardon?” Molodoma asked.
“Never mind. It was another attempt at a poor joke.” He sighed. “Of course, from this point on, I fear all jokes are going to be feeble. That’s going to be hard on me. My sense of humor has gotten me through a lot of difficult times.”
“I’m afraid there won’t be much humor anymore,” Vedra suggested.
“We can pray to the Omniscient One,” Molodoma said.
“Yes, we can pray to Omo,” Mitron agreed. “But I’m not ready to give up yet. This is something that confronts every sentient being in the world. I can’t help but feel that, somehow the combined intellect of five billion souls will find some solution. We must.”
15
The Amalon calendar, which had been adopted by every nation, was based upon the solar orbit. A single solar orbit equaled one year. There were four quarters in a year, thirteen weeks in a quarter. Each week had four work days and three days of rest. Each day was divided into twenty-four hours, and each hour was subdivided by minutes. That totaled 364 days, which left thirty hours over at the end of the year. This day non-designated, and, as it was the final day before the new year was to start, it was celebrated as High Holy Observance Day
The Observance, as it was called, was a time of goodwill among sentients, gift-giving among friends and family, thankfulness to Omo for the divine beneficence shown to the people, and atonement for all the sins of the previous year. Homes and businesses began decorating for the Observance for several days in advance, and retail stores played Observance canticles and songs to put shoppers in a holiday buying mood. Because of the gift-giving it was, for children, the happiest and most anticipated time of the year.
Each year, newspapers and magazines were filled with articles written by the more orthodox worshipers complaining that what was essentially a religious holiday had been corrupted. “High Holy” was being left out of Observance. Instead, it had become a commercial enterprise.
It was now thirty-six days until High Holy Observance. Professor Zorlok Cyr, head of the Biology Department for the National Lyceum of Amalon, turned on the Imaging Screen. The first thing he saw was a smiling woman and two children, looking at a large picture imaging screen. A voice-over touted the product.
“Make your family happy this Observance Day, with a new imaging screen from Kandera Image Products!”
Zorlok was planning to watch the barrage-ball game between Biskandal and Kandillia. He would, of course, be rooting for Biskandal. In fact, one of the things that had attracted Zorlok to teach at the National Lyceum in the first place, was the fact that the school was located in Biskandal. Amalon was the most advanced and powerful of the three nations which, in Zorlok’s opinion, made its capital, Biskandal, the most exciting city in the world.
It was the afternoon of the second day of the weekend break, and though Zorlok had brought lesson plans home with every intention of updating them, he was now sitting on his sofa, eating junk food instead of a regular meal as he watched the game.
Few women, and fewer foreigners could understand the Amalon male’s fascination with the game of barrage ball. Played in a stadium with nearly one-hundred-thousand cheering fans looking on, it was a pageant of speed and power and movement, a colorful swirl that pitted twelve padded men against twelve padded men. The object of the game was to advance three balls down a measured field then put them through a net. Not until all three balls were netted, was there a score. Zorlok had played barrage-ball in his youth, and was still an avid fan. He considered it to be a sport of grace and beauty, made even more exciting by the violent contact between the contestants as they fought for position on the field.
As Zorlo, and millions of other Amalonians were watching the barrage-ball games, Atar Mitron was meeting with the First Director, Amalon’s head of government, in the Hall of Authority. There were sixteen major streets in the city of Biskandal, all of them radiating out from the Hall of Authority, which was a large building right in the middle of the city. The other streets of the city made a large circle around the radials, making a maze that, from the air, resembled a spider’s web.
The Hall of Auth
ority was a red brick building, a long, oblong shape with three domes, the largest dome being in the middle of the building. The two smaller domes at each end of the building covered the two deliberative bodies of government, each end representing one of the two political parties. The dome in the middle covered the administrative department where the First Director both worked, and resided. The First Director’s job was to manage the two political parties into passing laws which governed the nation. The First Director served for a period of six years before having to face reelection.
At the moment, First Director Dolar Lemil was studying a report that had been given him by Professor Mitron, who was sitting across the desk from him. Lemil read the report, then looked up with a pained expression on his face.
“What is your degree of confidence in this report?” Lemil asked.
“I’m sorry to say, one hundred percent,” Mitron replied.
“Is there no chance of error?”
“Unfortunately, the answer to that question is no; there is absolutely no chance of error.”
“Who else knows about this?”
“At this moment, there are only four of us who know. Five, now, counting you,” Mitron replied. “Of course, with the internet grid, it will soon be common knowledge.”
“And there is nothing we can do about it?”
“We are studying every possibility,” Mitron said. “But the Plym Stel is nearly a quarter of the size of our planet, so our options are limited.”
“What do you need from me?”
“As we begin to explore avenues that may be open to us, I’m sure there will be things we will ask of you. But for now, all we want is for you to make the announcement.
“Once you make the announcement here in Amalon, it will be known by everyone within minutes.”
“Don’t you think we would be better served to withhold the announcement until you have come up with some plan of operation?” Lemil asked.
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