As the young men and women at her school joined the armed forces, Val finally saw what unity of this sort came to produce in the end – more division. As time went on and war weariness set in, everything from how the war was managed to whether it should have been started became heated debates on campus and led to several riots. The student body was divided.
As Val approached graduation, she lost more and more friends as she refused to choose sides in all of the futile debates going on. When forced to take sides, she would half-jokingly say: “We need to start civilization over!” It always drew a laugh and helped lighten the mood but Val secretly began wishing it would happen.
When she met Paul at her new job, Val finally saw a ray of hope. Unfortunately, just days after their wedding, the army drafted him. A month later, Paul's unit shipped out. It was the last time she saw him alive.
Roger Cooke met his wife, Jennifer, at his father’s not-for-profit charity headquarters. It was love at first sight. While he initially focused on his father's work after college and tried to prove its futility, a young accountant disabled Roger's attention dramatically.
Their love grew quickly and their courtship raced faster than either of them anticipated. Within only months, they were married.
Shortly after their wedding, and just after his parents' deaths, Jennifer was hard at work on a treadmill in their home when the time had come for the secret she had kept from her new husband to be confessed.
“Roger!” she shouted.
Roger hurried downstairs to the exercise room. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I have something I need to tell you,” she said as she continued working out.
He sat down and gave her his full attention.
“I've read your work.”
He hung his head and prepared for the worst. His work she referred to was a journal he kept in his office outlining the flaws of his father's organization and his recommendations. “You did, huh?” he asked, trying not to sound overly worried. No good: his voice cracked.
“Yes,” she answered, panting along. “Are you mad at me?”
“Mad? No. I'd been meaning to share that with you anyway. I just didn't know what you'd think.”
“You make a lot of good points. I mean, I admire your father's work, but it's really just more of the same. Relying on the same broken system to somehow fix itself is like asking a dead guy to cure his own cancer.”
“That's clever,” he said.
“In your essay, you mentioned an ultimate solution but you never described it.”
“That's partly because I don't know what it is.”
“Are you sure, or do you not want to tell me? Afraid I'll leave you?” she asked with a wink.
“No, I really don't know. A part of me knows what needs to happen but it's too hard to say out loud.”
“I think your conclusions are right.”
“That we need to start over?”
“Yes. There's no other way. Anything else is just going to fix the symptoms of a broken world. The cure is rebuilding.”
Roger sat shocked at her nonchalant description; she sounded like she wasn't serious. “It sounds like you've been thinking about this for a while,” he said, giving her the benefit of the doubt.
“Well, honey,” she said, “it sure was a relief to read it on paper. I mean, I believe in what your father did but I could tell it'd never be enough. But reading your work was like hearing all the things I've wanted to say but didn't know how.”
“I'm glad I'm not alone.”
She stopped the treadmill and got off the machine. She wiped her forehead with a towel and stepped closer to Roger. After kissing him, she walked to the adjacent bathroom, started the shower, and took off her clothes. Standing in the doorway, clad only in sweat, she said: “You're not alone anymore. But there's more I need to tell you.”
Val followed Roger onto the private jet and sat across from him. She paused as her foot left the asphalt and stepped into the jet, curious whether this would be the last time she would feel the ground of her homeland beneath her feet.
“I've never flown in a private jet before,” she said.
“It's an unfortunate necessity. I use it for security only.” The door closed behind them and they took their seats and buckled their belts.
An attendant, an attractive girl of less than legal age, approached and placed a glass of champagne in front of Roger and Val. Demurely, she nodded and walked away.
“Are you really in that much danger? I mean, how many know of your organization?”
“As far as governments go, no one. We take great pains in keeping them off our track. However, other organizations around the world know of our existence. They have similar goals as we do but rely on different methods: some fund grass-root militias – like the one that destroyed the capital back in your college days, some work to install puppet leaders. Globally, they form a Cabal of organizations that exist to effect change in the world system.”
“I think I know the answer already, but why is your organization superior?”
“We are the only one with Dr. Archer's technology, for one thing. And we are the only ones who have concluded that time travel is the only way to bring ultimate change.”
“When do I get to meet Dr. Archer?”
“You won't actually. I'm trying to keep Archer busy and away from everyone aware of the mission. The one exception is the group of one hundred civilians that will bring back as much as we can to start things off right. I've let him interview many of them in order to give him a break from the technical drudgery associated with designing our vessel. He's a fine man to be sure, with more altruism than I've seen in most, but he presently knows nothing of the mission. I intend to keep it that way.”
“And why does that mean I can't see him?” she said with a smile.
“Well, Val,” he began, “I believe you are bound for great things. Your commitment to our collective dream is strong; I believe I can rely on you for anything. I need to keep my finest people anonymous for now. As we get closer to launch, your place with us will mean that only those privy to our goal know your identity.
“As for Dr. Archer, he is largely confined to the scientific wing of our home base. Having worked for the government, he is familiar with security protocols and hasn't tried to explore the rest of the facility.”
Val finished the last of her champagne and propped her feet on the chair beside Roger. She pulled her long, black hair into a ponytail. “What's his hold-up, exactly?”
Roger saw Val's efforts to get comfortable and loosened his tie a little. “Dr. Archer's motivation is the advancement of science. He sees politics as a roadblock to science, but also sees it as a necessary tool for governance. I do too, but it's the sort of governance we disagree on. On numerous occasions, I've tried to put the bug in his ear, as it were, and ultimately his feelings have remained unchanged. Naturally, I've approached the matter without giving him the slightest indication that we're keeping a secret from him.
“What makes him so valuable is the motivation to see advancement in his field. Many likewise brilliant men are blinded by faith or patriotism and will drop their work if pressed by either of those forces. Archer, however, is so committed to see time travel become a reality – and the ills of the world cured – that he was willing to leave his homeland's soil for life. That kind of devotion to an ideal is rare among the clinically sane.”
“I see,” Val said. “What about the Cabal?”
Roger shifted in his seat suddenly. “The Cabal I mentioned earlier is...fortunately not a force we'll need to worry about. There are many good people working for their organizations, and I would be lying if I told you I haven't tried to recruit some of their finer members. We used to be one organization in the good old days, but split when our leader died.”
“Who was the leader?”
“My wife, Jennifer. I had no idea of her involvement when we married, but she came to me shortly after we wed and told me everything. We were
small back then. I call her our leader, but there were only fifteen of us in all.”
“How did she die?”
Roger closed his eyes and shook his head. “Tragically, I'm afraid.”
Chapter 4
Genesis remained motionless on the hospital bed, dozens of monitors attached to her pale body. James sat close by, holding her hand. Nurses and doctors had been coming and going since they first arrived. No one spoke much, at least not loudly. James made it clear by his demeanor that he wasn't prepared to talk to anyone unless they had a way to reverse her condition. So far, no one did.
His mind drifted immediately to memories of their life together. As he reflected on all the joys they shared, he was proud to admit he had no regrets; no petty arguments, no bickering, never any name-calling. Their married life was truly one of peace. Before he realized what he was doing, he began whispering to her all of his thoughts. He told her of the moment he fell in love with her. It was the moment he first saw her, floating delicately in front of him in all of her naked glory. As their time together took them deep into his family's past and back again, his love for her grew deeper: first as a friend, and before he knew it, the deep love he felt for her now. And from the day she appeared on his doorstep a full-grown woman, he never took her for granted; instead he told her every day in unique ways how much she meant to him. The only thing that made him happier was how Genesis never let him forget her love in return.
He rested his head on her chest as the room grew silent. As he often liked to do late at night, he listened to her heart softly beat. She would tell him many times how her heart always beat for him.
The hour was late and Genesis’s condition had not changed. The nurses urged James to go home, but he refused. Soon, hunger overtook him and so he left his wife in the care of the nurses while he went to the cafeteria for food.
At two o’clock in the morning, a man approached James’s table.
“Good morning,” the man said.
James looked up from his meal and shook his head. “Far from it,” he said.
“I can only assume that I've caught you at a terrible time, Mr. Grant.”
“The love of my life is dying.”
The man pulled a chair up to the table and sat down. “I'm terribly sorry I have to disturb you at such a horrible time, Mr. Grant, but it's urgent we talk.”
“Not a chance,” he said.
“Please, James,” John Archer said. “I have something to share that might help.”
Roger held Jennifer's hand as she lay comatose in a hospital bed, her heart rate monitor beating steadily. Her body was pale and she was unresponsive since they arrived. For what felt like days now, Roger never left her side – even to get food and water for himself.
They were brought here by ambulance from their house. He had just returned home from work and saw a shattered window in their living room and his wife lying in a pool of blood on the floor. She had been stabbed.
First my parents, now this, he thought as he cupped her hand. Nurses came and went, each time taking readings, taking notes, and leaving. One by one, doctors came in the room to assess her health but left defeated, unable to offer a solution. Her internal organs were too damaged. She would never regain consciousness.
Roger then remembered the letter she gave him to read upon her death; it remained locked in a safe with her other valuables. While no comfort now, it offered him one last chance to hear her voice, if only in his mind.
Within hours of the robbery, Jennifer Cooke died.
Roger was comforted at the hospital by a friend and driven home later that night. The shock of the evening's events set in and by morning, Roger sat stone-faced and tearless in her favorite chair. The letter she wrote him remained locked away in their safe until later that evening when Roger finally managed to feed and bathe himself. The phone rang constantly and even though he hated the newfound silence, he hated even more the incessant ringing and so turned off all the phones in the house.
After ordering Chinese take-out, Roger opened the safe and then the sealed letter that sat atop a gilded jewelry box. Sitting down in his most comfortable chair, Roger took a sip of whiskey and read:
Dearest Roger,
It is my sincerest hope that you never read this letter because if you do, it means I have left you far too soon. If you find yourself alone and reading these words, please know that my love for you was the purest love I have ever known.
I leave the organization I have started in your loving care. There is no one I trust more to see our solution see the light of day.
I fear with my death, divisions within the organization will appear. No matter how much we hope human nature can change given our lofty goals, you must not forget that pride is a powerful thing. If such divisions occur, I want you to forge ahead – alone if necessary.
Take care, my dear husband, and if your mission is successful, perhaps you will bring me with you.
Your loving wife,
Jennifer
The following day, Roger left their home, withdrew their savings, and deposited them into the account with the large inheritance his parents left him, and moved to the organization's headquarters offshore - a small rented office in the Cayman Islands. While Jennifer's predictions of division came true, Roger stayed the course and within five years he acquired enough talent to become the largest of the sects.
Years later, Roger searched through a report his spy network produced and came across the name of a scientist who just made a brilliant discovery – and much sooner than he had anticipated. Time travel could now be achieved, and he and his wife's shared vision could now become a reality. We bring this change together! he thought.
Val stepped off the private jet and looked around at her new home, a floating platform that looked like a deep-sea oil-drilling rig. She followed Roger and the other crewmembers below deck and was amazed at just how few people worked on such a huge base.
“This must be the slow shift, huh?" she blurted out.
Roger turned to address her as they walked. “No, there are only about two hundred and fifty people aboard, including the civilians.”
“So where do you rank among the Cabal?” she said with a laugh.
Roger smirked. “We rank the highest in every way, my dear.”
They continued on a few decks lower to the crewmember's quarters. Halfway down the cramped corridor, Roger suddenly stopped.
“This is your room, Val.”
She stepped inside and examined her new home. She carried no bags, as they left the bar with only the clothes on her back and spent every minute since on the jet.
“All that you require will be provided. We have quite a few styles of clothing you can choose from in the commissary below, all provided free of charge. Food is yours for the taking, as are any other items you need to be more comfortable.” He followed her into the room and gently closed the door behind him.
Val tried her best not to appear disappointed at the size of her room since it was much smaller than she imagined. As though trying to convince herself that all was wonderful, she sat on the bare mattress and jumped up and down to test it.
“Will you be okay for now?” Roger asked.
“Sure. Is there anything you need from me?”
He smiled. “Not at the moment. Please, take some time to personalize your room as much as you'd like. This is temporary until we complete our mission. Sheets for the bed are in the bathroom, which is just through that door behind you.” He pointed. “Consider yourself fortunate: most of the celibates share a shower room.”
“And if I want to share?” she asked.
“You're free to do so, of course. Although I should warn you, the governance rules are quite strict and if your goal is to remain celibate, it may be wiser to avoid a room full of naked men.”
“Of course. I was being facetious anyway.” She winked at him.
Roger cleared his throat and smiled, realizing he'd just been had. “Yes, of course you were. Well, anyway,
I have a lot to attend to so...you'll be alright for a while?”
She nodded.
“Good. If you need anything, use this. I'll alert everyone who needs to know of your presence.” He sat a small, implantable ear radio on the nightstand beside the bed. “Just say my name and it will connect you to me directly. Thank you for joining us, Val.”
She smiled and said: “You're welcome. I'm here if you need anything.”
The Great Altruist Page 23
