From Whence They Came

by Thomas Zman

  The attractive planet glowed ominously against the sparkling darkness. Increasing in dimension while passing the wide, flat, and finally the inner halo rings, our ship approached this torrent of multi-colored gases at an unimaginable rate of speed. Every passenger must have turned out to line the windows on the Observation Deck. The conversations were similar, if not redundant: each expressed their individual disbeliefs on how the planet had suddenly, seemingly enveloped all of space and how they felt as if the ship were going to be engulfed by it.

  At this time NIM was unsuccessfully trying to remind passengers of their appointments in the gravi-gym; but none would yield way – as if each were captivated by the gravity of the impending phenomenon. In his desperation to keep a smooth running schedule, NIM proceeded through his mental list of names and eventually came to mine. But, like the others, I was not about to leave sight of such an awe-inspiring spectacle.

  NIM continued on after a polite refusal by Dan, who stood beside me, searching for a willing party. None could be found. If he’d been programmed to, he would have used force; but, being a timid machine, he humbly persisted, never growing frustrated, only more intent on fulfilling his duty.

  Jupiter loomed voluminously before us, a swirling variegated mass of atmosphere expanding infinitely -- it seemed -- in all directions. We moved across the outer most layers of the planet’s clouds, shifting swirling ribbons of gas traveling in opposite directions through which we could view bolts of lighting; our ship an insignificant fleck against such magnitude. The striation-coverage was buffeted by wisps of vapor and eddies of brown vortices; flaring’s rising up from the coursing continuum of phosphorescent gases seemingly trying to lay hold of our vessel. Then we began a descent into the convolution of clouds, into one of the flowing eddies of the giant planet, and an immediate sense of gravity took hold.

  The windows obscured with a pinkish gray that appeared nearly liquid as our ship ventured into the Jovian skies. Through the etherian atmosphere, buffeted by hurricane winds, the opaqueness yielded an ogreish sensation; pulling at our mass all the more we dove on. When the ship leveled from its decent our bodies were once again supporting their own mass – and then some. I noticed several passengers struggling with their extra weight at the handrail – Dan being one of them.

  An instant later we rose up out of the clouds on the dark side of the planet –away from the tiny sun; though the atmospheric activity below created its own luminescence, accentuated by vivid lightning storms raging within. We rounded the planet, observing its family of moons from cloud tops until we gained upon its strangest feature rotating beneath us. The famed Giant Red Spot: an endless spiraling storm, the size of many earths, roved tirelessly; girding the planet as if some sort of gargantuan gyroscope. Beyond the Jovian world, at just the right angle of sunlight, there revealed itself again the planet’s thin crescent of rings, the golden plane of dust that is continuously replenished from off the giant’s moons.

  Jupiter (The Celestial Deity) had surpassed all its hype. Passengers galore raved on and on about the encounter. Our brief dip into its atmosphere a tease, for if we had penetrated deeper, attempting to perhaps touch its liquid surface and glimpse whatever truth my lay within, we would surely have been crushed by extreme pressures (for even Phoebian ships have their limitations).

  And so we left this world, its surface – if such a word were correct to describe -- would forever remain a mystery . . . one of millions in the boundless cosmos. We sped on, on in the shadow of Jupiter until at long last our course veered and the dwindling sun shown once again.

  And soon Jupiter too waned its brilliance, its dominance in the heavens, becoming a streaked orb no bigger than that of our sun, and from our distant vantage point the two seeming congruous – a double star. All around was once again devoid as we traversed the distances between giant worlds; we were as far from Jupiter as we were near to Saturn, and our insignificance if the solar system ever so apparent. Having nearly exhausted what interesting conversation there was between us, Dan and I sought the company of Burl. Dan had earlier confided that he and Burl had known each other for some time, since first arriving in Neuphobes, and were indeed good friends. Therefore we pursued.

  Burl was on the bridge; our prolific procurer involved in a game of teleptic-imagery with the pilot, Viator, who gave him but a small piece of his multi-faceted attention. Burl’s lady friend was there too; she, looking on as an interested third party. Viator and Burl materialized images inside a levitating sphere: an Astro-physical battleground with orb-clusters arranged in symmetrical zones of encounter. These orbs would attempt penetration into the opposing player’s system without incident. At intervals, the orbs would gravitate near one another; the stronger of the two would then absorb its opponent and retreat to the safety of its base.

  Burl had no idea that Dan and I looked on from the lifts – though I’m quite sure the Phoebian knew of our presence. We were intrigued as their three dimensional conflict wore on, and orbs became stronger by attacking and absorbing one another. Burl quite evidently was losing; his exactitude deteriorating with each turn. With defeated eyes he looked from the game and found us. Having broken his concentration the duel polarity broke and the confrontation collapsed.

  “Dan, Steve – you caught me unexpectedly,” daunted Burl. He nodded apologetically to the Phoebian.

  “Sorry about the interruption,” I said. “I though it would be nice if the three of us got together for a while –“A flash of guilt struck me for not having included Burl’s lady friend and the alien. Then I realized the alien had to aviate the ship. The lady?

  “Could you please pardon our departure,” said Burl to his lady, who spoke not a word, but only nodded understandingly. “My friends seek company. I should also ask of you to deliver the narrative if I’m not in time for the next encounter. I will more than make this up to you a little later.”

  She smiled to us all as we said our “goodbyes” and remained behind with the Phoebian (who tacitly understood) all the while staring coldly ahead; his amenities affixed to space beyond.

  “A drink to satisfy our longing thirsts!” declared Burl as he handed down an intricate decanter from its nestled arrangement in the wall chest. We currently found ourselves on the Lounge Deck, in a vestibule outside the theatre itself. Multi-dimensional star charts and a diorama of architecturally intricate stone buildings – of the Phoebians’ home planet -- dominated the lounge. There were several large glass cabinet displays of what appeared to be metallurgical cutting tools and wand-like instruments; purportedly the Phoebian’s building instruments (the mysteries behind the cutting, moving, and placing of huge monolithic structures). These, plus various other displays of cosmic artifacts sprinkled about the room, all no doubt enhancements of an astrophysical flare. We reclined in bubble chairs as our humble host set the decanter into an inspiring replica of the planetary system Qua before us and attached to it several long sipping tubes.

  “Draw upon these and imagine it what you will, my friends,” he said, handing us each a tube. “None shall actually enter our bodies since we still fast with those of Neuphobes. Some have known this to be a fine scotch, others wine; but I prefer to think it tea, the international libation of more genteel cultures.”

  “So Burl,” I began. “I must ask you. I notice your lady friend . . . ”

  “Joanie,” he replied. “Why, she is my travel companion. Purely, platonic. Wonderful woman. She too had to leave a spouse behind. Devastating to her.” He sobered. “I, myself, my sweetie. We were wed a good twenty years. So long ago . . . “

  “Sorry if I appeared crass, before,” I said. “Please convey my apologies. I can be extremely awkward. I know I --- “

  “Mmmm!” Dan had drawn from the tube. “Club soda with just a hint of lemon. Refreshing.”

  “I tried some, but just couldn’t place the flavor. I guess my mind hadn’t decided on what to make of it.

  “’Club soda’,” Burl repeated. “Why Daniel, I rememb
er back when it was rock hard liquor.” He hesitated. “How have you been feeling?”

  Dan just shook his head and glanced at me.

  Burl sobered, then drew upon his tube; making no further comments. He exhaled as though smoking a hookah.

  “Dan,” I asked. “Is everything alright?”

  “We’ll discuss that at a later time.” He replied with a dismissive air. “Right now,” he brightened, “I never told you as to my being saved -- brought here to Neuphobes.”

  I drew again from the tube, wondering . . .

  “Driving alone late one evening,” Dan began. “No one on the road, which I remember thinking was rather strange. I was returning from a meeting in a very rural part of my county. I lived in Missouri at the time. I began to get sleepy. I decided I should pull off the road and rest for a while. I stopped on the shoulder and fell into a deep sleep . . . and here I am. That simple. I realized early on that it was no chance how we were all chosen. Destiny had been served.”

  “Amen!” Burl responded.

  I tasted more of the drink, savoring its obscure, however, sedative tinge. I began to feel somewhat removed, drawn aback from the reality of the situation. Dan and Burl continued in conversation; I listened, then drifted back to thoughts of home. My eyes were open, yet blurred with emotion -- of life before Jean and the children . . .

  “ . . . isn’t that right, Steve?”

  “Oh,” I said, embarrassed by my inattention.

  “I was telling Dan of a time . . . “

  I began to realize that I found the libation of which we all ingested to be palliative. I knew I needed to slow my intake if I were to remain lucid with my friends, especially if I were needed to console Dan. I needed to temper my unpersonable arrogance -- which would notably rise while under the influence of pseudo - psychoactive libations. At the opportune time I openly explained this to them both, and they were perfectly understanding; explaining the libation’s effects on individuals varied according to spirit. So, having this knowledge, I paced myself throughout our little visit and thoroughly enjoyed the company of my friends. Though all the time wondering . . .

  Upon leaving the Lounge and entering the Observation Corridor -- the buzz of our socializing still ran my mind, but was fading swiftly-- I noted that more time had elapsed than I at first thought. We were just passing over an astronomic plane of opalescent particles; phosphorescent bands of violets, azures, and crimson with hundreds of subdivision between swept by in a blur as the saucer sped away from the giant planet, Saturn. I was surprised that Burl made no mention of this to us (I’m sure he felt our visiting was of a much greater importance). This great scape of rings that lay betwixt and braided was formed of crystalized gases, ice, and bits of rock creating a multicolored beauty unique in all of our solar system.

  People, after having witnessed this iridescent phenomenon, were leaving; yet, to my right I noticed a lone figure remaining. I recognized it to be Ensign Kurt. I wondered if I should talk with him, to perhaps try and relate what I felt at the loss of my loved ones. As I gave this noble notion some thought I looked at the mesmerizing plane of flowing scarlets and lavenders below as they crescented beyond, then I turned myself to look back around the corridor to see a portion of the luminous giant. It was a vista that few would ever see in a lifetime: Saturn’s haloed domination over the vacuous horizon. I was about to approach the Ensign when I heard faint sobbing’s. It was then I felt perhaps this be not the best time to encounter the young man. I retired to my cabin.

  Visiting’s

  Uranus had long since passed, this giant world now another faint luminescence to our stern with the other speckling of planets. There was talk of encountering one of the earlier deep space probes, and once again an air of anticipation filled the ship. Since our passing of Uranus, I had bided my time fitfully in the gravi-gym, having remembered about the slim possibilities of muscular atrophy. I worked out whenever the chance presented itself, mostly between passengers’ scheduled sessions or when someone cancelled theirs (NIM was very proficient at substitution). And so there I sat, strapped into the large rotating apparatus, my arms and legs bounds to padded mechanical workings. Overall, however, it just felt good to exercise.

  Dan walked into the room and I, having just completed my routine, offered him my place in the gym. His lean body, only several years my senior, had unfortunately taken on a sickly appearance. He politely refused my offer and I questioned him as to what was wrong.

  “That is why I have met you here. My work for the Sanctification is nearing its end. As you no doubt have learned, people here age not physically and live virtually free of any illnesses; though occasionally some are removed from the Sanctification for theosophic reasons. I am now one of those reasons and have thus far refused treatments for my ailment. I feel it a better alternative than prolonging my life, then having to serve purgatory upon my passing into the hereafter. I pray that by allowing myself this physical deterioration through malady, that I may serve now my penance for the many transgressions of life. And, that when I do pass of natural causes, by God’s divine grace I will be accepted into His Kingdom. It is a decision I came upon through much reservation.

  “There are others who can take my place when I am unable to function among the masses. I have spent much time with Kris on the last part of his journey, after his coming back from the stars. I feel he is competent to carry on my work for the time approaches when those of the Sanctification shall spawn their seed for future generations. As for myself I shall be returned to the surface where I can live out my last days back in my old neighborhood, though none there shall remember me.

  “But I have come to you on a lighter note,” Dan said blithely. “There is but a short while until we are upon the space probe New Horizons. Come with me to the Observation Corridor and we shall view this spectacular achievement together!”

  With that, I unstrapped myself from the gym and we left the room in hasty pursuit, my never giving a thought as to why Dan hadn’t asked me to further his teachings. (Probably because he engaged me in conversation that yielded me no freedom of mind space) When we reached the Observation Corridor, the deep space probe appeared a distant silver speck floating in the light of giant Neptune; the thin-ringed methane giant glowing an ominous blue. Quickly we caught up with the probe and slowed to its speed. We looked upon the small craft with question. Its radar dish was be speckled with holes, and its entirety spun aimlessly in the vacuum of space. With gasps and confused comments the people about were troubled by the disabled apparatus, which, not long ago, reportedly sent back spectacular imagery of Pluto and its moons. It was apparent that the probe’s distant journey ended just short of its final objective. Thus proving some technological advancements of man were sometimes fraught with failure – the biggest of which, the inability to honestly disclose such. So much for this ‘spectacular achievement’.

  We soon gained velocity and sped on passed the lifeless probe, towards Neptune, which loomed nearer and nearer as if an inrushing tide. As for Dan and myself we parted company, but would later meet with Burl on the bridge. Dan was conducting a liturgy in the theatre, so I, being less socially reverent than most, returned to my cabin for a religious observance of my own. I would pick up where I had left off in the Holy Scriptures, reading on through the words of God as we encountered yet another of His Heavenly Creations.

  On the comfort of my bed I lay back, with Bible in hand, intermittently gazing out the porthole between chapters to study the great Neptune. The azureous planet filled my view as our ship remained a respectable distance from it. There was no swooping down into its icy atmosphere of swirling storm clouds; its Great Dark Spot I learned, was a huge hole in its methane atmosphere. And finally, it was revealed -- only because we came so very close to one of them -- its moons floated amidst the plane of its scarcely discernable rings. I read on . . .

  After finishing another chapter I returned my gaze out the window and realized we had begun to pull away from the blue world
; a crescent of black space ebbing into view. I noticed a bright star off in the distance, but must have been mistaken, for no star of such magnitude would be in these parts. So, out of curiosity, I closed the Sacred Writings and obtained the tablet from my bedside. With a few swipes of my finger I learned that this new sighting was none other than Pluto. Having recently returned from its orbital infraction inside that of Neptune’s, could it possibly be that this rocky underworld planetoid (and its mystical transition zone, the Kuiper Belt) no doubt be our next encounter?

  It was a long while that I awaited the call to the bridge. I kept myself busy with reading, mental note taking, and anticipation of the flight’s big event – The Galactic Leap. This phenomenon had been explained to me once before by Amon, but still I hadn’t any idea as to how it would occur. Now it was to be again explained to me, and the rest of the passengers, by Burl -- hopefully in a clearer context.

  The entirety of the ship, including myself, had gathered on the Bridge; each personally summoned by NIM. We stood before a three-dimensional representation of graphed space that had materialized at the wave of Burl’s hand; Burl having changed his garments for the occasion, donning a white flowing vestment with a blue sash. Viator looked on from his flight chair, unaffected. Burl elaborated on the topic, using a laser-pointer for clarification. Our cosmic curator spoke of how this leap would advance the saucer into another part of the universe; however, his simply worded lesson would soon glaze over the eyes of his audience, for none were of the Einsteinium school of astrophysics.

  “The lines you see on this demonstration run parallel and intersect each other at right angles to form spatial quadrants. In normal space a beam of light will extend infinitely straight if there is nothing to block its path” -- he produced a streak with the sweep of his pointer. “However, in warped space this does not apply” -- the streak faded. “Space can only be warped by gravity, and it takes an enormous gravitational field to warp space. One such enormity is a black hole. The black hole our pilot, Viator, is taking us to is located well beyond the orbit of Pluto, the Kuiper Belt, and the boundaries of our solar system.”