Epoch: The Dark Ages Part 1

by Terry Schott

  Epoch

  The Dark Ages

  Part 1

  Terry Schott

  Copyright

  Epoch

  ©2016 by Terry Schott

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express, written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  ep·och

  ˈepək/

  Noun

  1. A period of time in history or a person’s life, typically one marked by notable events or particular characteristics

  2. The beginning of a distinctive period in the history of someone or something

  1

  Curtis finished drinking his coffee, set the cup down on the table, and sighed. He looked at the check and dropped a twenty on top of it. “This is stupid.”

  “Pardon, sir?”

  His body jerked as he turned to look at the waiter standing at his side. “Wow, you’re a stealthy one, aren’t you? Nothing. I was talking to myself.”

  The waiter smiled and scooped the money from the table. “I’ll be right back with your change.”

  “No.” Curtis stood and pushed his chair in. “Keep it.”

  “Thank you.” The waiter’s smile widened. “That is very generous, I appreciate it.”

  “Sure.”

  “You have a great day, sir.”

  “Thanks.” Curtis began to head for the exit, then stopped and turned. “Say, would you be willing to do a quick favour for me, please?”

  “If it is within my power, of course.”

  “I am late for an appointment and forgot to mail this.” He reached into his coat and withdrew a letter-sized manila envelope. “There’s a mailbox right across the street, but I have to run. Would you be so kind as to drop it off for me?”

  “That’s it? Of course, sir. No problem.”

  Curtis handed the young man the envelope. “Thanks so much.”

  “I’ll drop it in the mail right now.”

  “You’re a saviour.” Curtis smiled and turned away, making his way to the door.

  Mike watched his generous customer walk past the window of the restaurant and disappear. “Hey, Beth?” He reached for the coffee cup on the table and held it toward the girl walking by. “I gotta run something over to the mail box.”

  “Sure.” She grabbed the cup from his hand without stopping.

  “Back in a minute.”

  “Miss you already.”

  Mike laughed.

  Curtis stood in the alley beside the restaurant and watched the mailbox until the waiter appeared and dropped the envelope inside. Curtis glanced at his watch, set the timer, and waited.

  After five minutes, his watch beeped. He continued watching the mailbox for a few moments longer, then turned and walked away.

  2

  Aldous Freign stepped out of the elevator.

  “Morning, Aldous.” A pretty young woman looked up from her computer, smiled, and raised one hand.

  “Morning, Daisy.” He raised his chin in greeting and navigated around the three desks facing the closed frosted door on the opposite side of the room.

  “Hey, Aldous.”

  “Taderick.” Aldous waved towards the man and opened his office door.

  “Morning, Boss Man.” His personal secretary greeted him from behind her desk.

  “Morning, Jade.” Aldous glanced at the pile of eight-by-ten inch manila envelopes on the ledge in front of him. “Are these for me?”

  “Of course.” Her eyes moved to the computer screen. “You have a conference with Shandi’s agent.”

  He frowned.

  “Ten-thirty.”

  “Fine. I suppose I’ve put that off for as long as I can.” He raised his eyebrows. “Anything else?”

  “Your afternoon is free . . .”

  “But?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Gavin is in your office.”

  “Aww, Jade.”

  “I’m sorry, Aldous. I told him you had a busy day and that he should come back tomorrow, but you know how he gets.”

  “Did you tell him I can’t afford to hire him?”

  “Of course. Same as I do every time he shows up.”

  Aldous glanced at his office door.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I know. He’s a great guy—one of the best—it’s just that I don’t really have time to listen to his stories right now.”

  “I know.”

  “Last time he was here for three hours.” Aldous ran a hand through his thinning brown hair.

  “He’s a sweet old man.”

  “I know. He gave me my first job. Taught me so much. It’s a shame no one will hire the old fart. His knowledge of the publishing industry is vast.”

  “Don’t say that around him or he will expect a job offer from you.”

  “We don’t have the cash.”

  She laughed. “You don’t have to tell me that, boss. I write the cheques before you sign them.”

  Aldous groaned. “Well, I suppose I better go in.”

  As his hand gripped the doorknob, Jade whispered after him. “I can interrupt you with an emergency in half an hour.”

  He smiled. “You’re a saint.”

  Aldous entered his office and frowned. It was dark. There was no sign of anyone else in the room. “Hello?” He flipped the light switch, surveying first his desk and then the brown leather couch in the right corner of the room.

  An elderly man sat on the edge of the cushion, his arms resting on his knees and his head bowed.

  “Gavin?”

  The old man looked up at Aldous. His lips curled up into a smile, but the expression was not reflected in his eyes. “Oh, hey there, my boy. I’m sorry to intrude on you, but it’s been a while since we’ve visited. I just thought—” He shrugged and looked down once more.

  Aldous went to his desk and dropped the stack of mail onto it before going to the couch and sitting down. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. Today is a bad anniversary is all.”

  “Dare I ask?”

  Gavin laughed half-heartedly. “Two years ago today, I was sacked as Editor-in-Chief at Global Publishing.”

  “Oh wow. Is it that long ago already?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Listen, Gavin, I wish I could hire you.”

  “Do you?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Good. I think I have an idea to work here which won’t cost you a penny.” He grinned. “At least until you make money.”

  “I’m scared to ask what you have in mind.”

  Gavin laughed. “It’s nothing underhanded.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “Let me read the submissions.”

  “We have people who do that already.”

  “I know.” He held up one hand. “Not your fresh ones. Give me the stuff you reject.”

  Aldous shook his head.

  “I’m not trying to insult you.”

  “Yet you are. You’re suggesting that I’m passing on good books, throwing them out because myself and my people can’t spot a great story when we see one.”

  “I’m saying that I have a lot more experience. I mean no offence by the statement, it’s simply the truth.”

  Aldous rubbed his forehead. “I will give you that.”

  “There might be the possibility that you are rejecting some scripts that, whi
le not perfect, may be salvageable with a minor amount of effort.”

  “But—”

  Gavin shook his head. “I will go over your discards and, if I find any you decide to sign after we discuss it, you can give me a commission. You don’t have to pay me unless I find something and you sign it.”

  Aldous sighed. “I’m afraid you will be wasting your time.”

  “It’s my time to waste.” The old man stroked his grey mustache. “At this point, doing anything is better than the alternative.”

  Aldous stood and extended his hand. “What the heck. I’m willing to try if you are.”

  Gavin smiled and shook hands. “I’m happy to hear you say it.”

  Aldous sat at his desk and reached for the pile of envelopes. He frowned as he looked at the first one and put it to one side. “When would you like to get started?” He flipped through the remaining envelopes, giving them a close look and then placing each on top of the first.

  “Right away if that’s okay with you.”

  “Sure.” He pushed the pile of manila envelopes forward. “If you want to start reading rejects, you can either start with these or throw them in the garbage.”

  Gavin frowned and reached for the stack. “What’s wrong with them? You didn’t even open them.”

  “No need. Look at the one on the bottom.”

  Gavin picked up one of the envelopes and examined it. “It says there are twelve parts to this book, all in different languages.”

  “Which agrees with the labels and writing on the other eleven.” Aldous waved one hand at the pile. “I recognize Chinese, German, Russian, and the others are all different, although I’m not sure what languages they are. That’s strike one, in my opinion. Then the postmarks tell me that each envelope was mailed from a different country. Strike two.”

  “Interesting.” Gavin flipped the envelope over. “There’s no name or return address.”

  Aldous raised his eyebrows. “Which makes it strike three.”

  “Maybe.” Gavin frowned. “Leave them with me. I know a few people who can help me translate.”

  “I think that it’s a waste of time.”

  Gavin chuckled as he made his way to the door. “Didn’t I just sign up to waste my time?”

  “I suppose.”

  “I’ll let you know when I toss them in the garbage.”

  “Let me know when you want to quit.”

  Gavin laughed. “Quit? This is the best job I’ve had in two years.”

  3

  Curtis watched the black line of the cursor flash. He sighed and reached for his coffee cup, frowning as he shook it. It’s empty. I never drink it down to the bottom. He removed the lid and looked into the cup, expecting to see coffee grounds but finding none. Nothing worse than that last sip filled with grounds. Ruins the entire cup.

  He shook his head and laughed, placing the empty take-out cup onto the desk beside his laptop. “You’re wasting time. Write something, moron.”

  Curtis leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. I should have published it myself. I’ve written ten books and self-published all of them. Most are doing very well. My fans would have loved this story.

  He shook his head. Deep down, he knew what he had created. Of course his fans would have loved it, but it was too dangerous. Other authors had come before him and written powerful stories, tales that had inflamed the masses. Those writers had paid for such creativity with their lives.

  Curtis knew that, yes, he did have the freedom to say whatever he wanted, to write any story he liked. But he also knew what most denied: there was a price for that freedom. Utter the wrong phrase in a nightclub and you could be shot. Write a story that went against the thinking of the world, and you could gain attention. If enough readers agreed with you, then you could be eliminated.

  Curtis scratched his head and looked at the keyboard. His fingers rested on the keys. He typed, ‘Sticks and Stones’, then stopped. The cursor flashed. Curtis reached for his coffee cup, scowling as he remembered that it was empty.

  “Damn it.” He stood, went to his kitchen, and threw the paper cup into the garbage. He looked back at the computer desk and shook his head. Then he put his shoes on, grabbed his keys from the top of the fridge, and opened the door.

  “One more coffee.” He locked the apartment door. “When I get back to the keyboard, I will start something new.”

  4

  “Hi Jade.”

  “Heya, Gavin.” She smiled at the old man. “Aldous is on the phone but he said to go on in.”

  “Thanks.” Gavin entered the office and walked to the desk, nodding at the young editor as he placed his computer bag on the ground beside the visitor’s chair and sat.

  “Yeah, I like the sounds of that.” Aldous held up a finger. “Sure. Okay. Can you get back to me with that today?” He paused. “Great. Talk to you later.” He hung up the phone and grinned. “That was Tina about the movie rights for Occasion.”

  “Nice.”

  “It sure is.” Aldous reached for a white envelope on his desk. He pushed it toward Gavin. “There’s your cut on the deal.”

  Gavin took the envelope and held it in his lap. “Thanks, boss.”

  Aldous laughed. “Open it, man. It’s a lot of money.”

  “I’m sure it is.”

  Aldous frowned. “You okay?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then open up that envelope so I can enjoy the look of happiness on your face.”

  Gavin grinned. “Thanks to you, I have enough money to pay my bills and do whatever I like. I’ve been smiling since you gave me my first commission cheque last year.”

  “Well, I guess that’s good. This one is a big cheque, though.”

  “I know it is, and I’m happy. Truly. You know I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”

  “I’ve told you this before, but I truly didn’t think it would amount to anything. I’m glad I was wrong. You were a godsend. With your help, we’ve become a decent-sized publisher.”

  “How would you like to become the biggest publisher in the world?”

  Aldous’s smile disappeared. “What do you mean?”

  “Remember the book Dune?”

  “One of the best-selling science fiction books of all time?” Aldous laughed. “Of course.”

  “No one would publish that book.”

  “I know the story. It was rejected by twenty-three publishers. Even the author’s agent did not see its potential, but eventually a small publisher who spent most of their time printing automobile manuals agreed to publish it. The rest”—Aldous spread his hands—“is publishing legend. There are other examples of the same type of thing. I think every publisher dreams of finding a gem like that.”

  Gavin nodded and looked at the desk. “What if I told you I had found that for you.”

  “For us, you mean?” Gavin shrugged and Aldous laughed. “Believe me, if you bring me something like that, we will become rich together.”

  Gavin grinned. “Then get ready, because I’ve found it.”

  Aldous’s smile vanished. “What have you got?”

  “Remember handing me a pile of manuscripts written in different languages and mailed to you from all over the world?”

  “Yeah, the first day you started working with us. I was going to throw it away.”

  “That’s right. It’s taken some time, but I’ve had each of the sections translated into English.”

  “That must have taken some effort. Proper translation is a pain in the arse.”

  “I called in some favours. The translations are excellent.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah.” Gavin nodded. “I put it together and read the entire story last night.”

  “And you liked it?”

  “It’s incredible.”

  Aldous frowned. “Really?”

  “Absolutely. You must read it.”

  “Send me a copy of it and I’ll read it right away.”

  Gavin reached into
his bag, withdrew a thick envelope, and placed it on the desk. “There is no digital copy.” He pushed the envelope toward Aldous. “This is the only manuscript that exists at the moment.”

  “No digital?” Aldous shook his head.

  “Promise me you won’t make one yet.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s an amazing story, but it’s also dangerous.”

  “In what way?”

  Gavin frowned and raised one eyebrow. “Many would read this and claim that it is . . . subversive.”

  “Politically?”

  The older man nodded.

  Aldous laughed. “It’s only a story.”

  “No, it’s a manifesto, an instruction manual hidden within a story.”

  Aldous’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the envelope. “Then maybe we shouldn’t publish it.”

  “I thought about that.” Gavin leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “I actually considered destroying it.” He shrugged. “But I thought maybe I am seeing more than is actually there. You need to read it and give me a second opinion.”

  “What did the translators say?”

  “They only saw portions. It makes no sense until it is read as a complete volume.”

  “That’s clever.”

  “You have no idea.”

  Aldous reached out and dragged the envelope toward him. “Now I must read it.”

  “I want to speak with you immediately after you complete it.” Gavin stood. “How does tomorrow morning sound?”

  “I’m busy. I might start it tonight, but there’s no way I can get it finished by morning.”

  Gavin chuckled. “Once you start, you won’t stop reading until it is finished.”

  Aldous nodded. “Tomorrow morning, then.”

  5

  Aldous read emails on his smartphone as he waited in line at the coffee shop.

  “Morning.”

  He smiled without looking up. “Hey, Gavin. You’re here early.”

  “Said I would be.”

  Aldous put his phone away and glanced at the menu board. “What are you having?”

  “Just a tea.”

  They stepped forward as the line moved.

  “Incredible book.”