by Freda, Paula
Hayden injected a note of humor into his voice. "Well, there isn’t anything actually special about it, except that I believe it to be of Greco/Egyptian origin."
"An American Indian Totem believed to be of Greco/Egyptian origin, and that is not special?" Creighton remarked. He sipped his whiskey sour. "Something to think about, Lord Hayden," Creighton said, finishing his drink. "I would like you both to remain in my house as my guests for a few days. Perhaps you can convince me to sell. In the meantime, feel free to study my collection and wander through my plantation at will. I do advise you to stay clear of the guards. They tend to be somewhat nervous with strangers."
Lord Hayden did not care for the implications. Creighton had not asked them to stay, in truth he had ordered them.
Later, in the hallway outside their rooms, Lord Hayden expressed his fears. "He will not allow us to leave until he has extracted the entire truth from us. And I don’t think he’ll be particularly fussy what methods he uses."
"And once he knows that we know the truth about him, he’ll have us killed," Elizabeth said.
"We have to get out of here," Lord Hayden said.
"Yes, by all means, but I won’t leave until I’ve had a closer look at the Totem," Elizabeth spoke adamantly.
Once again, Lord Hayden admired her tenacity. "Then it has to be tonight. I’ll knock three times."
"Do you have a plan for getting past the guards?"
He had not the slightest idea of how to escape Creighton’s plantation without being spotted. But he must form one, if not for himself, for Grace’s sake. "I’m working on it," he assured her. "In the meantime, keep your door locked."
When he knocked on the connecting door to her room a few hours later, she was ready, her backpack hitched to her shoulders. He had donned his safari jacket, the crossbar hilt readily accessible behind his neck. In an emergency all he need do is reach behind him and pull the sword from its scabbard for defense. He had made sure the holstered gun at his side was loaded and left the machete inside his backpack for their trek later through the jungle. "Let’s go," he whispered.
The two crept up the stone staircase that led to the room containing Creighton’s most prized treasures. Elizabeth carried a flashlight. She was determined to examine the oral cavity in the Totem’s base figure, and it was the first thing she did when they at last stood in front of the wood sculpture. Her slim figure allowed her to move freely inside the opening. Lord Hayden watched her bend and shine the light on the mouth’s interior. They had not encountered guards or servants; fortunate, yet unusual for what he had seen of Creighton’s intense security thus far. Perhaps a warning alarm guarded the treasure room. Yet none had sounded, unless it was the type that went off only in the owner or security guard’s quarters. Lord Hayden felt uneasy. "I’ve found them, the inscriptions! And the notes!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "We were right, this is a transporter!"
His partner tended to act impulsively. Best to advise her, "Don’t chant the— Oh no!" Too late, her voice rang clear and sweet. Lord Hayden groaned, but at the same time felt relieved that the light that suddenly filled the opening caught him also as he climbed in behind her. He had barely wedged in sideways, yet now he stood full length behind her holding her, their bodies glowing. This was impossible, he reasoned.
Elizabeth turned to face him. "We must be inside a neutral dimension." She read Lord Hayden’s uneasy look. "Don’t worry, I have a good memory; you should know that by now."
"Fine, in that case, sing, now?" he ordered. One thing he did not like was being shuttled between dimensions.
"Right away," she said confidently, and chanted the notes in reverse, as she had done inside Psyche’s tomb.
The glow permeating their bodies intensified, blinding them. A fierce deafening ring filled the space. Elizabeth and Lord Hayden screamed as the walls of the opening disintegrated, replaced by Voices, so many of them, chanting, each simultaneously intoning a separate tune, bases, altos, sopranos, baritones, tenors, the cacophony of mixed sounds buoying the two of them on waves of decibels, one moment plangent and somber, the next zealous and triumphant, descending, rising, foundering, exultant and ebullient, joining, separating, chorusing a steady blatant hum of joy, confusion, despair, resignation and finally acceptance—lives on the horizontal perspective of Time. Ensconced in a capsule of light, Elizabeth and Lord Hayden moved at incredible speed, everything outside the capsule a blur of colors rushing past them. "It didn’t work," Elizabeth despaired. "This time the chant didn’t work."
CHAPTER FOUR
At last, the voices began to subside and finally dwindle to the sound of zephyrs rustling through winter branches. Their speed also had slackened. Lord Hayden held Grace tightly, afraid that if he let her go, he might lose her somewhere in time. "We’re in some sort of time warp, I think," he said, attempting to sound calm. "Ever heard of the theory of time as a linear dimension. A road constructed from sound and light on which man exists. Some believe it can be traveled back and forth."
"Which way are we traveling, William?" Elizabeth asked, exercising control, herself.
He had no answer. She leaned her head against his chest. His shirtfront was damp with sweat and underneath his heart beat rapidly. He was as nervous and frightened as she was, but attempting to appear cool and steady for her sake. There was a good chance they might never get back. "William, there’s something you ought to know about me." She lifted her face so that her lips brushed against his jaw and the layer of new brown, bristly fuzz covering it. "In case we don’t make it back, or become separated, William, I’m—" From four directions a furious wind erupted, ripping through the bubble and threatening to wrench them apart. The duo clung desperately to each other, while the wind whipped them and shrieked into their ears. Then as suddenly as it had commenced, the wind abated, leaving only a soft breeze. The two never finished their sighs of relief. The invisible floor beneath their feet opened and they fell through. Elizabeth screamed, but managed to grab onto Lord Hayden’s belt. He caught her and pulled her back into his arms. Then they both screamed as creatures floated around them. A gorgosaurus’ head snapped at them. Lord Hayden swung himself and Grace out of its path, almost straight into the gaping, razor-toothed mouth of a Tyrannosaurus Rex. Gasping, Lord Hayden swung their two bodies sideways, half-expecting to meet another prehistoric being. Instead, he came face to face with Harry Stanton. Unexpectedly, their descent slowed. "Open your eyes," Lord Hayden said to the woman whose arms were wrapped tightly about his waist. "It’s not real, not any of it, at least not in relation to us. It’s only real in their time."
Elizabeth glanced about her and straight at Stanton. Her instinct was to yell and turn away, but reason dictated that Stanton was dead. He was laughing, staring in their direction, but not directly at them, rather through them. What she viewed was a past event, a happy one from Stanton’s laughter. Another peal of laughter and his face dissolved, replaced by others, not so familiar. "It’s like we’re inside a catapult, pulled backwards and released to spring forward," Elizabeth said. The ancient time traveler for whom this mode of transportation was designed would know the correct chants, the correct sound waves to operate the ride, Elizabeth thought. Unfortunately, her knowledge of the chants was rudimentary.
The images changed. Younger faces emerged. They were strangely familiar. Lord Hayden strained to see them better, but the speed of their time travel had again increased. The faces blurred, changing to others completely unknown to him. Scenes replaced the faces. Narrow streets congested with streamlined cars and trucks and buses. Lord Hayden and Elizabeth watched fascinated as the future unfurled before them. The narrow streets became even more congested; cars grew bigger, then smaller, until Lord Hayden groaned. Buildings toppled and rose. Windows must be the highlight of the future, he observed, as more and more of them enveloped the buildings. The narrow streets widened, cars grew even slimmer, lanes increased. Buildings rose until their roofs disappeared into the clouds. Then unexpectedly, the scene blurred again.
The speed of time travel increased.
Images began forming. They were still on earth, but an earth not of their millennium. The tall buildings were gone. In their place were two-story buildings, flat-roofed and spacious. Spaceships, not unlike those viewed in Flash Gordon and Buck Rogers serials, were landing and lifting off the rooftops. The clutter of cars was also gone. The roads had narrowed to strips and the sidewalks widened to thoroughfares. Trees and benches lined them. People wearing loose-fitting garments in a variety of colors—some colors unrecognizable—sat on the benches, conversing, while others strolled the spanned sidewalks. It was a peaceful scene, and Lord Hayden noted that the people exchanging conversations were of several nationalities and races. At least humanity had come that far.
Now the duo experienced a hovering sensation. "I think we’re close to our destination," Lord Hayden said. No sooner spoken, than they were sucked into a vacuum. "Grace, hold on!" Hayden yelled as the scene swallowed them. With a most ungracious landing, they both hit the ground, backsides first.
Elizabeth yelped, "Oh, for the love of‒‒" She fumbled to her feet, brushing and straightening her slacks.
Lord Hayden closed the gap between them. "Are you all right?" he asked.
"Not really," she replied, nursing her derriere. "How about you?"
"I’ve got a headache," was all he would allow.
Elizabeth held back a chuckle.
They had landed on a pavement outside one of the two-story square buildings.
"Good afternoon."
The pair turned to face a tall young man in a bright colorful toga. "Lord Hayden and Professor—pardon me—Miss Grace Quinlan. We have been expecting you. Please come with me."
The duo gazed at each other mystified.
"Come, come," the young man urged. "Agnes is very busy. Well, come along," their escort insisted.
"And who is Agnes?" Lord Hayden, inquired, as they followed the youth.
Except for large stark unadorned windows every two yards or so, the exterior of the structure was smooth seamless white stone. The glass double doors vanished at their presence and reappeared behind them as soon as they had entered. Oblivious to their astonished faces, the youth informed them, "Agnes is the mayor of New City. And if you are interested, I am Cyborg S20, second grade, first level."
"You’re a robot?" Elizabeth inquired in disbelief.
"Robot is an archaic term. I recommend a visit to our library in the heart of the city, the English Sector of town, to be precise."
The building’s lobby was enormous and tiled in silver grey. In contrast to the exterior of the building, the walls were alive with opalesque colors that continuously varied every few seconds, giving the beholder enough time to digest the color schemes. "Naturally, you don’t understand the lingo. This is the year 3000. New City houses the most extensive library in the adjacent twenty galaxies," the cyborg continued, leading them to a single glass door. "Yes, you may well say it is the center of learning in the known universe. Ah, here we are. Please go in. The mayor is expecting you." Without a backward glance, he hurried away.
As before, the door vanished and as soon as they had entered, reappeared behind them inside the small empty vestibule prefacing the Mayor’s office. Elizabeth hoisted her chin grandiosely as they walked into the office proper, proud of her gender. We finally did it. Good Show! she celebrated.
Agnes sat at her desk, bent over a shuffle of papers, her silver-grey hair cut short and swept neatly back from a wide forehead and prominent cheekbones. On the right side of her desktop, a panel fitted with small-lighted squares, blinked intermittently. The mayor tapped one of the squares in the center of the panel and it stopped blinking. "We shan’t be disturbed." It seemed as though she were speaking to the panel.
"Good afternoon," she greeted, standing up and finally looking at Lord Hayden and Elizabeth. "It’s about time you two got here."
"How did you know we were coming?" Lord Hayden asked, lifting his chin to meet the mayor’s eyes. She out-measured him by at least a foot. Agnes let loose an exasperated breath. "Didn’t S20 brief you on your way in?"
"He gave us time, date and place."
"That’s all?" Agnes glanced at Elizabeth to confirm Lord Hayden’s reply.
"He mentioned the Library in the English Sector," Elizabeth added. Agnes scowled. "Inferior! Why they persist in using male prototypes for State Official aides baffles me." She shook her head. "I suppose they do so to keep a healthy balance, despite the fact it was genetically proved long ago that the female of our species is the more intelligent, cautious and resourceful."
Now it was Lord Hayden’s turn to scowl.
Agnes read his expression and laughed. "Perhaps I should not be so blunt. You come from the Intermediate Age, or what we consider, Ancient History. Please sit down."
Where? Lord Hayden wondered. There were no other chairs in the room. Agnes reseated herself and touched two squares on the panel. Two metal chairs sprang up behind Lord Hayden and Elizabeth, scooping them up neatly.
"Now to get to the reason you have been brought here," she said, ignoring the pair’s gasps. "We need your help!"
"Our help?" Lord Hayden remarked, wondering why, when Grace and he were the primates in this timescape.
Agnes nodded and addressed Elizabeth. "Miss Quinlan, what dream in your time appears as distant as the farthest star in the universe?"
Startled, Elizabeth paused to consider the question. The answer came to her with certainty. "World Peace," she said.
Agnes smiled. "The earth at last has that peace. Racial prejudices, poverty, terrorism, anarchy, have all been eradicated. Nostradamus predicted this peace as he predicted the Third World War."
"The Third World War!" Elizabeth exclaimed, distraught. They had just finished with the Second. "When! And can we prevent it?"
"Nostradamus also prophesied that man had the power to change the future. It was a prediction that the twenty-first century believed and implemented. When quakes and terrible storms, and the crisis escalating in the Mid-East all pointed to Nostradamus’ prediction of a Third, far more devastating war than man had ever been victim to, the nations of the world banded together. For the first time in the history of the earth, man truly wished for peace. The alternative would be utter destruction. The weapons of the twenty-first century held the destructive power to annihilate both sides." She paused to let the words sink in, and then clinched, "And because man truly wanted peace, peace was given to us."
Agnes’ composure slipped. She wrung her hands. Her voice shook as she advised them, "In three days the earth will self-destruct."
"What... but how?" the two archaeologists asked in concert. "It is to woman’s favor that her instinct is more honed than man’s. A side benefit of her maternal role in nature’s scheme." She ignored Lord Hayden’s skeptical frown. "As a result of this fact proven genetically in the twenty-second century, all centers of learning were programmed to artificially reinforce in the male of our species, the traits of caution and patience, traits inborn in the female. Of course, I speak in terms of the majority." She inclined her chin in Lord’s Hayden’s direction. "There are exceptions."
Before Lord Hayden could accept the compliment, she continued, "The centuries that followed prescribed to this doctrine that is partly responsible for the continuing peace. The people of the earth are now a cautious, patient, serene genera. From crib age to deathbed, an average of two hundred years, the human being abides by this code, to the exclusion of all else. The cyborgs are programmed to follow the doctrine as well. The human race is incapable of programming them otherwise." Agnes’ brow knitted. "Herein lies woman’s greatest failure. The pendulum has swung from one extreme to the other. Humanity has become incapable of any defensive or punitive act, even when its own destruction and the annihilation of the universe itself are involved."
Lord Hayden felt vindicated, and his face expressed it. At least the male of the species was not responsible for this mess. Agnes guessed his thoughts. "Don’
t flatter yourself, Lord Hayden. It is in fact the male of the species that has placed us all on the brink of extermination."
"All men, or one in particular?" Lord Hayden inquired darkly.
"Several," Agnes replied, rallying. "But in all honesty, one. I will explain.
"In the beginning of the new era, many opposed the doctrine. One of them was a young man named Thomas Kraton, a brilliant student and most promising scientist. It was he who unraveled the mystery of time travel, using sound waves as the denominator. He was hailed a genius, the Einstein of the twenty-sixth century. His genealogy traced back to the early eighteen hundreds, his lineage stemming from a harsh, male-oriented, prejudiced, unchanging and unrelenting breed. He was no different, but a hero to the world all the same because of his great contribution. He attacked the doctrine of the genetically superior female. He was an egomaniac and too radical for the year 2500. Harsh and biased as his ancestors and his entire clan, he decided that if the world were to continue along the path it had set, and women were to be considered the superior gender, then the world did not deserve to go on existing. He would give earth five hundred years to come to its senses. He was a genius in science, but he was also insane. He forged his way deep into the earth. Once there, he transmitted to the world that he was about to plant a mega-time bomb set to explode in the year 3000." Again she wrung her hands. "He told the world not to bother looking for him, for once he had planted the bomb, he intended committing suicide. He did not lie."
"Wait a moment," Lord Hayden interrupted. "You have the means to travel back and forth in time. Why don’t you go back and somehow prevent him from constructing the bomb in the first place; prevent his birth if necessary."
"Two reasons, Lord Hayden, why we dare not and cannot do as you logically suggest. First, we dare not tamper with the past, for the fear of its affect on the future, not to mention that without Kraton time travel would still be only a speculation. Can you imagine what a difference to the future that would make? But even that would be preferable to total extermination, if it were not for the second reason. The doctrine by which we live.
