by Grant Pies
Q: Did you conduct these experiments on Pierson?
A: Yes.
Q: And what experiments did you conduct?
A: At first I simply took DNA samples from him and tried to replicate the process of denaturing. The conditions inside our bodies are…different and hard to replicate, especially with the equipment I was using. So I was able to unzip and zip Pierson’s DNA, but I could not unzip the DNA in the same manner that it occurred inside of me. The experiments failed in that respect.
Q: Did you try anything else?
A: At the time of the tests, Pierson was becoming more and more ill. His body was not producing enough white blood cells. Doctors couldn’t determine what exactly was wrong with him. I suspected that Pierson’s DNA was more fragile because of his poor condition. I needed a stronger sample. It was my thought that his organs would give me both a higher yield of usable DNA samples and stronger samples. I continued to watch over Pierson as I normally would. He grew weaker, and he got to a point where his decline became very rapid.
Q: How long ago was that?
A: That was only about five months ago. Soon after this decline Pierson expired.
Q: So you testify that his health rapidly declined five months ago. Pierson died on May seventh, twenty seventy, so you are saying that around January is when this rapid decline began?
A: Yes, I would say so. Just after Christmas.
Q: What did you do after Pierson died?
A: I removed several of his organs for DNA extraction.
Q: Which organs did you remove?
A: I removed his spleen, liver, and a portion of his brain.
Q: Why these organs?
A: It is my understanding that these organs provide better DNA yields than other organs or bodily fluids.
Q: Is it your testimony here today that Pierson died of natural causes?
A: I am not sure what caused his death.
Q: Let me rephrase the question. Is it your testimony here today that you did not kill Pierson?
A: Correct. I had nothing to do with Pierson’s death.
Counselor Powell: No further questions your honor.
Court: Counselor Klipton, cross examination?
CHAPTER 40
5065
NEW ALCATRAZ
DAY 8
I awoke just before the sun moved over the horizon. The cold air blew off the water and slammed into the rocky cliff. The fire that blazed the night before was reduced to embers, reminding me of the lonely fires that I slept next to on my way through Yellowstone. Hamilton squatted by the fire poking the embers with a stick. His eyes glazed over and his shoulders slumped. I couldn’t tell if Hamilton was defeated before coming to New Alcatraz. Maybe this was him and the future prison did nothing to change him.
Red and Ellis were huddled and whispering to each other a meter or two away from Hamilton and me. I stood and stretched. My muscles ached and screamed at me for trying to exert myself before they were ready. My hands were especially sore.
The altercation with the man the night before used muscles that only wrestling and cutting a person’s throat with a sharp rock would. I balled my hands into fists and then spread them open in an effort to work out the pain. The cut on my palm spread open as dried blood cracked apart, and fresh blood leaked out of the long opening. I walked over to Ellis and Red. Ellis held a stick in his hand and drew in the sand around several rocks the men had placed on the ground.
“The airport was here in 2068,” Ellis said and pointed with the stick to a large rock. “I remember that the entrance to the vault was west of the main terminal area.” Ellis pointed at a second smaller rock.
“So we will be coming up from the south.” Red interjected; he pointed from the bottom of their drawing and drew an invisible line up to the large rock that marked the airport’s location. The two men continued to talk when I walked up.
“Right, we are about a day’s walk from there,” Ellis continued. I yawned as if I just awoke and crawled out of my tent on a friendly camping trip. Ellis turned to me and asked, “When you got here, what did you see? Were there any structures in the distance?” I shook my head, but for a second I had almost forced myself to lie just so I could seem helpful; the child in me trying to impress his father.
“What about the ground?” Ellis asked me. “Did you notice that the ground changed at all? Was there a hollow sound at any point under your feet? Did you see any signs of asphalt under the dirt?” With each question all I could do was say ‘no.’ Ellis looked away; maybe he should have raised a more observant child.
By the time the sun was fully over the horizon, we started down the beach and found a part of the cliff that had an incline that was gentle enough that we could traverse it without injury. But it still wasn’t easy, and our pathway was composed of sharp shards of shale that crumbled and slid off under our feet. Chunks splintered away, and hundreds of potentially deadly weapons tumbled down the cliff as we climbed up. The pieces broke and rolled down, picking up speed as they fell and bounced down the cliff until they rested at the bottom. Smaller pieces burrowed their way into our shoes.
When I had to steady myself, the jagged rocks sliced and jabbed into my hands. The cuts were so quick that I didn’t notice them until minutes later. The pain was delayed, but once I sensed them they stung like a hundred paper cuts on my palms and in between my fingers. The overly salted air coated my hands and body in a film that stung my pores and the cuts on my hands. Below me Hamilton struggled to traverse the rocky cliff; his thin arms were scraped and bleeding; his jumpsuit even more tattered by the rocks. Above me Red and Ellis both seemed to make quick work of the cliff, getting to the top of the shifting shale mountain before either Hamilton or I were half way up.
I carefully made my way back down toward Hamilton; he was crawling but only traversing the same line along the cliff. I reached out my battered hand toward him, and he looked up at me, holding my gaze for a matter of seconds. He looked confused as if he didn’t know what my gesture meant. Then he cautiously lifted his hand up toward mine, and his legs struggled to keep his balance. He rocked back and forth and eventually gained his footing enough to grasp my hand and wrist. I dug my feet into the shifting rocks underneath and pulled him up towards me. Once Hamilton was next to me, I pushed him up the mountain toward Red and Ellis. The other men watched as we struggled.
Hamilton now continued up the cliff ahead of me, but before I started back up I stood tall on the side of the crumbling mound of shale and looked down to the beach; back toward the body I had left there. The sun stared right back at me and blurred my vision, but even through the bright hazy light I saw small specks of people walking toward us. Far in the distance, behind the specks, I saw a stream of dark smoke. The same color smoke that came off of Red’s friend who was burned at the stake. I turned back toward my new allies and scrambled up the cliff.
Hamilton made his way to the top of the cliff where Red and Ellis reached out and pulled him up the rest of the way. I reached the top last, and all three men reached out to help me complete the final steps. We trudged through the sand away from the cliff and the beach. The shale cliff turned to gravel beneath our feet and then to gritty sand. By the time the sun began to drop we walked along the compacted hardpan desert floor, our feet thudding onto the ground as gravity sought to tire us even more.
CHAPTER 41
5065
NEW ALCATRAZ
DAY 8
Our lips were coated in bits of sand from sucking on our damp dirty socks. We found random bugs crawling in the desert or crustaceans scurrying through the beach sand, but they offered little nourishment. Red and Ellis assured me that there was larger wildlife here in New Alcatraz, but that it was rare to see and even rarer to catch. Over the course of my time in temporal prison any fatty tissue in my face had been devoured by my body. The thought of my skin pulled tight over my facial bones underneath reminded me of Whitman, and his synthetic skin that would have long since deteriorated and fallen off
of his metal frame, or maybe it was removed after he was decommissioned.
For the first time since I met up with this group of prisoners, Hamilton was ahead of me, walking along side Red, holding his stomach, surely in pain from the lack of food. Behind them, but still ahead of me, Ellis walked alone until he looked back at me and slowed down. I eventually caught up with him, and he matched my pace.
“So,” he said. “Red told me you claim you were framed for murder?” Ellis said this in a genuinely inquisitive manner; he didn’t speak with any skepticism, nor was his voice tainted with disbelief. He wasn’t looking to disprove my story, so I simply nodded my head, almost too tired to answer verbally. “So what’s the story then?” he pressed. “Why you? Red told me it was a Time Anomaly Agent?” I still responded with only non-verbal shrugs and nods. Ellis didn’t say anything else for a second. He let that beat of silence act as a repetition of his questions.
“I don’t know,” I responded in a short burst of air. My body forced me to choose between breathing and talking. “I came home from trying a case and a swarm of agents kicked in my door. Before I could register what was going on, I was booked and interrogated.”
“Yeah, the TAA gets labeled as inefficient, but someone kills one of their own and they snap into action. A case? So you were a lawyer?” Ellis said this as if Red told him I was an attorney, but that Ellis didn’t believe him until now. I nodded my head. “Yeah, I worked for the ARC.”
“So you are an engineer too.” Ellis said as a statement, not as a question. But I nodded anyways. Ellis walked a few more paces without saying anything. The ground crunched under our feet. “Red told me he had a few theories on your situation.” Now, Ellis voice inflected to show this was less a statement and more of a question. I laughed.
“You mean my evil twin brother killed her?” I responded sarcastically.
“What?” Ellis said in disbelief. His pace slowed down to the point where I started to leave him behind me.
“Yeah, Red thinks I have an evil twin brother walking around with my DNA. He thinks my brother killed her.” I said and rolled my eyes. Ellis stopped walking, and I stopped also or else we would no longer be within ear shot. Ellis looked stern and serious, more serious than I expected him to look right after I told him Red thought I had an evil twin brother.
“You said that he thinks your twin brother killed her.” Ellis furrowed his brow further at the end of this last sentence. I nodded my head. “Her?” Ellis asked really pressing the point. “Yeah, it was a female agent that died.” I answered.
Ellis didn’t seem like he would ever start walking again, so I moved on in the hope that this would cause him to follow. Overhead a crow, or some other black bird, flew high above our heads. Surprised, I looked upward and watched it circle in the sky; my stomach wished I had some way of shooting it down. Ellis started walking again, but his pace was only slightly faster than a complete stop. He looked at me and increased his pace to catch back up; in this split second he seemed more energized. There was a determination in his step; like my arrest was now a riddle for him to solve.
“Tell me everything you remember about your arrest. What did they tell you about the murder? What happened to the body? Where was she found? How did the killer kill the agent?” He peppered me with questions so fast that I didn’t know where to begin.
“The body was found in a warehouse in Phoenix.” I told him. “I don’t know much else. The agent who questioned me showed me pictures of the body. All I know is she was mutilated; whoever killed her cut her open.” As I said this, visions of the crime scene photos flashed in my mind. I saw the limp body sprawled on the floor. Her skull cut open. Her eyes pulled out of her head. I remember the blood that pooled around the body, looking like dark thick oil.
“Mutilated how?” Ellis asked. He placed his hand around my elbow until I turned to look at him. His face was pale and sweat ran down his forehead. “Her organs were removed. The agents couldn’t find them. Whoever cut them out took them with him.”
Ellis stopped walking and squeezed tighter around my elbow. “What organs were removed?” Ellis asked in a panic. He wanted the answer but feared what I might say next.
“Her brain, heart, and eyeballs were removed. Why?” I asked.
CHAPTER 42
2066
DENVER, CO
Ellis stood in a dry plain in the year 2165. He grabbed two stones nearby and placed them on the ground to mark the wormhole entry point. The wind whipped crisp air through his hair and fluttered his clothing. The buildings looked taller and the city was more spread out compared to 2065. The smaller pockets of suburbs surrounding Denver grew to the point that they merged into one another. A dense fog hovered high in the air.
Ellis walked to the three points that surrounded the open wormhole, and used the device the Ministry gave him. The numbers that flashed on the device meant nothing to him. The air was hotter than in his time, and it burned his nostrils as he breathed in. Cars sped by on the distant freeways and planes flew high overhead. He could leave his old time behind and make his home here in the future, but the wormhole would stay open until he returned.
Ellis made his way back towards the entry point until he found the two rocks he placed on the ground. He stood over the stones and kicked them away from where he stood. He gazed across the plain, which extended for hundreds of kilometers, only dotted with a few random trees. The wind blew the loose dirt around by his feet. He turned his face toward the sun. The rays hitting his face were from the sun’s past; they were in the earth’s present, and from Ellis’ future. It was all a matter of perspective.
He breathed in deeply, holding the air in his lungs before he pressed the button on the signal emitter. It broadcast a silent signal through the open wormhole back to the Ministry of Science. Ellis closed his eyes and his body vibrated. He opened his eyes once the vibration stopped, and he found himself back in the dark immense underground facility. He exhaled the air from his lungs; it was his small way of bringing something back from the future with him.
CHAPTER 43
2067
DENVER, CO
Being a time traveler sounded more exciting than it was. For the most part Ellis spent his time in the underground facility. His travels to the future were quick and repetitive. The most time he ever spent in the future was three hours during his fourth trip. So far he had completed ten trips. Ten surveys. One millennia. Ten times he rode the long elevator down, moving deep underground and standing on the large stage in the enormous underground stadium sized room. He stood and looked at the future of Denver from afar, marking his entry point, walking to three points and checking the air and soil quality with his device, returning to the entry point, tilting his head toward the sun, looking around, breathing in, and pressing the signal button on his return signal device. Ten times.
He was quarantined for roughly a month after each return. The scientists from the Ministry watched him. They approached him only while wearing thick plastic suits with retractable tubes attached to ventilation systems in the ceiling. His room was the size of an efficiency apartment. No larger than his real apartment back home. Three of the walls were cement that had the slightly cool damp feel of a wall constructed underground. The fourth wall was a thick aluminosilicate glass material that extended from the floor to the ceiling.
When a scientist approached Ellis’ room he tapped a portion of the glass wall and backwards writing illuminated on the exterior side of the wall. Backwards to Ellis, but forwards to the scientist. The scientist tapped and swiped on the screen. Graphs that zigzagged up and down flashed on the wall. Charts with columns and rows of numbers showed up. The room constantly monitored his basic vital signs. Pulse, blood pressure and perspiration. Brain waves and other electrical impulses. The scientists pulled up this screen three times a day.
If they needed to access Ellis’ room they typed in a six-digit code, and an entire panel of the glass wall slid over to open the cell to the ‘outside.’ When the w
all slid open and pulled away from the cement wall it let out a loud suction noise and a whoosh of air blew into Ellis’ room. The ceilings in the hallways and Ellis’ room were lined with tracks that housed retractable tubes that pumped air into the scientists’ plastic suits. Air that wasn’t potentially contaminated by the future. The scientists could hook the line to their suit and glide the tubing all around the facility along these tracks.
Usually the scientists entered the room only to give Ellis the standard injection. Ellis had had dozens of these injections and he still was not used to them. He eventually stopped asking them what the substance was; he relied on what the blonde man told him.
They gave Ellis three meals each day. Not good meals, but meals nonetheless. He had running water in his cell and a portion of the floor retracted to reveal a treadmill track underneath. A portion of the glass wall was a dedicated computer screen that faced his side of the cell. The computer had a static signal that only allowed him to passively view movies, news, and other materials; he could not actively post or add anything onto the internet.
Ellis watched the scientists scurry about through the facility. He only guessed that the other surveyors were in similar cells in the facility. Probably right next to him. Outside his cell was a hallway that was about as wide as a two lane road. The wall directly across from his cell was, as far as Ellis could tell, one continuous screen that stretched the entire length of the hall. The screen broadcast panoramic landscape pictures. One day Ellis would wake up and see the sun cast cool purple and bronze light over the southern rim of the Grand Canyon. Other mornings he awoke to an expansive view of the turquoise water off the beaches of Fiji, or the endless deserts in Egypt.
At night he saw the aurora borealis shimmer in the skies of Yellowknife in Canada. His favorite was when they broadcast scenes of the expansive plains in Wyoming. He lay on his bed with his arms stretched back and his hands behind his head. He stared at the endless green grass and rolling hills in the distance. The cloud formations floated by his cell. If he stared hard enough he could almost feel the gentle breeze drift across his face and through his hair. It reminded him of where he grew up, in a small farmhouse on the high plains, surrounded by nothing but crisp air. He wished to go back to that part of the country one day; maybe start a family.
