Juliette looked to Fielding before answering. “We picked him up off the Cross. Just before he died.”
“Oh my God!” Stryker seemed to be having trouble breathing again.
“So you had a man who had been crucified and was near death?” Tamara asked.
“Yes. We had a doctor and nurse ready. We treated him for shock, wounds to his hands, lacerations on his back, a wound in his side, and other problems. He was unconscious for a day and a half. But now he’s fine.”
“Physically maybe,” Tamara said. “But what about his mental state?”
“Well, it has been a shock,” Fielding told her, glancing to Juliette as he did. The look expressed surprise that this stranger was understanding so quickly. “But we expected that. We brought in an expert on Biblical times and a speaker of Aramaic. That’s Jesus’ native language, you know. We had someone on hand when he awoke to ease him into a new life.”
Tamara was still concerned. “I’m surprised the shock didn’t drive him crazy. It’s hard to get your mind around how much change he had to cope with. One moment he was hanging on the cross, in agony, dying; the next he’s in a world absolutely alien to his.”
“We feel he’s adapted reasonably well,” Juliette said. “We’re slowly bringing him along, a bit at a time.”
“And have you been learning from him?” Tamara asked. “Academically? Getting the story straight for history’s sake?” She was sounding sarcastic and tried to keep it out of her voice but failed.
“Oh, yes. We’ve learned a lot,” Fielding told her. “Myers has been with him every day. Dr. Seymour Myers. He has degrees in Biblical Studies, history, and archeology, speaks Hebrew, Aramaic and Greek.”
“And he’s Jewish, which helps,” Juliette added.
“I’m sure it would. Keep everything kosher.” Again, Tamara had trouble to keep from sounding sarcastic.
Before an argument could start, Fielding cut in. “Look, there’s a lot to learn here. We recorded every interview with Jesus, and most of the rest of the time he’s been here. You can look over those recordings. It would be the best way to understand what we’ve done.” He turned to Stryker. “Brian, I’m truly sorry to have hidden this from you. But this is exactly what we made the Machine for. To learn! To find out the truth, no matter what it is. I hope you understand.”
Stryker could only shake his head. “You’ve got a lot to account for,” he muttered in admonishment.
Fielding would not let go of trying to make them understand. “But don’t you agree: this is the greatest science experiment of all time!? Our chance to answer so many questions. We couldn’t ignore this opportunity!”
“We felt,” Juliette added, putting her hand on Fielding’s shoulder as she stood behind him, “that we would not be able to do this if we went through normal channels. Too many people would object. Objections would pile on and others would want in and nothing would never get done.”
“You got that right,” Stryker told them. Then he sighed deeply. “I suppose we can’t just shove him back in time. We’re stuck with him. My God, do you have any idea of the legal hassles this brings up? To say nothing of what the churches would say?”
“It is the Second Coming,” Fielding said with a smile.
“You promised you wouldn’t say that,” Juliette chided him. But she could not stop herself grinning also.
Tamara leaned back in her chair, her mind a whirl of thoughts, and not a few emotions.
“Could we meet him?” she asked meekly.
Chapter 11: Alarm
“If this is true, then we must act!”
The speaker was Cardinal Gaetano Milanesi; the place was an office in the Palace of the Governorate, Vatican City. The Cardinal was one of three men gathered in an emergency meeting after the receipt of alarming news from an American bishop, and was the President of the Governorate, a man who reported only to his Holiness himself.
“Again, I must ask: are you certain of these facts?”
“They have been given to us by a man within that research project, one of the men who helped to build this time machine.”
The Cardinal shook his head. “It is impossible to believe. It cannot be true.”
“I assure you that we have checked out this man and the evidence he has given us. Bishop White and one trusted man of this staff did the investigation. He is convinced. In addition to his statements, this man has provided photocopies of documents. And there is the photo.”
Cardinal Milanesi picked up the iPad and gazed at the photo it displayed. The quality was not excellent, because it was taken originally from a cell phone camera, but it was clear enough to see two men seated on patio chairs apparently in a courtyard somewhere. One man was an older man of prominent Jewish features, graying hair and with a cane resting against his chair. He was in side view. The other man was smaller, of full beard and long hair trailing down to his shoulders. He was facing the camera and looked as if he was speaking, his lips poised in mid-sentence. One hand rested on his knee, a white gauze bandage showing at his wrist.
The Cardinal stared with intensity at that face. It was sun darkened – a man who spent a lot of his time out of doors. There were stress lines on that face, telling of hard times endured.
“Can this be real?” the Cardinal muttered, mostly to himself. “This is... What did you say? An exact copy of Jesus? A living, talking, breathing man who is exactly the same as the Christ?”
“Identical in every respect,” Bishop Carabelli said. “Our informant says that this man even has the memories of Jesus. He speaks Aramaic. He knows things that only Jesus would know.”
“Have you identified the other man in the photo?”
“He is Doctor Seymour Myers, a highly respected Biblical historian and expert on Aramaic. Also Hebrew and Greek.”
The Cardinal finally put down the tablet and turned to the window to his left. The view was of part of the Giardini Vaticani with the Leonine Wall and Vatican Radio building, along with a corner of the Chapel of Santa Maria. The sun was shining and it was a fine day in Rome.
“This may be a copy of Christ’s body,” he said slowly. “I know enough of science to believe the Americans might have built a machine capable of what you described. But,” he said, turning back to the other two for emphasis, “it has not the spirit of Jesus Christ. That cannot be.”
“Of course, your Eminence,” the Bishop immediately confirmed. “The real Son of God cannot be made by a machine.”
The third man, who had remained silent thus far, stirred in his chair and finally spoke. “Of that there can be no doubt. But... Many people will look upon this and believe that it is He.”
“The faithful will not...”
“Your Eminence, it is not so much the faithful I am worried about. It is the rest of the world.” He paused to let his meaning sink in before continuing. “If the Americans tell the world of this man and present him for the world to see, the impact on the Church would be immense. What this false Christ may say frightens me, because people will take it as the real words of Christ.
“Even if they are wrong and this is not a true copy of Christ; even if this is a fake and a fraud, announcing it to the world would still be disaster for us.”
He looked up into the Cardinal’s eyes and said firmly, “We cannot allow this to happen.”
For the first time, Cardinal Milanesi did not look perplexed or disbelieving. He looked scared.
Chapter 12: Meeting the Son of Man
“Now you have to understand a few things,” Dr. Fielding told the group. “Most importantly, do not tell him anything about the Christian church as it exists today. We have kept much of history from him. We wished to learn about him and his time. It is the opinion of Dr. Myers, as well as ourselves, that the impact of his learning how much has been done in his name would be a dangerous mental strain on him. He is still undergoing culture shock of being in our time. In fact, he doesn’t even know how much time has passed since his death. “
Juliette cut in with, “Some things we have had to explain. How we managed to get him here, for example. Which he accepts as magic. I’m sure he has no real concept of how much the world has changed. One time he saw an airliner pass high overhead, so we had to explain to him about airplanes. He was shocked that men could fly in the sky.”
“I am going to introduce you to him as friends of Dr. Myers, who he knows as Seymour and accepts that he is a learned rabbi. Dr. Myers is Jewish, but not actually a rabbi. There is no real concept for a college professor in Jesus’ experience, and rabbi fitted best.
“Oh, and, by the way, you should address him as ‘rabbi’ also. In his time, he acted much like a rabbi. He taught the rules of Judaism: the Torah. And, according to Dr. Myers, he was what we would call a radical preacher: his views differed from those of the established priesthood. But I’ll let you talk with Dr. Myers later. Right now, don’t ask questions. It’s not an interrogation session. You may shake hands with him, that is a universal gesture showing that you hold no weapon in your hand.”
Again Juliette added to the rules. “I don’t know your religious backgrounds, but please do not look like you’re worshiping him. Be respectful, he expects that, but don’t treat him like the Pope or some deity.”
“Remember,” Fielding added firmly, “this is not THE Jesus. Only an exact copy of him.”
At that point, another man entered the room. He was walking carefully, leaning on a cane made of hand-carved wood with a leaf pattern. He was nearly bald but had a full beard, although heavily gray. His face was lined with a slight squinting look like someone who had spent most of his life looking at books. Before Dr. Fielding could do so, he introduced himself.
“I am Dr. Myers but you may call me Seymour.” He held out his free hand to Tamara first. “Dr. Stryker, I don’t believe we’ve actually met. And this young lady must be Tamara Graves from the DOD or some government agency.”
“Correct... Seymour,” Tamara said, returning his smile.
“I understand you wish to meet our distinguished guest,” he said with a smile.
“I told them you would introduce them as friends of yours,” Fielding told him. “It will be a short introduction, nothing more.” The latter was directed at the others, even though he was looking at Dr. Myers.
Myers nodded. “That will be good. He has been wishing to meet more people as he heals.”
“Heals?” asked Stryker. “From what?”
Myers turned to Fielding. “You did not tell them?”
“We told them.”
“You mean the wounds from the cross?” asked Tamara.
“Of course. And more. He hung there for about four hours,” Juliette explained. “He was also stabbed in the side with a spear, one of those crude Roman ones. The loss of blood was the first problem we had to work on. And the shock of nearly dying up there.”
Again going into lecture mode, she continued, “There were also the lacerations on his back. He was flogged, you know. He was a weakened man when he was put up there. The doctor who treated him told us that he was very close to dying when we ‘grabbed’ him. Not in good shape at all.”
“I’m sure you’re anxious to meet our guest,” Fielding cut in. “Later, we can talk about the procedures and what we’ve learned so far. If you’ll come right this way.”
He turned to open a door but halted and turned back. “One other thing. Do not say anything about God or the issue of Jesus’ divinity.”
Dr. Myers immediately added, “You have to understand that his concept of God and yours are probably very, very different. He was a devout apocalyptic Jew living in an age totally different from ours.”
Stryker looked as if he was about to object somehow, but he kept his mouth shut. Tamara had a fair idea what Myers was saying. She had been very interested in religions as a teen, and studied them more than the average person. Early Christianity in particular had fascinated her.
“Shall we go?” said Fielding with his hand on the door.
Without waiting for replies, he opened the door and walked through, leaving them to follow.
They were outdoors. It was late afternoon and the sun was just above the top of the western wall, casting a shadow that covered the whole courtyard. There was some patio furniture, a table and chairs, and a barbeque. There was also, near the chairs, a brick lined circle only a foot or so high. Inside were black lava rocks. A fire pit. Around the courtyard were a dozen palm trees.
Fielding gestured for them to pause while Dr. Myers went ahead of them. This gave them a little time to take in the man sitting in the chair only twenty feet distant.
He was not at all the image of what Jesus should look like. Every depiction of him had him as a tall man with a gentle, kindly face, a well-trimmed beard and long, graceful hair. This man was hardly kind looking, and his beard could definitely use a trim, giving the impression that he would not allow scissors to touch it. He was dressed in blue slacks, sandals on bare feet, and a dark blue sweatshirt with UCLA in bold letters across the front. Upon hearing voices, his eyes opened and he turned to take in the visitors. When he saw that two of them were new to him, he sat up a little straighter. His eyes were turned towards Tamara as they walked up.
“Shelama, rabbi,” Myers said. Then, in Aramaic, “I have brought a couple of friends who wish to meet you.” He gestured them forward. Stryker looked confused, as if he had trouble grasping the situation. Tamara smiled, and tried to tell herself that this was nothing special, just meeting a man. No need to act or say anything different than she would meeting any other man. Certainly no reason for her legs to feel weak and her stomach tense.
“This is my friend Brian,” Myers said, waving his hand at the Project Director. He spoke in Aramaic with only the name coming through clearly. He did not try to explain the man’s position. Jesus would have trouble understand what a Project Director was.
“And this is Tamara, a friend.”
Jesus slowly got to his feet. Up close, the bandages around his wrists were obvious, sticking out of the sweatshirt’s sleeve. There were also almost healed scars on his forehead. It appeared that just standing was somewhat painful for him.
The nails through the feet, she thought. It’s a wonder he can stand at all. Then, looking down, she realized that she could see no wounds nor any bandages on his feet. She was certain, however, that under the overly large sweatshirt, his back would be horribly scarred. The old Romans were noted for whipping prisoners with leather whips that had pieces of rock or metal woven into them to cut the flesh. From her studies, she knew that he had been flogged by the Romans before he was crucified.
Stryker stepped forward and offered his hand. There was the “welcome” smile of a politician on his face, one that held no real warmth. It was obvious from his reaction that the handshake was painful for Jesus. It had to be, with nail holes healing in the wrists, Tamara though with a wince. Stryker could have been a little more considerate.
Tamara came up and offered her hand but only gently touched his, not a real shake. His eyes were a pale brown up close, with lines radiating outward. This is someone, she thought, who spent a lot of time squinting at the sun without the aid of sunglasses. He smiled at her, and she felt some of his animal magnetism come across. This was definitely not a meek and mild little man, even though the top of his head came only to her nose. This was a man who could attract loyal followers and influence crowds of people. She felt it.
“I am very happy to meet you, Rabbi Jesus,” she said.
He spoke a few words that she did not understand at all. His voice was soft, but she had the feeling it could rise to a thunderous roar when needed.
“He says that you are the most beautiful woman he has ever seen,” Myers told her with a smile. “He has met very few women since awakening, but you are, indeed, the prettiest.”
Tamara felt like this was something in a surreal movie. Here was Jesus telling her she was beautiful. And she had actually touched his hand.
Then a thousa
nd questions filled her head, demanding to be let out, and had to be forced down. Maybe later. She bowed her head slightly in thanks. It was hard not to just stand there and stare.
Myers spoke a few words in Aramaic. “I’ve told him that you two have to be going. Have to be someplace else, but had wanted to meet him.”
Stryker turned and left, but cast several glances back over his shoulder. Tamara, on the other hand, asked, “Please tell him that it is a pleasure to meet him. And I hope to do so again soon.”
Myers spoke the words. Jesus smiled slightly and a transformation came over his face. The worn, tired, pained man was gone, and a caring, even loving man took its place. He said something to her.
“He says it is a shame you have to go. And he does very much want to meet you again. He finds your earrings fascinating.”
Project J Page 5
