Project J

by Sean Brandywine

  The kindly words of that man had shown him the truth he sought. It was really simple: man was not meant to understand God’s ways. One had to trust and allow God to fill his heart with love. Only then would the pain flow away. He became as he had been as a child, comforted by the love of the Church and the peace found in true belief. It took more than a year but his faith returned. He joined the Project Dry Wells, worked hard to do the best job he could, and tried to forget his beloved wife. Then came that terrible moment in which they had created this copy of Jesus – this lie that walked and talked. Filled with doubts about this, he turned again to the only comfort he knew: the Church.

  But now it seemed the Church had abandoned him. They had not called. And something must be done or soon the world would know of this false Christ. Maybe he should contact them again. His hand reached for the cell phone but withdrew after a few seconds. They had told him that they would contact him. It would not be right for him to go against their orders.

  He had not turned on any lights when the sunset faded into night. It was better to sit alone in the darkness, feeling the agony of indecision, and fearing that to do nothing would be the worst thing he could do.

  Someone on the project was leaking information! Word had gotten around as to why that Congressman had visited that very morning. He knew of the project and was investigating. The Congressman had left, but perhaps he would be back. There was talk that the project would be announced to the world soon. That would be terrible. The people knowing of this fake Jesus could not be allowed to happen. The Bishop himself had told him that.

  He was a scientist. He had helped formulate some of the theory behind using the entanglement to create matter in the present. And he knew that this was only a copy. It was not possible that the real essence of Jesus had been copied. It could not be. The real Jesus was divine. The Son of God. He believed that with all his heart.

  His cell phone chiming made him jump. With trembling hand he picked it up. “Hello?”

  It was the voice of the Bishop. “You have said that there is talk of the project going public? Is that true?”

  “Yes, your Excellency.”

  “Will that be soon?”

  “Possibly, your Excellency.”

  There was a silence for long, agonizing seconds, then, “That must not be allowed to happen.” A pause, then, “Do you understand?”

  “Yes... Your Excellency.”

  “Do whatever you have to.”

  “Yes. Does that mean...?”

  “Do whatever you have to.”

  “Yes, your Excellency.”

  “Have faith to do what you must,” the calm voice went on. “This is the wish of his Holiness,” it lied. “May God guide your hand.”

  “Yes, your Excellency.”

  The phone went silent.

  The man put his phone down and resumed staring at the wall. Yet, although he trembled with fear, his heart was gladdened. Now he knew what he had to do.

  Chapter 52: Translator

  “You did what!”

  Stryker’s voice nearly rattled the windows of his office. He face was turning a wonderful shade of crimson.

  “We simply showed some of the world to Jesus,” Juliette told him calmly. “You did agree that we should bring him up to date, so to speak.”

  “But flying him around in a corporate jet! Dining out at restaurants! You were supposed to just keep him out of sight for a day or so. And letting him visit a Catholic Church. What were you thinking?”

  “It was a beautiful church, old and historic,” Tamara cut in. “And churches are part of the world he is learning about.” She did not add that it had depressed the poor man for the rest of the day.

  Stryker shook his head and flopped down in his chair. “And the bill! My, God, did you have to rent a Learjet?”

  “It was a Beechjet 400. And it was the cheapest jet they had that would hold four people.”

  Sighing dramatically, Stryker told them, “I certainly hope Jesus had a nice vacation. I don’t suppose you introduced him to the bishop?”

  “No, he was out of town.”

  For a second Tamara, Juliette and Myers feared they had gone too far and Stryker was going to have a stroke. But he settled down and told them to get out of his office. And not to even think of ever renting jets again.

  As they walked back to Project J. Myers was explaining to Tamara why Jesus was upset at the church. “He came from a time when the only church at all like what you showed him was the Temple in Jerusalem. And you know how he feels about that and the priests who ran it.

  “Not too happy?”

  “A gross understatement. Remember, the high priest was the one who arranged to have him crucified. But worse, to Jesus’ way of thinking, was what they had done to defile the Temple.

  “Besides, what you showed him was too filled with ornamentation and finery to appeal to a Jew who was forbidden to worship idols. A rural synagogue in his day was a simple building with seats all around so that everyone could see and hear and have a chance to address the group. Nothing so formal as what he saw yesterday.”

  “But you agreed to let us take him?” Tamara protested.

  “True.” Myers stopped in the corridor. “Perhaps I should not have. I knew it would not sit well with him. But if he is to learn of our world, he should learn all of it.”

  Tamara grinned, and told him, “At least I didn’t take him around the Stations of the Cross. Or suggest that he visit Saint Peter’s in London or Notre Dame in Paris.”

  “Thank heaven for small favors!” Myers said with a laugh.

  They got back to Myers’ office where he immediately started the coffee maker going.

  “I’m glad that Stryker got rid of that Congressman without any problems,” Tamara said as she sat down. “But I wonder what it was he said he showed him that scared him so.”

  “We’ll find out soon enough. It’s hard to keep a secret around here.”

  A large manila envelope sat on the corner of his desk. Opening it, he slid out what looked like a cell phone. But it lacked the screen of a smart phones. There were only two buttons on it.

  “They got it made! Very good. Tamara, this is for you. And anyone else who wants to speak with Jesus. It is a translator. English to Aramaic and Aramaic to English.”

  “What?”

  “It is something that IT made up for me. Basically, it is a cell phone, but limited to a specific purpose. See these two buttons? Press the left one and talk into the mic and you voice will be digitized and sent to a server in our computer center. There it will be analyzed and translated into Aramaic. That will be converted into digital sound and transmitted back. You’ll hear the words through the speaker. Press the right hand button to translate Aramaic to English.”

  “That’s great! And will save you a lot of work.”

  “Well, maybe. You have to understand there are many problems with translating one language to another. Simple sentence construction and grammar it can handle, but otherwise it is mostly just a vocabulary translator. Keep your sentences simple for the best results.

  “In the server there is a database of Aramaic words.” He demonstrated by pressing it and saying, “Eli Eli lema sabachthani?” A moment later, the speaker said, “God God why you have forsaken me,” in a monotone.

  “You try it,” he said, handing the device to her.

  “Left for English, Right for Aramaic,” she said, then, as she pressed the left button, “Gethsemane.” “Gath-Šmânê,” it told her. Delighted, she tried, “Virgin Mary,” and it told her, “Murr-yaam Btool-taa.”

  “This will come in handy,” she told him with delight.

  “Remember, it will work only within the wireless range here in the project.”

  “Got it.”

  After obtaining his coffee, Myers said, “If you would like to test this, there is something you can do for me. Would you please check on Jesus? I want to make sure that he’s recovering from yesterday’s visit to that church. Maybe I
should take him to my synagogue some day. Might make him feel at home.”

  “That’s an idea,” Tamara agreed. “I’ll check on him. You enjoy your coffee.”

  Then she went off to find on Jesus. She was sure that he would find this new toy as fascinating as she did.

  Chapter 53: Whatever is Necessary

  Tamara found Jesus sitting on his bed, holding a book in his hands. Puzzled, she tilted her head and looked at the spine. The Holy Bible, it read. Now who would have given that to Jesus? That was not too hard to figure out. Juliette carried a small one in her purse. Apparently she was a believer. But also a scientist. If she had any qualms about bring Jesus to life, she had not shown them. In fact, she was one of the prime movers of Project J.

  Besides, it made little difference. Jesus could not read English. The thought suddenly occurred to her that it might be a Bible in Aramaic. She remembered that Aramaic was still a spoken language, and that the Bible had been translated into all languages, including Esperanto and Klingon. But the spine was in English and he was not reading it, so it was unlikely to be in Aramaic.

  He looked up and said something to Tamara. Smiling, she held up the translator and pressed the English button. “Hello, rabbi.” The translator spoke and Jesus lifted one eyebrow high. “This is a translator,” Tamara said. The device told him. A smile broke out on his face. “Press this and talk into here,” she said. Obediently, the translator repeated the words in Aramaic.

  Jesus took the translator in his hand, looked at it, and then pushed the button. He spoke, and a moment later Tamara heard, “You are magicians surely!” He frowned and added, “This is not the work of Satan, is it?”

  “No, only science, not magic nor Satan,” she said, reaching over to press the button before she spoke. The translator seemed to have trouble with that and Tamara wondered if it could find no Aramaic word for “science.”

  She was about to settle down to some question and answers with their guest but a noise made her turn around. Dr. Hans Buerer was standing there, looking confused. His features were pale, as if he had been sick, or at least not getting enough sleep to judge from the dark shadows under his eyes. Slowly as they watched his features changed from puzzlement to disdain. “No matter if you’re here,” he said in a tight voice. His hand, which was in the pocket of his jacket came out, holding a small automatic in it. The barrel shook a bit as he pointed it at Jesus.

  “Stand aside, Miss Graves,” he said. “I do not wish to hurt you.”

  Tamara stood. Her initial confusion quickly turned to fear. His purpose was obvious. She stepped between the gun and Jesus. “Don’t do it!” she said loudly.

  “Stand aside,” he said through clenched teeth. “I will kill you too.”

  Jesus’ hand rested on her arm and gently moved her aside. Tamara looked to him and was confused. Did he not understand? Maybe he did not know what a gun was?

  “No,” she said, but he continued to push her gently aside. As soon as she was moved enough for a good body shot, Buerer lifted the gun higher and aimed it directly at Jesus’ chest. His hand was shaking.

  Jesus’ right arm was holding her aside. His other hand came up before him as if to ward off the bullet. Buerer’s hand continued shaking. Tamara saw his finger tightening on the trigger and started to scream.

  A loud bang echoed in the small room. A short lance of flame leapt out, the gun bucked in Buerer’s hand, and Tamara’s scream sounded, all at the same time. She felt Jesus’ arm pull away and, from the corner of her eye, she saw him falling backward.

  Buerer stood there, mouth open, a look of shock on his face replacing the anger of a moment before.

  The adrenaline surge that began when Tamara saw the gun continued to build up in her, turning her fear into anger. Her scream turned into a roar. In front of her was the chair she had been sitting on. Without thinking, she reached down, grabbed the back of the chair with both hands, lifted it and swung it in a wide arc. The chair struck Buerer’s arm, knocking the gun aside and snapping him out of his shocked state.

  It mattered little, however, because Tamara, still fueled by anger and adrenaline, swung the chair again, bashing it against the side of his body. Another swing drove him backwards into the doorframe. Ignoring the look of surprise on his face, Tamara dropped the chair and grabbed him by the arm. She twisted around, pulling his arm with her, until he was slammed into the wall, face first. She grabbed his hair and smashed his face against the wall. Then again. And again. When the anger faded enough for self-control to resume, he was unconscious and his face a mass of fresh blood and battered flesh. She let him slide to the floor.

  Turning quickly, she rushed over to the bed.

  Jesus was lying there, unmoving.

  Chapter 54: Aftermath

  “I should have done something,” she told the collected Chronodyne big brass an hour later. “I should have done something,” she repeated.

  The adrenaline high had passed, leaving her in a depressed state, trembling and almost in shock. But there were questions to be answered and she could not curl up into a ball and ignore the world like she wanted to.

  “It was in no way your fault, Miss Graves,” Stryker told her. “He had a gun on you and threatened to kill you.”

  She had described in detail all that had happened. They informed her that Buerer was alive but in a serious condition. She had cracked his skull, so hard had she pounded his head into the wall. She told them she had no regrets about doing that, save possibly that she had not finished the job. No one chided her.

  With her story told and confirmed by the video surveillance cameras, there was not much more to do. Tamara felt herself drained but fought the urge to break down and cry.

  At that moment, the nurse from their infirmary came in.

  “He’ll be okay,” she told all the anxious faces. “He has a cracked rib and good sized bruise, but nothing worse. The doctor said that he was lucky Buerer used a small caliber gun. If it had been a .45 or even a 9 mm, he could have died. But Buerer had a 380. That’s a .38 caliber bullet but without much power behind it. This is what saved his life.”

  She laid a cell phone sized device on the table. The metal case was dented. It was the translator he had been holding.

  Tamara sighed and could not help but shed a few tears – of happiness. If she had not been there, Buerer could have shot him more than once. If she had not brought that translator with her, the bullet would have entered his chest.

  Then it occurred to her that maybe it was not luck. Maybe this was a miracle? She picked up the dead translator and looked at it.

  “I told you it would come in handy,” Myers told her.

  Chapter 55: Plugging a Leak

  The house was dark without a light showing in any of the rooms, the only illumination coming from the streetlight through windows. Outside, crickets chirps mixed with the hiss of a nearby freeway to provide a background soundtrack for breaking and entering.

  An unlocked rear window provided an entrance without the need to destroy any property. A small flashlight guided the intruder through the dimly lit rooms. His target was not, however, stereos, silverware, or even a bedroom jewelry box. Instead, he entered a study/office and began going through the desk there. The fact that the desk was locked presented no problem. With a thin sliver of steel he worked the simple lock open and was quickly going through all the drawers. In the third one from the top he found what he was looking for. There was nothing special looking about the cell phone he found there but it pleased him immensely. Switching it on, he touched the screen a few times and confirmed this was the phone he was looking for. Slipping it into his pocket, he closed and locked the desk again.

  Five minutes later he was in his car, driving away into the night.

  * * * * *

  The next morning a meeting was called in the office of Project Director Stryker. The lists of those called to attend was short: Stryker, Manhusen and Crane.

  “Have a seat Marshal,” Stryker told Crane
as soon as he entered.

  “What’s up?” the tall scientist asked, looking from one to the other of the serious faces before him. His smile faded from his face as he did.

  Stryker’s’ words were icy, “You can probably guess what this is about. We’ve found our leak to Representative Stockman.”

  “And...?”

  Manhusen cut in. “With the help of our spook friends, we were able to trace the calls to Stockman’s phone back to a certain cell phone number.”