Nothing in his imagination could prepare him for what he was potentially going to encounter.
They were holding onto Encounter. They would keep her safe. They would repair her. That's what One had told him. They had the technology to disable the ship, and they had the technology to repair her. He wasn't left with much of a choice other than to leave the ship with them. He certainly couldn't fix her.
It was the singular One who escorted him to the launch point. Again, could he be blamed for referring to the singular One in the singular? It was the singular One who told him that this method of travel was perfectly safe. It didn't look perfectly safe as George gaped at it. It was a pod of some kind, large enough to accommodate one passenger―one very large passenger. It was probably large enough to accommodate two humans. It was perfectly round with a white exterior and four horizontal windows placed equidistant from one another.
George looked through one of the windows. There was a comfortable-looking chair, large enough to seat two humans uncomfortably. Opposite the chair was, what appeared to be, a touchscreen control panel within easy reaching distance of the chair for anyone with unusually long arms and unusually long fingers.
George turned to One. “I'm supposed to just―”
Step into it. Have a seat.
George took a step back as One extended a hand toward the exterior of the pod, gently placing its fingers on the surface and pressing. George heard a click followed by a hiss. The outer edges of a circular door, including the window that George had just been looking through, became visible. One removed its hand as the entirety of the door extended out a few inches and rolled back along the pod's exterior.
“Right,” George muttered as he peered into the pod through the open door. “Step into it. Have a seat.”
He stepped into the pod, sat in the chair and pulled himself back, his feet just barely dangling over the edge of the seat. He felt like a small child sitting in a chair intended for adults.
He looked at One, peering back at him through the door, and smiled bashfully.
Comfortable?
George shifted in the chair. “Oh...yes, I'm quite comfortable.” He glanced at the control panel. “Of course, you know I have no idea how to control this thing. I'm assuming my destination is pre-programmed?”
It is.
“This is an amazing piece of technology.” He looked up ahead at the tube that would lead him into the depths of the ocean. “Obviously, it's safe,” he said apprehensively.
You have nothing to be concerned about. The vehicle will not let any harm come to you.
George furrowed his brow. “You talk about it as if it's alive.”
It is alive. This vehicle is a cybernetic organism. It is part machine, part sentient organism.
George was stunned. “It's sentient?!”
Yes. Does that surprise you?
George looked wide-eyed at One and nodded slowly. “Yeah, it surprises me!” He examined the interior. “Where is the brain?”
Beneath the control panel. The control panel and the vehicle's brain are symbiotic. We feed commands from the control panel directly into the brain.
“These...beings, they exist...to serve you?”
They were created to serve as transportation. It is their sole purpose, their reason for being.
George shook his head, horrified. “I'm not okay with this.”
Why?
“My planet, Earth, has a very long and very dark history when it comes to beings living for the sole purpose of serving others, those who are more powerful. We call it, or we did call it, slavery.” He hesitated before adding, “I guess we can call it slavery again.”
I apologize for the misunderstanding, but that is not what is happening here. The slaves of your planet's history did not exist for the sole purpose of serving others. They existed for the same reasons that all humans exist. To find their own purpose, their own reason for being. The slaves of your planet's history were not born to be slaves; they were robbed of their chance to discover their own purpose and were forced into slavery. This cybernetic organism exists to serve as transportation. You exist to be George, a scientist. It is your purpose, your reason for being.
“That's an oversimplification. I exist for many reasons.”
The being before you exists for one reason. It is a vehicle.
George wasn't sold, not even close.
Your ship is not ready. There is only one way to the island.
He gazed down the short length of white tube at the darkness beyond the transparent exit, ocean so deep that the brilliant light from the planet's twin full moons couldn't come close to reaching the floor, an ocean so deep that if the pod weren't as safe as One claimed it was, George would be crushed to death instantly.
“How long 'til I depart?” he murmured.
Not long at all.
The circular door rolled forward. George looked at One through the door's horizontal window as the door moved in, sealing him in with a click and a hiss.
The pod began to vibrate softly, soothingly. It was hypnotic, lulling George into a state of deep relaxation.
Seconds of near-euphoria passed before his lidded eyes were yanked wide open by the momentum of the pod racing through the tube. The white of the tube's exterior vanished almost instantly as George was consumed by darkness. He turned and watched the luminous city shrink rapidly behind and below him through the pod's rear window as the pod propelled itself from the ocean's depths and toward his destination. As bright as the city was, its light was swiftly consumed by the ocean's depths and replaced by an inviting light from above―the soft, white glow of the planet's twin full moons, seeming to welcome him back to the surface.
“How beautiful,” he said to himself a moment before the pod broke the surface. “How exquisite.”
The pod broke the surface and hovered above the water for a moment before making its way to the island a mile in.
George's forehead was plastered to the side window, his eyes trained skyward, his mouth agape. Enchanted by the beauty of the twin moons, he didn't notice the island until he was nearly on top of it. It was the enormity of the island that drew his eyes downward. He scanned the island from left to right. It stretched off in either direction as far as his eyes and the moonlight would allow him to see.
The pod swept over the beach, and that's when he noticed it: the shuttle. It wasn't the shuttle that Emily and David had taken. One had filled him in on the details. Emily had taken that shuttle to the other island, leaving David behind.
He wasn't surprised by the sight of the shuttle Richard, Elexa and Deanna had initially taken to the other island. He wasn't surprised that they had made it here. Everything was transpiring exactly as One had told him it would.
The pod swooped up and over the forest. Off in the distance was the mostly dilapidated city and at the center of that city, a single, dagger-like tower that seemed to pierce the sky. It seemed so out of place among the surrounding ruins, so inappropriate. Yet, it was perfectly appropriate. It wasn't surprising given everything he had only just begun to learn about the One collective. The sky-piercing tower stood in direct contrast to the low-level crumbling buildings that surrounded it. It was as if the occupants of the tower wanted to look down upon the residents of the dilapidated city.
He knew what he was supposed to do when he arrived there; he just didn't know if he had the courage to do it. Much of that doubt was due to the fact that he wasn't entirely sure if he could trust the information that had been fed to him by the One collective. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place; the information was sound, but the source was questionable. He was left with one option, his only option: trust his own instincts.
He was swept by the pod across the top of the forest, acknowledging for the first time that he wasn't frightened by the journey.
He barely had time to watch the treetops race by at a quarter mile below before the forest was left behind. He reached the decrepit city. His bird's eye view of the city couple
d with the decadence of the tower directly ahead reinforced his initial impression that this city was a prime example of the haves and the have-nots. The contrast was obscene, offensive.
The pod slowed as it approached the tower. It was then that George noticed a distinct change in the surface of the tower. More accurately, he was seeing the true nature of the tower's surface for the first time. It was mirrored, reflecting the dark tone of the surrounding environment and giving those at a distance the impression that the tower's surface was dark. Whether or not this was the intent of the tower's designers, George did not know, nor did he know if the tower's surface would have the same effect in the daylight. He supposed he would find out in a few hours.
The pod made its way to the opposite side of the tower where a circular landing platform jutted out near the tower's peak. George looked down upon the platform where a contingent stood waiting to greet him, five members of the One collective and a human male. The pod descended slowly, stopping an inch above the platform. His welcoming committee approached the pod. George stood, hesitated, before stepping out of the pod.
The human approached him, his hand extended, a warm smile touching his lips. “Welcome, George. My name is Sebastian Díaz.”
George took the man's hand. “I know who you are. It's a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise.” He released George's hand and gestured toward the five members of the collective standing behind him. “You, of course, know the collective.”
George smiled faintly. “I'm just getting to know them.”
“Well, I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say that it's a pleasure to have you here.”
“I'm sure.”
Sebastian raised his eyebrows. “Do I detect a bit of skepticism in your tone?”
George was taken aback. Was his skepticism that obvious? “I apologize. I just, uh, I know why I'm here. I know what I'm supposed to do. I just have some doubts. That's understandable, isn't it?”
Sebastian smiled reassuringly. “Perfectly understandable.” He turned and gestured toward the door. “Why don't we step inside and talk about it?”
Sebastian and the collective headed for the door. George took one last look over his shoulder at the pod before following.
“Yes,” George muttered. “Let's talk about it.”
Chapter 35
Transitions. It's the transitions that are scary. More to the point, it's the anticipation of the transition that is truly frightening. That fear of the unexpected, of what will happen on the other side. Once the transition has taken place, once the anticipation factor is removed, the fear vanishes.
Emily was reminded of this when she heard the whispers, when the shadows separated from the darkness to greet her. She had no doubt that that was what they were doing―greeting her. The transition was complete. She was instantly put at ease.
Of course, there was a time when the fear of transitioning wouldn't have been much of an issue. In a time when time didn't exist, when all of the molecules of her corporeal body were phased into a non-corporeal state, the fear that normally manifested itself physically in the hearts, brains and nerve endings of corporeal beings wouldn't have been a factor. Fear existed for non-corporeal beings, but without the heart, brain and nerve endings to bring it all to the surface and hold it there, to get those hands and knees shaking, fear was relatively minor. That kind of fear just didn't exist for non-corporeal beings.
She was beginning to think she enjoyed the fear. She was beginning to think she relished those transitions.
“Welcome,” came the first decipherable whisper. In fact, it wasn't one whisper but a collection of whispers coming together to form that solitary word. They seemed to come from all around her. They were speaking in unison, but the whispers were slightly out of sync, creating an echo effect that exacerbated Emily's fear.
“Thank you,” she replied softly.
“We've been expecting you.”
“Yes, I know you have.”
The shadows turned and began the trek. She instinctively followed them. Out of the woods and into the decrepit city. Unlike the other city, there was no luxurious tower at the city's center. Like the other city, this city was a mess―a tangle of rundown, crumbling buildings.
Is this how it happened? Was this what the beginning stages of Earth's great purification looked like? She should know; she was there; she took part in it. Didn't she? Yes, of course she did. Then why couldn't she remember? She shook her head. The answer was obvious.
She quit looking at the buildings on either side of her. She didn't want to see what they had to show her. She didn't want to acknowledge what was steadily growing more and more apparent with each step she took. She would acknowledge it in time...when she was better prepared to handle it. But at the moment, it would be too much of a shock, too much to handle all at once.
So like a horse with blinders on, she kept her eyes on her escorts directly ahead. She kept her eyes on the prize.
And the prize was...a church of some kind...or a cathedral. A dark, Gothic cathedral with a set of uneven stone steps leading up to a pair or of arched wooden doors.
She took each step slowly, careful not to twist an ankle. Her escorts seemed to glide up the steps ahead of her. She was halfway up the steps when her shadowy escorts reached the double doors. They swung open, seemingly of their own accord. She didn't see any of the shadowy figures push the doors open. The shadowy figures collected before the entrance and seemed to blend, melting into a single cloud of black smoke. Another collective. It hovered before the open doors before pouring into the entrance and disappearing from view.
Emily took all of this with a sense of childlike wonderment. Fear wasn't a factor anymore.
She was tempted enough by her childlike sense of wonderment to yell Wait up! as she threw caution to the wind and raced up the uneven steps. She reached the top uninjured, raced across the flattened grass to the entrance and looked into the void. Darkness. Light didn't penetrate this room. Or did it? White light from the twin moons was filtering into the room, just enough to keep her from falling flat on her face the moment she actually decided to enter.
She stepped in and took a look around. It was dark, but there was enough light from the moons to give her the impression that it was a barren stone room with no windows.
She snatched the flashlight from her belt and turned it on. A few sparkles of light caught her eye. She lifted her flashlight and squinted as the light was reflected back at her. Just above her at the back of the room was a series of mirrors lining the wall. She was befuddled. A series of mirrors of different shapes and sizes lining one wall? It didn't seem very practical. This couldn't be their sole purpose.
“Not for you,” came the collection of whispers from behind her.
She turned slowly, casually. No fear.
The cloud of black smoke had split, once again taking the form of several three-dimensional, humanoid shadows.
“What are these?” she inquired.
“Not for you.”
The shadows moved past her, nearly brushing up against her. This was the closest she had come to touching them. She took a long hard look at them as they passed. They were transparent. She considered leaning into one of them as it passed to see if it would bump her or move through her but thought better of it.
She turned and watched them walk beneath the mirrors. They disappeared from view in the darkness beyond. She tried to catch sight of them with the beam of her flashlight. They were gone, having walked through an arched doorway beneath the mirrors.
She hesitated, knowing full well what she was expected to do, knowing full well what she was going to do. She was expected to follow them, and she had every intention of following them; she just didn't feel the need to rush after them.
She took that first step toward the doorway, knowing each step would be a little easier.
She reached the doorway and stepped through, the beam of her flashlight revealing a stone corridor.
Only one d
irection to go in. She took it, not at all concerned as to where the corridor would lead her.
Each step may have been easier psychologically, but physically was another matter. The corridor was descending, each step straining her calves, yet another reminder that she was a physical being, one that was out of shape.
She smiled. She was enjoying the physical challenge, enjoying these constant reminders that she was, once again, a physical being. Home again. Her home away from home.
The corridor steepened, increasing the strain on her calves. Concerned about slipping, she extended her free hand toward the wall for support. She kept her hand on the wall until the corridor leveled off a bit, though she was still descending, the strain on her calves only mildly relieved.
There was no doubt that the corridor was taking her below the cathedral. It was just a matter of how deep she would have to go and far she would have to walk.
But she didn't have much of a choice in the matter, did she? No, she didn't. So, she just kept walking, kept descending, each booted step slapping the damp stone, the sound reverberating throughout the corridor while the beam of her flashlight bounced up and down, slicing the darkness with each heavy step.
She was hoping that this trek would end before her calves gave out. How long had she been walking? An hour? Two? She had no idea. She hadn't been keeping time. She just knew that a significant amount of time had passed. Her calves told her so.
The Perfect Moment in Peril Page 23
