Dark Matter

by S. W. Ahmed

“There it is!” Rayim exclaimed.

  There it was indeed. Marc’s antique pocket watch, the family heirloom that he always kept with him, no matter where he went or what he did. It was all he had left of his family, all he had left of his heritage, and that was why it was so dear to him. It also always brought him luck, and that was why he often brought it out before doing anything important. His first time travel experiment was one such example. That experiment had failed, but it had opened doors for him that had completely changed his life and had brought him all the way here today.

  He flipped open the golden timepiece and stared at it. The dials were still working perfectly, even though the time it showed obviously had no relevance here on Meenjaza. The small photo of his parents was still there on the inside cover, both of them smiling up at him with pride.

  “Allow me,” Rayim said, taking the pocket watch from Marc. He closed his eyes and uttered a prayer, then ran his finger around the edge of the cover. Suddenly the entire timepiece began shining brightly, and the watch section came loose. He lifted the watch section from its cover, and revealed what lay underneath to Marc.

  “Behold, the third copy of the Hidden Scripture!” Rayim announced proudly, displaying it to the other High Clerics as well.

  There it was, tucked away inside the cover of the pocket watch, hidden all this time under the body of the watch section – a shining, golden scripture coin.

  Marc’s jaw dropped in shock. “This… this coin was responsible for making me the Sign?”

  “It guided you every step of the way to ensure you fulfilled your destiny. Whenever you swayed from the ordained path, its power pulled you back.”

  “My visions, my dreams!” Marc whispered. The collapse on Ailen as he had made up his mind to return to Earth had prompted him to stay with the Mendoken. His own mind rebelling against his virtual self on Nopelio had caused him to break out of the Volonan Grid. The collapse on the Aftaran Gyra-class vessel as he had wanted to leave that ship had made sure he stayed onboard and ended up on Meenjaza. Learning to cope with the visions had also helped him finally break through the barrier around the Unghan stronghold.

  Finally, it seemed, the puzzle was starting to take shape. “So are you saying this coin made all the decisions for me?” he asked Rayim.

  “Made the decisions? No. It just guided you in the right direction. The decisions you made were still yours.”

  “What about my feelings? I felt good and bad vibes about different individuals, way before there was any reason to think anything about them. Was that the coin too?”

  “No, not entirely,” Ouria said. “While the scripture coin did intensify the emotions you felt upon encountering individuals and situations, your basic intuition was still yours. The scripture coin never took over your personality or your thought process. It merely showed you the terrible things that would happen if you didn’t do what it wanted you to. It encouraged you to stay true to your destiny, by helping you clearly separate those who would help you in your cause from those who would do all in their power to hinder you. It never lied to you and it never turned you into somebody you weren’t.”

  “That’s right,” Rayim said. “I would never have picked someone who I didn’t think was up to the challenge of being the Sign.”

  Marc shook his head in disbelief. “Can you explain to me what I saw in my visions?” he asked. “I mean, I understand the warnings of darkness, death and destruction. But every time all that faded away, six lights that came to my side, lights that gave me hope and warmth. What did those lights represent?”

  Ouria seemed to think for a moment. “We can’t interpret everything you saw, since your visions are only for you to interpret. But I would guess that the lights represented those things that most helped you accomplish your mission.”

  Marc’s eyes lit up, once he realized what Ouria was referring to. They weren’t things, but individuals. And there were exactly six of them, from all four advanced civilizations of the galaxy – Sibular, Zorina, Dumyan, Sharjam, Raiha and Jinser-Shosa. Somehow the scripture coin had known all along that these six were going to help him in his quest.

  Then another thought came to his head. “So if you knew all about this disaster and this conspiracy ahead of time, why did you even need a Sign? Why not just expose Jaegor and the rest of the Unghans yourselves?”

  “No, we didn’t know, Marc Zemin,” Ouria replied. “All we knew was what the Hidden Scripture told us, which was that the calamity befalling the Dominion could only be removed with the help of the Sign. We just needed to choose the Sign, and the Scripture would take care of the rest. We had no idea that Jaegor was actually an alien from another galaxy, nor did we know what conspiracy he was plotting. We had never heard of the Starguzzlers or what they were capable of. You were the first to see through it all, and through you the rest of us were able to see it. Such is the power of the Scriptures.”

  “And such are the ways of the Creator,” Rayim added. “They are truly strange.”

  Marc wasn’t fully convinced. “If the Scriptures hold so much power, then why didn’t you use that power to break out of your imprisonment?”

  “You think logically, Marc Zemin,” Ouria said, smiling. “That’s a good thing, and one of the reasons you were chosen. Wazilban took away all our scripture coins, without which we were powerless. No enchantment can ever be enacted without the correct scripture coin in your possession. All our powers lie in the Scriptures and not in ourselves, for the Creator has blessed the Scriptures with these powers.”

  “Does that mean the Creator wrote the Scriptures?”

  Ouria smiled again. “Actually, we don’t know if the Creator wrote them. We don’t know who did. Nowhere in any of the Scriptures does it say that they are the Creator’s own words. Very few of the verses even mention the Creator by name. The Scriptures have been there as long as our people have existed, and over time we’ve come to treat them as sacred truth. And in many ways, it doesn’t matter who wrote them.”

  “But why would you religiously follow laws that are not from the Creator as if they were from the Creator?”

  “Knowing who wrote the Scriptures is not as important as believing in what they say and following what they teach. And if they teach us to be better individuals and live better lives, then what’s the harm in believing? The Creator chooses to remain unseen. We do see clues of the Creator’s handiwork everywhere. But as much as they may or may not coincide with current science, they’re still just clues, not hard, factual evidence. In the end, it all boils down to one thing – faith.”

  “But how can you live your whole life based on faith? What if the faith isn’t true? Isn’t it all in vain then?”

  “We all live our lives based on faith, whether we believe in the Creator or not,” Ouria said. “Faith in our children, our parents, our friends, our careers and our future. Everything is based on faith, for none of us know what will happen tomorrow. We may lose our loved ones, lose our jobs, or even die ourselves. Yet we always maintain the faith to carry on and hope that everything will be fine. Faith makes us live our lives better. Faith makes us feel that life is worth living.

  “It’s the same with having faith in the Creator. It gives us a feeling of meaning, of purpose, a feeling of hope that there’s more to life than a fleeting few years of consciousness between birth and death. It gives us the assurance that we don’t cease to exist the moment we die, but that we remain conscious in death as well. As the Scriptures tell us, death is just a different form of life, and it lasts for eternity. Without such faith, life has no value. Without such faith, life would be unbearably lonely.”

  “So you’re suggesting faith is the same thing as hope?”

  “Faith is much stronger than hope. Faith lasts through thick and thin. It never withers and it never dies.”

  Rayim took out the scripture coin from the pocket watch cover, put the timepiece back in its case and handed the watch back to Marc. “Your mission is herewith complete, Marc Zemin. If the
re’s any way I could apologize for assigning you such a monumental task without asking you first, I would. But I’m sure you’ll agree that there’s no way you would have believed me or accepted the task if I had. Regardless, I hope you’ll appreciate as much as we do what an honor it is to have accomplished all that you have. With the Creator’s help, you have saved all of us. You have saved the whole Glaessan. And we shall never forget it.”

  He bowed in front of Marc, and the other High Clerics followed suit.

  Marc took this as an indication that the conversation was over. He bowed back and left the room. Dumyan, who was waiting for him outside, escorted him back to the Mendoken scout ship. After bidding Dumyan farewell, he boarded the vessel and headed back to the Mendo-Zueger system, through the last consar that was to ever be opened in the Glaessan galaxy.

  Chapter 44

  The Euma-9 vessel that would transport Marc back to Earth was waiting for him at one of the space stations around Lind. As he arrived on the ship’s control deck, he was surprised to be greeted by Commander Maginder. It turned out this was the same ship and same crew that had picked him up from Earth a month earlier. It was no coincidence, for this crew was responsible for the region of space where Earth was located, and knew the area better than any other Mendoken crew.

  Marc was pleased to see his old acquaintance Petrana piloting the ship. He spent some time talking to her as the ship took off, telling her about all the things he had been through since their last encounter. She went on to tell him how this ship had participated in the battle against the Starguzzlers at a star system not too far from Mendo-Biesel. The ship had been almost destroyed at one point, but had luckily made it through in the end.

  After some time, Marc went down to his quarters, the same lavish quarters made especially for him that he had stayed in before. Since this was no consar journey, it would take over 2 days to reach Earth.

  “Might as well get some rest,” he thought.

  The journey home was uneventful. Just as the ship reached the entrance to the Mendo-Biesel system, he came back up to the control deck to witness the entry through the silupsal filter. Watching the massive gate open in the wall of darkness ahead, he thought about how he was willingly returning inside the shell he had lived his whole life in, the shell all humans were living in.

  “Dark matter indeed,” he said to himself. Humans believed that most of the matter in the universe consisted of dark matter invisible to the human eye, and the debate about the composition of dark matter still raged on in scientific circles today. There were numerous theories that it consisted of particles different from neutrons, protons and electrons, the baryonic particles that most of known, visible matter was composed of. All kinds of interesting names had been given to these invisible particles, including axions, sterile neutrinos, SIMPs and WIMPs. Yet it had never once occurred to humans that this dark matter might consist of the very same baryonic particles they could already see. It was just purposely hidden from their view.

  As the ship passed through the filter and began its approach toward Earth, Marc remembered one more thing that had been puzzling him for a while. Realizing that he only had minutes left with the Mendoken, he walked up to Petrana to ask her. Given her expertise on Earth and humans, he figured, she would most likely know the answer.

  “Petrana, since you Mendoken actively monitor the silupsal filter and make sure there is no communication between us and those outside our solar system, why is it that we’ve had so many reports of extraterrestrial sightings on Earth throughout history? Who flies all those flying saucers and UFOs and what not?”

  “That is one of the interesting qualities of your species, Marc,” Petrana said. “Some of you appear to relish tricking others with acts of deception. Acts that are not harmful, but are nonetheless untrue and unproductive.”

  “So you’re saying all the sightings are fake?”

  “Not all. There may have been occasions where ships of other species in the galaxy managed to pass through the filter undetected, but generally we do a thorough job in monitoring all traffic through the filter. Some of the sightings may also have been of advanced aircraft developed in secret by humans.”

  “I presume you mean military aircraft? Whose are they?”

  “Of the country you live in, mostly – the United States. They are undoubtedly the current leaders in space and air travel technology on your planet, with aircraft already built and tested that are far more advanced than what the public is aware of. We have observed several of their recent developments with interest.”

  “Really! Well, I suppose they keep these things secret in order to keep their edge over other countries.”

  “Yes. It is ironic that a species as creative and hard working as yours needs to have enemies in its own midst in order to keep advancing and progressing. You humans would be a lot more productive if you all worked with each other instead of against each other.”

  Marc watched the familiar blue planet appear in the distance. He was coming home at last! After all he had experienced out in space, his emotions about the decision he had taken were mixed, but his resolve was absolute.

  Commander Maginder came over and asked him to give up his translator device. He was then to enter a transport cylinder that would take him down to the surface, the same way he had initially ascended from Earth.

  “Where would you like to land, Mr. Zemin?” Maginder asked. “At the same location where we picked you up?”

  “That depends on whether you can locate someone on Earth for me.”

  “We can locate any human being anywhere on the planet. We can also collect detailed information about that person for you, if you so require.”

  Marc had never been to Europe before, even though he had always really wanted to visit. During his senior year at MIT, he had planned to surprise Iman by inviting her to join him for a trip to Europe the summer after his graduation. Instead of heading to the most typical tourist destinations like London, Paris or Venice, he had planned on going just to Vienna and Prague, two cities out of the main limelight but with very rich histories and many beautiful sights. He had also planned to propose to her during that trip, in Vienna on the banks of the river Danube. But that trip had never occurred, because the two of them had broken up well before his graduation.

  “Life can be so funny sometimes,” he thought. He had never imagined he would actually ever make it here under such different circumstances. It was also a strange feeling to be back on Earth, a strangeness that was compounded by the fact that he had chosen to land in a location so foreign to him.

  He was standing on top of a bridge over the Danube, staring at the water flowing silently under him, water that flowed all the way from the Black Forest in Bavaria to the Black Sea 1800 miles away. The city of Vienna was spread on both sides of the river, the older part to the west where all the historical landmarks were located, and the much newer section to the east where many of the modern structures lay. The afternoon winter sky was clear, with the Sun already beginning its descent over the western horizon. The air was cold, but he took no notice of the temperature. The jacket the Mendoken had made for him was keeping him plenty warm, and the shoes they had provided were very comfortable for walking. There was a decent amount of traffic on the bridge, with cars whizzing by in both directions. It was rush hour, with people heading home from work on this Tuesday evening.

  As he walked over the bridge to the eastern side of the city, crossing over a man-made island and an artificial waterway that ran parallel to the river for several miles, he wondered about the meeting that lay ahead. He had expected to be nervous, but he wasn’t. He was surprisingly calm. After all he had been through, nervousness just didn’t seem to be in his vocabulary anymore.

  His destination was clearly visible now – a series of modern looking buildings not too far from the banks of the artificial waterway. A large triangular structure called “AustriaCenter” stood out in front. Built in the late 1980’s, it was a modern conference c
enter that could host close to 10,000 people at a time. But where he was headed was the complex of modern looking buildings behind the center – a number of curved structures that reminded him of the shape of the City Hall in Toronto, which he had once seen as a child.

  These buildings were much larger, however, and there were many more of them. This complex also held a far more global function. It housed one of the four main United Nations offices of the world, along with New York, Geneva and Nairobi. Known as the ViennaInternationalCenter, it was home to the well known International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA), the United Nations Industrial Development Organization (UNIDO), and a number of other, smaller UN organizations.

  Marc arrived at the main entrance to the complex and walked into the security building. Security here was high, similar to that of international airports. Following a line of people, he walked through a metal detector and was then abruptly stopped by a stern looking security guard.

  “Name?” the guard asked, in a voice commensurate with his looks.

  “Marc Zemin.”

  “Identification?”

  Marc produced his Canadian passport. The Mendoken had been gracious enough to fetch it for him from his room in Ithaca before he had left their ship. If things here went the way he was hoping, he wouldn’t be returning to Ithaca himself anytime soon. There was just nothing there for him anymore to go back to.

  The guard fumbled through the passport’s pages. “Who are you here to see?”

  “Iman Houry. She works at the CGTU.”

  The guard stepped away, made a call, and returned after a minute. “Ms. Houry will be down to meet you in a moment,” he said curtly, handing Marc his passport back.

  Marc walked up to the window and stared at the wide plaza between the curved buildings. There was a fountain in the center, surrounded by a circle of poles carrying the flags of the UN’s member states.

  “If she comes out walking,” he said to himself, “there’s no chance. But if she comes out running…”