Seeking Sirius

by Laure Reminick

  Rachel almost gave the paper to Morty. But the distinctive bold caps across the top stopped her.

  ONLY FOR THE EYES OF MAC OR RACHEL

  RACHEL, IMMEDIATELY CONTACT MAC

  “Never mind,” she whispered, clasping the message to her heart.

  * * *

  When Alexa awoke, a soft illumination seeped in through the room’s one window. Treetops brushed against the building, perhaps moved by a gusty wind.

  The inevitable was only postponed. The why of her location hit. And a lump of some dense matter appeared in her chest. All the hope that buoyed her these past weeks vanished. As gone as Rachel, wherever she was; and as absent as Donny, who lay in the hospital morgue awaiting her decisions.

  She remembered falling into this bed, in a hospital room next to Pearson’s. It had been dawn, with rays of morning sun pouring in.

  Alexa swallowed, working to keep the grief at bay. Flipping onto her back, ow! bruises, Alexa poked around reality inside her head to find some rightness. She couldn’t be ecstatic about the result of last night. But it might help to perceive some order in the universe.

  The door from Pearson’s room opened and he walked through, looking much more orderly than when she last saw him. “Whoa,” she said, propping herself on her elbow. “You clean up pretty good.”

  Pearson’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. Alexa almost added, “and the programming is back too.” Other than my father, wherever he is and if he is alive, Pearson is now the closest person to me. No snarky comments. “Thank you,” she said, “for all you did yesterday.”

  Pearson sighed heavily as he dropped onto the deeply cushioned love seat. Hospital it may be. Still, the furnishings were posh and Alexa got the impression confidentiality on all levels was a given. “I failed you,” he said.

  Alexa shook her head. “It was my choice.”

  He seemed to find her actions unexplainable. “Why did you send Rachel?”

  Alexa switched her gaze to out the window. She never told anyone. Now might be the time. “Because I am the reason Sammy doesn’t have his father around.” Alexa eyed Pearson, as she sat up and perched on the side of the bed. Since she couldn’t give the truth to the parties involved, she’d tell him.

  “When Rachel stole the man I loved.” Alexa stopped. With a wry expression, she said, “We were eighteen years old and barely out of high school.” Then she smiled wanly. “To get back at her, I—” It was so trivial, and so mean. “I told the guy that Rachel mocked his speech impediment, a slight stutter.” She bit her lower lip, “and she did so in front of a group of people.” After a couple of moments, she added, “and then, supposedly, she laughed at him.” Even years later, the guy’s pain was clear in her mind. For years, she felt shame at her momentary triumph when he declared he would depart with his family the next day.

  He did leave. And never returned.

  “About a month later, Rachel realized she was pregnant.” Alexa bowed her head. “She never knew why he refused to return her calls.”

  Chapter 44

  Pearson didn’t express shock at Alexa’s lie. Instead, he gazed at the faux fireplace for a bit. “There is more to the story.” He gestured to new clothes on the other side of her bed and a covered tray on the table. “I have another meeting with the specialist we brought in. It will take a couple of hours. Here is a snack. Can you wait for a proper meal until I return?”

  The moment he mentioned a snack, Alexa knew food would be a really good idea. “Yes. I’ll take a bite or two, then meditate until you return.”

  Alexa found to her deep satisfaction that she actually experienced a deep meditation, by anyone’s standard. She slipped into a stream of bliss and settled to the bottom of an ocean of light. The kind of place you would be happy to never leave. No quibbles on her part, simply profound gratitude for being past the block that had been dogging her for years.

  The room was dark by the time Pearson returned. When he opened the door, Alexa spoke from her spot on the bed, “I can be ready in ten minutes. Could you come back?”

  “I will order soup and naan bread to be delivered in twenty minutes,” he replied and left.

  Twenty-five minutes later, she was finishing her first bowl of soup and Pearson tucked a bite of bread and butter into his mouth. As she refilled her bowl, Alexa commented, “Your hair is short. The long hair was cool. This is handsome.”

  Pearson brushed his hand over the cropped locks. “This was easiest.”

  If they were not eating, the next minutes might have been deemed slightly awkward, though Alexa couldn’t understand why. When she was full she put down her spoon, sat back, and folded her napkin. “You know, it occurred to me that we never fully explained to you what was at stake in our race to the Kumbh Mela.” She raised her eyebrows. “You must certainly wonder about the drama in the garden shack.”

  Pearson laid down his knife and fork, folded his napkin, and looked at Alexa with intent. “I knew.”

  Alexa made a doubtful face. “How could you?”

  “As I mentioned earlier this evening, there is more to the story.” Pearson touched his chin. “You know my physical nature.”

  Alexa waved, “That does not matter.”

  He slightly inclined his head in appreciation and continued, “I have contemplated many times about telling you. Innumerable times, in fact. And each of those scenarios bear no resemblance to this moment.”

  Alexa couldn’t conceive of where he was going with those statements.

  He spread both hands in front of him. “I never thought it would be this difficult.” After a bit, he blurted, “I was created to help you, to help make sure you would return. To Mac.”

  Alexa felt her jaw drop, perhaps to the floor.

  Pearson finished with, “Mac created me.”

  As she sat there, staring, it began to become clear. Moments passed, while the pieces fell together. “In his image,” she ultimately stated. “He used himself as the pattern.” Alexa brought her hand to her brow. “I wasn’t blind, because I did see the similarity. But how could I have been so lacking in logic?” She gazed at Pearson in wonder.

  “I failed,” he stated flatly. “All the planning and preparations for every possible outcome were for naught.” He sounded utterly depressed.

  “What? How did you know?” She stopped. The ramifications of his declaration became clear. “Wait! Did Rachel arrive? Is that how you knew where and when to find us?”

  Pearson nodded. “Yes, she arrived. And as long as everything happened the way Mac knew then, and I did not interfere and cause a problem, she is there now.”

  Alexa almost began crying with relief.

  “What she wrote on her newspaper was confusing,” said Pearson. “Over time, Mac began to believe you were not dead, and Rachel had somehow come back from the future. He decided that if she could return, perhaps he might arrange a manner for you also to return.”

  “Wrote on her newspaper? You mean the Times?” Alexa thought for a moment. “Yes, from what Trotaka said the newspaper might have made it back.” She began to laugh. “And the pen! The silly pen!”

  Alexa plopped her elbows on the table and her face into her hands. Mac aimed at the impossible to get her home. She chose to not go. And here she was without him, forever.

  Her heart cracked.

  Nausea first, then bile in her throat. Tears would not be postponed. She rocked. She grabbed her hair, dragged it over her face, hoping to disappear. At some point, she was swooped up and held. Grief stormed, round and round.

  Forever.

  A thousand years later, quiet at last, Alexa sat on Pearson’s lap, wrapped by his arms. At one point he’d handed her a handkerchief, which had become soaked. His shirtfront was also damp. She slid from his lap and gazed in front of her, out the window into the night.

  Pearson shifted to be able to look at her. “There is something I can do,” he whispered. “Mac thought of this possibility. He wanted to be able to respond. Therefore through the years, I wo
rked to make it possible.” Pearson stood up. “I will be back.”

  Not too long later, he returned, took a stance behind Alexa and began massaging her shoulders, like Mac used to do. After a bit of time melting into the wonderful relaxing attention, Alexa glanced up and around.

  Mac. It was Mac standing there.

  She blinked twice and found him still there. He leaned his head to one side, like Mac would, to silently inquire if she was okay. Alexa slowly stood and faced him. She understood. She’d graphically seen how Pearson’s facial features were structured, and how logically they could also be altered to present a different appearance. Nevertheless she also felt this to be truly Mac, getting himself to her in the only manner he could.

  She extended her hand. He took it and walked around to her. And she fell into his arms.

  Chapter 45

  Alexa and Pearson, and in private Pearson as Mac, remained at the hospital for a few days, allowing Pearson time to meet with additional technical experts and Alexa to sift through the pieces of her life to locate some forward impetus.

  Once or twice a day if she was out and about, someone asked if she was the lady on the news that received the great prize. Alexa would respond yes, though no financial prize had manifested. Each person nodded sagely and let her be.

  The second morning at the hospital, and after another truly profound meditation for Alexa, Pearson came to find her with a gentleman in tow, a Mr. M.K. Banerjee, Esquire. “Very pleased to meet you, Madam,” Mr. Banerjee said. “If I may be of assistance at any time, please call upon me.” Later Pearson explained he retained the man as his lawyer for certain matters and Banerjee had asked about the famous Alexa Jane Alden. They both enjoyed a chuckle.

  The next day, Alexa decided to address the issue of Donny’s death. The hospital had reported the body as an unknown person. She debated about that. But how could there be current family or connections, other than Rachel? The authorities didn’t seem to have a problem.

  She and Pearson took Donny’s ashes to the city of Varanasi, to be spread onto the Ganges River. For thousands of years the town had been important to several religions. For Hindus, a death ceremony on the steps to the river or remains deposited there into the river supposedly helped balance the deceased’s karma. She didn’t know the reality of this belief, but Donny certainly deserved her extra effort.

  Upon return from Varanasi and after another tearful session of self-blame for Alexa because she flew to the Bahamas that day to fulfill her own desire for a silly cottage, Pearson began recounting the story of how Mac pieced together what happened while he was away on business.

  “Rachel’s notes were brief, perhaps because the pen ran out of ink,” said Pearson. “What was there was fantastical. The number 2962 was supposed to be a year, and the name Adalans was supposed to be a planet, and someone named SivSatyananda was supposed to have retained a crystal.” To Mac’s relief, when he was able to provide the information to Brahmaji, the crystal’s fate did not seem to be a problem.

  It was almost two years before Mac realized the new investor who wanted to buy the plane, had in reality been intent on luring Alexa to gain access to the crystal.

  Alexa looked at Pearson in surprise. “Mr. Fahlsteder wanted the crystal? How did he know I had it? Was he the same person as John Lloyd?”

  “Lloyd,” repeated Pearson. A blank look appeared on his face. “Mac mentioned a John Lloyd once. He and another man visited Mac’s office three days after you disappeared. There is no indication in my data the two men were connected.”

  “Lloyd was at Brahmaji’s school and figured out I took the crystal away with me,” said Alexa. Do I implicate Donny, now it’s all over? No. “Iain Newcastle is related to Lloyd.”

  Pearson developed the blank look again.

  “Iain knowingly accepted a decoy to give to his family.”

  Pearson nodded, and Alexa sensed she saved Newcastle from a good deal of grief.

  Pearson picked up on his story. “Brahmaji warned Mac that Sterling Fahlsteder was not to be trusted, indeed may have insinuated an informant at the school. But Mac could not resist since Fahlsteder invested so freely. Ultimately, Fahlsteder copied or stole and almost captured via a ruinous lawsuit much of Mac’s research on creating the prototype for—me.”

  “Newcastle said his family wants the crystal because it’s lucky. The same for the investor?”

  “Probably not. Fahlsteder died of the same wasting disease as his family. Mac understood the man was convinced the disease was his own fault.”

  Alexa tried to connect the dots. “He thought the crystal would cure the disease?”

  “Mac was unable to understand the man’s reasoning. And Brahmaji ceased giving much information to Mac. Unfortunately before the man died he produced a computer mimicking him, and me, which over the centuries went rogue in the worst manner. The threats to you are not hollow.”

  Alexa sighed. “Heartening, isn’t it.” She studied the carpet at her feet.

  “I will protect you.”

  She looked at Pearson, in wonder. “And you. You have been around for all these centuries.” She could hardly conceive of everything he’d seen and, yes, lived through. “One would think you would have become cynical, after all this time.” Shrugging her amazement, she said, “Thank you.”

  Pearson gave a small wave of his hand. “When technology failed me, there were a couple of instances when I shut down. But search engines always trolled everywhere for any mention of the crystals, and you.”

  “I remember, now,” she said, “that Brahmaji referred to a ‘link to a larger reality.’ It’s possible he was talking about the crystal.”

  The memory unfolded in her mind: Brahmaji propping his head with his left hand, while contemplating the tall crystal sitting to his right. Alexa noticed in her mind’s eye that near the top of it was a much smaller crystal sticking straight up from off the side. Brahmaji said, “What to do?” The reason Alexa heard him was because she was unusually close by, collecting some papers she needed to collate.

  A yellow rose he had picked up near the end of the afternoon, Brahmaji began striking softly against the table in front of him, while looking the big crystal up and down. He switched his gaze off into the distance. He also continued to pound the poor bloom. Alexa remembered smiling to herself, recognizing the flower’s plight. She and others knew how buds would inevitably blossom to their most magnificent state right at those moments.

  Then he murmured, “How far?” That evening Alexa bore away the small package wrapped in gold cloth.

  Whoa.

  Perhaps, “far” in time?

  Possibly, this was Brahmaji’s intention?

  As in, being hijacked to the future, wasn’t her fault?

  Alexa’s breath stopped.

  .

  .

  .

  Huh.

  Chapter 46

  When Pearson acquired a couple of official passes, the two decided to revisit the Kumbh Mela during the day. The trick they were told would be to navigate among millions of people, through avenues of flood-plain silt, between tents set up for various saints and gurus and teachers. The goal would be the sand bar built up over untold time at the meeting point of the Yamuna River, the mother Ganges and the unmanifest Saraswati River. All attendees aimed to ritually dunk themselves there, to accomplish the most for the living before ending up in Varanasi as the dead.

  Being an auspicious day when they arrived, huge numbers of people pushed toward the Ganges. Pearson and Alexa clasped hands and managed to dunk three times without ending up separated amidst the crowds, nor drowned. Although right afterward Alexa felt a little chilled, soon the day’s warmth dried her clothes.

  Because attending the event was an important event in the life of any Hindu, mothers would discipline boisterous boys and family members would assist the elderly. Families traveled together and often walked arm-in-arm. In the huge crowd with languages from all over the world, sometimes it was hard to focus.
Elephants bedecked with painted flowers and symbols ambled on the sides when they weren’t carrying people or images in a parade. Even the robots were decorated with what anywhere else would pass for Christmas ornaments.

  On the stroll through the throngs Alexa and Pearson stopped at SivSat’s tent, where more than a hundred pundits chanted in unison, slow and deliberate. The sound caught at anyone nearby and made you want to sit right down. “It is the Rudra Abhishek,” replied a gentleman near them. “Very favorable.”

  “That’s the name I was trying to remember,” said Alexa. “Do you happen to know what it means?”

  “Rudra is the hunter and also is Shiva. The performance is meant to eradicate chaos, negativity.”

  An hour later, they decided to leave for one of Pearson’s several homes on Earth; another night in the noisy Allahabad hotel, for which Pearson forked over an outrageous sum, being not tolerable. Alexa was ready to leave.

  Along the path they stopped at a stall with beads and items dunked in the Ganges on other special days, and Alexa moved to the side as Pearson began to haggle. He seemed to enjoy that very human activity.

  When a man approached her saying “Excuse me, Miss. Are you Alexa Jane Alden?” she turned, ready to again explain she had received no great fortune. Upon recognizing the saffron robes, she simply replied, “Yes.”

  “SivSat sent a message to you.”

  Alexa’s heart leaped. “A message from SivSatyananda? Do you think he will come back soon? Should I wait for him?”

  “He said he would not return for some time, Miss. But his message is,” the monk paused, then began reciting. “Ajay, job well done. You took exactly right action.”

  Tears welled up. She wondered about him using her initials. Family and friends might do that, but it sounded odd from this source. “Did you say A.J.?”

  The monk nodded. “Yes, Ajay, as in A-J-A-Y. It means ‘invincible’ or ‘unconquered.’ SivSat must consider you as that.”