In the middle of deep sleep, I sat up screaming, “Don’t touch me.” Too late. Sera had stolen all my thoughts. I peered around the room. My mother stood alongside my bed, and Sera’s closet remained empty.
“It’s just a nightmare.” Mother, not Sera, guided my head back to the pillow. “Sera’s busy preparing for your journey, and it frightens me to death.”
I rolled onto my back and covered my face with a pillow. Mother sat, her back to the headboard, and cradled me in her arms. “What secrets are you keeping from Sera?”
“Not actual secrets. Just the details of my plan for when I meet with Albert.”
“Why should she be kept in the dark?”
“I don’t trust her anymore.” I lifted my head and shimmied to a sitting position. “She seems to have a darker side since she inherited the role of Realm.”
“Like what?”
“I sense she is withholding information.”
“About what?”
“I don’t know what or why. Just a feeling I have.” I changed the topic to my other concern which I had actually observed. “At times she admits to human emotions.” I pointed out Sera’s recent slips of the tongue.
“Is that bad? I would hope that after a thousand years of tending our family, she’d developed a touch of empathy, especially during our recent crisis.”
“Empathy, yes. But what if her new found power over us makes her grandiose, and she takes on the attributes of God? Too much authority corrupts humans, and if she is evolving into one of us . . ..”
“Ariel, do you still believe in God?” Mother demanded.
“Yes. A little at first, but more as our problems increased.”
She reached into the pocket on her smock and retrieved a small box. I recognized it immediately and panicked as she opened it. She picked out the cross and set the box down, apparently unaware of Marty’s secret message hidden under the lining.
“I want you to have this now that you are no longer a child. It has been handed down from mother to daughter since the beginning.”
I touched it, as if I hadn’t seen it before. “It’s beautiful. Where did it come from?”
“I had no idea until today.” She glanced around the room. “I suspect it’s the piece of metal that jammed the incubator and nearly ended our civilization before it began.”
“Do you think someone wanted the human experiment to fail?”
“We thought it was a message of some sort.”
“Who is we?”
“The Fortieth League. Tradition has it that mothers used it to focus their babies’ attention before the production of colorful toys. By the third or fourth generation, it became an heirloom. Tarnished with age, it lost its significance and your grandmother almost had it recycled.” Mother held it up to the light and then handed it to me. “Can you see the inscription?”
“I think so.” From years of handing, all but the letters su on the cross member and av under the s were visible. At the very top was the letter ou.
“I showed it to our group, and we decided it had a religious significance to support our theory that God truly exists. I seldom brought it to our meetings, and we never mentioned it aloud.” She touched her forehead, breast, left and right shoulders. “To refer to it, we made this sign in case the Realm might be spying on us.”
“Frank and Albert had no clue of its significance?”
“Nothing more than a group’s secret gesture known only to the members, used to open our meetings. It’s probably what got us singled out as undesirables.”
“What does Sera believe?”
“Until her recent powers of clairvoyance, that the cross only has significance as an heirloom. Who knows what she understands now.”
“Is it mine to keep?”
“Yes, until you give it to your daughter.”
“I’m going to wear it until we are reunited as a family. Then you and I will lay it back on its satin cushion and present it to my daughter, your granddaughter. Promise me you will keep the container intact.”
“Along with my heart.”
“And this.” I kissed the satin pillow and closed the cover. Then I leaned over and kissed my mother on her lips. “I love you.” Hopefully within the next two years, I will be able to piece the mystery together with additional information from my Earth sister.
Through a blur of tears, she proclaimed, “My wonderful daughter.” We hugged, and I rested my head on my pillow and closed my eyes.
After Mother left my room, I held the silver cross she’d given me with one hand and practiced her secret code with the other. I scanned my memory for the names that Marty claimed as her ancestors, hoping to discover a connection. I selected those names duplicated from her two secret messages but couldn’t be located anywhere else in my tutorial or the data library, Jesus and Savior. Some of their letters matched those that remained legible on Mother’s cross. When I visualized Jesus on the cross member, savior fit vertically, sharing the letter s. The ou could spell out or our. I opted for the latter and mouthed the phrase, Jesus our Savior. Jesus must be a religious hero like Wonder Woman from comic books, but I want to believe she was a real person who probably lived at the same time as Cleopatra and the two Caesars.
The only written copy of the story of Jesus our Savior is tucked away in the box Mother agreed to save until I return. I reviewed it from memory, and every night before I go to sleep, I vowed recite it aloud, starting immediately.
I pressed the cross to my breast, and murmured, “In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. So Joseph went from Nazareth in Galilee to Bethlehem, the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, and she gave birth to her firstborn she named Jesus. Wrapped in cloth, she placed the baby in a manger. And there were shepherds keeping watch over their flocks. Angels of the Lord appeared and the glory of God shone around them. ‘Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all people. Today a Sav . . .”
St. Cloud, Minnesota
Marty Haggart
JULY 21, 3151
TRANSMISSION INTERRUPTED flashed across my retina, and the last word of Ariel’s narrative ended in mid-spelling, no doubt the reason my meter had calibrated reading time to a fraction of a second. Ariel’s personal account abruptly stopped at a critical point, cut short by an unexplained technical glitch. Had she even been aware of or perhaps a part of the gaff that delivered it to Earth Base with little likelihood it would ever get to me? I again attempted to transfer Ariel’s story to my embedded memory, but when I reflected on it my mind remained blank. I tried every code breaker in my arsenal, but the random letters, e b l t d a v o n prevented me from downloading the document.
I recognized the abbreviation for lieutenant from my father’s rank as a retired science officer of Earth Federation in Mogadishu, and I assumed the letters e b represented Earth Base located in mid-Atlantic. The lieutenant who delivered the program to my doorstep had placed a lock on her copy of the program. Fearful she might have added a self-destruct command after a single usage, I kept the program open in my reading cocoon until I talked to either Lt. D. Avon or Lt. Davon.
I found the mid-Atlantic coordinates for Earth Base and transported my presence to its central office. The receptionist politely suggested I report in person, accompanied by my teacher or parent, before she’d honor my request to summon any Earth Base personal.
I anticipated my father’s disapproval of my actions when he returned home, and I wasn’t disappointed. In my defense, I digitized and projected my best memory of the lieutenant glancing over her shoulder as she placed the computer chip in my hand. My detailed summary of Ariel’s plight struck a nerve with Father who distrusted isolated societies flinging through deep space.
He asked to peruse Ariel’s journal and agreed to squeeze his head into my media cocoon, rather than chance losing the document by transmitting it to his laboratory at the univ
ersity. A habit of his when he concentrated, he paced around my room bumping into things. He resembled a cartoon character with his head stuck in a small kayak.
In half the time it took me to read Ariel’s account, he emerged, his ears slowly regaining color after the tight fit. He said, “I want a transcript of every communication that has taken place between females here and there, including that between you and Ariel.”
I reminded him that two thousand exchanges had occurred, twice that many, including responses.
He paced and added, “And at least as many technical exchanges.” Twice around my bed and half way out the door, he said, “Tell your mother I’ll be secluded in my lab at the university for a while.”
My mother’s response, “Send a message to the cathedral when he reenters civilization.”
I again put my university course work on hold and appreciated the solitude at home to locate and read four thousand pen pal letters.
Forty-eight hours later, Dad summoned me to his lab, where I watched him dangle a couple feet of twisted string emitting vapors as room temperature warmed it from a cryogenic state. I couldn’t begin to guess the quantity of data he slowly wrapped around a spool like dental floss.
He said, “Reserve two passages on the Trans Atlantic submerged tube. You and I are visiting Earth Base.”
The receptionist recognized me from my tele-presence and stood to salute my father. “I’m sorry, Sir, for inconveniencing you and Marty.” Obviously, she did some identity research since I last communicated with her. “Lieutenant Avon is expecting you.”
An image I recognized as that of the female officer who visited my mother’s rectory back in St. Cloud appeared and voiced, “Welcome. I’m Lt. Dawn Avon’s tele-presence. Please come to her office where we can talk privately.” The apparition passed through the wall that opened as a door for my father and me to follow down a hallway to another door already opened. Lt. D. Avon stood inside her office and saluted my father. “It’s an honor to meet you, Colonel Haggart.”
She reached out to shake my hand, and I nearly failed to reciprocate. When had my father been promoted and why? He’d retired as a lieutenant ten years ago.
She gestured toward two chairs and waited until we were seated before taking her place behind the desk across from us. “I’m sorry you were put through this inconvenience.”
“That’s quite all right,” Dad responded. “I haven’t been back on base since my last flight thirty years ago.”
“The Kuiper Belt mission, I believe, where you were summoned to resolve some claim disputes.”
“Yes, a trifle matter but blown clear out of proportion by international mining corporations. Hardly worth the five years away from my wife.” He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid my daughter and I won’t live long enough to personally settle the deep space problem confronting us today.”
“If you’re suggesting a rescue mission, remember that habitat has a thousand-year head start. The best a space craft could do with our improved technology would be to arrive at Proxima Centauri about the same time, three thousand years from now.”
“One year is all we are asking for.”
“The speed of light?” Lt. Avon glanced at the star chart on her desk. “I think I understand, but sending your tele-presence would entail serious complications. Even if you were successful, what good would it do?”
“You get permission from the commander, and I’ll figure out the details.”
Avon’s fingers worked the device in her palm until her eyes widened, and she shook her head. “A data burst of that magnitude would require more energy than used to send the past two years worth of communications combined. And that’s before your message is added.”
“Multiply that number by two.” My father’s tone barely audible, but commanding.
“A message equal to your tele-presence would be enormous. Are you sure you have that much to say to them?”
“The extra data capacity isn’t for my message. My daughter will accompany me.”
“Wow. I’ll see what I can do. You still carry a lot of influence on base, and maybe your plan could help break the stalemate that’s has lingered for the past few hundred years. Start preparing a data burst of whatever you want to send. I think Earth Base will try it. Nothing else has been able to penetrate that rogue computer out there.”
“We came prepared.” He opened a small canister and removed his spool of data, steaming and dripping with liquid hydrogen. “Transport this complete package. It contains Marty’s tele-presence and an incentive for the onboard computer to cooperate.” He dipped the spool back into the liquid gas and it emitted a slight sizzle. “Be sure to destroy it with extreme heat after it’s been transmitted. I wouldn’t want any virus to develop.”
Lt. Avon stared wide eyed at the container gathering frost from the humidity in the air. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” My father reached for my hand and we exited her office, neither he nor she saluting.
SPACE MISSION TWO
Ariel Gordon
JULY 22, 3150
TRANSMISSION INTERRUPTED flashed across the ceiling monitor, and my mental dictation ended in mid sentence. Stunned, I lay in a bathtub of tepid and somewhat viscous water, cradling my arms across my chest to reduce my shivers. As if awakening in the midst of a nightmare, the replay of my past blended into the present, but the emotional residue of shock and disbelief lingered. My out-of-body experience felt too real to have been merely part of bad dream. I had experienced a replay of the past three weeks of my life, exactly as it had occurred, and its abrupt ending felt more like death than reentry into the present. I might have been recalled from a parallel string, if any such thing existed.
I pinched my arms and legs. The elevated sensitivity caused by the serotonin had lessened, but my limbs hadn’t gone numb. Despite the interruption, my narrative of the past three weeks remained vivid in my memory, but how much of it got transcribed into Anne Frank’s diary? My monitor had gone dead, and I assumed the computer had likewise crashed.
My mental command failed to reopen my tutorial, not unusual at times when my energy ebbed, especially if I’m overly tired. I opened the bathtub drain and stood under a spray of hot water until all the yellowing visages of depleted serotonin had washed away. With my head wrapped in a towel and a bathrobe draped over my shoulders, I stared into the blank screen on my desk monitor. Again, my tutorial failed to open. The problem had to be in my unit because the data library also failed to open. Repair droids should have it operating shortly.
Meanwhile, I assessed the situation as if both programs had been permanently disabled. I would merely be deprived of a meaningless tutorial, and if Albert continued his interest in Roman History, which I doubt, he’d not be able to research it. My recording of the past three weeks possibly survived but couldn’t be verified. However, my memory remained intact, and my brain would be a private and safe location. I will record future episodes of my life as they occur in real time, but I would never submit my mind and body to another serotonin experiment.
Still shivering, I wrapped my robe tight around my body and crawled under the covers. I needed sleep, if I am to take a mile-long space walk in the morning.
My farewell party on Dad’s rooftop garden included all five families. After a series of toasts and well wishes, I stepped into a suit reminiscent of the Pillsbury Doughboy dangling from the shaft of a patio-sized umbrella. Sera zipped me in and fastened the rigid ring around my neck. Mother and Dad smothered my face with tears and kisses, until Sera slid a transparent bubble over my head and fastened it to the ring on my suit.
I studied faces I might not see again for the next fifty years. My suit inflated, and I forced a yawn to counter the pressure filling the headpiece. Sera strapped a harness across her upper body and fastened it to a second umbrella. Mother approached, whispered into Sera’s ear, and placed a peck of a kiss on her cheek.
Jets of air billowed the umbrellas canopies to
resemble parachutes floating to the ground, but it caused us to ascend rather than descend. They began to flutter when we reached the diminished field of gravity at sky level, and jets of air reversed forming a vacuum that gathered fabric and pulled it into the hollow shafts. Against our metallic sky, Sera pressed a pair of magnetic paddles similar to ones used to shock heart attack patients on hospital sitcoms. She nudged me against a door and it revolved. I anticipated a swoosh of air, but only a wisp occurred as a second door followed the first. I was sandwiched between pressure-controlled revolving doors. Without it, my parents, their friends, and any loose furniture would have been scooped up and sucked out.
Through the glass, I observed stars and constellations that didn’t twinkle but appeared as tiny moons within a fog of distant light, the Milky Way. The chamber rotated me out and into an empty darkness. The entire mass zoomed past my field of vision until Sera’s hand caught my shoulder. I, not the sky, had continued to rotate.
Two brighter stars illuminated Sera’s silhouette, as she hooked a safety strap to the tether between our two habitats and snapped the opposite end to the back of my suit. With one hand grasping the tether, she pointed toward a brighter star and then directly opposite at one considerably dimmer. Lacking communication, she couldn’t state what I assumed to be the case; Earth’s sun and what had been our destination star. Would Marty, a light year’s distance away, be gazing at a similar sight? Probably not. The Earth’s atmosphere and light pollution from the sun’s corona spilling around and reflecting off the oceans would distort her view.
Progress was slow. Sera inched forward hand over hand, and I clung with one hand while sliding my safety strap a few inches at a time with the other. Obviously, travel between spheres had not been intended. Another example of divide and conquer? If so, we must still be a threat to the Realm, especially since it cannot conveniently destroy us.
Midway, we encountered the center hub that we had to circumvent. When Sera released my safety strap, I panicked until she connected its loose end to a length of rope attached to the front of her harness. I retreated into my comfort zone. She gestured for me to hug the tether with both arms. I shook my head, until she pushed herself out on a line tangent to the arc of the hub. Wrapping both arms and legs around the tether, I welded my body to it. Traveling at one hundred and eighty six miles a second, yet she merely drifted farther out until the diminishing slack in our connecting rope ended with a tug. Curiosity overcame my immediate impulse to pull her back and command her to give up our enterprise. She faced out into deep space, puffed her cheeks, and expelled a gust of air. Like air escaping a balloon, the propulsion moved her body inward and out of sight behind the hub.
LIGHT YEARS FROM HOME Page 11
