Jubilee Year: A Science Fiction Thriller (Erelong Book 1)

by Gerard O'Neill

  “Why would he want to meet with me?” Storm asked.

  “He didn’t!”

  Martyn continued to stare at Storm, his head held at an odd tilt. It was as if he were a little bewildered by what he saw. He got up from behind the console and walked to a cabinet that had simply appeared as he approached the wall. It opened to present him with a crystal decanter.

  “You are thirsty,” Martyn said.

  He stood quite still as though he might be trying to remember something or else was listening to a sound unheard by Storm.

  “Water if you have it,” Storm answered in a daze, his head feeling like it was on fire.

  Martyn walked over to Storm’s table with the decanter and two glasses. He pulled the stopper and poured a half-glass for Storm and one for himself.

  “Have you heard of negative ions? This is something similar. It’s quite refreshing.”

  “I’m supposed to meet Professor Samuel Blenke,” Storm said, ignoring the glass on the table beside him. “Do you work together?”

  Martyn laughed again. It started small and grew rapidly. He pulled back his head and roared.

  Storm was startled when he saw the size of the man’s mouth. The man had a lot of teeth. Storm was no expert on the matter, but it looked like Martyn had too many of them.

  The giant picked up the decanter and the glass of clear liquid he had poured for himself back to his desk.

  When the giant moved back to his desk Storm saw that the chair was no longer there. When Martin sat down it reappeared, molding in an instant to the shape of the large body.

  Martyn took a sip from his glass then set it to one side. His fingers began tracing circles on the console and below his moving hands, the dark surface responded with a faint glow that followed the movements.

  “Well, then,” he said finally, an edge to his voice. “What is it you have for me?”

  “It’s actually for Professor Sam…” Storm began before cutting himself short. “It’s a short string of letters and numbers.”

  He had promised Michael he would not give the information to anyone but his astronomer friend, and in particular, that he would not give it to the authorities. Davenport had looked like a policeman, he thought despondently. Damn, but he couldn’t believe how bad his head was hurting! It was like the hangover he had the day after Ethan’s nineteenth birthday party.

  “Take the pen and paper on the table beside you and write what you have from Michael,” Martyn instructed.

  The pressure in his temples was something vicious, but as he wrote the pain grew less. He checked the lines and seeing there were no mistakes he placed the paper on the console.

  “Drink. You will feel better,” Martyn said, looking up at him. The irises of the eyes were large and silver.

  Storm sat back down in the chair and picked up the glass. It tasted bland but refreshing, and he emptied the glass in several gulps. As he set down his glass, he realized with a start his head wasn’t hurting anymore.

  “Unfortunately, the good Professor Blenker seems to have vanished,” Martyn said.

  “He never showed up for dinner at his home yesterday evening,” he said a smile passing like a shadow across his face. “His wife reported him missing this morning.”

  Martyn emptied his glass and smacked his lips.

  “Michael was mistaken to think his colleague could help,” he said in a tone that was measured as though he was listening to himself phrase each word. “As for the Prime Minister, he enjoys receiving his news first hand straight from the source. Which would be Michael. And as it happens, McKenna is not at all capable of assisting in this matter. He is more of a hindrance. So—here we are. Without a middleman to muddle things.”

  Storm watched Martyn stand and his chair fall away into nothingness.

  “You must be hungry,” Martyn told him. “Come and join me for lunch. There is much I would like to talk about and we have such very little time.”

  Storm knew he had every right to be afraid of Martyn. Here was a man of great power, physical to be certain, but also power at a greater level, who had virtually kidnapped him. And yet, he felt strangely alive, his mind alert and clear in a way he had never known it to be. More than that, it was as if a veil he was never before aware of, that covered all he saw, had been torn aside. And he was curious to learn why Martyn Boas found him so interesting, and by no small measure, he was flattered by the fact.

  Above The Sheep Dogs

  Heads turned as the boy and the giant entered the crowded restaurant, but the glances from diners were furtive at best. The ministers of parliament and their guests quickly turned their attention back to their lunch in case they might become of interest to the tall man.

  Martyn ignored them all, directing Storm up a spiral staircase to a mezzanine floor where a single large table had been set for two.

  The scenic windows across the side of the restaurant looked out over a metal and glass pyramid on the flat roof. Beyond Parliament House, the city grid stretched to the edge of a range of hills clad in the leafy cloak of blue-green gums.

  “No one apart from the waiter will bother us up here,” he told Storm.

  A waiter came up the stairs and handed a menu to Storm. He placed a large metal decanter in the center of the table and stepped back.

  Martyn tilted his head, and the waiter wasted no time disappearing down the stairs to the restaurant. He filled Storm’s glass to the top then filled his own.

  “Do you know where we are?” he asked, taking a sip and smacking his lips as though appreciating the vintage. “We are in the Members’ Guests Dining Room.”

  Storm shook his head. “My school took us here once when I was a 6th year, but it was only to watch a debate. It was boring.”

  “They call it debating,” Martyn said. “It’s theater. No one dares to step outside of the script. They are playing roles.”

  “My mom says the same,” Storm said. “Hey! Didn’t we leave Michael’s info on your desk?”

  Storm realized in the same instant as he spoke that he had not seen Martyn pick up the paper. He couldn’t have read it.

  “We don’t need it,” Martyn replied. “But you are wondering what was in the message.”

  “It’s a code of some kind,” he said.

  “You memorized an email address, a password, and an algorithm. Nothing but a series of steps necessary to complete a particular task. There’s nothing cryptic about it.”

  “That’s it?”

  “A set of directions to locate specific celestial objects,” Martyn told him. “Orbits and orbital changes.”

  Martyn smiled as if he had just told a joke.

  “They think they are able to understand this thing by measuring it. But it tells them nothing! It’s less than an infinitesimal amount of the information they really need to begin to understand the nature of the thing they behold.”

  “They?” Storm asked. “You mean Michael too?”

  “Yes, the good Doctor Boulos also, but I am not talking about him now. I mean those who like to think they control you. The ones who prefer to stay hidden, who listening to our conversation and observing us. They analyze Michael’s findings even as we speak.”

  He looked at Storm with his strange eyes.

  “They panic!” He said in a stage whisper. “They panic…

  Storm felt a sudden chill as a thought took hold. Martyn, as big as he was, and with an amazing ability to read his mind—and for all he knew that was nothing but trickery—was utterly insane. He might even be dangerous.

  There was a smile on the large face that was at once both sad and awkward. It was not unlike the smirk of a mime artist or a clown. When Martyn smiled, it was plain scary, and he appeared to be enjoying the affect it had on Storm.

  “Right now we can say whatever we like,” Martyn continued. “They won’t hear a thing because I choose not to allow it.”

  “Who are these controllers?” Storm asked.

  “The upper echelons of government are on
e layer, and they, in turn, are controlled by a layer above them. You think you live in a democracy, don’t you? But you don’t!Elites manipulate your every decision to allow you the impression you are free. But that is all it is. An impression. The elites own all the important companies. All the corporations.”

  He turned to glance at the tables below.

  “Look at them gathered around their trough,” Martyn muttered.

  “The politicians obey the elite of this land who are really just a very thin layer. I will tell you more about them later. I want you to understand how things really work. I like you, Storm.”

  Martyn glanced at the nervous waiter who had reappeared at the top of the stairs a single menu under his arm.

  “Y-y-you are ready to order?” The waiter stammered to Storm.

  “The meat is good,” Martyn advised.

  “Ah—yes, a steak,” Storm said, handing the menu back.

  “How would you like it cooked?” The waiter asked.

  “Well-done, thanks!” Storm told him.

  He saw an expression of horror on Martyn’s face. He looked aghast at the idea Storm had ordered a steak well-done.

  “Is that okay?” Storm asked.

  “Are you not ruining the taste of the meat?” Martyn inquired politely.

  “I couldn’t eat it rare,” Storm replied and watched the man’s face again, but there no more display of emotion, only one of disappointment. “What’s this thing you mentioned before?”

  “A large and complex object is presently moving through our solar system.”

  “Is it dangerous?”

  “Yes, but it is also responsible for rejuvenating the solar system every time it returns.”

  “How do those elites help us by hiding it?”

  “They are not helping you at all,” Martyn said, giving Storm a look of pity. “They are helping themselves.”

  For a terrible moment, it looked to Storm as though Martyn was about to laugh again.

  “If it’s so big, how do they hide it?” Storm asked.

  “Behind what you think is the sky,” Martyn said. “They manipulate layers of the Earth’s atmosphere to the extent they are able. They do this in part by dispersing materials in the upper atmosphere. Once in place, they mix the materials to react as required. They activate the material from a ground-based control center.”

  “That’s cloud seeding, right?” Storm asked.

  “It is little more complex than that,” Martyn said. “Just think about the quantity of moisture that ends up in the upper atmosphere through evaporation. You are aware of the enormous increase in rainfall everywhere around the globe and the resulting floods?”

  “They say it is because of climate change, and that climate change is because of smoke from our cars and the factories,” Storm offered proudly; keen to show he did keep up with the news.

  “Human activity is not the underlying reason for the rapid change in your climate. Human activity does not excite the core of the planet. Earth’s rapidly heating core points to the real culprit. As the Earth’s core expands, the skin of the planet stretches. Magma bursts up through fracture points in the crust. Volcanic activity on the sea floor causes increasing evaporation. So you must ask what has caused the planet’s core to behave in this way. The reason for Earth’s heating core, its warming oceans, the melting polar ice, the extreme weather, all of it, is not walking the surface of the planet. Did you know, Earth’s scientists have observed the same phenomena happening throughout the solar system? Right there, you can see the hole in the official story of global warming. You can see that, can’t you? The real reason Earth is heating so rapidly is to be found in outer space, and not so far away. Now, what did you order for your lunch?”

  “Steak,” Storm reminded him. “And I asked for it to be well-done.”

  “Oh, yes, you did too,” Martyn said and frowned. “I am tired, and yet the day is young,” he muttered.

  Storm realized with a start he was no longer surprised by the endless strangeness of Martyn.

  “To return to what I was saying,” Martyn continued. “The main aim of the elite’s geoengineering that you can actually see in the sky is to delay the impact of the increasing radiation Earth receives as the system draws closer. The increasing electrical magnetic transmission excites the metallic core of Earth, causing it to rapidly expand and produce more heat. Apart from propagating their Green House Gas myth as the cause of climate change, the elites have turned the planet’s sky into one big screen to conceal what the world population would otherwise see. The sky is functioning as an enormous holographic display. It is a true cinema of the masses.

  “You see—the elites are opportunists. Much of the material injected into the higher atmosphere of Earth has been intentionally placed for a precise effect. An interesting thing happens when nanoparticles of moisture mix with particles of aluminum, barium oxide, and strontium. Under the correct conditions, plasma is produced. They get better at it all the time using drones to place vast quantities of ionized metallic salts in the stratosphere. Do you understand?”

  “No—I don’t get what you are talking about,” Storm said, shaking his head. “Plasma?”

  “Plasma is the fourth fundamental state of matter. That’s what you are taught in high school. Isn’t that so? Plasma is not a solid, a liquid, or a gas. It’s all three together, and it’s the most common form of matter in space. What they have done is to surround the world in man-made plasma. It’s a clever short-term solution. Nothing more.”

  Storm was feeling overwhelmed with the amount of information Martyn was dumping on him. Unable to forget a single sentence his brain frantically attempted to order it all so that it made sense in the moment, without the need for reflection. It was exhausting him.

  Martyn didn’t seem to care that he was overloading his guest and continued with the lecture without a break. When he saw Storm struggling he pressed on, harder and faster.

  “Lightning is a natural form of plasma. And, you have the Aurora Borealis in the Northern Hemisphere and the Aurora Australis in the Southern Hemisphere. Nikola Tesla experimented with electromagnetism and technology. His aim was to illuminate the entire atmosphere of the planet. He suggested applying electromagnetic energy to plasma at an altitude of some thirty-five thousand feet. The elites have adopted Tesla’s vision and applied it to their own.”

  “How does it work?” Storm asked, no longer wanting to eat the steak in front of him.

  “Think about why most observatories are built away from populated areas,” Martyn replied. “Why not build them closer to where scientific research centers are located in the cities?”

  Storm shrugged. “I guess there’s too much pollution from cars.”

  “Dig deeper!” Martyn snapped. “You can do better than this! Amateur astronomers encounter two forms of pollution. Light and particles! By using Tesla technology, the elites can brighten the plasma in our atmosphere. They select a color. They can give you a blue, red, or gray sky if they want. And—when they can’t cover the phenomena by using a single technology, they use all of their technologies together.”

  “I get they can light up the sky to cover up what people looking up might otherwise see,” Storm said, rising to the challenge. “They make the sky brighter than anything else in it. Like, during the day, a bright blue sky hides the Moon unless you are looking really hard. Am I right?”

  “Yes—yes,” Martyn replied, looking relieved that Storm understood. “They brighten the sky to cover illuminations from space visible on the surface of Earth. For lesser light sources, they only need a dense cloud mass. Again, by harnessing the moisture in the atmosphere evaporated from the warming oceans, that is, by using a lesser level of technology. For phenomena they find impossible to hide, they simply put out a news release that explains the oddity away. They have been using news releases to prepare you all for what is coming for many years now.”

  Jubilee Year

  The boy sat before the giant, barely aware of
the cacophony of noise from below the mezzanine floor.

  Martyn sat back in his chair as if his stomach was full, and yet he had not eaten a thing.

  “I wanted to tell you the elites know what’s coming. I am not talking about the politicians. I mean the few who control them. The old families, who gained power and privilege over hundreds of years, moving across continents, collecting then merging until they formed a separate social, economic, and political layer, a species apart from the rest of you. They prefer to think of themselves that way, separate and above the mass of humanity. At times they form alliances and frequently they go to war with one another. All the while they hide in full view, manipulating you, playing you against yourselves, and preying on you.

  “They own the largest banks, the major corporations, and the best real estate. As a single layer of groups, they own the world. They distrust each other and they are afraid of you. The Earth’s greater population no longer needs a ruling elite like it did in past centuries. The elites are terrified of losing control. They are very afraid of the masses.”

  Martyn closed his eyes and when he opened them again, he looked at Storm with such intensity it was as if they burned through him.

  “This coming event is unstoppable. The elites know they can’t avoid the catastrophe. So they have chosen to play it to their advantage. Knowledge is the essence of power and control and they have had millennia to accumulate it. They have access to the most important ancient libraries mankind has known and forgotten.

  “They continue to feed you lies. They manipulate you to do their will. They destroy you to reap wealth and even more power. They are never satisfied.”

  Storm thought of Stella’s warning of war on the horizon.

  “War is already here,” Martyn said suddenly. “Economic collapse is here.”

  “Did I say that out loud?” Storm said, staring at Martyn in surprise.

  Martyn waved the interruption aside. “Every war that appears to have ended, starts yet another. If you were able to see history as a never-ending chain of cause and effect over a long enough period, you would quickly understand there is nothing at all that happens by chance alone. Certainly not where humans are involved.