CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Marooned, But Where?
The water seemed real enough. Joseph’s strokes through it seemed real. It resisted just the right amount. The water felt cool and silky. His face was hot and wet in the intense sunlight. A taste of salt lingered on his lips. Immersion of his face made his eyes burn slightly, and the clear water blurred his vision only a little.
Margaret Yeardsley waited anxiously on the beach. She did not want to be alone in this strange world that was part ocean, part moonscape, and part this time and times before.
She searched within for a clue, any clue, that might lend some measure of comprehension to all of her experiences ever since the day she had visited the garden for the first time. The garden where a strange ritual had proclaimed, “There is no meaning to where I am. There is no meaning to where we are.” Those in attendance had insisted that she must go to the moon in search of a fabled spaceship, known only to a few in her present age. Maybe it was known beyond that to others in other times.
She could see Joseph stroking through the gentle waves, bobbing up and down, disappearing and then appearing again. He made no sound. He showed no sign of distress. Maybe he will return soon, she hoped.
If there is no meaning to where we are, then why are we here? There is no point. It has meant nothing, brought nothing. Yes, Joseph and I have become friends, close friends perhaps, but this is just as unsettled as everything else. If Don Henson’s beings, whatever they are, have some purpose for us, what is it? We don’t have to go on all these travels just to restore an old garden. And what was the meaning of Don Henson’s trip? The disappearing group of campers? Jim Drake and his mandrake calling cards? StarTat? StarTat most of all. Why was she required to believe Henson’s story? Why did she die? What made her so…?
“It’s real!” Joseph shouted.
Margaret rose from her seat in the sand’s soft clinginess. “You’re coming back now?” She shouted. Her own voice startled her out of her reverie.
“I’m coming back,” Joseph grudgingly replied, as if he was disappointed that he had not bounced off a wall…or drowned.
∆∆∆
Margaret and Joseph learned, by trials of an unknown risk, that the food was still good. Amazingly. It had been sterilized and securely sealed, but that was no guarantee that they would not become sick or die of botulism. The fresh water was still good too. In fact, none of it seemed as old as the top of the ship, much less the bottom. The being or beings had fed them before, they reasoned, and they suspected that the entities knew their biological needs and had provided for them once again. Besides that, they thought, if pirates seeking supplies were responsible for the sad state of this ship, all the food should have been taken.
They had new outfits now, having changed them out once their swimsuits had been made soggy and sandy. Some nice soft towels had luxuriously removed most, but not all, of their sticky coating of beach sand.
They picked a nice big cabin with a balcony overlooking the tiny island with full views of its sea. The beds were soft and cozy. There was a bathroom down the corridor, preferable to using the tiny one in the cabin since there was no running water.
Days and nights seemed normal. The sun rose and set when they thought it should. So did the moon and stars, while they wondered if they were really still on the moon, and if so, what was preserving their lives there.
Joseph had explored the lower areas of the ship and made sketches of many of the mechanisms. Margaret had mapped what was above and was relieved that its apparent temporal anomalies did not seem to be progressive.
The island itself was nondescript, small, the same in all directions. Sea grass and other low vegetation was interspersed with prickly pears and other cacti. There were no trees along the rocky ridge in the center of the island, from which the view remained the same in all directions.
And the PSV would not move. No matter how many times Joseph tried, it would make its usual noises, and remain adhered to the bottom of the pool. Why don’t its thrusters even damage the pool material? I must be scattering antiprotons everywhere! All to no avail. Margaret watched from a sheltered spot above. Fortunately for her, she could not hear Joseph’s curses.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Captain Drake
“You again! You’ve changed branches.” Joseph was exceedingly sarcastic.
“What? You don’t like my new uniform? It seems so much more appropriate.” The former U.S. Air Force Colonel Drake had become a U.S. Navy captain.
“This is not a military vessel. And your uniform belongs to another time. But then, so does this ship. Several other times, in fact.” Margaret was jarred but controlled.
“I thought maybe you need some guidance,” Drake replied. “You must be tired of the food. And your accommodations are probably not five-star.”
“Why are you doing this to us? You and whoever you are part of? Whoever you work for? Why us? Okay, we know we are connected to the universe. You’ve shown us that. We know that Henson and StarTat brought some kind of…safety…to humankind. It’s in Henson’s book. We know that humans largely managed to screw things up anyway since nine billion of us have been reduced immeasurably. But why Joseph and myself? What are we supposed to do to please you and make you stop sending us to all these impossible places?” Margaret’s chest was heaving, and tears were in her eyes. She no longer evidenced a calmness under stress. Pressures were seething within her, and her voice was becoming much less constrained.
“I wish I could answer all your questions. I really do. Remember that I exist within your mind, as everything does. I am a manifestation of your consciousness. I cannot do or say what you cannot imagine. I cannot give you reasons that you cannot see yourself. And, indeed, the reasons for all this are far beyond you. If you could understand, you would not be human. You would be what you cannot comprehend.”
“So we have to be God to understand you.” Joseph was angry, and impatient.
“You can think of it that way. How would an ant comprehend a human? How would an ant hill become a skyscraper?”
“So you are teaching us our place. And our place isn’t much.”
“Your place is everything. Without your consciousness, there is nothing. Without the participation of your consciousness. You are a photon in a very bright light.”
And then Captain Drake vanished. His words lingered. They would be remembered in the future, and in the past.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Radios
And so life went on and on with a dreadful sameness for Joseph and Margaret. They would prepare cold meals from the cans and other containers they were constantly finding. They could toast a new kind of dish, if they found one, with some delicious lukewarm water. They would pick out new clothes and create some outrageous combinations out of shear boredom. They grew lean and tan, not out of anything luxurious but out of hunger and exposure to the sun.
Each day Joseph would start up the personal space vehicle. It would run nicely, but it would not move.
Joseph found some fishing gear and decided to try his hand. The fish were not hungry, or they were not attracted to the bits of food he tried to use as bait. Or perhaps there were no fish at all. The snorkeling gear he had found served to confirm a lack of life below the surface. This illusion was not complete. But still, if not for it they would have suffocated on the moon long ago.
Reality is an illusion albeit a persistent one. Einstein had said that long ago. It held true for them now more than ever. They were living their persistent illusion on and on to the last syllable of recorded time.
“What is that from?” he asked Margaret.
“It’s Shakespeare. Macbeth. It’s bad luck to mention it during a play.”
“But it is a play. So how can you not mention it during the play?”
“I don’t know. It was a superstition. I guess you could mention Macbeth during Macbeth.”
“That’s crazy.” Joseph started laughing. Loudly and continually. Ma
rgaret regarded him with confusion, as if she were watching her illusion partner fall to pieces before her eyes.
“We’ve got to get away from here. One way or another. If you can’t make the PSV work, then we should make the ship work.”
“Now that’s crazy, Margaret. How can we possibly make this ship move, or do anything?”
“We can shovel coal, can’t we?”
“Okay, tomorrow we will fire up the boiler. If nothing else, if we make it hot, we can use it to cook.”
“Even that would be an improvement.”
The next day they found matches. And tried to light the coal left in the main boiler. It was not cooperating.
“We’re missing something. Okay, we need to start smaller. And be realistic. This ship is not going to move. But maybe we can generate some electricity. Then we could use a radio and call for help.” Joseph took Margaret’s statement as a good excuse to stop.
“Why would the ship radio work? The PSV radio won’t. It turns on, but it doesn’t transmit. I’ve tried over and over.”
“Can you use a part from the PSV to make the ship radio work? It’s worth a try.”
“If we’re not still on the moon. Maybe.”
“This might work.” Joseph had pirated a variable power generator from the PSV. It was very high tech for a low-tech job. But the cruise ship’s radio burst into life.
Joseph picked a frequency, at random. “Is anybody there? This is…AGEye1729 from, uh, SS DreamStar. Come in.”
To Margaret: “This really is a stupid thing to say. If anybody picks this up, they’ll just think a crazy….”
“DreamStar…(static)…control…frequency…what are you?”
“Uh, can’t say, uh PSV radio problem, using cruise ship radio.”
“…Location?…transmit, transmit…go to….”
“Negative. Could not copy. We are on an island. We don’t know the location. PSV not functioning.”
“PSV heading…locator, what is your sat?”
To Margaret: “This is hopelessly confused. He wants my satellite transponder identification, but I don’t have any connection, so it’s meaningless.”
“Prior location was moon, far side. Check record for AGEye1729.”
A long pause before any acknowledgment followed.
“AGEye1729 recorded missing on moon. Two years. Never found.”
“Damn! We haven’t been gone for two damn years!”
“Negative. AGEye1729 present on Earth. Unknown island. Unknown location.”
“We’re searching for…location…signal…use digital….”
To Margaret: “I don’t have any flippin’ digital to use!”
“Negative on digital. Using cruise ship radio. Marooned cruise ship. DreamStar.”
“Serious? DreamStar lost decades…. Give location…sat trans or terminate transmission…hoax.”
“This is pointless, Margaret. It makes no sense to them. We’re just like Drake is to us.”
Margaret keyed the mic. “This is Dr. Margaret Yeardsley of the Cartwright Archeological Institute. Can you put me through to them?”
After several minutes. “Transferring…transferring…go ahead.”
“Yeardsley? What the…where are you? Where… been?”
“To whom….”
“Ingersoll here. Margaret, where are you?”
“I’m on an island. I don’t know which one. Our…PSV…is not functioning. We found an old cruise ship, marooned here, and we’re using its radio since the PSV radio will not work.”
“Okay, okay…we’ve got to locate your signal. It’s analog, short…bounce…gosh, how to…keep transmit….”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Moving Again
The ship moved. At first it was almost imperceptible, but slowly an awareness crept into their proprioceptive faculties as they responded to the rapidly increasing vibration. Soon, the radio, already silent, slid across its desk. Then their chairs lurched wildly and departed their occupants.
“This can’t be.”
“Impossible.”
They were sitting on the floor, their voices a whisper of astonishment.
Thousands of tons of metal tore violently from the sandy trap and became serene as the big ship slipped free and the island became small and far away.
Joseph’s PSV remained unperturbed. The pool deck was mostly untouched. Lounge chairs that were not fastened down had scattered randomly about. In the ocean a curving wake showed that the ship had turned in a wide circle and now was being propelled in an unknown manner away from its former nest.
Joseph started the PSV. Amazingly it moved. He immediately powered down to allow Margaret access to her cargo bench. They did not wait to gather any belongings or supplies before the spacecraft lifted them well above the ship and the island, all set in what appeared to be a limitless sea.
“Is it working? Can we…navigate?” Margaret was frightened.
“I have navigation. I have satellite contact too. Wow! We are in the South Pacific, about as far from land as we could possibly be. Our island isn’t even charted. We’re always finding uncharted places, I guess. We have plenty of fuel. It shouldn’t take long. I’m heading home.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Gunning
Winston Gunning was busy. Shuttles and lorries were filling up his repair and maintenance hangar at Moonbase Alpha. They had been used to their operational limits at two newer bases that were being developed and at one that had just been established. Gunning’s operation was the main hub for all lunar vehicles. Now the returned units were awaiting processing, inspection, maintenance, and repair if necessary.
He was involved in a particularly perplexing repair when, amid the usual flurry of urgent communications, one arrived that was merely annoying.
“Joseph, I’m sorry but I don’t have time right now. I’m not wanting to wave you off but….”
“Win, where are we? I really need to know.”
“You don’t know where you are?” Gunning was even more annoyed.
“What is recorded about our location and time?”
“Damn it. Okay, okay. You were scheduled to return to your earth base. Aren’t you there? It’s been two days.”
“Two days! Are you sure? Not years?”
“Not for…what do you mean years? Listen, I really don’t have time for this.”
“Where is Dr. Yeardsley?”
“She left for earth two days ago. Same as you. Crap! She missed her transport. Okay, you tell me. She’s not here. I hope you didn’t stuff her into your cargo hold like you like to do with passengers in your AG….”
“Okay, okay. Good. She’s with me. We’re back to earth. Nearing my home port.”
“So you do have her in your closet. I swear, Joseph. I knew there was something going on when you returned from the far side.”
“Okay. Two days. That we can handle. It’s been…eventful. I’ll fill you in when we both have time.”
“Good luck, whatever you are up to. She needs to call her archeological place right away though. They were expecting her by yesterday. Shilling’s been bugging me about that too.”
“Okay. She will. Thanks. Out”
“Do it. Out.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Home Base
Margaret stretched intensively and gratefully.
“This is it. My home base. We can look inside, but there’s hardly ever anybody here.”
“It’s just good to be able to walk again. And normal gravity even. I’ve experienced too many different gravities lately.”
“Yeah. Moon, PSV. And that ship never felt right. I couldn’t put my finger on it.”
“That ship was never there, Joseph. It gave us a place to be until we could be somewhere else. That doesn’t make sense. The ship was a…stepping stone? But it was out of place and out of time.”
“The top/bottom asynchrony was far out. Too far out considering the awful food. Well, just as I thought, nobody home.”
“Cartwright wants me home, Joseph. It’s on the other side of the world, but it’s my job. I’ve got to get back.”
“Yeah. I was afraid of that. I guess I can’t keep you.”
“You can’t keep me in that cargo space any longer. That is for certain. I will miss you.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
∆∆∆
“Okay. One more ride in your cargo over to SE Port. Cartwright has me scheduled to leave from there. If that’s okay with you. I’ll compensate you of course.”
“No, no. Don’t worry about that. But…are you going to write a report, or reports? What are you going to say? What should I say?”
“I’m afraid I’m going to say as little as possible. I pursued a hunch and it didn’t pan out. There is no shame in that. It’s not unusual.”
“Except that it was unusual, in every respect I can imagine. And then some.”
“Well, Colonel/Captain/Sir Drake said we couldn’t understand it if we couldn’t imagine it. But I think we imagined it without understanding.”
“We can camp out in the lobby here. I can still get you to SE in time for your departure. No point in cramping yourself again today and then being stuck in SE Port overnight.”
“That sounds good to me, Joseph. But what are you going to say? Are you going to tell anyone?”
“I might tell Gunning, some of it anyway. When I get back to the moon, although I’m not planning on flying anymore for a while. After I get you to SE, I’ve bringing the PSV back here and taking an autocar home. And staying there for a while. I probably have lots of messages to answer.”
“Oh, I will have so many. So much paperwork. I dread it; I really do. You don’t have a job, Joseph? You just…fly. We never discussed that.”
“I’m a lucky one. I fly. I travel. I watch virtuals, do games. But I do get lonely sometimes.”
“Well, we did have each other through this.”
“Yes, we did. We did.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Joseph at Home
Personal Space- Return to the Garden Page 9
