The Impossible Future: Complete set

by Frank Kennedy

  Jamie rolled his eyes. “Oh, c’mon. Really? I mean, really? You gonna tell me that’s what this is all about?”

  “After a fashion. The notion of multiverses is well-grounded scientific theory, even on this relatively juvenile Earth. Let us suppose humans have figured out how to travel between these rifts in the fabric of creation. Don’t you consider the possibilities astounding?”

  Jamie tried laughing, but his dry throat gagged, sending him into a coughing frenzy. “Lady, you’re making up this crap as you go.”

  Lydia crossed her arms and wouldn’t allow eye contact. “I have an obligation to explain why you are here and why your fate has been sealed.” Her face turned red. “I have no other mission. We were born together. We will die together.” She flew from her seat, her eyes bulging as she practically fell on top of Jamie and grabbed his neck. “You will allow me to finish my mission, and you will not mock me. I have a name, and I prefer to be addressed with respect.”

  Her eyebrows flared. A hair on the back of his neck alerted him to the dreadful possibility that this woman believed she was being honest. Lydia let go of his neck without ever having squeezed.

  “Fine,” he said. “I’ll shut up. Just say your peace. Then get the hell out of my mind.”

  13

  3:30 a.m.

  MICHAEL COOPER FELT a tooth chip and a pool of blood rise in his mouth after the third time Christian Bidwell pistol-whipped him. The latest blow sent Michael reeling to the floor beside his bed. After chewing off a string of random curses beneath his breath, Michael spit out blood.

  “Dude, this is not happening,” Michael started. “Even if I knew where Jamie was, I’m not going to spill to a douche like you.”

  Christian offered the cocky smirk that Michael often saw when Mr. Everything sauntered down the halls of the high school with his entourage.

  “Douche,” Christian mocked. “Clever guy. Look, Coop, don’t know if you’re a fan of irony, but we’re swimming in it, my friend. You see, if you’d given up Sheridan right out of the gate, I wouldn’t have reason to knock you around. I’d be out of your life. Turns out, though, you’re just a clueless son of a bitch. That means the guy with the gun has nowhere to go and needs to work out his frustration. Follow?”

  “I get your speed,” Michael said. “But messing me up don’t change a damn thing. Bad enough you and the Queen Bee won’t even tell me why you’re after Jamie.”

  Christian stepped back and dropped the gun to his side. He lost all pretense of a smirk.

  “Huh. Skipped that detail, didn’t we?” He shrugged. “Simple, really. When I find him, I’m going to kill him. Do the world a favor.”

  Michael considered the absurdity of the past fifteen minutes of interrogation and torture then responded to Christian with a howl of laughter. He fell against his bed as the lunacy of this scene – staring into the face of a pistol wielded by the most popular 18-year-old in Albion County – left him certain he was lost inside the most painfully stark nightmare of his life. If only he could figure out when the script called for him to wake up …

  “No, seriously,” Christian continued. “I will literally be doing this world a favor. Don’t feel like I should have to, but Mom says it’s for the best, so who am I to fight the Queen?”

  Michael’s laughter died as he looked closer and saw what appeared to be sincerity in Christian’s olive eyes. Christian had always been the sort of guy Michael envied and despised at the same time: He could do no wrong in the class, on the field, or in the arms of girls, and he could punch a ticket to any future he chose. That he was a vacuous, self-absorbed Adonis who offered nothing of true value to society apparently escaped his adoring legion of hangers-on. And now, on top of everything else, Christian was taking his talents into the fields of torture and murder.

  “Yessir,” Michael said, “you’re gonna kill a kid who never looked cross-eyed at you, but oh, you’re gonna save the world in the process. Yessir, you got the whole package.” Michael scared up his best impression of the high-pitched blondes who practically bowed before their young god and said, “I love you so much, Christian Bidwell. You’re totally lit.”

  Christian again shrugged before he mumbled, “Screw this,” and tightened his aim, setting the muzzle square between Michael’s eyes. “Too many comedians, Coop. Nobody’s going to miss one less.”

  In the instant that followed, Michael felt the first taste of his mortality. He saw the coldness in Christian’s eyes, and the finger pull back on the trigger.

  He was going to die. He was actually going to die.

  “No,” Agatha Bidwell shouted as she re-entered. “Not this way.”

  Christian pulled back. “He’s worthless, Mom. Knows nothing, but he sure has a mouth that needs to be shut down for good.”

  “I think not. Our objective today is to save innocent life when practical. We have already lost too many friends and colleagues.” She dropped a hand on her son’s shoulder and waited for him to lower the gun. “We need to reevaluate our stratagem. I’ve just spoken with Arthur. We have a problem and we need to leave here now.”

  “And Cooper? He’s seen us. All he has to do is …”

  “Come with us. Based on what has happened, he may yet have appreciable value.”

  “Appreciable value,” Michael mumbled. “Stock’s going up, huh?”

  The next time Michael tried a sarcastic retort – while sitting in the back seat of Agatha’s car – he received a crossing blow from the butt of Christian’s gun. He cupped his nose and felt blood.

  Michael did not pay attention to where Agatha was driving them or that she slowed down at the entrance to Truman Street. He did, however, see the sun come out much earlier than it should have. Flames raged from a house halfway down the street, and the yellow glow lit up the neighborhood. Small explosions erupted from inside the two-story structure. Neighbors emerged from their homes, some running and others gawking.

  “I should have anticipated this,” Agatha said as she pulled off the road. “Walter always had a special love for fire.”

  “Holy shit on a stick,” Michael said, recognizing at last where they were. “Walt Huggins? You trying to say he’s …”

  “There,” Agatha pointed without paying Michael any mind. Seconds later, the front passenger door opened, and a man stumbled into the seat gripping his left arm, his shirt sleeve coated in blood.

  He coughed. “They were waiting for us. Drive.”

  Michael leaned forward when he recognized the voice. When he caught enough of the profile, Michael forgot all about his broken nose.

  “No way. You? I mean, look, I can buy into the Ice Queen and Prince Charming over here, but you? Coach?”

  Arthur Tynes, who coached track at Albion and trained both Jamie and Michael since they were 12, glanced back at Michael. He offered only a brief nod and turned away.

  “Sorry, sport,” Arthur said. “I didn’t figure you to get caught in the crossfire. Then again,” he faced Agatha, who had sped the car away, “nobody expected an outcome like this.”

  “I don’t think Sheriff Everson will be inclined to stay in bed any longer. Our timetable just accelerated.”

  “This is whacked,” Michael said.

  “You don’t know the half of it, sport.”

  Agatha ordered Michael silent then turned to Arthur. “Status?”

  “They got Arlene. I saw her down. The Huggins girl – she’s good.”

  “The others?”

  “We couldn’t touch them, but I’m not sure we would have under any circumstance. Walt knew we would make this play. That house was rigged. Benjamin drove in right as they needed backup. They’re gone – who knows where? – and they’ve got the Jewel. You were right about taking him on.”

  No one spoke as they entered the heart of town. Agatha stopped at the only light on main street, even though she had green. The car idled.

  “Benjamin, you said? Rand was supposed to intercept him, and he has not responded to my texts.” Agath
a maintained control. “Arthur, are you saying Walter knew about our strategy? Predicted our moves?”

  “What I’m suggesting, Agatha, is that Walt allowed us to think we had the advantage. He sat there during the vote and knew we were lying to his face. He knew we would turn against his family. He always put together the pieces with an intuition like no one I’ve ever seen.”

  “Sure,” Christian chimed in. “And maybe he just guessed right.”

  “Maybe, sport. Truth is, we got lucky his calculations about the pulse were off by three days. Be glad your mother predicted correctly. If time were on his side, he probably would have eliminated us all before rebirth. We’ve been too timid, Agatha.”

  “And your suggestion?” She asked.

  “We drop the pursuit altogether, allow events to play out, and make our way to the fold, just as Walt always insisted. Or …”

  “Yes?”

  “We drop any pretext of caution. We not concern ourselves with who gets hurt or why. We use all our resources and attack Walt in a way he didn’t foresee. He thinks we are conscientious objectors. He believes there are lines we will not cross. If we prove him wrong, we end that thing before it’s born. Whatever else happens here won’t matter after we’re gone.”

  Christian turned to Michael and cocked his gun.

  “Now that’s what I’m talking about, Arthur. Time to start crossing the line. How about it, Coop?”

  Michael had no comeback, no quip. His well of snarky humor went into hiding and left Michael with an emptiness in his belly. He contemplated the very real possibility that he would be dead by sunrise.

  14

  L YDIA SAT ON the floor next to Jamie and stroked his hair. “The Earth of my creators, of your parents, of your birthplace, and of several others in Albion,” she began, “exists across a divide between universes. It is an Earth of vast technological wonder thousands of years ahead, but also fraught with unrest and violent division. It is that very unrest that ultimately led to your unfortunate fate.”

  Jamie was numb. He knew he should have been breaking into laughter, but Jamie couldn’t get past the nagging sensation that the woman was sincere.

  “The ruling class known as the Chancellory first led humans to the stars thousands of years ago and maintained control of the population as it expanded to thirty-nine colony worlds. Their wealth was infinite, their political and military power unchallenged throughout what became known as the Collectorate.

  “But some of these Chancellors remained unsatisfied. They sought answers to questions about infinity that few others bothered to ask. Their search led them to uncover secrets that have since changed the fate of the Chancellory and led them to radical choices designed to preserve the future of their caste.

  “Among their discoveries were interdimensional folds - small incisions between universes. Scattered through the galaxy, few in number, but mapped and known only to the most powerful.”

  Jamie coughed as he played along. “Chancellors. Right. Interdimensional whatevers. Sure.”

  Lydia wagged her finger in disapproval. “You will listen, Jamie. You have nowhere else to go.” She sighed but continued.

  “An incident of enormous impact occurred thirty-five years ago, according to Collectorate Standard Years. I shall not relate those precise details, as they are not relevant to your end. But you will find this of great interest: The man who changed the fate of the Chancellory went by the name Ignatius Horne.”

  Jamie perked up. He remembered Iggy’s declaration of the pride he took in carrying that name.

  “Yes,” Lydia said. “The same. Ignatius Horne brought about a genetic cataclysm that is leading to the slow, painful collapse not only of the Chancellory’s power but also the ability of Chancellors to reproduce. Unless they alter this path, Chancellors as a subset of the human race will die out in a few generations.”

  Jamie sniffed. “OK, so you’re trying to make this believable by giving Iggy a role. Whatever. You still haven’t said what this has to do with me. Ain’t that the point?”

  Lydia smiled. “Indeed it is. The most important discovery – the one that helped bring down the Chancellory and may yet restore it - was the retrieval of an ancient energy source, created by another race a million years ago. A sentient composition capable of remaking worlds, powering empires, and creating new life.

  “They are called the Jewels of Eternity. They were harvested by the same researchers who found the folds between universes. Later, others acquired pieces of this energy and researched ways to slow the fall of the Chancellory. They redesigned humans at the genetic level using Jewel energy. These new hybrids were hidden away until reaching maturity and rebirth. The Chancellors hope they will herald a new future.”

  Hairs stood up on Jamie’s neck, and his eyes widened. Although he consciously refused to believe any of this gobbledygook, Jamie’s heart was beginning to tug at him, as if to suggest he needed to stop fighting, that the truth was closing in.

  “So let’s say this is a cool story,” he said. “Again, what’s my deal?”

  “Your deal, dearest Jamie, is that you are a prototype. Ten were brought to term. Born as normal humans but with a key difference - each acts as a natural incubator for the Jewel within, to determine the viability of the new species. When the incubation concludes, the original personality is exterminated and the newly designed species emerges in totality. Consume every cell, rewrite the genome. An infancy unaware of any past life and acting only for the interests of the Chancellory. A new being of staggering power, fully capable of remaking mankind on a planetary scale.”

  Jamie tried to resist. “No, no, no. You’re whacked. Did you really think I’d believe any of this crap?”

  “Tonight?” Lydia shook her head. “I was skeptical. Now, if the Mentor had worked as programmed, you would have been resigned to this concept years ago. Again, I do apologize for the design flaw.”

  “OK. You’re so creative, Lydia, that I have already figured out the end to this story. Before long, the Jewel is going to rewrite me slam out of the picture. I’ll be dead, but something else that looks like me will be walking around instead. Right?”

  “In simplest terms, yes. Humans always like to oversimplify. The final stage of the incubation began at 1:56 a.m., which was precisely 90 seconds before you broke into the general store. That dizziness you experienced - remember?”

  His stomach twisted. The details were so precise. He wanted to resist, but he felt the barriers falling. She had an answer for everything.

  If I’m supposed to become this incredible new … thing … then why are people trying to kill me?”

  “Tricky, that. I cannot speak to their precise motivation, as I have only had your point of view through which to observe. My suspicion is that some of these observers have changed their opinion about this mission and no longer believe your rebirth should be made viable.”

  “Observers?”

  “Yes. The team that escaped through the interdimensional fold with you. Engineers, guardians, some of their children. You see, in the years after the Chancellory began to collapse, factions of Chancellors turned against each other - the unrest and division I mentioned earlier. There was an insurgency called The United Green. Word of the Jewel program reached the leaders of the Green, who called for its destruction. They considered the program an abomination to humanity. They wanted more rational biological methods to be employed to preserve Chancellors.

  “Rather than allow the prototypes to be destroyed, observer teams were dispatched to various folds, where they disappeared. They planned to live there until incubation concluded. Fifteen Standard Years. Their allies on the other side would send a Caryllan pulse through each of the folds, timed for simultaneous incision. The pulse serves two purposes: One, to triangulate the exact position of the fold’s entry rift; two, to launch the concluding stage of incubation. The Jewels are made of Caryllan energy, thus acting as receivers for the pulse. Triangulation would not be possible were you already dead. Yo
ur observers would be stranded here, perhaps forever. Hence, why the attempt on your life did not occur until after the pulse arrived.”

  Jamie fought his bindings. “Don’t you even dare say it.”

  Lydia laid on her side, her lips only inches from Jamie and her perfume enveloping him in a cloud that was equal parts toxic and soothing. Jamie’s breaths and the pace of his heartbeat quickened. He vowed to fight her, to fight them all as long he could. They might kill him, but they weren’t going to make him believe any of this madness.

  “When you are reborn, you will pass through the fold and you will join with the other hybrids. Then you will clear a path for the birth of the new species. At least, that was the plan fifteen years ago. Like you, I will not be around to see its conclusion.”

  Jamie closed his eyes. “You are fragging with my head. I almost started to believe this shit. I’m supposed to be a …”

  “Berserker. Named after the fierce warriors of Norse legend. A Berserker could be programmed to a level of destruction befitting the fury of its handler. If necessary, it might eliminate whole cities, whole regions. In theory, whole worlds.” Even this thought caused Lydia to pause. “You can understand why some might not wish you to survive the rebirth.”

  Lydia again kissed Jamie on the cheek.

  “The Chancellors brought to this world the greatest secret in a universe of secrets. Big enough to die for. Big enough to kill for. Today is your endgame. This was ordained decades ago and far away. In a few hours, your destiny will be complete, as will mine. You will cease to exist, but you will reshape a galaxy.”