P.O.R.T 101 - Dark Horizon
By
Jeremy Parrish
SMASHWORDS EDITION
*****
PUBLISHED BY:
Jeremy A. Parrish on Smashwords.com
P.O.R.T. 101 – Dark Horizon
Copyright © 2010 by Jeremy A. Parrish
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Smashwords Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
******
Chapter 01 - The Beach
A shower of mist descended around him, moistening his feet and the cuffs of his pants. He shifted uneasily in the sand, disturbed more by the crashing roar than by little mist. Tucking himself into a fetal ball, he pressed his arms in around his head to block the roar of the waves crashing into the shore. With sound and surf, muffled by a fetal shield, he settled in and sank into his bed of sand and fleas. The chill of night still hung in the air, raising goosebumps on his skin amongst a small contingent of sand fleas. Even with his eyes closed, he could tell that the sun hadn't fully risen. Absently brushing the fleas away from his face, he rolled over and gave up on sleep, deciding to let his dream of the beach fade. He sat up stretching, lazily rubbing sleep from his eyes, inadvertently freckling his face with grains of sand. For a moment, he sat staring, shaking his head and batting at the fleas on his arms and legs. He ran his fingers over the sand and crawled to his feet, staggering as a wave crashed into the shore, inches away from where he had lain. Gazing out over the shoreline, he could tell that the sand stretched out far beyond the horizon, running parallel to a tree lined ridge. Splashed across the sand, small crystalline deposits freckled the shore, bathing the surrounding sand in a pale blue light
The remnants of a shattered moon formed a broken path across the sky to the horizon, suspended above distant hills. A dream, he thought, but he hadn't remembered his dreams as being so vivid and so empty. A high pitched roar echoed across the beach behind him. He had an overwhelming urge to run. The urge took root and panic filled his mind with one thought. Run! So he did. He ran. He walked. He rested. Then, he ran some more. Distant hills drew closer, as sand turned to sandstone, and finally sandstone to rock. What appeared to be distant hills were merely mounds of petrified sand. At the peak of each mound, transparent pillars towered over the shore. Evenly spaced and virtually identical, pillars rose out of sand and stone, as far as the eye could see. A faint, but distinctive hum filled the air. As he neared the first of many pillars lining the beach, his skin tingled and the air began to pulse with light. His consciousness started to slip. All the feeling in his limbs melted away, as his legs buckled and warm sand pressed against his skin. Just before he blacked out, he felt a hand settle on his shoulder and he heard someone speak.
Does he have it, it asked?
No..., not exactly. I think he is it... said another voice.
Suddenly, all that he could hear was the beating of his own heart, which quickly faded as he lost consciousness.
Chapter 02 - The Experiment
Frustrated... he slammed his hands on the desk next to the display. It wavered out of sight as Herb said, 'display out.' His face contorted with confusion. He said to himself... what happened? Display up! He shouted.
The date and time wavered into view...
48 hours earlier, Dr. Herbert Li had begun to make progress in his experiments. Years of hypothesis, theory, and experimentation were finally paying off. In spite of the miscalculations and close calls, Herb knew that he was close, too close. So he pressed on, refining, recalculating and knowing that he drew closer to what he was destined to achieve.
Begin recording... Experiment T0097, he commanded.
Previous attempts to Port Beta object were marginally successful. Upon achieving 75% output, Beta Object (an apple) was displaced from platform A for less than .5 milliseconds, re-appearing in perfect condition, just outside of designated coordinates (platform B). Initial and current tests show that cellular integrity has remained constant. Despite the remnant chronyte levels, Beta object remains intact.
The Chronyte core continues to steadily output, with minor fluctuations in intensity. Based upon recent results, a 10% power increase and the addition of the chronyte regulator should compensate for the re-occurring targeting errors. The power fluctuations occur within .25 milliseconds of initial transport. In theory, an increase in intensity and power should correct the targeting issues which have plagued this phase of the project. If successful, upon confirmation, we should be ready for the initial phases of human testing. Initial phases will utilize plasma samples from the national archives (human blood).
Initiating T0097...
The display flashed, "Initiating Port 0097 - Time/Date."
Display Up!
Begin Recording... Experiments T0098, 99, and 100 have been successful. All Beta Objects were Ported and maintain cellular stability. Initial tests using the regulator resulted in overshooting of platform B. Backing power down by 20% seemed to solve the problem. No further targeting issues have occurred since.
Commencing, Gamma Phase. “Gamma One”, the first human plasma sample is in position and ready to Port. Thermals have been applied, normalizing Gamma One to body temp. If successful, this could change everything.
Initiating T0101...
The computer display flashed, "Initiating Port 0101 - Time/Date."Staring at the readings on the display, Herb's eyes widened until one word exploded from his mouth. NO!
In a flash, Gamma One is gone. Herb scrabbled to his terminal, checking the readings. Nothing appeared to be off. He searched the lab, praying that the test tube or a warm crimson puddle would miraculously appear. Nothing… Herb sat at his terminal and called up the tracking system.
Port CTS on! Julius, Alert the retrieval team.
Previously, when items had vanished, Herb had discovered that when and where they reappeared, they emitted a distinct chronyte signature. Satellites allowed for citywide scans, but they could only supply a location within 20 yards of the target. Eventually a retrieval team was outfitted with hand scanners, which allowed for tracking within inches.
Chapter 03 - Alex
Every morning, the smell of fresh baked bread wafted through the air, closely followed by the aromatic beckoning of bear claws and crescents. Alex never watched the clock. Mr. Li's Bakery was the only clock that he needed. First thing in the morning, Mr. Li made bagels, bear claws, and crescents. Mr. Li had been getting up to bake at 4am since the dawn of the deep fryer. By 6am, you could smell baked goods for blocks.
Lunch was easy, chocolate chip. If Alex inhaled long enough, he could almost taste the chips melting in his mouth. By 4pm, the air grew heavy with the sound of kids, cars, and latch keys. With kids emerging from academic imprisonment, power grids surged with the commencement of daily play this, and game box that. By then, Mr. Li's had closed and the aroma of deep fryer oil melded with exhausts and early evening commuters. Alex lived across the street from Mr. Li's. Even though he didn't eat there as often as he'd like, he never got enough of the smells. He always called baked goods, proof that god has a sweet tooth.
When Alex wasn't out on an audition or taking a class, he'd sit and watch Mr. Li's. It was amazing how many people, how many kinds of people loved Li's. Some of them were real characters, like Alex's 2nd floor neighbor, Ray. Ray was a retired dog walker. He spent 20 years walking dogs on the Upper East Side. He got into it when he was a kid and never had a reason to stop. Now he spends most of his time yelling "leashes aren't love" in Central Park.
In the darkness, Alex could smell the faint aroma of bread baking. His head ached and he could hardly move, but he kept focusing on the smell. Slowly, Alex clawed his way back to consciousness, looking forward to grabbing a bear claw at Mr. Li's. Instead, he found himself strapped down and wearing some kind of gown.
The restraints were paper thin, but he couldn't break them. They appeared to be made of the same stuff that he was wearing. Images of dome headed aliens and anal probing started to flood his mind. To make matters worst, he noticed a few sore spots on his forearm.
He shouted... Hello!?
I think that there's been some kind of mistake!!! Hello?
Chapter 04 – Displacement
Herb had just finished reading the report on their only patient. He wasn't sure how, but some of what he'd read was all too familiar. He needed the tests run again. What he was seeing couldn't be right and he prayed that it wasn't. He had to confirm the results.
Are you sure? He bellowed. Did you take the sample yourself? Do it again! I don't care how much it cost. Just do it!
Simmons stood in the doorway shaking his head. He'd never seen the Doc like this. If it weren't so distressing, he'd have found it hilarious. He'd been there when the capture was made and when the initial samples had been taking.
There's no mistake Doc...
Our scans led us right to him. We had to narc him. When we landed, he took off. We searched the area, but the signal followed him. When we finally caught up with him, he was the only clear signal we got. There was no sign of the test tube. Herb looked up from the test results. Well, he didn't swallow it! Did you get any readings that seemed out of the ordinary?
Simmons' head wrinkled as he started to explain, as he grew increasingly concerned by the Doc's persistent enquiry. Nothing other than the usual background radiation and the standard temporal resonance, said Simmons. Although, unlike other Ports, the temporal resonance seemed to be lower in level, but scattered in every direction.
What do you mean, scattered? Herb Asked. Herb dropped the report, turning to fully face Simmons.
Usually, we get strong readings from a specific direct direction. Since you added the regulator, most of it appears to emanate from the general area, around the lab. But this time, it was as if we were getting readings from the beach, the ocean, and beyond. It’s as if the tube exploded in the atmosphere and rained all over the western hemisphere.
Beads of sweat had started to build up on Herb's forehead. Starting to turn to the display, Herb returned his gaze to the report and spoke calmly.
Alright, get back down to the beach and make sure that the search team reports all analogous reads. I don't care how minute the trace. I want to know about it.
Simmons nodded and darted from the room. Herb was determined to prove that what he suspected was not true, as he started to search through his data.
Julius, state progress on sample A1, A2, and A3, he said.
Julius made a sound that could have easily been interpreted as a sigh of frustration as he began to report his findings.
According to my analysis, aside from minute traces of chronyte emissions, Sample A2, type A negative, human plasma... Sample A3, type A negative, human plasma... are identical to Sample A1, type A negative, human plasma.
All DNA markers are identical.
As Julius recited his findings, Herb sank down in his chair, shaking his head in disbelief.
He sat up, staring wildly at the display.
That's not possible... He barked.
Julius, initiate level 8 search... Identify donor, for all samples.
This time, prefixed with a sound that closely resembled a throat being cleared, Julius responded.
Herb sank back into his chair, wide eyed and eager.
Search aborted... Identity known...
Identification of Sample A1 was completed 4 days ago. Identity of Samples A1, A2, and A3 are as follows.
Port 101 - Test Sample Gamma; Source of Test Sample Gamma is as follows.
Facility- National Genetic Archives
Collection location- San Francisco
Date - August 11, 2006
Donor - Alex Marsters
Age - 31
Herb licked at the salt left by the beads of sweat which had dried on his lips. Sitting upright, he spoke in a calm whisper.
Check it again...
The computer said nothing for a moment. Then in a booming voice, Julius spoke.
Search confirmed... Genetic markers and projected paths of development are consistent between all samples.
Would you like me to generate a 3DM?
Herb stood and paced back and forth in front of the display.
Yes, he said. Generate the model, maintaining average parameters, relative to the early 21st century, specifically, 2006.
Parameters confirmed... Julius bellowed, as the lab lights dimmed, except for a glowing spherical image that hung in the air above Herb's desk.
Julius continued speaking a billowy echo. "3DM ready... Projecting..."
Herb had used 3DMs in his research before, but it never ceased to amaze him. Within the sphere of light, the image of dividing cells grew into an embryo. The embryo grew into an infant, then from an infant into a boy, and finally into manhood. As it did, Herb knew that there was no doubt.
Julius, Herb called, compare the reconstruction to the patient in Observation 872. State match percentage, allowing for a 10 to 20 pound variance in muscle mass and fatty tissue.
Not even a moment had passed when Julius responded.
89.25% match...
10.75% no match
Herb hadn't expected this.
Why the 10.75%? He asked.
Again, with a sigh, Julius answered.
Although unlikely, the patient could be an illegal synthetic.
However, the chemical content of Samples is consistent with the contaminants found in plasma of the 21st century.
Herb had considered this and he was pleasantly surprised to see that Julius had done the same. The possibility was remote, but Herb needed to be sure.
Could those elements be synthesized and introduced to mimic Sample A1? Herb asked.
No. Julius said, dryly.
Why not? Herb grimaced.
After a long sigh, Julius explained.
Required elements no longer exist. Synthesis of such elements would leave distinct markers, of which, I have found none.
Herb was not ready to concede defeat, so he pressed on.
Julius, could chronyte radiation be skewing your analysis?
Julius said nothing. Herb asked again.
This time, Julius spoke with what Herb knew to be irritation.
Unlikely, chronyte radiation remains relatively inert unless subjected to high energy or stored in quantities greater than one thousand grams.
Even then, my sensors function well within designated parameters.
Herb grinned.
Ok... Julius, hypothesis...
Let's say that our patient is Alex Marsters. Under what circumstances could he be sitting in Observation 872?
Julius, clearing his non-existent throat, responded.
Barring exceptional circumstances, none. According our records, Alex Marsters was reported missing, more than 87 years ago. Even with extensive cellular regen therapy and the regular use of stasis fields, Alex Marsters would be no less than 123 years 4 months 3 weeks 2 days, and 23.751 minutes of age.
The patient in Observation 872 scans at less than 32 years, 4 months, 1 week, and 2.1 hours of age.
Herb winced, a subtle smile spread across his face, sinking back as he challenged his assistant's definitive assertion.
Julius, the patient in O.872 is giving off traces of Chronyte radiation. Under what circumstances is that possible?
Julius responded without hesitation.
According to my readings, the patient in O.872 was Ported 29.72 hours ago.
The smile which had spread across Herb's face withered, giving way to a look of desperation.
Julius, confirm analysis and compare to power fluctuations in Port 101. Who is the patient in O 872?
Once again, without the slightest hesitation, the response came, no less certain than any other.
Analysis confirmed. Alex Marsters is emitting chronyte resonance consistent with estimated resonant levels for Port 101. Scans are also detecting diminishing transphasic fluctuations in his cellular structure, consistent with Port re-integration. Even if he had ingested the test sample, his present level of resonance would be substantially lower than it is now.
Julius, postulate a theory on Temporal Displacement, relative to the use of Chronytes.
The lights in the lab cut through the dimness, washing out the vibrant recreation that hovered above the desk. As the image shrank and faded, Julius presented his theory.
Since their discovery in the late 21st century, scientists have theorized that if one could channel chronytes, thereby focusing them at one point in space, one could punch a hole in space time, either allowing for the traversing of great distances in an instant or of time itself.
There is a 79.153% chance that the addition of the regulator and the increased power output through the chronyte core, has not only traversed space, but also time. However, instead of just moving Gamma Object, the Port exchanged one object for another consistent with the genetic properties of Gamma object and its container. According to the data gathered by the Retrieval Team, the scattered resonant energy is being emitted by particles of sand and several unknown sources. My calculations estimate that in total, if gathered, the sand emitting the resonance would almost be enough to make a test tube equal in size and shape to the one transported in P.O.R.T.101.
A bead of sweat rolled down Herb's left cheek. He stared at the display for a moment, closed his eyes, and wiped the sweat from his brow. Opening his eyes, Herb sat down at his desk as he addressed Julius.
Julius, contact RT 1.
A moment later, Simmons responded.
Simmons here... What can I do for you Doc?
Herb leaned forward glaring, with an intensity that Simmons hadn't seen before.
Commander, are you still picking up residual resonance from previous Ports?
Simmons looked down at the pad in his hand, tapping, and then pausing before he looked up to speak.
Yes... some...
Herb's glare intensified as he sat back in his chair shaking his head.
Roundup any objects in the area, still resonating. Give me a list of any objects consistent with our test objects, including their basic components and materials.
Simmons didn't like the look on Herb's face. He didn't like it one little bit.
His brow wrinkled and an obvious look of concern on his face, Simmons had to ask.
Herb, what's going on?
The intensity was fierce, but Herb managed a little smile.
I think that I know, but I really hope that I'm wrong. Avery... I know that I'm asking a lot of you and your men, but for now, you need to trust me. Just hurry...
ASAP, Simmons barked. Turning to the side, Simmons continued to bark at his men.
Okay! You heard the Doc... Move out! DOUBLE TIME!!
As the image of Simmons and the beach blinked out, Herb's fear intensity melted into adamant determination.
Julius, have you detected any climatic or atmospheric disturbances since Port 101?
Julius responded without hesitation.
Bringing it up now... A low pressure system appeared over the ocean, just off the coast at the same time that P.O.R.T. 101 was initiated.
I'm also detecting smaller pockets of atmospheric disruption over Europe, Bermuda, Japan, The Atlantic, and over the New Republic of California. Aside from their appearance, they appear to be having no effect on the climate in any region of the world.
Herb nodded, as if he'd expected what Julius had observed.
Keep track of their progress... Herb said. Start monitoring local news and police reports for anything out of the ordinary. Let me know when the RT transmits the results of their search. Begin recording O-872 when I get there. I've got to confirm your theory.
Julius responded.
Understood... Recording on standby... Monitoring global news and authorities… I'll notify security that you're coming down.
Herb rushed down the hallway trying to catch the lift before the doors closed. He felt his heart racing. Beads of sweat lined his brow. He stepped out onto the terrace, overlooking the bay. The air was crisp and damp. In the distance, Herb could see a dense fog bank building.
The water seemed unusually calm. Nothing seemed to stir above or below the surface. Seagull, Stork, and sea life seemed to stand still. The air was still, hanging silent, not ruffling a leaf or stirring a breeze.
Boop... the lift door opened...
Herb took a deep breath and rushed into the lift just as the door started to close. Under his breath, Herb spoke. Dear God, let me be wrong.
The lift doors closed.
Chapter 5 – Retrieval
The retrieval team continued to scan the beach. Scattered along the coast, from arrival to capture point, earth, air, and sea were abuzz with activity. Divers bobbed up and down in still sea waters, as they surfaced to deliver fresh samples to collection crews, skimming back and forth across the malevolent stillness of the sea. In the sky, floater crews took atmospheric, magnetic, and chronetic readings of the ever growing visual disturbance in the sky. Despite its ominous and chaotic appearance, the surrounding area was eerily calm.
Beyond the swirling darkness, covering a tenth of the sky, it was a beautiful day. The sky was a soothing shade of blue, shrouded in a thin blanket of mist which hung just above the horizon. The Lunar belt, an asteroid belt that spanned the distance from the Earth to the moon, was just becoming visible, as the the sun settled into its daily wane.
On the beach, men paced to and fro, scanning and scooping, carefully extracting any grain of sand or particle that gave off chronyte readings consistent with Port energy readings.
Commander Simmons, who had somehow managed to be tall and stocky, bounded from one search to another. Not really one to micro-manage, Simmons had heard the panic in Herb's voice, not to mention that Simmons felt a little uneasy about being so close to a silent hole in the sky.
Simmons, bellowed.
Rick!! Rick!!!
That's Rich, sir...
Right, Rich... What's our status? We almost done here?
Sea teams are reporting an all clear, commander. They've gathered as many samples as they can find. They’re just making a final pass, to make sure that they haven't missed anything.
Fine!
Rotate the sea teams... Different eyes, on different sections... I don't want anyone to overlook something, just because they've been there before. I get the feeling that we can't afford to make mistakes this time.
Understood, sir… The sky teams have already completed and transmitted their scans to the lab. They’re packing up and preparing to assist the beach crew with one final pass. We're almost done here.
Rich, is there any word from the Doc?
None, sir...
But we did get word from RT 3.
Earlier today, we picked up chrontye readings further inland. They were pretty strong, so I sent RT C in to check it out.
The signal led them to a re-purposing facility. After sifting through tons of their stores, the signal seemed to emanate from a glass mug on the manager's desk.
What do you mean a mug? Simmons' face twisted, clearly doubtful and confused.
Yeah, but wait... it gets weirder... It wasn't coming from the entire glass, just parts of it. Rich said, as he directed Simmons' attention to the image on his com pad.
Now Simmons knew that something was off.
Parts of it, Simmons asked?
There's more, sir...
It was a glass mug that belonged to his father, the manager's father... more than 40 years ago.
Apparently, it was one of the first products made in the facility.
Did they get the mug, Simmons asked?
Yes, sir... It should be on its way to the lab right now. Rich grinned and continued monitoring the remaining search teams.
Under his breath, Simmons asked... What the hell is going on Doc?
Chapter 06 - Displacement
Alex slowly came around. His head felt like it was caught in a vise and a strange ringing filled his ears. At first, he couldn't focus on anything else. As the pressure and the ringing subsided, Alex tried to stand. He felt a little dizzy, as he leaned forward to stand, but he couldn't move more than a few inches.
Looking down, he saw that he was bound to some kind of chair or table. He still wore his sweats and one of his sleeves was rolled up. It was too dark to see, but he could feel the breeze on his skin. He could also feel a slight soreness in his forearm, where blood samples had been taken while he slept.
Alex couldn't help but feel like he was in a hospital. He could smell the lemony fresh disinfected odor that usually hits you in the face once you cross the threshold of any hospital. The air was crisp, but tolerable. A faint sliver of light bled in under what must be the door. It flickered now and then. Maybe patients, doctors, guards? Alex wondered...
He remembered the voice, no, voices and the hand resting on his shoulder, just before everything went black.
Does he have it? Do I have what?
Alex said to himself.
The light dimmed below the door... A soft hiss resounded across the room as light flooded the room.
Alex squinted, trying to see who'd come in. As his eyes adjusted, two men entered the room, leaving the door open behind.
One was lean, a little bent, draped in what appeared to be a lab coat. Calling for the lights, his face emerged from silhouetted dimness. He looked friendly enough, but there was something odd in his gaze. His eyes were wide, his smile broad, and his manner pleasing. All the same, Alex got the slightest feeling of dread from the man in the lab coat.
The other man was a mountain, not that he was much thicker than his companion. He was only an inch or so taller than the other man, but his eyes were hard, piercing, and calculating. Alex felt the eyes cutting into his skull, prospecting for any sign of deception and treachery. He wore a black uniform, heavy with pockets, zippers, and comfort. A little rod dangled from his belt. He clasp the end of the rod as he crossed the threshold of the room. As the dimness faded, Alex could see a name tag on his chest which read, "Brock."
Take it slow doc. We still don't know anything about this guy. Brock said, gesturing toward Alex.
Herb smiled, stepping past Brock as he spoke.
Trust me Sgt., If I'm right, he's the least of our worries. But I hope that I'm wrong. Right now, I'd love it if our guest was just another industrial spy.
Alex got a little nervous when Herb said spy.
Where... who... Alex stammered.
Herb chuckled and rested his hand on the edge of the chair.
Can you tell us your name?
Alex... said Alex, as his gaze shifted back and forth.
Alex... Alex, what? Herb asked.
Mar... Marsters... said Alex, the words catching in his throat.
Well Alex, I'm Dr. Li, Herb...
This is Sgt. Brock. Can you tell us where you're from?
Alex winced, eying them both as he responded.
Can you tell me why I'm being held prisoner?
Herb felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment.
You're not, not really, he said. My men found you wandering along the southern tip of our facility. We do some sensitive work here, so security gets a little suspicious when they see someone running along our private beach.
Can you tell us how you got there? A security barrier surrounds our facility. Every millimeter is monitored by computer. A fly can't enter without us knowing, but somehow you did. Can you explain that?
Shaking his head in disbelief, Alex glared at Herb.
I don't know where I am, but you expect me to know how I got here?
The last thing that I remember is going to sleep, setting my clock radio to go off about an hour earlier than usual.
Then I went to sleep. When I woke up, I was on your beach.
Herb continued to probe. He wasn't trying to aggravate the situation further, but he also couldn't just come out and ask Alex what year he was from. So, he didn't.
And where were you when you went to sleep?
My apartment! Alex bellowed, more annoyed than he was angry.
Where? Herb asked, not reacting to Alex's apparent anger.
Alex sighed, shaking his head in disgust, as he answered.
In Chinatown... not far from downtown San Fran, said Alex.
Herb's face sank. He felt like someone had just kicked him in the stomach.
Did you say San Fran? Do you mean San Francisco? Herb asked, clutching the phantom pang in his stomach.
Brock stepped forward when he saw Herb stoop over.
Is everything alright, Dr. Li? I'm fine Brock. I probably shouldn't have skipped breakfast.
Brock relaxed and continued to eye Alex.
Alex's demeanor softened at the sight of Herb's sullen reaction.
Yeah... San Francisco! Why? What's...?
Alex's voice trailed off as he looked at Herb. A look of disbelief and dread started to spread across Herb's face. His gracious smile had melted into numbness.
Herb, regaining his composure, turned to Brock.
Sgt. Brock... Please release Alex, get him some clothes, and something to eat.
Brock nodded and stepped into the hallway. Alex could hear the Doc's order being passed along to another soldier who grunted a hardy "yes sir," as he marched down the hall. The Sgt. returned to the doorway, hand clutching the rod hanging from his belt.
Herb started towards the doorway, but turned to address Alex as he did.
Alex, Sgt. Brock will make sure that you get some food and a change of clothes. I'll see if I can't get you out of here as soon as we clear up a few loose ends.
Alex nodded. Herb did the same and left the room. Brock approached Alex and removed the restraints. Alex rubbed his arms briskly, just realizing how numb they were. Brock smiled, which made Alex shudder. Brock stepped into the hallway and closed the door. Alex made an audible sigh of relief, which Brock heard as the door closed. He smirked and locked the door.
Herb burst into his lab, commanding his computer on.
But before Herb could say "on," Julius began his report.
Commander Simmons has just transmitted the latest RT reports. His teams have retrieved as many of the port samples as possible. One anomaly reported...
One of the samples appears to have merged with a mug that has been sitting on a man's desk for more than 40 years. Despite its age, it appears to be emitting a stable level of Chronyte energy.
Energy readings are consistent with Port101.
Herb's fearful desperation had turned into fascination. Even though he feared what could happen, the fact that it might be happening was intoxicating.
Stable? What is the status of the emissions from our guest in O.872?
A live feed of Alex blinked onto the upper left corner of Julius's display, accompanied by several lines of data to its right and Julius responded.
Emissions from Alex Marsters have stabilized. Cellular cohesion and chronyte radiation are no longer in flux. All readings appear to have leveled off to match those emitted by the mug.
The seemed to be further evidence of what Herb had suspected, but there was still more to consider.
What about the disturbances in our atmosphere? He asked...
A cascade of video feeds from around the globe filled Julius's display, and then Julius responded.
According to reports, they don't appear to be having any effect on weather, tides, nor tectonic plates.
However, concentrations of chronyte in the vicinity of each disturbance seem to be draining at an alarming rate. Nothing appears to be absorbing it. It just seems to be fading. As a matter of fact, unless you scan within a centimeter of the source, chronyte levels read as zero.
Herb could hardly deny the mounting evidence, but he had to be sure.
Based on the current data, would you say that Alex Marsters and the the residual traces of the test tube have experienced some sort of temporal shift? And is there still residual activity, related to Port 101?
Yes, Julius bellowed...
The word echoed in Herb's ears and stabbed at the phantom pang in his stomach.
Yes what? Herb demanded... Clarify!
The throat clearing sound preceded Julius's response.
Residual effects of Port101 continue to grow.
Alex Marsters and the test tube appear to have shifted in time or to be more exact, they appear to have been exchanged.
Herb hadn't expected this. Time shift, molecular reversion, maybe even some sort of genetic acceleration, but temporal exchange?
Exchanged... exchanged...
Herb's mind reeled... The possibility of traveling in time almost filled Herb with amazement. It would have, if not for the overwhelming feeling of dread that was turning his stomach. The phantom pangs had evolved into knots.
Time travel was dangerous enough, but exchange... That could be disastrous. It may already be. Herb thought about the disturbances, how the chronyte energy was being drained away. By what, he wondered aloud?
Julius responded.
Please restate your query in a complete sentence.
Herb nearly smiled, but the pangs were keeping him on track.
Bring up a list of the locations where disturbances have been reported.
How many of them are located near known chronyte fields?
There are 127 known commonalities. Blinking lights on the projection of a globe hovered above the desk.
It only made Herb worry more.
List all commonalities and search for any common aspects of each location, aside from the disturbance and the chronyte.
One moment please... said Julius.
Herb stared at the list, depicted by the globe. Not one corner of the Earth had been left untouched. The list read like a travel guide. Even the seas were speckled with the swirling, silent, storms. Despite their dark and ominous presence, the storms were silent and seemingly inert.
The computer chimed... as it competed its analysis, jerking Herb out of his ponderous daze.
Julius's reverberated across the lab.
Analysis complete... Most of the locations have the following in common.
To the right of the globe, the commonalities were bullet pointed. Both the globe and the list were color coded accordingly.
1. sparsely traveled
2. common topic of folklore; legend; myth
Herb's face twisted as he read the list. Not quite what he expected, but there was something... Not unlike the locations, the list read like a travel guide, describing the points of interests for wide-eyed tourists.
Next to each, the percentage of commonality was listed. As Herb read, his mind kept wandering back to the mention of folklore and myth, but only for a moment.
Julius, have we had additional reports from the retrieval teams?
No... However, there appears to have been an increase in police activity at all locations. Julius brought a global listing of police departments.
Browsing the list, Herb said, no surprise there... The swirls are probably causing some people to panic.
Not quite, Julius said, deflating Herb's moment of frivolity.
According to reports, they are mostly noise complaints and reports about wild animals. Some people have reported reptile attacks and ghosts.
Herb started to laugh aloud.
Reptiles and Ghost, he asked?
Julius made the throat clearing noise and continued, prefacing his report with an "as I was saying."
The majority, yes... In general, they report monster lizards. Some say Raptor-like.
There have also been dozens of reports about domestic disturbances involving people in period dress shooting at cars or running and screaming through the streets. Most reports called them phantoms and spirits.
Herb's face had steadied. He thought about Alex, the drained chronyte, the disturbances, and the ghosts...
Have any of the people been taken into custody? Herb asked.
Some, but very few appear to speak any known language, at least, none that the police departments have tried.
Others appear to speak Old English, French, and what appears to be a dialect of Spanish or Portuguese.
Contact Simmons... Herb said.
The display blinked over to an image of Commander Simmons.
Simmons winked as he spoke. What's up Doc?
As soon as he said it, he regretted it. Herb did not look like he was in a good mood.
Commander... Herb said, in a disturbingly prosaic tone.
We may have a bigger problem than expected.
The smile on Simmons' face evolved into a somber and sickly grin.
Bigger than swirling holes in the sky, he asked? What's going on Doc? I don't like this. You've got to give me something. It ain't exactly easy to keep doing my job when my men expect the sky to fall.
Herb smiled as his expression softened.
Not yet Avery. First I need you to check something else out.
Simmons tried to smile, but only a little.
Still not liking this, Doc, said Simmons.
The smile on Herb's face receded. Get a team together and interview the people on the list that I'm sending to your com pad.
Julius, send the list for our local precinct to Simmons.
Already done, Julius reported.
Got it! Simmons said, as the grave look on his face softened.
Make sure that you bring a linguist and the new guy, Rich...
I think you mean Rick... Simmons said, chuckling.
Whatever... If I remember correctly, he's a sociologist and a history buff. He should be involved in every interview or at least have him review the data caps.
Okay, got it Doc.
When you get there and start interviews, make sure that Julius has a live feed. I want recordings, blood samples, and samples of their clothing.
Are we talking about some kind of outbreak? Simmons asked, with a look of deep concern.
No! Herb retorted.
Just get it done! We may already be out of time.
I’m on my way, Dr. Li.
Simmons out...
Herb turned to Julius, staring at the lists and the latest scans of the swirling storms that speckled the planet. Herb slumped down in his seat, letting his arms fall limp, he ask a question.
What have I done?
Chapter 07 - View Point
Alex may have been displaced and up the creek, but he was quickly adjusting to his new situation.
Now that Alex had been untied, dressed and fed, he started to take in what the darkness had hidden so well.
O.872 was ordinary enough. Except for Alex's chair, the room was mostly empty. The walls were a semi-glossy aluminum shade. There were no seams or squared corners. Con-caved rectangular shapes were centered on 3 of the 4 walls. The door was centered in the fourth, leading out into the hallway. The shapes and the door had rounded corners. A small panel next to the door had two keypads, one above the other. The one nearest the top had your standard 0 to 9, but the second listed an assortment of icons abbreviations, and numeric combinations.
Aside from his chair, which was much more comfortable without the restraints, the room was empty.
Assuming that the numbers are some sort of security access, Alex decided to give the second panel a go.
On the first row, Alex pressed the Menu button. The lights dim... Alex backs away from the panel, expecting Brock and a battalion to burst in.
None did. His shadow bloomed, as a shimmering blue light enveloped him from behind. Turning around, a list labeled, Main Menu, appeared in the rectangular panel behind him. He thought that it must be some sort of flat-screen.
Alex read through the menu. Environment, Entertainment, Appearance, View, it read. As he read, he unconsciously started to read aloud, first inaudibly, slowly rising to a whisper.
Environment... Entertainment… Appearance... VIEW...
As soon as he said it, the menu shifted. A voice echoed his command, whispering back to him... View...
A new list sprung into view...
Window... Roof... Wall... Observation... Audio...
Alex said... Window... The background of the rectangular shapes on each wall faded... Beyond the window ahead of him, Alex could hear the ocean, crashing over monstrously huge rocks that seemed to have been arranged to act as a defense against monster waves. Looking to the window on the right, Alex saw the skyline of a small city. He had no idea which city, but at least he hadn't been carted off to a secret research facility in the middle of nowhere. Even if he didn't know where he was, at least he had a concept of where to run, if he managed to escape.
The menu still loomed over the window, displaying a cascade of crashing waves below. Wall, Alex exclaimed. Again, in a whisper, a voice echoed Alex's request. Wall... followed by please specify... as the words trail off, a compass appeared on the menu, with four prominent letters, N, S, E, and W. Alex said W. Nothing happened. Looking back at the compass with a puzzled look, his face quickly transitioned into an inaudible duh, as he became aware of his own stupidity. Alex said, West correcting himself.
As the 'st' rolled off of his lips, the open window filled in. Momentarily confused, Alex started to repeat his request just as the room was flooded with light. The wall wavered, pixelated, and faded from view. As it did, a menu item flashed in the corner of the wall. FG, blinked in and out. Not thinking, Alex said FG? As he did, the building, attached to his room also faded from view. Now Alex could see the hills to the West, the city to the west, the river that ran past the city. As his gaze rolled back towards the hidden building, Alex could see a road leading up to and passed the base of the open wall.
Turning to the menu, Alex said Observation. Just as before, the active view faded, before transitioning to match the new request. No more than a second after the West wall solidified, the walls, ceiling, and floor became a ghostly shimmer. In a moment, the room is flooded with the dull light of a waning day. Alex, his chair, the door, and its panel were all that remained. Alex stumbled, falling backwards over and into his chair. If not for the presence of the door and his chair, Alex felt like he was walking on air. As before, the building had been hidden and replaced by what lay beyond the building and much of the grounds. He could see a fence and a few guards patrolling the perimeter, but the rest was hidden. As Alex turned toward the north eastern shore, the sky seemed to twist and contort, forming a dark swirling hole in the sky. Alex saw the same blue glow that he'd seen on the beach earlier. Alex felt a chill run up his spine. As he watched, the swirl seemed to swell, enveloping the room, the beach, the city, the river, and the hills beyond. Alex's head started to spin. Beads of sweat rolled down his brow. Alex yelled, OFF. A disembodied voice said, View Off? Alex, strained to maintain consciousness, grunted... View Off! The light dimmed, as the room regained its opacity and Alex slumped to the floor, unconscious.
Chapter 08 - Foresight
Alex... Alex! Herb implored. Alex lay unconscious on the examination table. Are you sure that's he's alright? Herb asked Julius. Julius remained silent for a moment, confirming his initial analysis. Finally, he spoke with absolute certainty.
Aside from a sudden increase in adrenaline, I'm not detecting anything unusual. However, his chronyte resonance has started to fluctuate.
Herb started at the news. Is it dropping or increasing?
Technically, both, said Julius. From what I have observed, his levels stabilize and hold for 2 to 3 hours. Then, they drop by 5 to 9 percent, leveling off and finally increasing by another 21 percent before the cycle begins again.
Herb's face flushed with anger, as he spoke. Why didn't you report it earlier?
Julius detected his change in temperament. So exhausting, he thought, as he answered. I've only been monitoring him for a day. I noticed the pattern earlier, but couldn't be sure that it was a pattern, until it happened again. He was mostly like at the end of a cycle when I started monitoring him. Reporting my initial observations would have been little more than hypothesis, without at least one reoccurrence. Once, does not a pattern make.
Fine... Herb replied, as the anger in his face melted back into concern.
Although... Julius began... once he lost consciousness… I thought that it might be of some relevance. Speaking of relevance... The swirl above the south eastern coast doubled in size just before our guest took his tumble.
Herb pondered, probably just the chronyte in his body. Did anyone else pass out or have any physical reactions to the expansion? He asked.
One moment, please... said computer, searching...
There were no reports from within the building, but several reports have come in from the police station where the retrieval team is setting up.
Herb turned to Alex. His eyes pulsed. He must be dreaming, Herb said. Have Simmons contact me as soon as he's ready. Let's do a full sub-molecular scan on Alex before he wakes up. I want to have a few answers for him when he starts asking for them.
Chapter 09 – Empty
There it was again, the pounding. Alex pressed his hands to his temples, rhythmically kneading the throb in his head. Water lapped over the sand and stones, as Alex threw his blanket over his head. Whoever said that the sounds of the ocean were good for getting to sleep, never met Alex. Alex sat up. The blanket slipped down, clinging to his skin before it clumped in his lap. Arching his back as he stretched, Alex yawned, brushing the sand from his face and opening his eyes.
Before him, a vast ocean stretched out in every direction. Behind him, a dense jungle blanketed the landscape, a twisted tangle of vine and leaf. The sky was a dull blue, almost smokey. Alex thought about the wallpaper on his bathroom walls. Aside from the color, the sky was empty... No clouds. No moon. No Sun. As before, the beach was littered with the funny blue stones, but now they weren't. They weren't blue. They were just stones. The blue shimmer that once flowed from their core was gone. Even the beach seemed to have lost its luster. The air was still. Alex walked to the water's edge. There was no breeze. Stepping into the surf, the water washed over Alex's feet. The water was very warm, too warm. He stepped out of the water. His skin tingled as he stepped out of the surf. His foot seemed tanner, he thought.
He started to walk, proceeding along the beach, headed west like he'd done before. Still as he walked, there was nothing, not a sound, other than the lapping of the ocean. Even the jungle seemed to be lacking. Lions, tigers, and bears... Oh my... Alex thought and chuckled to himself. But there was nothing. Even bugs seemed to be avoiding this place. Where are the birds, seagulls, something? Nothing... Once again, he came to the place where the massive pillars once rose out of the ground, repeatedly as far as the eye could see. Now there was nothing, nothing but an ancient series of crumbling stones, well overgrown and eroded by time.
Alex walked a little further, proceeding with more caution. When last he tried to pass this way, he'd been rendered unconscious and woke up in a box. Looking at it now, that must have been a very long time ago. But still... better safe than unconscious. As he walked, the jungle along the beach started to thin. He'd remembered seeing a city beyond the hills to the west, so he climbed the hill to the thinning jungle that ran along the beach. Reaching the top, the land beyond the ridge dropped off into a vast canyon that seemed to go on for miles. The jungle seemed to grow along it's edges and only it's edges. The walls of the canyon seemed to be perfectly smooth, like glass. Around the edges, loose soil and rock sprinkled over the edge, lightly tapping as they scampered along the canyon wall before sinking into the vast darkness of this clay pot pit. The crater extended well beyond the visible horizon, only reflecting the dull blues of the sky along the uppermost edge. Alex looked to the west. No city, no hills to the west. The western coastline, which once framed a city and the outlet of a river, had long since washed it all away.
Beyond the coast, a small mound sat where the southern tip of the city had once been. Good thing this is a dream, Alex thought. Otherwise, I'd be a little on the worried side, he muttered to himself. As if on queue, the sky sank into darkness. Shadows grew and swallowed the ocean, the jungle, and the sand. Slowly creeping over the western skyline, a swirling hole enveloped the horizon, sending a chill through Alex's body. His head started to pound. He clutched his head as the pounding continued to grow as the swirl climbed into the sky. The tree came to life, the ocean seemed to swell. Leaves flapped into the air. Waves crashed again the sand and ancient rumble. Alex fell to his knees, kneeling before the edge of the glass canyon, which seemed to magnify the pounding which had spread to his spine and arms.
Alex toppled forward, clutching his arms, as he slipped over the edge and fell into the canyon, slashing his ankle on the edge. Shards of glass protruded from his leg, shattered as he spun and twisted his way along the canyon wall. Alex screamed as the glass in his leg tore and ripped its way out. For a moment, the pounding in his head and arms had become a dull itch. But soon, his head and arms added their voices to the pain in his leg, forming a chorus, sending Alex into unconsciousness as he sank into the shadows in a shower of glass and loose earth.
Chapter 10 - Awake
Herb and Julius were busy at work, when Alex shrieked. The walls echoed and test tubes shook.
Herb turned to the examination table where Alex had been lain. His screams still resonated in Herb's ears, but Alex was a picture clear composure, still asleep. Approaching the table, Herb noticed that Alex's pant leg appeared to be wet. Herb touched the dampness. Warm, red wetness decorated the pads of his fingers. Startled, Herb rolled the pant leg up, revealing a hideous gouge in Alex's ankle, which had started to clot.
He's got a massive cut on his ankle, Herb shouted.
Not according the scans that I took a second ago, Julius insisted.
Well, forget what you scanned before. He's got one now! Scan him again, while I patch him up. Herb scrambled around the table to a medicine cabinet on the far wall.
You're right, Julius bellowed. He has a cut on his upper right ankle and a minor abrasion on his forehead. His blood pressure has sky rocketed. His pulse has become erratic and his adrenaline levels have doubled. He appears to be in some sort of emotional distress. His head and arms are flushed with blood.
Herb rolled up one of Alex's sleeves. His arm pulsed, gorged with blood. Herb shouted, get medical up here!
Doctor, he appears to be stabilizing. Heart rate is dropping. The cut on his ankle is scarring over and the abrasion is fading. His chronyte levels have exceeded safety levels. Activating containment field… Step back, Dr. Li. It is for your own safety.
Herb stepped back. As Herb watched, Alex stirred. Sweat rolled down his cheeks. The red swell of blood in Alex's arm began to recede. I think he's waking up, Herb said, as he started to clean Alex's wound.
Chronyte levels are returning to safe levels, dropping containment field. You may approach, said Julius.
As Herb wiped the blood away from the wound, a wound that only moments ago had stopped just short of the bone, he was overcome by amazement and terror. The cut was completely healed, except for a small scar above the ankle.
Alex opened his eyes and sat up on the table.
Chapter 11 – Effect
Cadet Dirk Smithy had been on the force for 3 days, 13 hrs. 11 minutes. He still got a chill every-time he stepped through the station door. Everyday held the promise of a new case, a new adventure, a chance to show his brother that he was more than a well funded security guard. It probably would have been easy to prove it, if anything good ever happened. It had been years since anything more than a noise complaint had crossed the Sgt's desk. These days, it was mostly noise complaints and domestic disputes over landing pads and airspace.
In spite of the routine nature of police work, Dirk knew that something was about to happen. He felt it in his gut. If the ominous swirl over the coast wasn't a sign, he didn't know what could be. From the moment that he'd rolled out of bed, Dirk knew that today would be the day. Unlike everyday since his first day on the force, Dirk woke up with dry mouth. His head ached, but not where it usually had. It felt deep, like a faint memory crammed somewhere between where he'd buried his lunch-box time capsule and the code word that his brother had used when he wanted to sneak a girl out of the house before mom and dad woke up.
As Dirk entered the station, toting his daily load of coffee and donuts, nothing appeared to have changed. Sgt Perkins sat dozing behind the reception desk, slipping from one elbow to the other. Dirk bellowed a cheerful good-morning, stirring Sgt enough to hand him his Half Calf, Double Coco Moo and a scone. Sgt dipped, bit, smiled, switched elbows, and dozed off.
The squad room was mostly empty. Most of the detectives had gone hiking, so a few desk jockeys and a few seasoned flat foots milled around the coffee counter waiting for Dirk to make his delivery. Even before he could start his cheerful salutation a half dozen hands descended upon his load. Dirk dropped the coffee onto the lounge counter and retreated to his cubical. Just another day, he groaned. Turning to the in and out baskets on his desk, Dirk began to sort stamp and sign his way into another ordinary day.
The day was dragging by, but Dirk had somehow managed to stay conscious long enough to get every report into the out pile. After lunch, he'd dive into the wonderful world of photo copying and filing, but now, he was ready for a little food and fresh air. As usual, the station had emptied out except for Dirk, Sgt, and the old new guy, Neil. Sgt was still dozing, but his scone was gone and his Half Calf had become today's pencil holder. Neil usually skipped lunch, but today he'd setup a little picnic at his desk. Dirk guessed that Neil had already copied and filed, because Neil usual freaked if you walked too close to his desk when he had files on hand and he never ate at his desk. But like Dirk thought, today was different, at least for Neil anyway.
Dirk swept by Neil, as Neil spread a linen napkin across his waste. Dirk chuckled and shook his head. As Dirk headed for the door, he yelled, "back in a few." Sgt sat up, winked, smiled, and sank down onto his other elbow. Stepping onto the sidewalk, Dirk felt a stillness he hadn't felt before. People on the street still went about their business, but they seemed to move with an ere of caution. The sidewalks were lined with lunch comers and goers. Cheerful cliques huddled, clumped, and lined the streets. They contracted and expanded as catastrophic clique collisions were averted. Despite the wax and wane of office gossip and friendly banter, the stillness seemed to grow. Dirk shook it off and kept walking. His favorite deli, "Grub 'N Stuff" was about a half block away. Dirk could see the line just inside the door, from the station. The line looked shorter than usual. Maybe they're out of Mahi, Dirk thought. Dirk shrugged and headed for 'Grub 'N Stuff. The smell of the grill filled his nostrils. Dirk never ate the stuff, but those rice burgers smelled out of this world. Dirk had given up most veggies years ago. Everything you needed had been sequenced into the Stem farming process anyway. Dirk was almost a carnitarian, but he loved broccoli too much to give it up entirely. Besides, it went great with Stem Fish and lemon.
Feeling chipper after a nice Stem Steak and steamed broccoli, Dirk made his way to the door. As he reaches for the handle, the door flies open, slamming against the wall with a klunk. The glass at its center clicks, as a trail of cracks emerge from within. Dirk grabs the door, steading it, before it can swing back and shatter into a shower of glass.
In the streets, leaves swirl upwards, whipping around in autumnal funnels. People scatter, running for doorways, cars, and hollows. Cars shook, resisting the winds persistent pleas to topple over. Dirk thought that he'd heard screams, but he couldn't tell over the rushing wind. Suddenly, the wind stopped. Leaves fluttered to the ground, confetti-d caricatures of fallen leaves. People spoke, but there was no sound. Dirk gestured for them to remain calm, as he stepped outside. The door swung open, slipping from his hands. It struck the wall again and its glass exploded onto the sidewalk next to Dirk, who took no notice. He'd wondered if they'd all gone deaf. People peered out into the street, first studying Dirk, but then following his gaze to the sky.