Re: Godforsaken Future - updated 12/10/2013
Posted: 2015-04-18 02:34am
Episode 39
“I'm the school bully!
The classroom cheat.
The nastiest playfriend,
You ever could meet.
I'll stick pins in your fingers
And tread on your feet...”
-The Who
-2:23 PM, June 17, 1988, Danvers State Hospital, Massachusetts, United States
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Rain water leaked through the multiple cracks in the ceiling and ended their journey in the assortment of rusty pots and dingy jars sitting on the grimy linoleum floor.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The constant noise was maddening. Terrence just wanted to sleep, to get a break from the monotony, to find some escape from this horrible place.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
He blamed the sound for his lack of sleep. He blamed the humidity. He blamed the ancient cot he was laying on, or the horrible food. He blamed the excruciating fiery pain that filled all of his muscles every time he moved.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Really though, he knew better. He hadn't slept in over a month. There was no logical reason for that. He didn't have to be a doctor to know that such a thing was not humanly possible.
The face peering at him through the window in the door filled him with hatred. He didn't need to get a good look at the man to know who it was.
Terrence had never learned the name of his tormentor. 'Doctor' was the only name for him as far as Terrence was concerned, and it was how he preferred it anyway. Naming him humanized him, and the idea that anyone who was that sadistic could truly be human was not something that Terrence wanted to contemplate.
The man never spoke to Terrence directly, and almost never spoke in his presence. Occasionally exchanging words with the other staff there in heavily accented english; he merely appeared to coldly stare at Terrence as if he were an insect found under a rock, not like a person who was enduring constant, excruciating pain.
Terrence was a murderer. He had killed, but this 'man' was a monster.
Not only did he not seem to care about what Terrence was going through, but it seemed to be almost a certainty that the doctor had known what those injections would do to him beforehand.
He looked back at the window, the face was no longer there. Apparently someone else' suffering was more interesting than his at the moment.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The rain water continued to patter into the pots. As apathetic to his suffering as that monster in the lab coat had been.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Why had he signed those papers? He could have taken his death like a good little boy and be done with it. Hell could hardly have been as bad as this.
-11:27 PM, June 19, 1988, Arlington Ridge, Virginia, United States
Roger took another drag from his cigarette as he stared at the computer disk sitting on his desk. He'd pulled it out of his briefcase ten minutes prior and had simply let it sit there ever since, finishing off two cigarettes in the process. Snatching the glass of scotch off of the desk and downing the rest of its contents with one gulp; he winced, thumped the empty glass back onto the rich mahogany, then finally reached for the disk with a sigh.
He knew he wasn't going to like what the disk had to say. Clarice hadn't had a chance to read its contents herself. No computer access in any of the safe houses she had been to thus far. He also got a strong indication that she didn't want to read it either. Not that he blamed her.
The more they found out about whoever this group was, the worse the news got. The fact that the previous owner of the disk had killed himself shortly after giving it to Clarice did not bode well for the information contained within.
It weighed no more than a couple ounces. Really, just a flimsy black plastic square. And yet it felt as though it massed a ton. It's color and shape bore an unpleasant resemblance to the silhouette of that damned case Clarice had brought back with her. Of course, it wasn't the case that was the problem, that horrid abomination contained within was. Much like whatever information was contained on this disk.
He suppressed a shudder at his memory of seeing what was inside. There was not enough scotch in the world to numb the discomfort he felt from the two seconds he spend looking at that... thing. Presently sitting in the back corner of a storage unit in western Maryland, probably a couple feet away from someone's stamp collection.
He chuckled at that thought, a little levity in an otherwise somber evening.
Taking one more drag from his cigarette, he finally grabbed the five inch floppy and inserted it into the disk drive on his desk. Then turned the lever to lock it in place.
The motors inside whirred and clicked. After a couple seconds, the disk loaded up and he saw that it contained a single text document.
A couple clicks of his mouse and he was staring at the words of a dead man:
“Greetings. I am hoping that this document is being read by the employer of the 'federal marshal' assigned to McMurdogh Station in Antarctica. You are about to become one of the select, unfortunate few who know the true history of human civilization on the planet Earth. As you may have gathered, the archaeological dig being carried out in Antarctica is far from something as innocent as the simple pursuit of knowledge.
What I am sure you have already learned is that the civilization which inhabited the city here predates recorded human history. You have also undoubtedly discerned that there are numerous 'unnatural' qualities to this civilization and its inhabitants.
The truth behind the existence of this civilization is what caused Alexander the Great's army to mutiny rather than continue further east and drove him to alcoholism, it is the reason why the Mongols destroyed a single city in Eastern China that history books do not talk about and massacred every last inhabitant down to the children and livestock and salted the earth surrounding it for fifty miles in every direction, and it is the reason why the Mayan civilization 'inexplicably' collapsed in the 8th and 9th centuries.
You see, there has been a war going on for over a thousand years now, it has been fought over the soul of the human race. The combatants have been the Catholic Church and the followers of forces beyond comprehension. The stakes are so high, and the enemy so horrible that even as I have looked in horror at the steps taken by the Vatican in years past to fight this war, I cannot entirely discount the motivation for these actions.
The crusades, the inquisition, the extermination of whole civilizations in the Americas. I can certainly say that while many of these actions were horrific, the fear behind them was understandable. The extermination of an entire city, or even an entire civilization is abhorrent in every way imaginable, but compared to the madness engulfing the entirety of humanity should we have failed at any of these times would have been far worse.
Even punishment in the pits of Hell for all of eternity for committing such acts is an acceptable sacrifice to protect this world from the horrors that hide just on the edge of this reality.
Perhaps a bit of explanation is in order.
Some time before 10,000BC, a collection of extremely powerful entities made contact with the planet earth. Due to their influence on various laws of physics and causality, there is no way to accurately determine when they first arrived or the exact chronology of this period and the events that transpired during its course.
We do not know what motivation, if any, drives these beings. We do not know why they came to this planet, we do not know why they left either. The term 'being' may not even be accurate in describing them. Though there is evidence that less powerful entities act on their behalf to influence the affairs of this plane of existence, presumably to suit their needs. For the purpose of this document, I will refer to the lesser beings as avatars.
What is known is that their presence affected the behavior and form of the primitive hominids known as neanderthals and various species of plants and animals all over the world. Strange and aberrant organisms came into existence, either they were outgrowths of people, or of other species.
The warping of the fabric of reality itself was indeed horrible. We have evidence that some of the less affected groups of people and animals simply went insane, committing horrid acts on themselves and each other. The more affected ones either became horribly changed into the stuff of nightmares, or somehow maintained their original forms and even maintained some semblance of sanity, but their behavior became horrific and perverted.
A group of people and animals that had been changed made their way southward, apparently led there by the avatars. Eventually they managed to get themselves to the site of this city in Antarctica. Naming it 'R'larxstx' in a language that is seemingly unpronounceable by human tongues, they constructed massive temples and monuments to these entities, and then a massive orgy of violence and perversion ensued.
Somehow this civilization managed to grow and flourish.
The exact population of R'larxstx is unknown, but appears to have grown to exceed five million people. We are not sure how this is possible. As there has never been any indication that this civilization bothered to do anything other than commit horrid acts upon itself every waking moment. There was no agriculture, no commerce, merely the constant abominable rituals that dominated every facet of every life inside the city.
As the laws of nature themselves became just as warped and perverted as the minds and bodies of the denizens of R'larxstx; time, the laws of physics, the nature of life and death themselves behaved according to something other than what we have become accustomed to. The result is that while the time passing on the planet Earth seems to have lasted for millions of years, all indications we have is that this period lasted perhaps no more than a year or two. Of course, the inconsistencies in the geological record surrounding this period seems to have had a dramatic effect that has stretched far beyond the dates of the period itself, with evidence of the changes going back tens and even hundreds of thousands of years prior to the arrival of the first avatars.
Some time later, the entities began to leave, we are not sure why or how, but their presence became less and less apparent. The effects of their reality-warping properties dissipated and eventually only the avatars remained until some time later, they went into hiding.
The people in the city eventually dispersed. Some of them had warped into forms that were quite simply incompatible with the laws of nature and so they died off or even ceased to exist. Others were consumed by their madness and destroyed themselves, whatever force that sustained them no longer existed, so they died off. The remaining survivors left the city. They took to the seas and eventually disparate groups of them turned up in various locations across the globe. Some in the Americas, some in Asia and Africa.
It is from these survivors that modern humanity has descended. Once having taken the form of neanderthals that populated the planet, they had been changed into what we are today. The 'missing link' that scientists have been searching for between modern humans and neanderthals never existed, and cannot be explained with conventional scientific wisdom. That's because we are the neanderthals, permanently changed by the horrors from beyond existence.
Evidence indicates that all of these groups seemed to have left at about the same time, but that in fact somehow they arrived in different places across the planet at very different times. Some managed to inexplicably show up in Africa nearly four hundred thousand years ago, well before they had even left, others did not appear until a couple thousand BC in the Americas, and some appeared in the near east as recently as a few centuries AD. We may have yet to encounter other groups that have not yet finished their journey.
The earliest groups long ago forgot their origins. Either as a result of reality becoming orderly again, or perhaps simply as a result of this knowledge being lost to time, we will never know which is the cause.
At the same time, there have been certain groups that managed to keep alive the memory of this dark time. They secretly harbored a desire for the return of these entities and the chaos that accompanies them. Keeping themselves hidden, they occasionally surfaced to enact some plan that fit their needs or desires, but never establishing a visible presence.
Our knowledge of the history of these groups is extremely limited due to the secretive nature of their activities, and there are undoubtedly plans and machinations that they have carried out which we are completely unaware of to this day, but we do know that they have been responsible for the founding and destruction of multiple civilizations, some of which history has never even recorded. We know that they somehow managed to affect the weather patterns of the Fertile Crescent and sowed chaos and discord among the various civilizations that arose and fell during antiquity. We know that the Mayan civilization arose out of a group of 'refugees' that arrived in Mexico some time prior to the thirty-second century BC.
We also know that these groups refer to themselves as 'Covenants' today.
Additionally, there has been evidence of their influence on human events throughout much of history. Though the Vatican has taken steps to cover up this fact, the Black Death was caused by an organism that does not correspond to any known species of bacteria or virus. We also know that as many as seven expeditions were sent to the New World prior to Columbus' journey and successfully arrived in Central or South America, but none of them ever returned. Finally, while Adolf Hitler was not an agent of these groups as far as we can tell, his rise to power and subsequent rule did coincide with their plans in some way, and that despite a considerable number of assassination attempts, he survived all of them due to the protection of the Covenants.
Despite the best efforts of the Vatican and its agents, the Covenants have managed to infiltrate the governments of the most powerful nations on earth. This includes those of the United States and Soviet Union, among others. They have also managed to influence various criminal, paramilitary, and terrorist groups as well.
The exact motivations behind all of these activities has not been fully determined by us, but indications are that they have been preparing for some sort of event which is expected to arise within the next couple of decades. The nature of this event is not known, though our worst fears are that the entities they support are returning, or perhaps they will be in a position to summon these beings again at this time.
Likewise, we are not sure how the Bozorgs play into their plans, but after their arrival in Afghanistan, the Covenants began making far more blatant moves than we had seen in centuries. The leading theory is that pain, suffering, and death serve their purposes in some way. In which case it is likely that they have been intentionally sabotaging the war effort in order to prolong it and increase its death toll, but without causing the human race to lose outright.
Additionally, we are not sure if the 'discovery' of the city in Antarctica was deliberately orchestrated by them or was simply an unpleasant coincidence, but we do know that they have devoted significant resources toward excavating it.
Finally, we do know that these Covenants do not enjoy an entirely harmonious relationship with one another either. We have discerned multiple conflicts between them throughout the centuries and that they seemingly hate each other as much as any external threat, perhaps even more. Unfortunately, it appears that the Bozorg invasion and discovery of R'larxstx has triggered a sort of truce between them.
We fear that this new truce signals that an endgame is upon us. That the Covenants are making moves to usher in a new era of horror and madness from which the human race may never emerge.
You must realize that despite the dire threat that these alien invaders poses to humanity, it pales in comparison to that of the entities that the Covenants serve.
Extinction; horrible as it may be, is preferable to the perversion that awaits humanity should a new era of madness ensue. The Bozorgs, the Enigmas, they will simply kill us, but the Covenants wish us to be warped into horrible nightmare images of ourselves. This cannot be allowed to happen.
I have included in this document further details of their plans and activities throughout history, as well as more information on the item that your agent has brought back with her. Horrible as it is, studying it may be the only way to discern how to fight the oncoming horror.
Godspeed whoever you are.”
There was more after that, but Roger needed to stop reading.
5:04AM, June 28, 1988, Perm Juvenile Processing Center 07, Perm Oblast, Russia, USSR
“Everyone wake!”
The controller shouted at them in stilted Russian. Farrukh should have been annoyed at being awoken this way, but she didn't much like sleeping anymore either.
She could see the controller as he stood at the end of the room, bellowing at them.
“Dress and assemble in the exercise yard!” he shouted.
Not wanting to attract any unwanted attention, she quickly climbed down to the chilly floor, remade her bed, pulled off her smock, and threw her jumpsuit on.
Without delay, she trotted out of the room along with the rest of the kids. A few stragglers had managed to find themselves the unwanted recipients of one of the controller's usual tirades. While none of them were strangers to disciplinary action, when it could be easily enough avoided, Farrukh opted to do so.
Making her way to the exercise yard, a quick glance around at the other kids and the expressions on their faces told her that there was something different about that day. After exiting into the yard, she saw a group of men in suits standing near the front.
Most definitely something different, indeed.
After several minutes of activity, the entire population of the processing center had been assembled in the exercise yard, about two hundred children, each grouped into their five sections of forty.
The Administrator stood at the center of the stage on the far end of the yard his grey suit combined with his stiff posture made him look like a statue. The controllers of each section stood next to their charges, facing toward the Administrator just as the children did.
“Good morning children!” his voice echoed through the chilly yard.
“GOOD MORNING COMRADE ADMINISTRATOR!” shouted the children in reply.
The enthusiasm of the response was less a product of their love of the Administrator, and more the result of fear that any of the controllers would spot any children that did not express the proper 'respect' for their dear Administrator.
Dead, grey eyes surveyed the children arrayed before him, and his mouth stretched to form a rictus grin.
“My, that was a friendly response! Your controllers must be so proud of you. They have worked so hard to educate you on proper manners, and you have certainly learned well. That is excellent, because today I am announcing that it is time to move on to a new level in your education.”
A slight shudder went through Farrukh's body as a cool breeze whipped through the yard. She wasn't entirely convinced that the temperature of the wind was entirely to blame though. The kind of 'education' they carried out in this place was less than pleasant.
“Today, you get assigned to teams which you will be part of for the rest of your stay here at Processing Center 7! Your hierarchy will be assigned and leaders will be chosen. It is from within your teams that you all will be able to help new arrivals to the Center learn their part in this wonderous process! Does that not make you excited?!”
“YES COMRADE ADMINISTRATOR!”
Farrukh stole a quick glance at her controller and saw him likewise looking back at her. A sinking feeling hit her right in the gut. She did not like where this was going.
Almost as if reading her mind, each section controller stepped forward and faced the children in their charge. The controller for Farrukh's section looked them over, then began to speak “section four, you shall be divided into eight separate teams. Each team will be led by a first, below each first will be a second. The other three will each be equally ranked below them. You will all be obedient to your second and your first, and each first will be held responsible for the performance of their team.”
The explanation continued on for a few minutes more. Those details concerned her less with what was to come next.
“And now for your team assignments!”
“Team One First, Viktor Twenty-Five. Team One Second Eka Sixteen, now Vladimir Four, now Jamal Forty-Five, now Bahar Thirty-Three...”
He continued listing names. Going from team to team. She did not hear her name nor the name of that monster Sukhrab. She would not have long to wait.
“...Team Four First Farrukh Eight, Team Four Second Sukhrab Twenty-Two, now Dilshod Nineteen, now Kaspar Thirty, now Sargon Twenty-Seven.”
That sinking feeling turned to straight dread as her worst fears had been realized.
Some time later she stood with her team, the four boys looked upon her with sheer unadulterated hatred.
The controller had just finished arranging all of the different teams of the section had been properly lined up according to this new hierarchy, and now he had returned to his previous position, he started to talk once again.
“Now, as your first activity in your new teams, you will begin your morning exercises under the command of your team firsts. Let us begin!”
*-*-*
She lay in her bunk, tired but wide awake. The events of the previous day weighed on her far too much.
Right from the start things had started out with a foul taste to them. She had been given responsibility for getting her team to perform their morning exercises. The entire time they stared back at her with fiery hatred. Each command that she gave them merely fed that fire even more. They all despised her, and the idea of taking commands from her disgusted them.
Sukhrab hated her, and she hated him. It had been bad enough that he had been placed on her team, but for him to be her second, and for the other three members of the team to be the three most devoted members of his little band could be no coincidence. The controller must have hated her just as much as they did.
As bad as it was, that morning in the exercise yard was not what concerned her the most at the moment, but rather what was to come the next day, and the day after that. As the First, if her team fell behind on their performance in any number of categories, and she would be held responsible. If the deficiency was bad enough, she would be ...punished.
In the weeks since arriving at this place, she had seen the kinds of penalties the adults running things here could hand out, she had even experienced some of them herself. They ranged from being denied food, to beatings, to being sent to 'Room 7.'
The children who had been sent there(well the ones that came back anyway), acted terrified at what they had experienced, and not one would dare say even the slightest hint as to what the punishment was. Rumors about what went on there ranged from the mundane to the fantastic, but the only thing everyone agreed on was that nobody wanted to go there.
They had been told that a First could punish members of their team that failed to perform or follow directions, but they were to be given no help from the adults in actually carrying out these punishments. Worse, many of them feared that if they actually dared to ask for help in disciplining the members of their team, they would be seen as deficient and suffer some kind of punishment themselves.
How was she going to punish Sukhrab? Or any of the other members of her team? They wouldn't follow her directions, they most certainly would not allow her to punish one of them. Then there was always the chance that they would simply decide to give her another beating just for good measure.
She had managed to make it through the first day because the Controller had been watching the entire section much closer than usual. None would dare misbehave so openly, but the Controller couldn't be there always. There would be times when she was alone with her team, and that's when things would get nasty.
As if on cue, she heard something moving elsewhere in the room. She opened her eyes and stole a glance in the direction of the noise to see the shape of someone moving in the darkness.
It could have been anyone, for any reason, and probably was just someone getting up to use the toilet, but something in the back of her mind told her that it was Sukhrab or one of his lackeys.
She took a second to ponder the thought, and what to do about it when she heard another noise and looked over to see the shape of another moving out there in the darkness. Both of them were heading toward her bunk.
Deliberating for only a couple seconds more, she pulled her blanket off of herself then swung her legs around and began to descend off of her bunk down to the cold concrete floor below.
There was little chance that she could get out of that room without them knowing, and she had no illusions that she could somehow avoid what was coming for more than a short while, but she had to at least have a little extra time to figure out what she was going to do about it.
A quick glance behind her and there were now three figures moving. Wasting no time, she rounded a corner and headed straight for the door. Within seconds she was in the dimly lit corridor outside, on her way to the lavatory.
When the sound of the door opening again reverberated through the corridor, she glanced behind herself to see four boys emerge from the darkened room. Sukhrab and his followers had looks on their faces that could curdle fresh milk.
Quickening her pace, she rounded the corner and made a beeline for the bathroom door. It creaked as she swung the ancient slab of wood out of her way and entered the dank room.
Once inside, she looked around to see if there was some kind of solution to her problem, something that could help her in her plight. The faint smell of musk and urine filled the air. Somewhere a leaky pipe dripped water onto the floor loudly, the brick wall was cracked and chipped all over. Nothing came to mind.
The sound of the bathroom door creaking open echoed through the dimly lit bathroom, drawing her attention over to the four boys as they entered the room. In seconds she was surrounded.
“Gonna suffer, piece of Afghan filth” Sukhrab's accented Pashto was full of venom. His followers merely sneered at her.
Desperately, she looked around the room, searching for anything that would get her out of this, something that she had missed before. Suddenly her eyes went to the floor near her right foot where she spotted a piece of brick that had fallen out of the wall. Furiously, her mind worked to come up with an idea, then inspiration struck.
She went down to her knees “I'm so so sorry! Please don't hurt me!” she did her best to sound as meek and pathetic as she could. A quick glance up at him revealed that he was smiling even wider than before, except this time it wasn't motivated by malice alone, but by satisfaction as well. He took a step forward. She knew that he had no intention of showing her any mercy.
He spit, and it hit the dingy floor about a half a meter in front of her, splattering her face with miniscule droplets of saliva and mucous “too late Afghan filth. You gonna suffer. I be nice though, break your fingers, not bash in face” he said as his feet came into the top of Farrukh's field of view, then he stopped.
“Look at me” he commanded.
Her hand had inched ever so close to the brick fragment. This was the moment that would decide whether or not she survived this place. She couldn't think of too many situations where she wouldn't be in this very position again and again, even if she managed to escape a beating this time. She'd be avoiding little monsters like Sukhrab every single day in this hole. There was only one thing she could do to avoid that.
When she was still a child, before things became horrible, when the world still had goodness in it, she remembered one of the men in her village getting kicked by a goat. It had hit him in the knee. He never walked the same again. This night, she would be the goat. This night, she would change someone's life forever.
She tilted her head up to look at her tormentor, she stared him right in the eyes. His lips tightened, his head went back slightly, and he let out another gob of spit and phlegm. It hit her square on the forehead this time, splattering across her face.
Quickly she looked away, acting as though she were recoiling in disgust.
“I said look at me. Don't look down when I talk to you. Afghan filth!”
Her hand was practically on top of the piece of brick, she just had to wait for his feet to move one more time-
There!
Again, she saw him take another step forward, and as soon as his foot lifted up off of the floor she sprang into action. Her hand closed on the jagged red piece of brick, and at the same time, she released the tension in her legs, propelling her forward toward the bully.
Her first thought was to go for his face. It made the most sense, but his knees were so much closer. When her head went up again, she immediately focused on his left leg, the one that was still stationary, and with all of her might, she brought her arm back, then swung forward.
She heard the sound of his surprised gasp at her unexpected movement, and saw him shift his weight as he started to change position to avoid her lunge, but they were too close, and he was too slow.
Surprisingly enough, if he had failed to react to her, she would have missed and hit him in the shin. In stead, she drove the brick straight into his kneecap, with all the strength her little body could muster.
Once her weapon connected, she heard the sound of his pained cry echo throughout the dingy room. Then she let her momentum carry her further. Her right shoulder hit his shin, and a sharp pain went shooting up through it into her neck and down her back, followed immediately after by the sound of a sickening pop. She thought for sure that she had broken a bone in her shoulder, the pain she felt was a sure sign of that.
Sukhrab was taken completely by surprise, first by her sudden lunge at him, and then by the unbelievable pain in his knee. His abrupt shift in position combined with Farrukh throwing all of her weight into his leg as well as his surprise caused him to stumble back. He failed to get a good footing when he stepped back to steady himself, and then when he tried to stop himself from falling with his right foot, a sharp pain almost as bad as the last shot up through his leg from his knee and he fell backwards onto the damp floor.
When Farrukh managed to pull herself up off the floor and the pain wasn't nearly as bad as she had expected, she realized that she hadn't broken any bones. One look at Sukhrab's knee bent at a slight ankle that it shouldn't have been able to reach told her what that popping sound had been after all.
Not wanting to waste the opportunity, she did not dwell on those considerations and immediately scrambled up toward him. He was screaming, and his arms were flailing. One managed to hit her with a closed fist across the face, splitting her bottom lip, but the rest of his swings were random and panicked, so she managed to avoid his attacks.
On her way up, she realized that she was still grasping the brick fragment and hit him once in the chest, then again in his shoulder, each time resulting in a satisfying meaty thud and a grunt of pain from her opponent.
By now, she had managed to climb on top of the shrieking Uzbek boy. She brought her weapon up, and down it went, connecting with his jaw, sending a bloody tooth flying onto the floor. She swung again, and this time it hit the side of his head.
She'd always had every intention of really hurting the boy. It was the only way she could survive, but by now she wasn't thinking about that. Now she was just angry. Angry at the Bozorgs, angry at the Russians, at the Mujihadeen, angry at her family for dying and leaving her alone, angry at the whole world.
She kept swinging and did not stop. Not after his head started bleeding all over the floor, not after his eye popped out of its socket, and not even after his struggles ceased.
When her arm finally got too tired to swing, she stopped her attacks, dropped the brick fragment and crawled off of the lifeless body of her victim.
Managing to get to her feet, she dragged herself over to one of the sinks and vomited. Looking up at her reflection in the mirror, she saw someone she did not recognize. Sweat, tears, blood, bile, and vomit covered her face; a mask of horror and fury now. What she saw was not a little Pashtun girl from Afghanistan.
She saw a monster.
At first horror filled her at the realization and she stood there for several moments, statue still, then she turned around and slumped onto the floor.
It was then that she realized that the other three boys were still there with her. They stared at her in shocked silence, looks of pure terror on their faces. Her eyes went to the nearest one: Kaspar, and their gazes met. A split second of this was all it took and he let out a tiny yelp and ran for the door, followed shortly after by the other two.
And then she was left there, alone with Sukhrab. He had been the terror of Section Four. All the other children in the group had cowered in fear of the little tyrant, and now he was no more.
As she looked at his lifeless body, she did not feel guilt or sadness. He had died as all people die eventually. The only question was when it happened and how. It was then, in the darkness of that filth covered room that she realized something.
The Mujihadeen had taken her mother, the Russians had taken her father, the Bozorgs had taken her brother, and that piece of garbage Osama had taken the last friend she ever had. The world had taken everything from her that she had ever cared about, and left her with only her life. She knew that it would take that too one day. She accepted that, but she was going to make the world pay for her life the highest price imaginable. She was going to make it fight hard to take her life because it was the only kind of revenge she could hope to get.
*-*-*
Some time later one of the controllers had found her and taken her out of that room. He got her cleaned up and changed into new clothes and sent her back to bed. She had expected some kind of punishment for killing Sukhrab, but they didn't do anything. They hadn't even bothered to ask her what had happened.
By the next morning, they had all been assembled in the exercise yard, and she had been placed with her team(minus Sukhrab of course).
The other three would not look at her. They would always avert their gaze. At first she thought that they were angry with her for what she had done to Sukhrab, but when she started giving them orders, and they obeyed her immediately, she realized that they were afraid of her.
As the day wore on, and word spread of what had happened the night before, all the other children began to look at her differently. They were all terrified of her, and she didn't quite know how to react to that.
As she lay in bed that night, thinking over the situation she was in, she came to realize that she was no longer a little weakling that ran from the monsters in the dark, she was a monster, one that was feared.
For the first time in longer than she could remember, she smiled.
-8:16 AM July 19, 1988, Palmdale, California, United States
Florescent lights gave the entire conference room a sickly look. Nikita had grown to hate that about those things. Cooped up inside this building for months and months on end with not a single day off, and almost no sleep, at least until recently.
“What are they taking so long for?” Mikhail paced nervously as he looked up at the clock “they said 8:00 AM, and they are not late, not like this.”
Nikita attempted to calm his friend “we just got two days off for the first time since arriving in this country and you are more stressed than before our vacation” he said.
For a moment, Mikhail stopped his pacing to look at Nikita “they've been working us like dogs for six months, all the while we've been hitting obstacles and false leads in our work. We've barely gotten anywhere since we started and suddenly they decide to give us a 'vacation?' surely you cannot be that naive” he replied.
“Relax Mikhail, this isn't the Soviet Union, they don't put researchers in gulags for schedule slippage” said Richard Goldstein as he got up to pour himself a cup of water at the water cooler. Richard had been their team lead. He was probably one of the weakest on the team when it came to the technical details, but he was excellent at getting the group to work together smoothly as well as motivating them properly. An impressive feat considering the amount of frustration and stress that everyone had been dealing with on the project.
Nikita, Mikhail, and the other Russian members of the team had particularly enjoyed working with Richard, his brand of 'motivation' was far more pleasant than what they had become accustomed to on their side of the Iron Curtain.
Adjusting his glasses, Nikita sat back in his chair “see Mikhail? Richard knows what he's talking about, he's been working here for fifteen-”
“Eighteen years.”
“-eighteen years. If he says that we don't have anything to be worried about, then we don't have anything to be worried about” reassured Nikita.
Richard gulped down his water then pondered the cup for a second “on the other hand, I've never seen anything like this either, especially not on a project with such tight scheduling” he said before crumpling the cup and tossing it in the wastebasket.
Gesturing toward Richard, Mikhail gave Nikita an annoyed expression “see? I told you!” he said. Richard flashed a devilish grin in response.
“I'm just having a little fun with you. Take a seat, I'm sure they'll be here any minute” said Richard.
Right then, the door swung open and in walked three people: two men in suits, one was younger, probably in his mid twenties, another was in his mid to late thirties, and the third was in his early forties wearing an Air Force uniform with Captain's bars and carrying a briefcase.
The younger man had 'junior executive' written all over him, the other two however were something else entirely. “Sorry we're late, couldn't be helped” said the executive.
Richard met the group first “that's a hell of a thing to say. You guys forced us to lose two days on a crucial project where every hour counts even if we had a decade to get it done, and we have a hell of a lot less than that. Just what the hell is going on here?” his mischevious grin was gone, replaced by a very unpleasant scowl.
The young executive put up his hands in a defensive fashion “well, in that case I have good news and bad news” he started to explain “the good news is that PROJECT LOOPHOLE is no longer your problem, so no worries about that schedule. The bad news is that you have an entirely new project with an equally demanding schedule” he concluded.
Taken by surprise, Richard was quite literally speechless for a couple seconds. It gave the executive the time he needed to continue “as your reports say, the problem that you've been having on the fueling problem are inherent in the airframe of the craft itself. As far as you can tell, the only way to solve the problem would be to redesign the craft from the ground up. So, why not do just that?”
This time Richard was able to respond “you have got to be joking. With the requirements that you have, we might be able to have a preliminary design in five years, but not on anything near the timetable you're looking for” he said, flustered.
The executive gave a faint smirk “perhaps it would just be easier if the situation were explained to you in more detail” he gestured toward Richard's now unoccupied chair “have a seat?”
After a couple seconds of staring down the new arrivals, Goldstein relented, then returned to his chair and sat down.
Mr. Junior Executive and his two guests approached the podium at the head of the conference table. He faced the assembled engineers and scientists “may I introduce Captain Thomas Quincy of the US Air Force, and Doctor Robert Griggs. He's going to walk you through the preliminaries on your new assignment. Doctor Griggs?” he explained before stepping aside to let the older gentleman take the podium.
After composing himself, Griggs began “morning everyone. Sorry about the confusion, there have been quite a few issues regarding clearance, considering the number of foreign nationals on this team. And by the way, as of-” he looked at his watch “-eight-o-three this morning, you all have above Top Secret clearance
The murmurs and exchanged glances all around. After clearing his throat, the commotion quickly died down “right, so the full extent of what I'm about to tell you is known to fewer than five hundred people either alive or dead, so pay attention.”
“Our story begins in Philadelphia Harbor in 1943...”
*-*-*
Two hours later, the entire room was silent. Richard was the first to speak though “you're putting us on” he said, incredulous.
Griggs' expression did not change “everything I just told you is absolutely true, hard as it is to believe” he replied.
Nikita was next to speak “but, you can send someone across the world in the blink of an eye? Instantaneously?” he asked.
“Well, the specifics of our research into manned teleportation is not something that I'm cleared to discuss with you. Sorry.”
Susan LeClerc, their lone Canadian team member sighed “if what you say is true, then so much about what we know- or rather what we think we know about physics needs to be rethought. I'm sorry, I'm with Dick here, I just don't believe it” she said.
Griggs gave an apologetic look “I know it's hard to believe, trust me, I deal with this stuff every day and I still have a hard time accepting it all. Here, why don't we take a look at your new workspace. There are some things in there that may at least help you come to grips with the reality of the situation.”
*-*-*
The trio led the group down labyrinthine corridors to the other side of the complex from where they had been working until they reached a rather large set of double doors, two sentries stood outside. The executive turned to face the group “apologies for moving you down to the other side of the complex. We'll have a talk with security and HR regarding parking and carpool arrangements” he said in a conciliatory manner.
The executive presented his identification to the security guard on the left who produced a laser scanner from a slot on his belt and scanned the bar code on the ID card, after a second it beeped and a green LED on top of the scanner blinked on. Then the executive turned to face the rest of the group “all of your permissions have been updated for this sector, get your ID's out and hopefully we can get through this checkpoint without too much hassle.”
After about five minutes, the guard scanned everyone's ID and they were through the double doors and into a rather long corridor. About a half dozen doors lined either side of the hallway, and another set of double doors sat at the far end. With very little fuss, the executive reached the doors and swung them open.
On the other side was a rather large room that could have been an aircraft hanger in its own right, but rather than planes, it housed computers, filing cabinets, drafting tables, desks, and a wide variety of complex looking equipment, much of which Nikolai did not recognize. There were also about a dozen people in lab coats and suits who looked up from their tasks to observe the new arrivals.
Mr. Executive made a broad gesture to the original occupants “Team Epsilon, meet Team Flagstone. You'll be working together over the coming months, and hopefully you will be able to help each other achieve incredible things.”
An older gentleman stepped forward and introduced himself “hi, I'm Dr. Reinhardt, I'm the lead researcher for Flagstone. You must be Richard Goldstein, I've heard quite a bit about you” he said with an outreached hand.
Richard tentatively accepted the offered hand and they two men shared a slightly awkward handshake “okay, and just what is it that 'Team Flagstone' is going to be doing?” he asked.
Reinhardt released his grip “oh, we're system's specialists on this project. You guys handle the overall aircraft design, and we are in charge of getting the I/C systems to meet your needs. If you really want to get technical, we'll be working for you guys” he explained.
“I/C systems?” asked Richard with a raised eyebrow?
A knowing smile came across Reinhardt's face “hey Randal? Toss me one of those tennis balls?” he shouted to one of the other men in the room. The other man complied and threw a green orb across the room at the doctor who caught it in his waiting hands.
Ball in hand, Reinhardt gestured toward his left “everybody follow me” he said.
He led them toward one of the strange looking machines. It was about a meter on a side, and took the form of a large metal framework with a pair of what looked like helicopter skids on the bottom. The top of the machine had some kind of thick metal grating covering it, and inside were what looked like a couple dozen wire coils all oriented in a vertical fashion and arranged in what looked like a grid formation. In addition, dozens of wires ran in, around, and through the device, and a thick cable ran from somewhere inside the contraption out onto the floor and over toward a table with a computer workstation on it.
The smiling scientist walked over toward a woman in a lab coat who was writing down some figures in a notebook at a nearby desk “hey Sandra, could you lend me a hand?” he requested and she complied.
Reinhardt then walked over toward another table with a collection of white construction helmets sitting on it, as well as something that looked like a climbers' harness. After a minute or two, he clipped the harness on and donned one of the helmets. He then walked over to the strange contraption, pulled a loose cable which had been dangling from the side and clipped it to his harness “we've tested this thing up to a thousand kilograms, but 'safety first'” he said as he started to climb on top of the contraption.
Standing atop the machine, he proceeded to check his footing, then looked over at the woman who was now seated behind the computer terminal “can you load up program 32A?” he asked. She nodded and tapped some kind of commands on the keyboard.
The entire assembled group stood there in stunned silence as the machine slowly but steadily lifted up off of the ground, seemingly through some magical force. After ascending for about fifteen seconds, the machine came to a stop about a meter off of the floor where it just seemed to hover. It was then that Nikolai noticed some kind of distortion in the area directly beneath the machine, almost like the effects of extreme heat rising off of a fire.
Looking at the stunned engineers and scientists before him, Reinhardt made a mischievous grin “you think this is something? Just watch” he then nodded toward Sandra who tapped another command into the computer.
Gradually, the machine began to ascend even higher while at the same time it started to 'roll' over to the side, taking Reinhardt with it. It was almost as if the man's shoes were glued or tied to the top of the machine, except his tie stayed in place, as did his helmet, even as the man and his machine became completely inverted.
As if that wasn't enough, he took the tennis ball he had been holding and proceeded to 'drop' it onto the metal grating he was standing on where it bounced a couple times before he scooped it back up, then tossed it from one hand to the other. After a couple seconds of this, he stopped “hey catch!” he announced before tossing it toward Richard who was so shocked that he almost didn't catch it. Goldstein then looked at the ball as if he expected it to grow a pair of legs and hop out of his hands again of its own volition.
Reinhardt chuckled at himself for a couple seconds “so, who'd like to save the world?” he said with a laugh.
-2:34 PM, August 8, 1988, Brantley Lake Refugee Camp, New Mexico, United States
A cold breeze sent shivers down Norman's spine, and he thought not for the first time that it was entirely too cold for August in New Mexico. The feeling of a tiny hand tugging at his brought him out of his own thoughts “can you see what's happening?” inquired Jessica.
He stepped up on the balls of his feet, to try to get an extra inch or two of height, but couldn't get any better look at the army trucks up ahead. He shook his head “sorry squirt, no dice” he said in reply. He immediately regretted his choice of words as it brought back painful memories of that day in Rob Teller's basement.
Damn I miss those guys.
Trying to distract himself from those memories, he put his mind to the situation at hand and came up with an idea “hey, why don't you hop up on my shoulders?” he said, looking down at his younger sister.
She pondered the suggestion for a moment, then nodded “okay” she replied.
He quickly went down to one knee “alright, up you go” he said as she climbed onto his shoulders. Then taking a second to steady himself, he started to stand back up again, hoisting his sister aloft.
“Hmm” she said in a ponderous fashion, but didn't say anything more.
“Hmm what?” he said, impatient.
“Well, the army guys are handing out food like usual, but I also see some of those seden- sedentology guys too.”
“Serenology” he corrected her.
The Serenologists had been coming to the camp for about two months now. They walked around, shilling those personality tests of theirs, handing out blankets, water, food, and sometimes medicine. He supposed they were alright for that, but they still creeped him out a bit. Always so damn cheerful, even in this shithole camp. Nobody who could be that cheerful in such depressing surroundings seemed trustworthy in his opinion.
“And is that all?” he asked his sister.
“No. One of the army guys, he's talking to one of the serned- serna- to the church guys.”
There was a pause, then “I think they're arguing.”
“How can you tell?”
“The army guy, he's waving his arms a lot.”
*-*-*
“I swear to God almighty that you are going to let me inspect that van!”
The National guardsman; a Lieutenant, as Gary could tell from the bar on his hat, was furious. The tone of the man's voice made Gary's blood boil. To talk to the Coordinator like that, when all they wanted to do was help these people, it made him want to put his fist right in the smug asshole's face.
It didn't help that he had a very low opinion of the army to begin with. His own CO had similarly been the 'fire and brimstone' type. Preaching about God and Jesus, all the while he sent young men to fight and die like they were pieces on a chessboard.
Despite the belligerence in the Officer's tone, and Gary's own rage, Coordinator Jebsen was surprisingly calm “please sir, we are here only to serve these desperately needy people, just as you are. There is no need for this. Just let us go about our business and we can help these people together, without any trouble” he said.
Unfortunately, the Lieutenant would have none of it “bullshit Jebsen, one of my men says he saw one of your people handling a weapon inside the back of that van and I believe him. You know damn well that NGOs aren't allowed weapons in here. Now, we are going to have a look inside that vehicle and if I find so much as a potato gun, you are going to wish you were never born. Now stand aside!” he commanded before taking a step toward Jebsen.
Gary started to go for the 1911 stashed under his parka, but Jebsen put a hand on his arm and gave him a look. The anger coursing through him was so great that Gary had to take a second to decide to comply.
“What's that tough guy? You wanna take a poke at me?”
Suddenly the guardsman was right in front of him, mere inches from his face. With every bit of willpower he had, Gary managed to keep his voice calm “no, no sir” he replied.
He tried to force his anger out through his nateht back into the Great Matrix, but he met with little success, he knew that anyone with working eyes could see the anger in his eyes.
The guardsman studied him for a second “oh, I think we got ourselves a live one here. You really might just try something. Come on punk, please make my job easier. I'm beggin' ya!” came his challenge.
“TERMINAL! LEAVE THEM ALONE!”
“YOU'VE GOT NO RIGHT TERMINAL!”
The sounds of the jeers coming from the new initiates in the crowd managed to bring Gary back from the edge. The realization that he was not alone amongst a sea of terminals had a strong calming effect. He could draw from their strength to endure what he must.
Looking up at the crowd beyond the cordon, the guardsman shook his head dismissively “God Almighty! Look at those damn fools. You really got 'em going dontcha! Barnum sure was right. One born every minute” he chuckled derisively.
The sounds of cursing in Spanish, English, and French drew Gary's attention to the crowd, and another confrontation brewing amongst the residents of this refugee camp.
The new initiates were facing off with a angry crowd of refugees. There were American, Mexican, and even some of the Algerians. He could make out some sticks, and bats, and a few people holding rather large rocks too. Suddenly he realized his job.
“Coordinator Jebsen, I think we need to get you out of here” he said as he stepped closer to his superior.
The guardsman stepped close to them and placed his hand on Jebsen's right arm “no you don't. You're not going anywhere until we-” he wasn't able to finish his sentence as a rock came flying through the air from somewhere in the crowd and slammed right into his right temple.
Staggering back a couple steps, the injured guardsman lost his balance and went down to his knees while his arm went up to his now bleeding head. That's when a gunshot rang out, and then things went completely out of control.
The initiates and the people accosting them threw themselves at each other in a violent melee. Other groups in the crowd began pushing against the cordon, and before Gary knew it, they had broken through. More weapons fire echoed through the crowd as some of the National Guard troops panicked. The still disoriented Lieutenant was helped up by a pair of his men who then tried to drag him back to the nearest truck.
Gary wasted no time. As soon as he heard the first gunshot. He grabbed Coordinator Jebsen and shoved him into the back of the nearest Church van, then barked orders at the remaining novitiates to climb aboard as well. Within seconds they had managed to all get inside and locked the reinforced doors.
“Novitiate Carlsbad! Get us out of here!” he shouted toward the front of the van.
“Understood Acolyte!” came the response and suddenly they were moving.
Expecting that something like this might happen, both Gary and the coordinator had made the decision to leave almost all of the food and aid supplies in a stack outside the van, and he watched in satisfaction as nearly all of the rioters who headed their way decided to go for the pile of food and blankets rather than the van as it sped away.
“Are all of you alright?” asked Jebsen.
The rest of the novitiates all answered in the affirmative.
Looking around at his subordinates, the coordinator nodded in approval “good” he said before looking directly at Gary “you must be more vigilant in the future, Acolyte. You had almost reverted to terminal behavior” he said in a disapproving tone.
Gary felt ashamed “I am sorry Coordinator. To see that... arrogant terminal treat you that way, especially one in the army. It was almost too much to bear!” he explained.
Jebsen let out a deep sigh “yes, I know. To see someone so self righteous when they are clearly so ignorant and closed minded is a frustrating thing. And your enthusiasm to protect the church is commendable, but you must remember that there is a part for all of us in the Great Puzzle, even for terminals like him” he explained.
Raising an eyebrow, Gary gave him a curious look. The coordinator grinned knowingly “the government has been suspicious of us even before we arrived here to give aid. I am certain that that terminal had even been given orders to keep an extra close eye on us to spot anything suspicious. Enthusiastic to carry out his orders, he jumped at the chance to search this vehicle under suspicion that we were carrying weapons. Unfortunately for him, the will of our initiates is strong, and they will not stand idly by and let a small minded terminal like him obstruct us in carrying out the church's will. Unfortunately, they are just initiates, and have not managed to cleanse themselves of many of the baser urges that all terminals are afflicted with, especially in a place where so many natehts are tangled or disconnected. It would be only a matter of time before terminal behavior reached a boiling point.”
At that, realization finally dawned upon Gary “so when he confronted us, it was bound to spark a larger incident, and set off the inherent negative energies rife in that crowd” he said.
Nodding as he saw that Gary had caught on “yes, and after the riot is pacified, the government will be particularly conscious of the various sensitivities present within the different groups at this and other camps. So a more agreeable officer will be placed in command of that posting” Jebsen finished explaining.
“I truly did not realize just how wise you are Coordinator” Gary said.
The coordinator placed a hand on the acolyte's shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile “my nateht guides me, and I merely follow” he said before looking out the rear window of the van. He pondered for a moment before speaking again “it truly is a shame that some of those initiates will have to die so that many others will be able to be brought to enlightenment, but at least they get to die on their own terms, and their sacrifice will mean something.”
Gary nodded in agreement “true. These days, far too many unfortunates aren't even afforded that.”
“I'm the school bully!
The classroom cheat.
The nastiest playfriend,
You ever could meet.
I'll stick pins in your fingers
And tread on your feet...”
-The Who
-2:23 PM, June 17, 1988, Danvers State Hospital, Massachusetts, United States
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Rain water leaked through the multiple cracks in the ceiling and ended their journey in the assortment of rusty pots and dingy jars sitting on the grimy linoleum floor.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The constant noise was maddening. Terrence just wanted to sleep, to get a break from the monotony, to find some escape from this horrible place.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
He blamed the sound for his lack of sleep. He blamed the humidity. He blamed the ancient cot he was laying on, or the horrible food. He blamed the excruciating fiery pain that filled all of his muscles every time he moved.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Really though, he knew better. He hadn't slept in over a month. There was no logical reason for that. He didn't have to be a doctor to know that such a thing was not humanly possible.
The face peering at him through the window in the door filled him with hatred. He didn't need to get a good look at the man to know who it was.
Terrence had never learned the name of his tormentor. 'Doctor' was the only name for him as far as Terrence was concerned, and it was how he preferred it anyway. Naming him humanized him, and the idea that anyone who was that sadistic could truly be human was not something that Terrence wanted to contemplate.
The man never spoke to Terrence directly, and almost never spoke in his presence. Occasionally exchanging words with the other staff there in heavily accented english; he merely appeared to coldly stare at Terrence as if he were an insect found under a rock, not like a person who was enduring constant, excruciating pain.
Terrence was a murderer. He had killed, but this 'man' was a monster.
Not only did he not seem to care about what Terrence was going through, but it seemed to be almost a certainty that the doctor had known what those injections would do to him beforehand.
He looked back at the window, the face was no longer there. Apparently someone else' suffering was more interesting than his at the moment.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
The rain water continued to patter into the pots. As apathetic to his suffering as that monster in the lab coat had been.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Why had he signed those papers? He could have taken his death like a good little boy and be done with it. Hell could hardly have been as bad as this.
-11:27 PM, June 19, 1988, Arlington Ridge, Virginia, United States
Roger took another drag from his cigarette as he stared at the computer disk sitting on his desk. He'd pulled it out of his briefcase ten minutes prior and had simply let it sit there ever since, finishing off two cigarettes in the process. Snatching the glass of scotch off of the desk and downing the rest of its contents with one gulp; he winced, thumped the empty glass back onto the rich mahogany, then finally reached for the disk with a sigh.
He knew he wasn't going to like what the disk had to say. Clarice hadn't had a chance to read its contents herself. No computer access in any of the safe houses she had been to thus far. He also got a strong indication that she didn't want to read it either. Not that he blamed her.
The more they found out about whoever this group was, the worse the news got. The fact that the previous owner of the disk had killed himself shortly after giving it to Clarice did not bode well for the information contained within.
It weighed no more than a couple ounces. Really, just a flimsy black plastic square. And yet it felt as though it massed a ton. It's color and shape bore an unpleasant resemblance to the silhouette of that damned case Clarice had brought back with her. Of course, it wasn't the case that was the problem, that horrid abomination contained within was. Much like whatever information was contained on this disk.
He suppressed a shudder at his memory of seeing what was inside. There was not enough scotch in the world to numb the discomfort he felt from the two seconds he spend looking at that... thing. Presently sitting in the back corner of a storage unit in western Maryland, probably a couple feet away from someone's stamp collection.
He chuckled at that thought, a little levity in an otherwise somber evening.
Taking one more drag from his cigarette, he finally grabbed the five inch floppy and inserted it into the disk drive on his desk. Then turned the lever to lock it in place.
The motors inside whirred and clicked. After a couple seconds, the disk loaded up and he saw that it contained a single text document.
A couple clicks of his mouse and he was staring at the words of a dead man:
“Greetings. I am hoping that this document is being read by the employer of the 'federal marshal' assigned to McMurdogh Station in Antarctica. You are about to become one of the select, unfortunate few who know the true history of human civilization on the planet Earth. As you may have gathered, the archaeological dig being carried out in Antarctica is far from something as innocent as the simple pursuit of knowledge.
What I am sure you have already learned is that the civilization which inhabited the city here predates recorded human history. You have also undoubtedly discerned that there are numerous 'unnatural' qualities to this civilization and its inhabitants.
The truth behind the existence of this civilization is what caused Alexander the Great's army to mutiny rather than continue further east and drove him to alcoholism, it is the reason why the Mongols destroyed a single city in Eastern China that history books do not talk about and massacred every last inhabitant down to the children and livestock and salted the earth surrounding it for fifty miles in every direction, and it is the reason why the Mayan civilization 'inexplicably' collapsed in the 8th and 9th centuries.
You see, there has been a war going on for over a thousand years now, it has been fought over the soul of the human race. The combatants have been the Catholic Church and the followers of forces beyond comprehension. The stakes are so high, and the enemy so horrible that even as I have looked in horror at the steps taken by the Vatican in years past to fight this war, I cannot entirely discount the motivation for these actions.
The crusades, the inquisition, the extermination of whole civilizations in the Americas. I can certainly say that while many of these actions were horrific, the fear behind them was understandable. The extermination of an entire city, or even an entire civilization is abhorrent in every way imaginable, but compared to the madness engulfing the entirety of humanity should we have failed at any of these times would have been far worse.
Even punishment in the pits of Hell for all of eternity for committing such acts is an acceptable sacrifice to protect this world from the horrors that hide just on the edge of this reality.
Perhaps a bit of explanation is in order.
Some time before 10,000BC, a collection of extremely powerful entities made contact with the planet earth. Due to their influence on various laws of physics and causality, there is no way to accurately determine when they first arrived or the exact chronology of this period and the events that transpired during its course.
We do not know what motivation, if any, drives these beings. We do not know why they came to this planet, we do not know why they left either. The term 'being' may not even be accurate in describing them. Though there is evidence that less powerful entities act on their behalf to influence the affairs of this plane of existence, presumably to suit their needs. For the purpose of this document, I will refer to the lesser beings as avatars.
What is known is that their presence affected the behavior and form of the primitive hominids known as neanderthals and various species of plants and animals all over the world. Strange and aberrant organisms came into existence, either they were outgrowths of people, or of other species.
The warping of the fabric of reality itself was indeed horrible. We have evidence that some of the less affected groups of people and animals simply went insane, committing horrid acts on themselves and each other. The more affected ones either became horribly changed into the stuff of nightmares, or somehow maintained their original forms and even maintained some semblance of sanity, but their behavior became horrific and perverted.
A group of people and animals that had been changed made their way southward, apparently led there by the avatars. Eventually they managed to get themselves to the site of this city in Antarctica. Naming it 'R'larxstx' in a language that is seemingly unpronounceable by human tongues, they constructed massive temples and monuments to these entities, and then a massive orgy of violence and perversion ensued.
Somehow this civilization managed to grow and flourish.
The exact population of R'larxstx is unknown, but appears to have grown to exceed five million people. We are not sure how this is possible. As there has never been any indication that this civilization bothered to do anything other than commit horrid acts upon itself every waking moment. There was no agriculture, no commerce, merely the constant abominable rituals that dominated every facet of every life inside the city.
As the laws of nature themselves became just as warped and perverted as the minds and bodies of the denizens of R'larxstx; time, the laws of physics, the nature of life and death themselves behaved according to something other than what we have become accustomed to. The result is that while the time passing on the planet Earth seems to have lasted for millions of years, all indications we have is that this period lasted perhaps no more than a year or two. Of course, the inconsistencies in the geological record surrounding this period seems to have had a dramatic effect that has stretched far beyond the dates of the period itself, with evidence of the changes going back tens and even hundreds of thousands of years prior to the arrival of the first avatars.
Some time later, the entities began to leave, we are not sure why or how, but their presence became less and less apparent. The effects of their reality-warping properties dissipated and eventually only the avatars remained until some time later, they went into hiding.
The people in the city eventually dispersed. Some of them had warped into forms that were quite simply incompatible with the laws of nature and so they died off or even ceased to exist. Others were consumed by their madness and destroyed themselves, whatever force that sustained them no longer existed, so they died off. The remaining survivors left the city. They took to the seas and eventually disparate groups of them turned up in various locations across the globe. Some in the Americas, some in Asia and Africa.
It is from these survivors that modern humanity has descended. Once having taken the form of neanderthals that populated the planet, they had been changed into what we are today. The 'missing link' that scientists have been searching for between modern humans and neanderthals never existed, and cannot be explained with conventional scientific wisdom. That's because we are the neanderthals, permanently changed by the horrors from beyond existence.
Evidence indicates that all of these groups seemed to have left at about the same time, but that in fact somehow they arrived in different places across the planet at very different times. Some managed to inexplicably show up in Africa nearly four hundred thousand years ago, well before they had even left, others did not appear until a couple thousand BC in the Americas, and some appeared in the near east as recently as a few centuries AD. We may have yet to encounter other groups that have not yet finished their journey.
The earliest groups long ago forgot their origins. Either as a result of reality becoming orderly again, or perhaps simply as a result of this knowledge being lost to time, we will never know which is the cause.
At the same time, there have been certain groups that managed to keep alive the memory of this dark time. They secretly harbored a desire for the return of these entities and the chaos that accompanies them. Keeping themselves hidden, they occasionally surfaced to enact some plan that fit their needs or desires, but never establishing a visible presence.
Our knowledge of the history of these groups is extremely limited due to the secretive nature of their activities, and there are undoubtedly plans and machinations that they have carried out which we are completely unaware of to this day, but we do know that they have been responsible for the founding and destruction of multiple civilizations, some of which history has never even recorded. We know that they somehow managed to affect the weather patterns of the Fertile Crescent and sowed chaos and discord among the various civilizations that arose and fell during antiquity. We know that the Mayan civilization arose out of a group of 'refugees' that arrived in Mexico some time prior to the thirty-second century BC.
We also know that these groups refer to themselves as 'Covenants' today.
Additionally, there has been evidence of their influence on human events throughout much of history. Though the Vatican has taken steps to cover up this fact, the Black Death was caused by an organism that does not correspond to any known species of bacteria or virus. We also know that as many as seven expeditions were sent to the New World prior to Columbus' journey and successfully arrived in Central or South America, but none of them ever returned. Finally, while Adolf Hitler was not an agent of these groups as far as we can tell, his rise to power and subsequent rule did coincide with their plans in some way, and that despite a considerable number of assassination attempts, he survived all of them due to the protection of the Covenants.
Despite the best efforts of the Vatican and its agents, the Covenants have managed to infiltrate the governments of the most powerful nations on earth. This includes those of the United States and Soviet Union, among others. They have also managed to influence various criminal, paramilitary, and terrorist groups as well.
The exact motivations behind all of these activities has not been fully determined by us, but indications are that they have been preparing for some sort of event which is expected to arise within the next couple of decades. The nature of this event is not known, though our worst fears are that the entities they support are returning, or perhaps they will be in a position to summon these beings again at this time.
Likewise, we are not sure how the Bozorgs play into their plans, but after their arrival in Afghanistan, the Covenants began making far more blatant moves than we had seen in centuries. The leading theory is that pain, suffering, and death serve their purposes in some way. In which case it is likely that they have been intentionally sabotaging the war effort in order to prolong it and increase its death toll, but without causing the human race to lose outright.
Additionally, we are not sure if the 'discovery' of the city in Antarctica was deliberately orchestrated by them or was simply an unpleasant coincidence, but we do know that they have devoted significant resources toward excavating it.
Finally, we do know that these Covenants do not enjoy an entirely harmonious relationship with one another either. We have discerned multiple conflicts between them throughout the centuries and that they seemingly hate each other as much as any external threat, perhaps even more. Unfortunately, it appears that the Bozorg invasion and discovery of R'larxstx has triggered a sort of truce between them.
We fear that this new truce signals that an endgame is upon us. That the Covenants are making moves to usher in a new era of horror and madness from which the human race may never emerge.
You must realize that despite the dire threat that these alien invaders poses to humanity, it pales in comparison to that of the entities that the Covenants serve.
Extinction; horrible as it may be, is preferable to the perversion that awaits humanity should a new era of madness ensue. The Bozorgs, the Enigmas, they will simply kill us, but the Covenants wish us to be warped into horrible nightmare images of ourselves. This cannot be allowed to happen.
I have included in this document further details of their plans and activities throughout history, as well as more information on the item that your agent has brought back with her. Horrible as it is, studying it may be the only way to discern how to fight the oncoming horror.
Godspeed whoever you are.”
There was more after that, but Roger needed to stop reading.
5:04AM, June 28, 1988, Perm Juvenile Processing Center 07, Perm Oblast, Russia, USSR
“Everyone wake!”
The controller shouted at them in stilted Russian. Farrukh should have been annoyed at being awoken this way, but she didn't much like sleeping anymore either.
She could see the controller as he stood at the end of the room, bellowing at them.
“Dress and assemble in the exercise yard!” he shouted.
Not wanting to attract any unwanted attention, she quickly climbed down to the chilly floor, remade her bed, pulled off her smock, and threw her jumpsuit on.
Without delay, she trotted out of the room along with the rest of the kids. A few stragglers had managed to find themselves the unwanted recipients of one of the controller's usual tirades. While none of them were strangers to disciplinary action, when it could be easily enough avoided, Farrukh opted to do so.
Making her way to the exercise yard, a quick glance around at the other kids and the expressions on their faces told her that there was something different about that day. After exiting into the yard, she saw a group of men in suits standing near the front.
Most definitely something different, indeed.
After several minutes of activity, the entire population of the processing center had been assembled in the exercise yard, about two hundred children, each grouped into their five sections of forty.
The Administrator stood at the center of the stage on the far end of the yard his grey suit combined with his stiff posture made him look like a statue. The controllers of each section stood next to their charges, facing toward the Administrator just as the children did.
“Good morning children!” his voice echoed through the chilly yard.
“GOOD MORNING COMRADE ADMINISTRATOR!” shouted the children in reply.
The enthusiasm of the response was less a product of their love of the Administrator, and more the result of fear that any of the controllers would spot any children that did not express the proper 'respect' for their dear Administrator.
Dead, grey eyes surveyed the children arrayed before him, and his mouth stretched to form a rictus grin.
“My, that was a friendly response! Your controllers must be so proud of you. They have worked so hard to educate you on proper manners, and you have certainly learned well. That is excellent, because today I am announcing that it is time to move on to a new level in your education.”
A slight shudder went through Farrukh's body as a cool breeze whipped through the yard. She wasn't entirely convinced that the temperature of the wind was entirely to blame though. The kind of 'education' they carried out in this place was less than pleasant.
“Today, you get assigned to teams which you will be part of for the rest of your stay here at Processing Center 7! Your hierarchy will be assigned and leaders will be chosen. It is from within your teams that you all will be able to help new arrivals to the Center learn their part in this wonderous process! Does that not make you excited?!”
“YES COMRADE ADMINISTRATOR!”
Farrukh stole a quick glance at her controller and saw him likewise looking back at her. A sinking feeling hit her right in the gut. She did not like where this was going.
Almost as if reading her mind, each section controller stepped forward and faced the children in their charge. The controller for Farrukh's section looked them over, then began to speak “section four, you shall be divided into eight separate teams. Each team will be led by a first, below each first will be a second. The other three will each be equally ranked below them. You will all be obedient to your second and your first, and each first will be held responsible for the performance of their team.”
The explanation continued on for a few minutes more. Those details concerned her less with what was to come next.
“And now for your team assignments!”
“Team One First, Viktor Twenty-Five. Team One Second Eka Sixteen, now Vladimir Four, now Jamal Forty-Five, now Bahar Thirty-Three...”
He continued listing names. Going from team to team. She did not hear her name nor the name of that monster Sukhrab. She would not have long to wait.
“...Team Four First Farrukh Eight, Team Four Second Sukhrab Twenty-Two, now Dilshod Nineteen, now Kaspar Thirty, now Sargon Twenty-Seven.”
That sinking feeling turned to straight dread as her worst fears had been realized.
Some time later she stood with her team, the four boys looked upon her with sheer unadulterated hatred.
The controller had just finished arranging all of the different teams of the section had been properly lined up according to this new hierarchy, and now he had returned to his previous position, he started to talk once again.
“Now, as your first activity in your new teams, you will begin your morning exercises under the command of your team firsts. Let us begin!”
*-*-*
She lay in her bunk, tired but wide awake. The events of the previous day weighed on her far too much.
Right from the start things had started out with a foul taste to them. She had been given responsibility for getting her team to perform their morning exercises. The entire time they stared back at her with fiery hatred. Each command that she gave them merely fed that fire even more. They all despised her, and the idea of taking commands from her disgusted them.
Sukhrab hated her, and she hated him. It had been bad enough that he had been placed on her team, but for him to be her second, and for the other three members of the team to be the three most devoted members of his little band could be no coincidence. The controller must have hated her just as much as they did.
As bad as it was, that morning in the exercise yard was not what concerned her the most at the moment, but rather what was to come the next day, and the day after that. As the First, if her team fell behind on their performance in any number of categories, and she would be held responsible. If the deficiency was bad enough, she would be ...punished.
In the weeks since arriving at this place, she had seen the kinds of penalties the adults running things here could hand out, she had even experienced some of them herself. They ranged from being denied food, to beatings, to being sent to 'Room 7.'
The children who had been sent there(well the ones that came back anyway), acted terrified at what they had experienced, and not one would dare say even the slightest hint as to what the punishment was. Rumors about what went on there ranged from the mundane to the fantastic, but the only thing everyone agreed on was that nobody wanted to go there.
They had been told that a First could punish members of their team that failed to perform or follow directions, but they were to be given no help from the adults in actually carrying out these punishments. Worse, many of them feared that if they actually dared to ask for help in disciplining the members of their team, they would be seen as deficient and suffer some kind of punishment themselves.
How was she going to punish Sukhrab? Or any of the other members of her team? They wouldn't follow her directions, they most certainly would not allow her to punish one of them. Then there was always the chance that they would simply decide to give her another beating just for good measure.
She had managed to make it through the first day because the Controller had been watching the entire section much closer than usual. None would dare misbehave so openly, but the Controller couldn't be there always. There would be times when she was alone with her team, and that's when things would get nasty.
As if on cue, she heard something moving elsewhere in the room. She opened her eyes and stole a glance in the direction of the noise to see the shape of someone moving in the darkness.
It could have been anyone, for any reason, and probably was just someone getting up to use the toilet, but something in the back of her mind told her that it was Sukhrab or one of his lackeys.
She took a second to ponder the thought, and what to do about it when she heard another noise and looked over to see the shape of another moving out there in the darkness. Both of them were heading toward her bunk.
Deliberating for only a couple seconds more, she pulled her blanket off of herself then swung her legs around and began to descend off of her bunk down to the cold concrete floor below.
There was little chance that she could get out of that room without them knowing, and she had no illusions that she could somehow avoid what was coming for more than a short while, but she had to at least have a little extra time to figure out what she was going to do about it.
A quick glance behind her and there were now three figures moving. Wasting no time, she rounded a corner and headed straight for the door. Within seconds she was in the dimly lit corridor outside, on her way to the lavatory.
When the sound of the door opening again reverberated through the corridor, she glanced behind herself to see four boys emerge from the darkened room. Sukhrab and his followers had looks on their faces that could curdle fresh milk.
Quickening her pace, she rounded the corner and made a beeline for the bathroom door. It creaked as she swung the ancient slab of wood out of her way and entered the dank room.
Once inside, she looked around to see if there was some kind of solution to her problem, something that could help her in her plight. The faint smell of musk and urine filled the air. Somewhere a leaky pipe dripped water onto the floor loudly, the brick wall was cracked and chipped all over. Nothing came to mind.
The sound of the bathroom door creaking open echoed through the dimly lit bathroom, drawing her attention over to the four boys as they entered the room. In seconds she was surrounded.
“Gonna suffer, piece of Afghan filth” Sukhrab's accented Pashto was full of venom. His followers merely sneered at her.
Desperately, she looked around the room, searching for anything that would get her out of this, something that she had missed before. Suddenly her eyes went to the floor near her right foot where she spotted a piece of brick that had fallen out of the wall. Furiously, her mind worked to come up with an idea, then inspiration struck.
She went down to her knees “I'm so so sorry! Please don't hurt me!” she did her best to sound as meek and pathetic as she could. A quick glance up at him revealed that he was smiling even wider than before, except this time it wasn't motivated by malice alone, but by satisfaction as well. He took a step forward. She knew that he had no intention of showing her any mercy.
He spit, and it hit the dingy floor about a half a meter in front of her, splattering her face with miniscule droplets of saliva and mucous “too late Afghan filth. You gonna suffer. I be nice though, break your fingers, not bash in face” he said as his feet came into the top of Farrukh's field of view, then he stopped.
“Look at me” he commanded.
Her hand had inched ever so close to the brick fragment. This was the moment that would decide whether or not she survived this place. She couldn't think of too many situations where she wouldn't be in this very position again and again, even if she managed to escape a beating this time. She'd be avoiding little monsters like Sukhrab every single day in this hole. There was only one thing she could do to avoid that.
When she was still a child, before things became horrible, when the world still had goodness in it, she remembered one of the men in her village getting kicked by a goat. It had hit him in the knee. He never walked the same again. This night, she would be the goat. This night, she would change someone's life forever.
She tilted her head up to look at her tormentor, she stared him right in the eyes. His lips tightened, his head went back slightly, and he let out another gob of spit and phlegm. It hit her square on the forehead this time, splattering across her face.
Quickly she looked away, acting as though she were recoiling in disgust.
“I said look at me. Don't look down when I talk to you. Afghan filth!”
Her hand was practically on top of the piece of brick, she just had to wait for his feet to move one more time-
There!
Again, she saw him take another step forward, and as soon as his foot lifted up off of the floor she sprang into action. Her hand closed on the jagged red piece of brick, and at the same time, she released the tension in her legs, propelling her forward toward the bully.
Her first thought was to go for his face. It made the most sense, but his knees were so much closer. When her head went up again, she immediately focused on his left leg, the one that was still stationary, and with all of her might, she brought her arm back, then swung forward.
She heard the sound of his surprised gasp at her unexpected movement, and saw him shift his weight as he started to change position to avoid her lunge, but they were too close, and he was too slow.
Surprisingly enough, if he had failed to react to her, she would have missed and hit him in the shin. In stead, she drove the brick straight into his kneecap, with all the strength her little body could muster.
Once her weapon connected, she heard the sound of his pained cry echo throughout the dingy room. Then she let her momentum carry her further. Her right shoulder hit his shin, and a sharp pain went shooting up through it into her neck and down her back, followed immediately after by the sound of a sickening pop. She thought for sure that she had broken a bone in her shoulder, the pain she felt was a sure sign of that.
Sukhrab was taken completely by surprise, first by her sudden lunge at him, and then by the unbelievable pain in his knee. His abrupt shift in position combined with Farrukh throwing all of her weight into his leg as well as his surprise caused him to stumble back. He failed to get a good footing when he stepped back to steady himself, and then when he tried to stop himself from falling with his right foot, a sharp pain almost as bad as the last shot up through his leg from his knee and he fell backwards onto the damp floor.
When Farrukh managed to pull herself up off the floor and the pain wasn't nearly as bad as she had expected, she realized that she hadn't broken any bones. One look at Sukhrab's knee bent at a slight ankle that it shouldn't have been able to reach told her what that popping sound had been after all.
Not wanting to waste the opportunity, she did not dwell on those considerations and immediately scrambled up toward him. He was screaming, and his arms were flailing. One managed to hit her with a closed fist across the face, splitting her bottom lip, but the rest of his swings were random and panicked, so she managed to avoid his attacks.
On her way up, she realized that she was still grasping the brick fragment and hit him once in the chest, then again in his shoulder, each time resulting in a satisfying meaty thud and a grunt of pain from her opponent.
By now, she had managed to climb on top of the shrieking Uzbek boy. She brought her weapon up, and down it went, connecting with his jaw, sending a bloody tooth flying onto the floor. She swung again, and this time it hit the side of his head.
She'd always had every intention of really hurting the boy. It was the only way she could survive, but by now she wasn't thinking about that. Now she was just angry. Angry at the Bozorgs, angry at the Russians, at the Mujihadeen, angry at her family for dying and leaving her alone, angry at the whole world.
She kept swinging and did not stop. Not after his head started bleeding all over the floor, not after his eye popped out of its socket, and not even after his struggles ceased.
When her arm finally got too tired to swing, she stopped her attacks, dropped the brick fragment and crawled off of the lifeless body of her victim.
Managing to get to her feet, she dragged herself over to one of the sinks and vomited. Looking up at her reflection in the mirror, she saw someone she did not recognize. Sweat, tears, blood, bile, and vomit covered her face; a mask of horror and fury now. What she saw was not a little Pashtun girl from Afghanistan.
She saw a monster.
At first horror filled her at the realization and she stood there for several moments, statue still, then she turned around and slumped onto the floor.
It was then that she realized that the other three boys were still there with her. They stared at her in shocked silence, looks of pure terror on their faces. Her eyes went to the nearest one: Kaspar, and their gazes met. A split second of this was all it took and he let out a tiny yelp and ran for the door, followed shortly after by the other two.
And then she was left there, alone with Sukhrab. He had been the terror of Section Four. All the other children in the group had cowered in fear of the little tyrant, and now he was no more.
As she looked at his lifeless body, she did not feel guilt or sadness. He had died as all people die eventually. The only question was when it happened and how. It was then, in the darkness of that filth covered room that she realized something.
The Mujihadeen had taken her mother, the Russians had taken her father, the Bozorgs had taken her brother, and that piece of garbage Osama had taken the last friend she ever had. The world had taken everything from her that she had ever cared about, and left her with only her life. She knew that it would take that too one day. She accepted that, but she was going to make the world pay for her life the highest price imaginable. She was going to make it fight hard to take her life because it was the only kind of revenge she could hope to get.
*-*-*
Some time later one of the controllers had found her and taken her out of that room. He got her cleaned up and changed into new clothes and sent her back to bed. She had expected some kind of punishment for killing Sukhrab, but they didn't do anything. They hadn't even bothered to ask her what had happened.
By the next morning, they had all been assembled in the exercise yard, and she had been placed with her team(minus Sukhrab of course).
The other three would not look at her. They would always avert their gaze. At first she thought that they were angry with her for what she had done to Sukhrab, but when she started giving them orders, and they obeyed her immediately, she realized that they were afraid of her.
As the day wore on, and word spread of what had happened the night before, all the other children began to look at her differently. They were all terrified of her, and she didn't quite know how to react to that.
As she lay in bed that night, thinking over the situation she was in, she came to realize that she was no longer a little weakling that ran from the monsters in the dark, she was a monster, one that was feared.
For the first time in longer than she could remember, she smiled.
-8:16 AM July 19, 1988, Palmdale, California, United States
Florescent lights gave the entire conference room a sickly look. Nikita had grown to hate that about those things. Cooped up inside this building for months and months on end with not a single day off, and almost no sleep, at least until recently.
“What are they taking so long for?” Mikhail paced nervously as he looked up at the clock “they said 8:00 AM, and they are not late, not like this.”
Nikita attempted to calm his friend “we just got two days off for the first time since arriving in this country and you are more stressed than before our vacation” he said.
For a moment, Mikhail stopped his pacing to look at Nikita “they've been working us like dogs for six months, all the while we've been hitting obstacles and false leads in our work. We've barely gotten anywhere since we started and suddenly they decide to give us a 'vacation?' surely you cannot be that naive” he replied.
“Relax Mikhail, this isn't the Soviet Union, they don't put researchers in gulags for schedule slippage” said Richard Goldstein as he got up to pour himself a cup of water at the water cooler. Richard had been their team lead. He was probably one of the weakest on the team when it came to the technical details, but he was excellent at getting the group to work together smoothly as well as motivating them properly. An impressive feat considering the amount of frustration and stress that everyone had been dealing with on the project.
Nikita, Mikhail, and the other Russian members of the team had particularly enjoyed working with Richard, his brand of 'motivation' was far more pleasant than what they had become accustomed to on their side of the Iron Curtain.
Adjusting his glasses, Nikita sat back in his chair “see Mikhail? Richard knows what he's talking about, he's been working here for fifteen-”
“Eighteen years.”
“-eighteen years. If he says that we don't have anything to be worried about, then we don't have anything to be worried about” reassured Nikita.
Richard gulped down his water then pondered the cup for a second “on the other hand, I've never seen anything like this either, especially not on a project with such tight scheduling” he said before crumpling the cup and tossing it in the wastebasket.
Gesturing toward Richard, Mikhail gave Nikita an annoyed expression “see? I told you!” he said. Richard flashed a devilish grin in response.
“I'm just having a little fun with you. Take a seat, I'm sure they'll be here any minute” said Richard.
Right then, the door swung open and in walked three people: two men in suits, one was younger, probably in his mid twenties, another was in his mid to late thirties, and the third was in his early forties wearing an Air Force uniform with Captain's bars and carrying a briefcase.
The younger man had 'junior executive' written all over him, the other two however were something else entirely. “Sorry we're late, couldn't be helped” said the executive.
Richard met the group first “that's a hell of a thing to say. You guys forced us to lose two days on a crucial project where every hour counts even if we had a decade to get it done, and we have a hell of a lot less than that. Just what the hell is going on here?” his mischevious grin was gone, replaced by a very unpleasant scowl.
The young executive put up his hands in a defensive fashion “well, in that case I have good news and bad news” he started to explain “the good news is that PROJECT LOOPHOLE is no longer your problem, so no worries about that schedule. The bad news is that you have an entirely new project with an equally demanding schedule” he concluded.
Taken by surprise, Richard was quite literally speechless for a couple seconds. It gave the executive the time he needed to continue “as your reports say, the problem that you've been having on the fueling problem are inherent in the airframe of the craft itself. As far as you can tell, the only way to solve the problem would be to redesign the craft from the ground up. So, why not do just that?”
This time Richard was able to respond “you have got to be joking. With the requirements that you have, we might be able to have a preliminary design in five years, but not on anything near the timetable you're looking for” he said, flustered.
The executive gave a faint smirk “perhaps it would just be easier if the situation were explained to you in more detail” he gestured toward Richard's now unoccupied chair “have a seat?”
After a couple seconds of staring down the new arrivals, Goldstein relented, then returned to his chair and sat down.
Mr. Junior Executive and his two guests approached the podium at the head of the conference table. He faced the assembled engineers and scientists “may I introduce Captain Thomas Quincy of the US Air Force, and Doctor Robert Griggs. He's going to walk you through the preliminaries on your new assignment. Doctor Griggs?” he explained before stepping aside to let the older gentleman take the podium.
After composing himself, Griggs began “morning everyone. Sorry about the confusion, there have been quite a few issues regarding clearance, considering the number of foreign nationals on this team. And by the way, as of-” he looked at his watch “-eight-o-three this morning, you all have above Top Secret clearance
The murmurs and exchanged glances all around. After clearing his throat, the commotion quickly died down “right, so the full extent of what I'm about to tell you is known to fewer than five hundred people either alive or dead, so pay attention.”
“Our story begins in Philadelphia Harbor in 1943...”
*-*-*
Two hours later, the entire room was silent. Richard was the first to speak though “you're putting us on” he said, incredulous.
Griggs' expression did not change “everything I just told you is absolutely true, hard as it is to believe” he replied.
Nikita was next to speak “but, you can send someone across the world in the blink of an eye? Instantaneously?” he asked.
“Well, the specifics of our research into manned teleportation is not something that I'm cleared to discuss with you. Sorry.”
Susan LeClerc, their lone Canadian team member sighed “if what you say is true, then so much about what we know- or rather what we think we know about physics needs to be rethought. I'm sorry, I'm with Dick here, I just don't believe it” she said.
Griggs gave an apologetic look “I know it's hard to believe, trust me, I deal with this stuff every day and I still have a hard time accepting it all. Here, why don't we take a look at your new workspace. There are some things in there that may at least help you come to grips with the reality of the situation.”
*-*-*
The trio led the group down labyrinthine corridors to the other side of the complex from where they had been working until they reached a rather large set of double doors, two sentries stood outside. The executive turned to face the group “apologies for moving you down to the other side of the complex. We'll have a talk with security and HR regarding parking and carpool arrangements” he said in a conciliatory manner.
The executive presented his identification to the security guard on the left who produced a laser scanner from a slot on his belt and scanned the bar code on the ID card, after a second it beeped and a green LED on top of the scanner blinked on. Then the executive turned to face the rest of the group “all of your permissions have been updated for this sector, get your ID's out and hopefully we can get through this checkpoint without too much hassle.”
After about five minutes, the guard scanned everyone's ID and they were through the double doors and into a rather long corridor. About a half dozen doors lined either side of the hallway, and another set of double doors sat at the far end. With very little fuss, the executive reached the doors and swung them open.
On the other side was a rather large room that could have been an aircraft hanger in its own right, but rather than planes, it housed computers, filing cabinets, drafting tables, desks, and a wide variety of complex looking equipment, much of which Nikolai did not recognize. There were also about a dozen people in lab coats and suits who looked up from their tasks to observe the new arrivals.
Mr. Executive made a broad gesture to the original occupants “Team Epsilon, meet Team Flagstone. You'll be working together over the coming months, and hopefully you will be able to help each other achieve incredible things.”
An older gentleman stepped forward and introduced himself “hi, I'm Dr. Reinhardt, I'm the lead researcher for Flagstone. You must be Richard Goldstein, I've heard quite a bit about you” he said with an outreached hand.
Richard tentatively accepted the offered hand and they two men shared a slightly awkward handshake “okay, and just what is it that 'Team Flagstone' is going to be doing?” he asked.
Reinhardt released his grip “oh, we're system's specialists on this project. You guys handle the overall aircraft design, and we are in charge of getting the I/C systems to meet your needs. If you really want to get technical, we'll be working for you guys” he explained.
“I/C systems?” asked Richard with a raised eyebrow?
A knowing smile came across Reinhardt's face “hey Randal? Toss me one of those tennis balls?” he shouted to one of the other men in the room. The other man complied and threw a green orb across the room at the doctor who caught it in his waiting hands.
Ball in hand, Reinhardt gestured toward his left “everybody follow me” he said.
He led them toward one of the strange looking machines. It was about a meter on a side, and took the form of a large metal framework with a pair of what looked like helicopter skids on the bottom. The top of the machine had some kind of thick metal grating covering it, and inside were what looked like a couple dozen wire coils all oriented in a vertical fashion and arranged in what looked like a grid formation. In addition, dozens of wires ran in, around, and through the device, and a thick cable ran from somewhere inside the contraption out onto the floor and over toward a table with a computer workstation on it.
The smiling scientist walked over toward a woman in a lab coat who was writing down some figures in a notebook at a nearby desk “hey Sandra, could you lend me a hand?” he requested and she complied.
Reinhardt then walked over toward another table with a collection of white construction helmets sitting on it, as well as something that looked like a climbers' harness. After a minute or two, he clipped the harness on and donned one of the helmets. He then walked over to the strange contraption, pulled a loose cable which had been dangling from the side and clipped it to his harness “we've tested this thing up to a thousand kilograms, but 'safety first'” he said as he started to climb on top of the contraption.
Standing atop the machine, he proceeded to check his footing, then looked over at the woman who was now seated behind the computer terminal “can you load up program 32A?” he asked. She nodded and tapped some kind of commands on the keyboard.
The entire assembled group stood there in stunned silence as the machine slowly but steadily lifted up off of the ground, seemingly through some magical force. After ascending for about fifteen seconds, the machine came to a stop about a meter off of the floor where it just seemed to hover. It was then that Nikolai noticed some kind of distortion in the area directly beneath the machine, almost like the effects of extreme heat rising off of a fire.
Looking at the stunned engineers and scientists before him, Reinhardt made a mischievous grin “you think this is something? Just watch” he then nodded toward Sandra who tapped another command into the computer.
Gradually, the machine began to ascend even higher while at the same time it started to 'roll' over to the side, taking Reinhardt with it. It was almost as if the man's shoes were glued or tied to the top of the machine, except his tie stayed in place, as did his helmet, even as the man and his machine became completely inverted.
As if that wasn't enough, he took the tennis ball he had been holding and proceeded to 'drop' it onto the metal grating he was standing on where it bounced a couple times before he scooped it back up, then tossed it from one hand to the other. After a couple seconds of this, he stopped “hey catch!” he announced before tossing it toward Richard who was so shocked that he almost didn't catch it. Goldstein then looked at the ball as if he expected it to grow a pair of legs and hop out of his hands again of its own volition.
Reinhardt chuckled at himself for a couple seconds “so, who'd like to save the world?” he said with a laugh.
-2:34 PM, August 8, 1988, Brantley Lake Refugee Camp, New Mexico, United States
A cold breeze sent shivers down Norman's spine, and he thought not for the first time that it was entirely too cold for August in New Mexico. The feeling of a tiny hand tugging at his brought him out of his own thoughts “can you see what's happening?” inquired Jessica.
He stepped up on the balls of his feet, to try to get an extra inch or two of height, but couldn't get any better look at the army trucks up ahead. He shook his head “sorry squirt, no dice” he said in reply. He immediately regretted his choice of words as it brought back painful memories of that day in Rob Teller's basement.
Damn I miss those guys.
Trying to distract himself from those memories, he put his mind to the situation at hand and came up with an idea “hey, why don't you hop up on my shoulders?” he said, looking down at his younger sister.
She pondered the suggestion for a moment, then nodded “okay” she replied.
He quickly went down to one knee “alright, up you go” he said as she climbed onto his shoulders. Then taking a second to steady himself, he started to stand back up again, hoisting his sister aloft.
“Hmm” she said in a ponderous fashion, but didn't say anything more.
“Hmm what?” he said, impatient.
“Well, the army guys are handing out food like usual, but I also see some of those seden- sedentology guys too.”
“Serenology” he corrected her.
The Serenologists had been coming to the camp for about two months now. They walked around, shilling those personality tests of theirs, handing out blankets, water, food, and sometimes medicine. He supposed they were alright for that, but they still creeped him out a bit. Always so damn cheerful, even in this shithole camp. Nobody who could be that cheerful in such depressing surroundings seemed trustworthy in his opinion.
“And is that all?” he asked his sister.
“No. One of the army guys, he's talking to one of the serned- serna- to the church guys.”
There was a pause, then “I think they're arguing.”
“How can you tell?”
“The army guy, he's waving his arms a lot.”
*-*-*
“I swear to God almighty that you are going to let me inspect that van!”
The National guardsman; a Lieutenant, as Gary could tell from the bar on his hat, was furious. The tone of the man's voice made Gary's blood boil. To talk to the Coordinator like that, when all they wanted to do was help these people, it made him want to put his fist right in the smug asshole's face.
It didn't help that he had a very low opinion of the army to begin with. His own CO had similarly been the 'fire and brimstone' type. Preaching about God and Jesus, all the while he sent young men to fight and die like they were pieces on a chessboard.
Despite the belligerence in the Officer's tone, and Gary's own rage, Coordinator Jebsen was surprisingly calm “please sir, we are here only to serve these desperately needy people, just as you are. There is no need for this. Just let us go about our business and we can help these people together, without any trouble” he said.
Unfortunately, the Lieutenant would have none of it “bullshit Jebsen, one of my men says he saw one of your people handling a weapon inside the back of that van and I believe him. You know damn well that NGOs aren't allowed weapons in here. Now, we are going to have a look inside that vehicle and if I find so much as a potato gun, you are going to wish you were never born. Now stand aside!” he commanded before taking a step toward Jebsen.
Gary started to go for the 1911 stashed under his parka, but Jebsen put a hand on his arm and gave him a look. The anger coursing through him was so great that Gary had to take a second to decide to comply.
“What's that tough guy? You wanna take a poke at me?”
Suddenly the guardsman was right in front of him, mere inches from his face. With every bit of willpower he had, Gary managed to keep his voice calm “no, no sir” he replied.
He tried to force his anger out through his nateht back into the Great Matrix, but he met with little success, he knew that anyone with working eyes could see the anger in his eyes.
The guardsman studied him for a second “oh, I think we got ourselves a live one here. You really might just try something. Come on punk, please make my job easier. I'm beggin' ya!” came his challenge.
“TERMINAL! LEAVE THEM ALONE!”
“YOU'VE GOT NO RIGHT TERMINAL!”
The sounds of the jeers coming from the new initiates in the crowd managed to bring Gary back from the edge. The realization that he was not alone amongst a sea of terminals had a strong calming effect. He could draw from their strength to endure what he must.
Looking up at the crowd beyond the cordon, the guardsman shook his head dismissively “God Almighty! Look at those damn fools. You really got 'em going dontcha! Barnum sure was right. One born every minute” he chuckled derisively.
The sounds of cursing in Spanish, English, and French drew Gary's attention to the crowd, and another confrontation brewing amongst the residents of this refugee camp.
The new initiates were facing off with a angry crowd of refugees. There were American, Mexican, and even some of the Algerians. He could make out some sticks, and bats, and a few people holding rather large rocks too. Suddenly he realized his job.
“Coordinator Jebsen, I think we need to get you out of here” he said as he stepped closer to his superior.
The guardsman stepped close to them and placed his hand on Jebsen's right arm “no you don't. You're not going anywhere until we-” he wasn't able to finish his sentence as a rock came flying through the air from somewhere in the crowd and slammed right into his right temple.
Staggering back a couple steps, the injured guardsman lost his balance and went down to his knees while his arm went up to his now bleeding head. That's when a gunshot rang out, and then things went completely out of control.
The initiates and the people accosting them threw themselves at each other in a violent melee. Other groups in the crowd began pushing against the cordon, and before Gary knew it, they had broken through. More weapons fire echoed through the crowd as some of the National Guard troops panicked. The still disoriented Lieutenant was helped up by a pair of his men who then tried to drag him back to the nearest truck.
Gary wasted no time. As soon as he heard the first gunshot. He grabbed Coordinator Jebsen and shoved him into the back of the nearest Church van, then barked orders at the remaining novitiates to climb aboard as well. Within seconds they had managed to all get inside and locked the reinforced doors.
“Novitiate Carlsbad! Get us out of here!” he shouted toward the front of the van.
“Understood Acolyte!” came the response and suddenly they were moving.
Expecting that something like this might happen, both Gary and the coordinator had made the decision to leave almost all of the food and aid supplies in a stack outside the van, and he watched in satisfaction as nearly all of the rioters who headed their way decided to go for the pile of food and blankets rather than the van as it sped away.
“Are all of you alright?” asked Jebsen.
The rest of the novitiates all answered in the affirmative.
Looking around at his subordinates, the coordinator nodded in approval “good” he said before looking directly at Gary “you must be more vigilant in the future, Acolyte. You had almost reverted to terminal behavior” he said in a disapproving tone.
Gary felt ashamed “I am sorry Coordinator. To see that... arrogant terminal treat you that way, especially one in the army. It was almost too much to bear!” he explained.
Jebsen let out a deep sigh “yes, I know. To see someone so self righteous when they are clearly so ignorant and closed minded is a frustrating thing. And your enthusiasm to protect the church is commendable, but you must remember that there is a part for all of us in the Great Puzzle, even for terminals like him” he explained.
Raising an eyebrow, Gary gave him a curious look. The coordinator grinned knowingly “the government has been suspicious of us even before we arrived here to give aid. I am certain that that terminal had even been given orders to keep an extra close eye on us to spot anything suspicious. Enthusiastic to carry out his orders, he jumped at the chance to search this vehicle under suspicion that we were carrying weapons. Unfortunately for him, the will of our initiates is strong, and they will not stand idly by and let a small minded terminal like him obstruct us in carrying out the church's will. Unfortunately, they are just initiates, and have not managed to cleanse themselves of many of the baser urges that all terminals are afflicted with, especially in a place where so many natehts are tangled or disconnected. It would be only a matter of time before terminal behavior reached a boiling point.”
At that, realization finally dawned upon Gary “so when he confronted us, it was bound to spark a larger incident, and set off the inherent negative energies rife in that crowd” he said.
Nodding as he saw that Gary had caught on “yes, and after the riot is pacified, the government will be particularly conscious of the various sensitivities present within the different groups at this and other camps. So a more agreeable officer will be placed in command of that posting” Jebsen finished explaining.
“I truly did not realize just how wise you are Coordinator” Gary said.
The coordinator placed a hand on the acolyte's shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile “my nateht guides me, and I merely follow” he said before looking out the rear window of the van. He pondered for a moment before speaking again “it truly is a shame that some of those initiates will have to die so that many others will be able to be brought to enlightenment, but at least they get to die on their own terms, and their sacrifice will mean something.”
Gary nodded in agreement “true. These days, far too many unfortunates aren't even afforded that.”