The Past Page 5

  As he continues walking, he reaches a flashing neon sign Surgical Unit and turns into a hallway filled with panels that change colour as they pass by. Dark shadows seem to move from behind - VanWest notices on each a four-digit Enforcer identification code. Shocked stops still at one in particular, this is a code he knows well. The opaque red of this panel begins to fade as he takes a step forward, revealing a man suspended in a liquid medium. His arms, torso and head are connected to dozens of cables. There’s a large scar on the man’s torso. It is in the exact place where Barys was shot in Stage 3 of the Games. Could it be him!?

  VanWest presses his palm against the panel, causing the man’s eyes to open wide. The man IS Barys! The pupils of his purple eyes now fully dilated and body lifeless. At least they are no longer yellow. One of the androids loses patience and pushes him forward, causing the panel to turn opaque red once again.

  The silver metal door at the end of the corridor automatically slides open to reveal a magnificent vessel perched on a rock: the Elite transport ship called the SCC-400. The large streamlined spaceship stands imposingly. A striking blue colour, it reaches up over 250 feet high and 400 meters wide. Its bow points upwards like a pointy beak, and its stern is weighed down by two huge warp thrusters, which stick out on either side.

  The androids flank him as he walks behind the Colonel, escorting him up a shiny metal docking ramp before coming to an abrupt halt outside the ship’s entrance. For several minutes VanWest waits, doing his best to remain stolid, his thoughts are filled with trepidation, not knowing what will happen next. Worried too at seeing Barys in such a state. Two possible scenarios lie ahead. The first, a promotion to Elite status, the second, quite the opposite: something more sinister and perhaps fatal. Suddenly, a bolt of green light shoots down and transports him inside.

  He arrives in front of a yellow neon sign that reads Elites Quarters. Now on the upper deck of the ship, this is an area usually forbidden to Enforcers where only Elites are permitted to enter. He hopes this to be a good sign, with the androids gone the Colonel now ushers him forward. However, he wonders why he hasn’t been made to change first, why is this so urgent!?

  The only item in the corridor is a large blue NASA Meatball logo, composed of a sphere, orbit, red chevron, and stars, the plaque underneath reads Alpha Mission Control, Space Kennedy 2000. As he looks at it, the logo disappears and transforms into a room. In the middle are two men, their backs turned to the door, who stand deep in concentration absorbed by a small holographic map, a 4D holomap. Marking various points as it turns, they cross out numerous places with a red mark, one of, which is ColaBeers. Places he knows were once sites of unrest and high NEA activity.

  As the Colonel steps inside, the holomap stops spinning at Queen Elizabeth, Antarctica. With a respectful bow, he greets them, ‘My liege, sorry for this interruption. Your guest, Captain VanWest, has arrived’.

  Turning around, the bald man with a white goatee is none other than Dr King himself, the Head of the Universal Council. The other man, with his distinctive black unibrow and near Cyclops eyes, is Commissioner Ming, Head of the Police Forces. His shiny bluish-black imperial uniform similar to that of the Colonel.

  Taken aback at finding the two highest-ranking members of the Universal Council before him, his jaw drops briefly. Quick to regain his composure, he bows several times subserviently to his masters, his liege, Dr King. An Enforcer of his rank is not permitted to directly address Elites without permission. Thus, he obsequiously stares down at the floor.

  Dr King is known to only make grand public appearances at special events such as the Universal Red and Blue Games. In many ways he’s quite aloof; few Enforcers ever met him one-on-one. However, star-struck wouldn’t be the right term to use in this circumstance, a better word would be petrified!

  'I gather that you are wondering why we have summoned you here, my boy'? Dr King speaks.

  ‘Yes, my liege’, VanWest responds in a low cracking voice, a little surprised to be addressed as if they are familiar, using this word ‘boy’.

  ‘My boy… Lest I must say, your great victory in the Universal Games has earned you recognition, the possibility of its most esteemed prize, one every Enforcer dreams of, to be a higher being - an Elite - and closer to the Universal'.

  VanWest looks up slightly, hoping that the first of the possible scenarios is coming true. The thought of standing beside the Elites as a Lt. Colonel fills his mind.

  Dr King changes tone, ‘This Captain VanWest… this cannot happen now’.

  ‘But… ’ VanWest just about stops himself. Bowing obsequiously several times, knowing it to be an offence to question his superior, ‘Apologies, my liege’.

  Dr King scowls at him, not pleased by his interruption, ‘Do not forget yourself, Enforcer! We have serious matters to discuss, for there is something more serious on the horizon’.

  ‘Apologies, my liege’, he bows again even lower.

  Dr King then steps closer. His eyes stare suspiciously into his, their noses nearly touching, ‘Lest I need not say… you already know this, correct’?

  A baffled VanWest shakes his head, he racks his brains for a possible explanation, but he cannot think of anything. His response just pure bewilderment and silence.

  Dr King waits several long seconds, before raising his voice, ‘ENDEA…, don't look so puzzled boy! You know that the Universal Council is all-knowing'!

  VanWest takes a step back, his hands trembling, he tries to explain himself, ‘My liege, it was a dream. I apologise but it wasn’t real. A dream, nothing more’!

  Dr King’s eyes continue to narrow, ‘No, VanWest! It wasn’t… Tell me about it’!

  ‘Apologies, my liege. Just a random dream, I do not know of what’!? VanWest pleads.

  Even though it is not surprising that Dr King could have seen his dreams, VanWest is shocked that this could be treated as anything but fantasy. Now fearing that the second of the two possible scenarios is coming true, the Council does not take kindly to peculiarities in their Enforcers. Nurse Rose deactivated the SRM, he wonders again why she was there to ‘protect’ him? Trying to hide his thoughts?

  Dr King’s tone changes, less accusatory, ‘Lest we had not known your gift but the race and your injury showed us… A gift bestowed on you to help further the progression of man and the Universal… Do you understand’?

  The Universal Council knows about his ability to see ahead. This ‘gift’, not one he can control and rather random in nature. It has helped him many times as an Enforcer. Indeed, his promotion to Captain was thanks to this, his capture of a NEA rebel leader in ColaBeers when he foresaw her ambush.

  After her brutal torture at the hands of an Inspector, ‘the Interrogator’, she divulged her secret NEA base locations. Information used to destroy the rebel’s headquarters hidden under a number of densely populated slums. And, with it, the massacre of thousands of innocent citizens who resided above. The deathly screams of which still haunt him. Men, women and children who knew nothing of the NEA’s comings and goings, their only crime being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was his job to remove all traces of the atrocity, to ensure that the citizens never would speak of it. His conscience too weak, too scared to challenge his superiors. The Universal Council is all-knowing and sacrosanct, the Enforcers duty-bound to follow them. Their motto and the second commandment, to work for the progression of man and the Universal, justified it all.

  Commissioner Ming interjects respectfully, 'Dr King if I may… Captain VanWest, the Universal Council of the past, would have deemed your ability that of a deviant, an abomination, but your creation had reason. Your psychic abilities are a tool for us, the Universal Council, to stop what you have seen’.

  ‘Commissioner, apologies, “creation” ’? He replies, his voice hoarse and head still bowed, he cannot understand why he has been called a ‘creation’.

  The Commissioner doesn’t answer his question, side-stepping, he asks, ‘Captain VanWest, you know well the dev
iants known as the Utopians, yes’?

  ‘Of course, a scourge’, VanWest replies.

  ‘Yes! Be sure these religious extremists, anti-technology anarchists and ultra-environmentalists are readying to bring us back into the dark ages. They have spread like a plague through our settlements, taking advantage of weak-minded citizens’.

  ‘Yes, Commissioner. Very much so’, VanWest replies in agreement.

  The Commissioner continues, ‘Your vision of a 20th-century conference room over a millennia ago corresponds to a piece of intelligence we recently acquired about their next mission. A most alarming piece. It could spell the end of our present, our magnificent world, with all progression lost’!

  ‘It can… cannot be so’, VanWest replies, his voice breaking. Astounded to hear that this could be anything more than just a weird dream!?

  ‘Watch this'! The Commissioner points to the holomap.

  An interface, tagged History 101, commences. It features the once Head of Science, and now well-known traitor of the Universal Council, Mad Newton. A quantum mechanics physicist who invented the Magicbox, the precursor to all transporters, and many other technologies.

  The holomap interfaces with his cerebral cortex, focusing in on Mad Newton’s last project and a shocking revelation.

  In 2991, Dr Isaac VonHelmann, later to become Mad Newton, invented the rod-shaped Quantum Accelerator, the next giant leap for humankind - Time-travel. During testing, he sent numerous lab-engineered chimpanzees to pre-selected times and locations on Earth, which were programmed into their short-term memory. The results were mixed, with many chimpanzees not rematerialising where and when expected, leading to the cancellation of further tests. Another failure could have been catastrophic, severely changing time and with it the present. Slight changes to history were detected from the first tests, including a news report in 2212 of a chimpanzee materialising at the inauguration of US President Gustavo Gonzales, and another in 2012 at the Diamond Jubilee concert held for Queen Elizabeth II in London.

  The Commissioner’s forehead wrinkles as he explains the very worrying connection to their intelligence, ‘Concealing it from us… Mad Newton built a second rod-shaped Quantum Accelerator. Hell-bent on taking us back to the dark ages of the late 20th century, he seeks to destroy all the progression of man and the Universal’.

  Dr King exchanges a look with the Commissioner, ‘The Universal is all-knowing. Lest I must say, do not fear, we have the time and place of where he seeks to commit this most heinous of acts. 1951, in a once large city called Paris, the City of Lights. Tell me what you saw of this place, the desks’?

  VanWest does not know how to reply, he struggles to comprehend. Time travel? 1951? Paris?

  Dr King huffs, ‘Boy! You would do well to reply… For your vision shows us a conference room with white clothed tables, this could be a place of an important meeting. Understand’?

  Dr King, seeing VanWest’s struggle, decides to pause, changing to a friendlier tone, ‘My boy, enough for now. You must prepare yourself. Be ready for this place’.

  VanWest gasps, ‘Excuse me, my liege… this place’?!

  Dr King frowns, but gives him the details, ‘Listen, boy! 1951 Paris! Preparations on Earth will commence at zero five hundred. Special training for time travel, the Colonel will help you prepare… That is all for now’.

  A bewildered VanWest takes this as his cue to leave, bowing obsequiously once again, ‘Yes, my liege’.

  But as he steps back, Dr King instead steps even closer, looking VanWest straight in the eyes, ‘One last thing… This frizzy-haired thing, this demon that haunts your mind. Lest you know not better, kill it if it comes close. Do not hesitate! It is evil! Do you listen’?

  ‘Yes, my liege’.

  The Colonel approaches, he bows too but not so obsequiously, announcing, ‘My liege, departure to Earth has commenced, everything has been arranged’.

  ‘Good, everyone be gone’! Dr King replies, with a dismissive wave of his hand, turning back to study his holomap.

  As VanWest leaves towards the corridor, the spaceship thrusts upwards, to begin its journey to Earth.

  Commissioner Ming stops VanWest, his breath warm and rancid at the door, ‘Captain VanWest be sure to hydrate and rest well. Quarters are on C deck'.

  Collecting a jelly-like capsule of water at the HyperCreator, VanWest salutes the Commissioner as well as the Colonel and with a sigh of relief steps into the elevator. His mind continues to race, barely able to comprehend all he has witnessed and been told today, including meeting the leader of the Universal Council. If that wasn’t enough, he has learnt that time-travel actually exists, and what’s more, this evil cult known as the Utopians has it!

  VanWest peers out through the transparent module as the elevator zooms to C deck. In-between the darkness, he can see planet Earth. Its incarnadine sea encircles desert-like and naples-yellow landmasses. In places the land is more of a faint dull grey, marking areas where once great cities stood, now parched and abandoned. Earth in 3000 bears little resemblance to itself a millennia ago. Indeed, it now mirrors its sister planet Venus, its surface also obscured by thick, acidic clouds.

  The elevator comes to a halt opposite a large rectangular pod. As he enters, a voice from its command recognition system greets him, offering a range of amenities to use: a shower, toilet, bed, kitchen, study, and a simulator. Collectively known as a Hypersphere pod, it is designed to aid in long-distance space travel and exploration; to be a useful remedy for space dementia and fatigue. This machine is much more elaborate than any VanWest has used before and contains over a hundred programs, including a tropical jungle, sandy beaches, hot springs, the red mountains of Mars, and visions of the Milky Way galaxy.

  Overwhelmed, he elects only for sleep. The Hypersphere responds by running a program that lulls him into a dream state as he leans back against the padded wall. Closing his eyes, he finds himself back in the conference room lined with rows of white-clothed tables. This time there is a woman, not the frizzy-haired woman as in his other visions; instead, a petite blonde woman wearing a Russian Cossack ski hat. As he walks over, she moves further back, edging ever closer to a podium at the far side of the room.

  As he tries to reach out to her, a ringing noise penetrates the room as the scene begins to fade. He finds himself standing upright outside his pod, his Moggle X lenses active and flashing 04:58:00. Indicating that it’s time to commence training for his time travel mission to 1951 Paris!

  Staring at his reflection in the elevator’s mirrors, he’s no longer dressed in a medical gown but his standard-issue off-world Enforcer patrol uniform: a blue skin-tight radioactive hazmat suit with a mask covering his nose and mouth, an indication that he’s going to a less habitable zone on Earth. All of his bionic upgrades, taken out in Ward B, have been returned.

  The elevator reaches the transporter at the spaceship’s entrance, where a bolt of green light sends him onto the naples-yellow sand he saw from space. It’s a place he has never travelled to before, lying in the distance he can see a settlement from yesteryear now in ruin. Once-mighty high-rise skyscrapers still dominate its skyline, hollowed out, many partially enveloped in sand dunes.

  In front of him is a rusty signpost. Badly corroded, its faint letters read Welcome to the Province of New Jersey, with smaller letters underneath, Liberty and Prosperity 1776.

  Chapter 5 Time Travel Training

  A dust storm sweeps towards him along the desert floor, its form changing slowly as it approaches, transforming into that of a vehicle, a hovertruck with dark tinted windows. It swerves around him before grinding to a halt, sending a blanket of sand over his head. The hovertruck’s door slides open to reveal a rather dishevelled looking Colonel Cornelius inside, ‘Captain. Get in’!

  He sits slouched on his seat with his peaked cap lying on the floor. Quite out of the ordinary for a man known for his strict and tidy appearance in front of his Enforcer trainees. Yet more surprisingly for VanWest is what the Colone
l holds, a cigar! Smoking is not only banned, well at least in most places, but carries the penalty of 20 years hard labour, a de facto death sentence for most. The Universal Council view this habit as an egregious and a rebelliousness act of delinquents and deviants.

  It’s perhaps telling of where they have arrived. They are in New Jersey, and there’s a whole other set of rules out here. In this place, it is rumoured that nearly anything is allowed! Well, for ‘the Elites’.

  ‘Colonel, greetings… I must ask, why New Jersey? I thought this was a no-go zone for Enforcers’, VanWest inquires, saluting him as he takes a seat, deciding it best to not remark on the cigar.

  ‘You’ll see soon enough - no Jerseyans venture this far from their subway, PATH’. The Colonel adds with a half-smile, ‘They don’t like the open air’.

  ‘Colonel, with respect, are you sure’? VanWest estimates that they are only a few miles south of the skyscrapers.

  The Colonel puffs his cigar, not one for explaining things, ‘Captain, I told you, don’t worry about it. No ugly assed mutant will be our bane today’.

  VanWest is intrigued for he has never seen a Jerseyan up close. All he has seen are their long thin cargo ships that frequently travel in and out of Earth’s orbit. These ‘Mutants’ have a genetic quirk that causes their skin to look disfigured and deformed. Fish-like gills allow them to breathe and filter the toxic air through their neck; a quirk that has helped them to survive in this inhospitable world. Living deep underground, they have kept their autonomy, in part, through their trading of Papini across the solar system. A revered and useful super drug made from a sweet flavoured mushroom that only grows in the dimly lit and damp passageways of New Jersey’s old subway system, the PATH network.

  This super drug gives all a unique resistance to the radioactive substances found on Earth and, more crucially, those found in space - making it a must-have for those living and working in the solar system’s colonies. The origins of these Jerseyan mutants date back to 25th-century Earth, maybe earlier, when many humans left to the Antarctic or space colonies. They instead chose to take refuge underground, including in this PATH network that connects New York to New Jersey.