tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52277026464153152192024-02-06T18:57:23.712-08:00Trysta and EkcolirThe science fiction novel "Trysta and Ekcolir".John Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12557999612244024954noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5227702646415315219.post-53985178626013334362016-07-01T17:58:00.000-07:002019-07-28T15:48:46.304-07:00First Contact<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-A1b9PPfgAp0/V3vgH_gDhHI/AAAAAAAAZ2E/duU8RK5DsdM6KxrncqlWmY6NNZ7y_eyUwCLcB/s1600/may17.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-A1b9PPfgAp0/V3vgH_gDhHI/AAAAAAAAZ2E/duU8RK5DsdM6KxrncqlWmY6NNZ7y_eyUwCLcB/s320/may17.png" width="217" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/2014/03/ivory.html" target="_blank">Ivory</a> would jokingly refer to the<br />
Final Reality as the Mayness Reality<br />
Original art by <a href="http://tobacco.stanford.edu/tobacco_main/images.php?token2=fm_st015.php&token1=fm_img2930.php&theme_file=fm_mt002.php&theme_name=For%20your%20Throat&subtheme_name=Why%20be%20Irritated?" target="_blank">Dorothy Monet</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="color: #666666;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span title="the Final Reality; the world as we know it. Our Reality was preceded by the Ekcolir Reality.">...just before the Buld Reality</span> - 1971</i></span></span><br />
<br />
Trysta was on her way out the front door, struggling as usual to pull herself free of the warm and comfortable embrace of <span title="the father of Andy and Gwyned. Deomede is the analogue of Ekcolir in the Buld Reality."><a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#Deomede" target="_blank">Deomede</a></span>. At the end of a long wet kiss she pushed herself away and skipped out the doorway. She called gaily over her shoulder, "I'll be back soon."<br />
<br />
Trysta and Deomede were a pretty pair. The first day when Trysta had bustled into his life, Deomede had become infatuated with her. Now, after three decades of life together, he was still obsessed with Trysta and devoted to her mysterious mission on Earth. The only problem in their relationship was that Trysta had never concealed the fact that one day she would complete her Time Change operation in the 20th century, walk out of his life and be gone. Deomede even knew the precise date of her departure.<br />
<br />
<span title="Trysta and Deomede are the parents of Andy and Gwyned. Deomede is the analogue of Ekcolir in the Buld Reality.">Deomede</span> had not released one of Trysta's hands and he jerked her around, preventing her from running off. Her head swung around and the sparkling wave of her long, slightly wavy brown hair distracted Deomede, reminding him that in just a few days she would be gone from his life. Quickly regaining his composure, he spoke with a seriousness that startled Trysta, "While you are in the workshop today, please look at a 2012 View File I sent to you, <span style="color: #741b47;"><b><span title="Deomede's pet name for Trysta">Trity</span></b></span>." <br />
<br />
As was his habit, <span title="Trysta and Deomede are the parents of Andy and Gwyned. Deomede is the analogue of Ekcolir in the Buld Reality.">Deomede</span> had risen early and while performing routine research for his encyclopedic <i>History Of Earth in the <span title="the Final Reality; the world as we know it. Our Reality was preceded by the Ekcolir Reality.">Buld Reality</span></i> he'd noticed something odd. Now there was a seldom heard tremor in his voice as he told Trysta, "Something changed in Time." He now let go of Trysta's hand and fluttered his fingers in farewell.<br />
<br />
She assured him, "I'll look into it." Trysta turned and ran down the half flight of stairs that formed the entrance to their home, regaining her momentum. For the past few weeks Trysta had been moving at high speed, her kinetics reflecting the fact that she was bubbling with excitement. Joy! It was now less than a week before she would take her last trip through time.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gtqz0AGtOmI/V32rRr17glI/AAAAAAAAZ3M/FIayWd6HPJoP7gFJjMbQHtluL3fBY74MwCLcB/s1600/RDAA23.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gtqz0AGtOmI/V32rRr17glI/AAAAAAAAZ3M/FIayWd6HPJoP7gFJjMbQHtluL3fBY74MwCLcB/s320/RDAA23.png" width="174" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">structure of the Mayness attractor</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Trysta felt like she was flying as she went down the auxiliary access corridor towards the workshop. The passageway was dimly lit by a dancing wall animations composed from brightly colored abstract representations of the <a href="http://foundationreality.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#ta" target="_blank">attractors</a> that governed Earth's <span title="the sequence of Realities that led to the universe as we know it."><a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#RC" target="_blank">Reality Chain</a></span>.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Grean's Workshop</b></span><br />
Trysta's high spirits were only slightly lowered by the calm and quiet that prevailed inside the workshop. She hadn't seen her partner in Time, <span title="The Kac'hin hermaphrodite who fought R. Gohrlay during the Time Travel War and who collaborated with Trysta to devise and implement the Trysta-Grean Pact that ended the Time War."><a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#Grean" target="_blank">Grean</a></span>, for several days, not since shortly after Trysta had completed her most recent trip through Time. With <span title="The Kac'hin hermaphrodite who fought R. Gohrlay during the Time Travel War and who collaborated with Trysta to devise and implement the Trysta-Grean Pact that ended the Time War.">Grean</span> mysteriously absent and Trysta's life in the 20th century nearly over, the workshop seemed haunted and eerie like a crypt awaiting the arrival of an important occupant.<br />
<br />
The only "work" Trysta had planed for this day was some casual sight seeing: Viewing those parts of the near-future <span title="When a new timeline of events is initiated by a time traveler, the old previously existing Reality is terminated and a new Reality is brought into existence."><a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#Reality" target="_blank">Reality</a></span> that gave her the most concern. Trysta always made a special effort not to hover over her children, but she intended to spend part of her few remaining Viewing sessions observing her son, Thomas.<br />
<br />
Thomas was Trysta's oldest surviving child and there was a special link between the two of them that could not be ignored. Even as she walked through the gloomy workshop she could feel the steady and reassuring hum of his mind by way of their shared <span title="technically, nanites are nanoscale devices, but through time the term has been generalized and expanded to include all types of submicroscopic robotic devices, particularly including femtobots and zeptites."><a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#nanites" target="_blank">nanite</a></span>-assisted telepathic communications channel. Sadly, their mind link was always quite weak during those times when Trysta was inside the <span title="The Hierion Domain is a part of the universe where there is very little hadronic matter and mostly hierions."><a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#HD">Hierion Domain</a></span>.<br />
<br />
Trysta entered her Reality Viewing Chamber and tried to shift her thoughts from Thomas back to <span title="Trysta and Deomede are the parents of Andy and Gwyned. Deomede is the analogue of Ekcolir in the Buld Reality.">Deomede</span> and his concerns about the year 2012. Of course, that was to be a special year for Thomas since he would be one of the few Earthlings there on the Mall in Washington who were on-hand to greet the <span title="a human variant created in the Galactic Core and specializing in long-distance space travel at speeds just below the speed of light."><a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#Buld" target="_blank">Buld</a></span> spaceship when it landed on Earth.<br />
<br />
Trysta found <span title="Trysta and Deomede are the parents of Andy and Gwyned. Deomede is the analogue of Ekcolir in the Buld Reality.">Deomede</span>'s View file in the data buffer and activated it as she jumped into the bucket seat at the center of the Chamber. The file contained a first order differential, comparing an archived record of 2012 to the current "live" view of that time, still more than 40 years in Trysta's future. <span title="Trysta and Deomede are the parents of Andy and Gwyned. Deomede is the analogue of Ekcolir in the Buld Reality.">Deomede</span> had highlighted some of the changes to Time that he had detected, but what he had seen in the future were small alterations to Earth's timeline; subtle and possibly only the result of a <span title="a small change to a timeline that cannot overcome existing temporal inertia and trigger a Reality Change."><a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#microchange" target="_blank">microchange</a></span>. The archived version of 2012 that was stored inside the workshop represented the approved future of Earth that Trysta and Grean had jointly brought into existence.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dQZeeXfdhPc/V3vpsGxghLI/AAAAAAAAZ2U/wqAMmOf0n0c4u1iAxrlF7xMEz59E6FItgCLcB/s1600/Reality%2BChain%2B2016a.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dQZeeXfdhPc/V3vpsGxghLI/AAAAAAAAZ2U/wqAMmOf0n0c4u1iAxrlF7xMEz59E6FItgCLcB/s400/Reality%2BChain%2B2016a.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#BR" target="_blank">Buld Reality</a> is the Final Reality, at the end of our <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#RC" target="_blank">Reality Chain</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span title="Trysta and Deomede are the parents of Andy and Gwyned. Deomede is the analogue of Ekcolir in the Buld Reality.">Deomede</span> and Trysta were living out the last few days of their long love affair during the fuzzy transition into the <span title="the Reality that came just after the Ekcolir Reality. Known as the Buld Reality (our universe).">Final Reality</span>. Because of the unavoidable nature of that jerking and swirling discontinuity, hundreds of tiny <span title="a small change to a timeline that cannot overcome existing temporal inertia and trigger a Reality Change.">microchanges</span> to Time had been percolating through the structure of Reality.<br />
<br />
Tyrsta and <span title="The Kac'hin hermaphrodite who fought R. Gohrlay during the Time Travel War and who collaborated with Trysta to devise and implement the Trysta-Grean Pact that ended the Time War.">Grean</span> were still only part way through the most complex <a href="http://foundationreality.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#RC" target="_blank">Reality Change</a> that had ever been attempted. Since further time travel would soon be made impossible by a <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#de" target="_blank">dimensional shift</a> of the universe, Trysta had spent the past decade carefully fine-tuning the Change. It had become her motto: <i>fine-tune the Final Reality</i>.<br />
<br />
Trysta knew that most of the swarm of <span title="a small change to a timeline that cannot overcome existing temporal inertia and trigger a Reality Change.">microchanges</span> that had been occurring within Earth's timeline of the early 20th centuries were the result of her own impending time travel mission into the far past. There was an unavoidable feedback loop by which some of her actions in the past influenced her actions in the future which again modified her actions in the past, and so on. That echoing feedback had been taken into account during the creation of the Final Reality by Trysta and Grean. Luckily, because of <span title="Temporal inertia is a natural feature of Time. When the positronic robots of Earth needed to make Reality Changes less chaotic, they found it possible to store replicoids of humans in the Hierion Domain, forcing successive Realities to include analogues of the same people.">temporal momentum</span>, most of these <span title="a small change to a timeline that cannot overcome existing temporal inertia and trigger a Reality Change.">microchanges</span> were of little or no consequence and they caused no significant alteration to the future of Earth and the human species.<br />
<br />
The two <span title="devices using advanced sedronic technology that allows for viewing of events at precise times and places within a Reality."><a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#RV" target="_blank">Reality Viewers</a></span> in <span title="The Kac'hin hermaphrodite who fought R. Gohrlay during the Time Travel War and who collaborated with Trysta to devise and implement the Trysta-Grean Pact that ended the Time War.">Grean</span>'s workshop were the finest in existence, utilizing every advanced technological trick known to the <span title="ancient aliens who originated in a distant galaxy several billion years ago."><a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#Huaoshy" target="_blank">Huaoshy</a></span>. Trysta and <span title="The Kac'hin hermaphrodite who fought R. Gohrlay during the Time Travel War and who collaborated with Trysta to devise and implement the Trysta-Grean Pact that ended the Time War.">Grean</span> each had their own Viewer, but they were functionally identical. For decades the workshop had been alive with daily activity as <span title="The Kac'hin hermaphrodite who fought R. Gohrlay during the Time Travel War and who collaborated with Trysta to devise and implement the Trysta-Grean Pact that ended the Time War.">Grean</span> and Trysta had both used the Viewers during a relentless search for the perfect future. Trysta now focused her Viewer into the details of 2012, searching through the fine structure of Reality in a careful and precise way that was impossible for the little Viewer that <span title="Trysta and Deomede are the parents of Andy and Gwyned. Deomede is the analogue of Ekcolir in the Buld Reality.">Deomede</span> kept in his study and used for his historical research.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>The Eanru Intervention</b></span><br />
Trysta was seeking to discover the origin of the Time change that Deomede had detected in 2012. Using her Viewer, she traced the pattern of temporal shifts back through the years, back into the previous millennium. Finally Trysta found the temporal origin of the change in 1942, a year that Trysta knew well, having lived through it more than once. Each of those lives lived had been in a different Reality with its own somewhat different timeline of Earthly events.<br />
<br />
Next, Trysta focused in on the geographical location of the Time change and as she did so, the Viewer display patterns began to seem familiar to her. Suddenly, revealed by a subtle focus adjustment, the ground zero of this temporal change was displayed to Trysta in pin point resolution: Eanru House.<br />
<br />
Trysta was familiar with Eanru House because of events in the previous Reality. In the <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#ER" target="_blank">Ekcolir Reality</a>, stories published within the science fiction literary genre had served as the means to prepare Earthlings for First Contact with the alien <span title="the alien humanoid species that achieved First Contact with humans on Earth in the Ekcolir Reality."><a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#Fw" target="_blank">Fru'wu</a></span>. A new variation on that theme, the exact nature of First Contact with aliens in the Buld Reality, was one of the important changes to Earth's timeline that Trysta and <span title="The Kac'hin hermaphrodite who fought R. Gohrlay during the Time Travel War and who collaborated with Trysta to devise and implement the Trysta-Grean Pact that ended the Time War.">Grean</span> had engineered for inclusion in the Final Reality. Trysta and Grean called the Final Reality the "<span title="the Final Reality; the world as we know it. Our Reality was preceded by the Ekcolir Reality.">Buld" Reality</span> because when the First Contact event came in 2012 it would involve the arrival of a <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#Buld" target="_blank"><span title="a human variant created in the Galactic Core and specializing in long-distance space travel at speeds just below the speed of light.">Buld</span></a> spaceship, not a Fru'wu ship.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rfhkl_YuFVM/V4FzjMyxbkI/AAAAAAAAZ3s/f6ockYJPIHE5A5AaCfhTQHH1yfiQqyNdwCLcB/s1600/Future%2BScience%2BJLRW.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rfhkl_YuFVM/V4FzjMyxbkI/AAAAAAAAZ3s/f6ockYJPIHE5A5AaCfhTQHH1yfiQqyNdwCLcB/s320/Future%2BScience%2BJLRW.png" width="226" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Science fiction from just before the <br />
Final Reality. Reconstruction by <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/2014/03/ivory.html" target="_blank">Ivory</a> <br />
using original cover art by <a href="http://www.isfdb.org/cgi-bin/pl.cgi?56588" target="_blank">Harold McCauley</a><br />
This is a whimsical depiction of <br />
<a href="http://foundationreality.blogspot.com/2013/06/biographical-information.html#Gohrlay" target="_blank">Gohrlay</a> undergoing <a href="http://foundationreality.blogspot.com/2013/06/brain-scan.html" target="_blank">destructive scanning</a>.<br />
<b>Special thanks</b> to <a href="http://mirish.deviantart.com/" target="_blank">Miranda Hedman</a> for<br />
"<a href="http://mirish.deviantart.com/art/Black-Cat-9-stock-393671718" target="_blank">Black Cat 9 - stock</a>", used to create<br />
the blue "<a href="http://wikifiction.blogspot.com/2014/12/nereids-are-us.html" target="_blank">sedronite</a>".</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In the Ekcolir Reality, Eanru House had been an important gathering place for members of the <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#WB" target="_blank">Writers Block</a> and the home of Shana Peterson, the founding editor of <i>Future Science</i> magazine. Given the historical importance of <i>Future Science</i>, Trysta and <span title="The Kac'hin hermaphrodite who fought R. Gohrlay during the Time Travel War and who collaborated with Trysta to devise and implement the Trysta-Grean Pact that ended the Time War.">Grean</span> had bowed to sentimental impulses: the terms of the <span title="the plan devised by Trysta and Grean for how to end the Time War and bring into existence the Final Reality.">Trysta-Grean Pact</span> allowed for a version of <i>Future Science</i> magazine to also exist in the Final Reality. According to their careful plans, it was to be the journal that would publish a dramatic and startling account of First Contact with the Buld. Staring into her Viewer, Trysta could now see how that plan had been shattered. The Reality Change that she had traced to Eanru House was limited in scope, but it had removed, almost surgically, <i>The Magazine of Future Science</i> from existence. Trysta thought: <i>this is a small Change. Could it just be a chance event</i>? Something told her <b><i>NO</i></b>! and her heart was pounding.<br />
<br />
Residing within the <span title="The Hierion Domain is a part of the universe where there is very little hadronic matter and mostly hierions. Grean's workshop is in the Hierion Domain.">Hierion Domain</span>, Trysta and <span title="Trysta and Deomede are the parents of Andy and Gwyned. Deomede is the analogue of Ekcolir in the Buld Reality.">Deomede</span> had both been insulated from any possible effects of this recent Reality Change. Trysta could well remember <i>The Magazine of Future Science</i> and how it would play an important role in the future of Humanity. Or, she corrected herself, how it <i>should</i>. Trysta had previously Viewed that future and she had read part of a few issues of <i>The Magazine of Future Science</i>.<br />
<br />
Since most people on Earth had <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#replicoid" target="_blank">replicoids</a> in the <span title="The Hierion Domain is a part of the universe where there is very little hadronic matter and mostly hierions. Grean's workshop is in the Hierion Domain.">Hierion Domain</span>, Trysta could quickly check for alterations to individuals who might have been effected by this Reality Change. She noticed that the sex of one particular science fiction author had inexplicably changed from female to male, but otherwise the people of 20th century Earth were not altered. For a minute Trysta tried to imagine the significance of such a sex change then she shrugged and moved on to other concerns. Her attention was captured by a flashing message popup that was being displayed by her Viewer. <br />
<br />
Even more startling than the existence of this Reality Change was the fact that Trysta's Viewer was now indicating the presence of descriptor file corresponding to it in the workshop's database of catalogued Reality Changes. There was an unavoidable conclusion to be drawn: this was a Change that had been initiated from right there in the workshop! Immediately Trysta knew that <span title="The Kac'hin hermaphrodite who fought R. Gohrlay during the Time Travel War and who collaborated with Trysta to devise and implement the Trysta-Grean Pact that ended the Time War.">Grean</span> had made this Change to Earth's timeline. Trysta was dismayed: for some reason, Grean had sabotaged their carefully executed plan for the future! Although Grean had not bothered to mention this Change to Trysta, neither had Grean tried to hide it. <i>That</i> was comforting and Trysta's pulse slowed, once again approaching a normal rate.<br />
<br />
Upon looking into the catalogue of Reality Changes, Trysta quickly saw that <span title="The Kac'hin hermaphrodite who fought R. Gohrlay during the Time Travel War and who collaborated with Trysta to devise and implement the Trysta-Grean Pact that ended the Time War.">Grean</span> had recorded the structural details of the entire Reality Change and assigned it a code designation: the Eanru Intervention. Trysta watched the Time Gate recording in dismay. Grean had brought <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/editor.html" target="_blank">the Editor</a> to the workshop and she carefully showed him how the Change was made. Trysta felt a wave of nausea when she realized that Grean had dispassionately killed Henry Peterson, the husband of Shana. It was his death in 1942 that had caused this Change to Earth's timeline. Trysta could see that Grean had also casually made a "copy" of Henry just before his death, creating a new <span title="replicoids are artificial life forms that exist in the Hierion Domain.">replicoid</span>. That copy of Henry was an integral part of Grean's little show-and-tell session. She allowed the Editor to speak to Henry's replicoid even while Grean was showing "him" his own dead body being discovered by Shana back at Eanru House.<br />
<br />
A chilling fear struck through Trysta. <i>What kind of crazy game was Grean playing</i>? Showing such things to the Editor would by itself likely alter the shape of Earth's future. With her pulse racing and her stomach churning, Trysta now quickly scanned upwhen, past the future time in the <span title="the Final Reality; the world as we know it. Our Reality was preceded by the Ekcolir Reality.">Buld Reality</span> when humans had begun to confidently spread outward from Earth to the stars. And she instantly saw that everything she had worked for was gone. In the new Reality that had been initiated by <span title="The Kac'hin hermaphrodite who fought R. Gohrlay during the Time Travel War and who collaborated with Trysta to devise and implement the Trysta-Grean Pact that ended the Time War.">Grean</span>, only a weak and sickly civilization remained on the Earth of the far future. The human species had become a struggling mass of contradiction and confusion and seemed doomed to failure, with only a tentative space-faring tradition not much different from what had existed in the Asimov Reality.<br />
<br />
Trysta felt a violent rage building up inside herself. She opened the communications channel that she had long shared with <span title="The Kac'hin hermaphrodite who fought R. Gohrlay during the Time Travel War and who collaborated with Trysta to devise and implement the Trysta-Grean Pact that ended the Time War.">Grean</span>, but no connection was established. Instead, Trysta received a recorded message: <br />
<br />
<b><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Dearest Trysta, </span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Since there is nothing else for me to do here, I've returned to the Core. I wish you the full enjoyment of my final gift, the Eanru Intervention. I fully trust you to do what must be done before you jump back into the past in search of Ekcolir. I envy you for the great adventure that still awaits you, but I am ready for a quiet retirement. Maybe I'll be lucky enough to find my own soul mate.</span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">With Love,</span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Grean</span></span></b><br />
<br />
Trysta was appalled by the way Grean had departed after doing her dirty work, but five of the words in <span title="The Kac'hin hermaphrodite who fought R. Gohrlay during the Time Travel War and who collaborated with Trysta to devise and implement the Trysta-Grean Pact that ended the Time War.">Grean</span>'s message stood out in her mind: "<b>do what must be done</b>". She immediately used her Reality Viewer to display the entire Reality State Space around the Eanru Intervention. Using the standard metric of the
<span title="the plan devised by Trysta and Grean for how to end the Time War and bring into existence the Final Reality."><a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#TGP">Trysta-Grean Pact</a></span>, she saw that the State Space topology remained very chaotic, which implied wide swings in the possible futures for Humanity across a wide spectrum from those that featured catastrophic human extinctions to others that merely ranged from the disastrous to the horrifying and, sprinkled in among all the others, there were a few possible Realities that could be categorized as acceptable. Trysta's attention was immediately drawn to the height of the positive peaks that were displayed in florescent pink. Never before had the peaks been this high! Somehow Grean had found a special departure point from the Ekcolir Reality that opened up a whole new avenue to better versions of the Final Reality.<br />
<br />
For ten minutes Trysta used all available quantitative measures to confirm this happy conclusion. Her anger towards <span title="The Kac'hin hermaphrodite who fought R. Gohrlay during the Time Travel War and who collaborated with Trysta to devise and implement the Trysta-Grean Pact that ended the Time War.">Grean</span> had by then evaporated. Trysta now understood that the Eanru Intervention was a path towards a brighter future for Humanity. Just one fear remained: would she have time to complete this new task and set things right? Using the Viewer, Trysta quickly checked a half dozen of the best available possible Realities that branched off from the Reality of the Eanru Intervention. In all of them, the optimal departure time for her final time trip into the deep past was only days away. That was not really a surprise because a first order attractor had always locked her final time travel trip in Time: it was a fixed point in time.<br />
<br />
How much time would be needed to "do what must be done"? Suddenly she realized why <span title="The Kac'hin hermaphrodite who fought R. Gohrlay during the Time Travel War and who collaborated with Trysta to devise and implement the Trysta-Grean Pact that ended the Time War.">Grean</span> had carried out the Eanru Intervention now, with only a few days remaining for Trysta to clean up the mess. With dread in her heart, she strolled over to Grean's Viewer. Never before had Trysta touched Grean's Reality Viewing equipment. Now Trysta activated the circuitry and saw what she had expected to find. Grean had left a book mark: she had already researched and identified the <span title="when trying to cause a specific Reality Change, it is often advantageous for the time travel technician to use a small and clever alteration of the timeline rather than a large messy change that will have unwanted side-effects"><a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#MNC" target="_blank">M.N.C.</a></span> that would bring into existence the optimal Final Reality. Grean had left Trysta no time to improvise, but that was Grean's way of saying that no great effort was required of Trysta; she need only implement the Reality Change that Grean had already mapped and identified.<br />
<br />
For Trysta, there was one aspect of working with Grean that she truly despised. Grean, as a <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#Kac%27hin" target="_blank">Kac'hin</a>,
had no capacity to understand how much Trysta disliked being forced to
act without first knowing the full consequences of the action. Grean had
grown up within a telepathically-unified cohort of peers and had been
carefully raised so as to trust other people and act quickly on their
requests without question. Grean had been trained to preform in her role
as a foot soldier in the Time Travel War. In contrast, Trysta had been
trained to think for herself. She'd been sent into the past on a mission
with the expectation that she could act independently to make all her
own decisions. <br />
<br />
Grean had skillfully painted Trysta into a corner, but Trysta was not one to swallow such a bitter pill without making an effort to check the facts. In all their years together, Trysta had never reached the point where she could trust <span title="The Kac'hin hermaphrodite who fought R. Gohrlay during the Time Travel War and who collaborated with Trysta to devise and implement the Trysta-Grean Pact that ended the Time War.">Grean</span>. Trysta set a five minute timer and then she immersed herself in the virtual reality presentation that Grean had left for her in the buffer of the Viewer.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ojMGy8iU1YU/V3cCYy00l5I/AAAAAAAAZzQ/w_Kf4t_x69EbEuC7UC8EBFgFX-5gnb5FgCLcB/s1600/lakeside%2BRoom%2Bsm.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ojMGy8iU1YU/V3cCYy00l5I/AAAAAAAAZzQ/w_Kf4t_x69EbEuC7UC8EBFgFX-5gnb5FgCLcB/s320/lakeside%2BRoom%2Bsm.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aunt Mayness at Eanru House (1972)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Using the high speed display mode, Trysta skimmed through the details of the Reality Change that she must now perform. <span title="The Kac'hin hermaphrodite who fought R. Gohrlay during the Time Travel War and who collaborated with Trysta to devise and implement the Trysta-Grean Pact that ended the Time War.">Grean</span> had named this one, too: the Mayness Intervention. The five minutes went by in a flash of subjective experience. Trysta forwarded an historical sketch file from the Grean's Viewer to <span title="Trysta and Deomede are the parents of Andy and Gwyned. Deomede is the analogue of Ekcolir in the Buld Reality.">Deomede</span>'s Viewer before she bolted out of Grean's Viewing Chamber. She ran out of the workshop and dashed up the corridor connecting to her house.<br />
<br />
As usual, <span title="Trysta and Deomede are the parents of Andy and Gwyned. Deomede is the analogue of Ekcolir in the Buld Reality.">Deomede</span> had anticipated Trysta's return home from the workshop and had detected her approach and he threw his arms around her when she came rushing through the front door. He could see the panic in her eyes and her rapid-fire speech pushed them apart: "Did you get the file I just sent to you? I have a rush job for you, a family history analysis. I need everything you can find for the Peterson clan of Hampshire county, Massachusetts."<br />
<br />
<span title="Trysta and Deomede are the parents of Andy and Gwyned. Deomede is the analogue of Ekcolir in the Buld Reality.">Deomede</span> had never seen Trysta in such a tizzy. "What's wrong, dear?" He followed her as she went upstairs into the bedroom.<br />
<br />
Trysta continued speaking rapidly, "That change you detected at 2012 is not just a little <span title="a small change to a timeline that cannot overcome existing temporal inertia and trigger a Reality Change.">microchange</span>." Trysta marched across the room to the shelf where she kept her few personal mementos from the Ekcolir Reality. She pulled a book off of the shelf and turned to face <span title="Trysta and Deomede are the parents of Andy and Gwyned. Deomede is the analogue of Ekcolir in the Buld Reality.">Deomede</span>. "<span title="The Kac'hin hermaphrodite who fought R. Gohrlay during the Time Travel War and who collaborated with Trysta to devise and implement the Trysta-Grean Pact that ended the Time War.">Grean</span> made a Reality Change and now we have to make another!"<br />
<br />
Hoping to establish some calm, <span title="Trysta and Deomede are the parents of Andy and Gwyned. Deomede is the analogue of Ekcolir in the Buld Reality.">Deomede</span> suggested, "Slow down, <span title="Deomede's pet name for Trysta">Trity</span>." He again put his arms around Trysta and guided her to the foot of the bed. "Let's discuss this..." It was a large bed.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pDK7xSTQb_g/V4EY1Kd_OlI/AAAAAAAAZ3c/Lx4oV4AvpnkoNtqpPj48cBETJoau87V3ACLcB/s1600/house.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pDK7xSTQb_g/V4EY1Kd_OlI/AAAAAAAAZ3c/Lx4oV4AvpnkoNtqpPj48cBETJoau87V3ACLcB/s320/house.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trysta's <a href="http://foundationreality.blogspot.com/2013/08/trysta-and-merion.html" target="_blank">house in Wales</a>.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After agreeing on the terms of the <span title="the plan devised by Trysta and Grean for how to end the Time War and bring into existence the Final Reality.">Trysta-Grean Pact</span>, Trysta had moved into the <span title="The Hierion Domain is a part of the universe where there is very little hadronic matter and mostly hierions. Grean's workshop is in the Hierion Domain.">Hierion Domain</span> and started operating out of <span title="The Kac'hin hermaphrodite who fought R. Gohrlay during the Time Travel War and who collaborated with Trysta to devise and implement the Trysta-Grean Pact that ended the Time War.">Grean</span>'s workshop. For living accommodations, she'd re-created her old house from Wales, the first home she'd had on Earth. Each day she went along the connecting corridor to and from Grean's workshop, retiring each night to comfortable surroundings that reminded her of her first love, Andrew, their two children and their happy life together in Bangor.<br />
<br />
Soon thereafter, <span title="Trysta and Deomede are the parents of Andy and Gwyned. Deomede is the analogue of Ekcolir in the Buld Reality.">Deomede</span> had become miserably lonely, receiving only occasional visits on Earth from Trysta, as her work allowed. He moved back in with Trysta, also abandoning his life in the Hadron Domain so that he could continue living with Trysta. By the time of Deomede's arrival in the <span title="The Hierion Domain is a part of the universe where there is very little hadronic matter and mostly hierions. Grean's workshop is in the Hierion Domain.">Hierion Domain</span>, <span title="The Kac'hin hermaphrodite who fought R. Gohrlay during the Time Travel War and who collaborated with Trysta to devise and implement the Trysta-Grean Pact that ended the Time War.">Grean</span> was already sharing Trysta's bed. To make room for Deomede, the bedroom had to be enlarged by taking out a wall and then a larger bed was installed. Deomede had taken over the remaining smaller bedroom on the second floor to use as his office where he did historical research.<br />
<br />
<span title="Trysta and Deomede are the parents of Andy and Gwyned. Deomede is the analogue of Ekcolir in the Buld Reality.">In the days since <span title="The Kac'hin hermaphrodite who fought R. Gohrlay during the Time Travel War and who collaborated with Trysta to devise and implement the Trysta-Grean Pact that ended the Time War.">Grean</span>
had disappeared from the workshop, Deomede had been quite affectionate,
as if trying to store up a trove of sweet memories before Trysta went
off into the far past on her final time travel mission. In an effort to slow Trysta down and calm her down, Deomede</span> swept Trysta off her feet and sat her on the giant bed. He kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear, "Whatever Grean did, let's not let it ruin our last few days together."<br />
<br />
Trysta pulled herself out of <span title="Trysta and Deomede are the parents of Andy and Gwyned. Deomede is the analogue of Ekcolir in the Buld Reality.">Deomede</span>'s embrace and jumped to her feet. She shouted at him, "No! We don't have any time." She forced herself to take a deep breath. Trysta smiled nervously and said, "Please, my love, get me that family history, at once. I'm going right back to the workshop. I've only just had a quick glance at this new future that Grean created. It is a mess, but I know how to fix it." She waved the book at him. "Send me your partial results as soon as you obtain them- don't try to construct a complete report." Seeing the dismay and worry on his face, she added, "We can do this, <b><span style="color: blue;"><span title="Trysta's pet name for Deomede">Dee</span></span></b>, but it will be close. I still must drop back into the past as scheduled." She threw her arms around him for a only second then ran back to the workshop.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>The Petersons</b></span><br />
Raild Padarsan arrived in the Province of Massachusetts Bay as an indentured worker on a five year contract. Before leaving England, Raild had originally hoped for a more southerly port of debarkation and a chance to enter into the lucrative transatlantic tobacco trade. He quickly tired of Boston and the back-breaking labor that the town's brick-maker expected him to perform.<br />
<br />
In the cold part of the year when the clay fields in Medford were often either snow-covered or too wet to be mined, Raild labored hauling ballast bricks that had arrived from England. Having spent much time on the docks, he was familiar with most of the ships that came and went and their crews.<br />
<br />
Raild decided to fall in love with a Catholic girl, Cory, the indentured maid of his boss. Without bothering to wait for the end of their indenture contracts, the lovers stowed away on a south-bound coastal freight barge. They reached Providence before being discovered and put ashore. After a series of small adventures, Raild and Cory ended up finding employment with a Dutch mason in Hartford, a man who despised the practice of indenturing servants.<br />
<br />
Two years later, gathering their courage and departing from the edge of civilization, Raild and Cory trekked northward, up the Connecticut river valley. They were among the first Europeans to settle in what would eventually become Hampshire county. The Padarsan family survived by adopting the subsistence farming practices of the local Pocumtuc people who had been decimated by disease, but who were friendly towards the Padarsans.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lzI0p20QK-g/V3duXI3Q37I/AAAAAAAAZzw/xmGhroMaRFAQInndbJJXXlE4KQRfAellQCLcB/s1600/toflo.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lzI0p20QK-g/V3duXI3Q37I/AAAAAAAAZzw/xmGhroMaRFAQInndbJJXXlE4KQRfAellQCLcB/s320/toflo.png" width="71" /></a></div>
Arailt, the oldest son of Raild and Cory, lived and thrived with his Pocumtuc wife and they efficiently produced and raised a large family of successful farmers. Raild experimented with tobacco as a cash crop, but produced mostly pretty flowers on gangly stems. Arailt's wife had a greener thumb and by growing a few tobacco plants in a small, well-shaded garden she soon revealed the importance of fertilizer, proper shade and pruning for achieving marketable tobacco leaf production.<br />
<br />
When tax collectors finally found them, the Padarsan clan transformed into the Petersons. The large manor house near the river (constructed by Arailt's most prosperous son) and its surrounding fields became locally known as Peterson Plantation. After the great flood of 1854 washed away the best Peterson family farmland and the manor house, the most important use of the remaining Peterson clan land holdings was maple sugar production on the hills to the East of the river. After the hurricane of 1938, the last remaining sugar house closed.<br />
<br />
By then, generations of the Peterson children had tended to make their way to college and jobs in Boston, Hartford or Albany. After closing his sugar house, Henry Peterson began his retirement by starting work on a fine lake-side house lost in the forest of southern New Hampshire. He soon tired of the effort involved (which included blasting granite to make a basement and sawing his own lumber) and died, but construction of the comfortable retirement home that Henry had envisioned, known as "Eanru House", was completed (as a very comfortable rambling mansion) by his wife, Shana.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>The Editor</b></span><br />
In some sense, the Petersons were themselves fertile ground for an alien intervention. In their particular case, the alien was a woman known as Trysta Iwedon. I may never know exactly how it came about that <span title="the last remaining Asterothrope. Trained as Time Change Technician"><a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#Trysta">Trysta</a></span> established a "working relationship" with the Petersons. I suspect that there was an interesting encounter between Trysta and Shana in a previous <span title="When a new timeline of events is initiated by a time traveler, the old previously existing Reality is terminated and a new Reality is brought into existence."><a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#Reality" target="_blank">Reality</a></span> and that I was told that story at some point during my life, but, if so, then those memories were apparently erased by Trysta. And unlike many similar hidden memories, never restored.<br />
<br />
According to my collaborator, <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/2014/03/ivory.html" target="_blank">Ivory</a>, within the Ekcolir Reality Shana was an influential magazine editor and she came to have close working relationships with many writers. In that Reality, science fiction authors such as <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#RW" target="_blank">Roberta Williams</a> were used as conduits for release of information about alien visitors to Earth. Thus, even in the absence of all the details, I conclude that there was significant <span title="Temporal inertia is a natural feature of Time. When the positronic robots of Earth needed to make Reality Changes less chaotic, they found it possible to store replicoids of humans in the Hierion Domain, forcing successive Realities to include analogues of the same people."><a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#tm" target="_blank">temporal momentum</a></span> linking Trysta and the Petersons.<br />
<br />
In all fairness, I'm not sure that I should label Trysta as an alien. True, she was born on a distant planet and she's not a member of the human species, but still... Well, you will be able to judge for yourself.<br />
<br />
[<b>Warning</b>: as an alien visitor on Earth, Trysta had access to advanced technology. Of particular relevance, by the time I met her, Trysta was a very experienced time traveler with many previous missions into Time having already been completed. After she had carried out all of her time travel missions here during my lifetime, Trysta went back into our past and it is there that <strike>she died</strike> her personal biological existence came to an end. In our past, she involved herself in the task of inserting important alien gene combinations into the human population of Earth. Thus, it is likely that the Petersons carried specific alien gene combinations that made them useful to Trysta. Enough said, for now. In Part I of <i>Trysta and Ekcolir</i>, I will introduce you to <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/2014/03/ivory.html" target="_blank">Ivory Fersoni</a> who can provide greater insight into alien/human genetics.]<br />
<br />
This is the story of Trysta, although you can see that in my designated role as the <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/editor.html" target="_blank">editor</a>, I did name it <i>Trysta and Ekcolir</i>. My goal in this Prelude is to tell you how I first met Trysta (see the following sections of this chapter, below). For the impatient reader, feel free jump ahead and <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/2013/09/training-for-earth.html" target="_blank">start in Part II</a> with the story of how Trysta and Ekcolir became lovers. You can always return here and <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/2016/06/ex-code.html" target="_blank">read Part I</a> at a later date.<br />
<br />
No matter at which place in time you start watching Trysta's life, you'll soon notice Trysta's nature as what I can euphemistically call a "master of disguise". Your recognition of that foundational fact of her existence will allow you to understand why I needed the help of a special team of investigators and informants to construct a coherent account of who Trysta was and where she came from. For an ignorant Earthling like me, it has been a challenging task to discover and to explain Trysta's semi-alien nature. By the end of <i>Trysta and Ekcolir</i>, you will understand the vital role that Trysta played in putting an end to time travel and giving we Earthlings a chance to reach for the stars.<br />
<br />
Were I not trying to portray myself as possessing many fine qualities (including a forgiving nature) then I might have introduced you to Trysta by comparing her to Raild's demanding master at the Medford brickworks. I suppose Raild and Cory were grateful for "free" transportation to the New World and for gainful employment under the terms of their indentures. Similarly, I could claim to have been lucky to become an object of Trysta's attention. Without Trysta's "help", I probably never would have become aware of the presence of alien beings on Earth. In an alternate Reality where I never knew Trysta, my life would have been less interesting, but also less taxing on my sanity. After reading <i>Trysta and Ekcolir</i>, you will be in a fine position to judge my sanity.<br />
<br />
[<b>Editorial aside</b>. Allow me to provide some guidance about all the names and other annoying details in this story. Remember to make use of the <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html" target="_blank">Glossary</a>. Everyone mentioned above in my account of Peterson family history, from Raild Padarsan to Shana Peterson, will never be mentioned again after this chapter. The Petersons are window dressing for Trysta's backstory. By sketching for you a quick synopsis of the Peterson family history (above), I've provided you with an example of the kind of historical report that Deomede could provide to Trysta on short notice.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WuDTYIWtxwg/V4IRemdfLhI/AAAAAAAAZ4M/_Dp3P43euxkp5Lzdg0iN4OyliYH2wToqACLcB/s1600/Nicotiana%2BIntervention.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WuDTYIWtxwg/V4IRemdfLhI/AAAAAAAAZ4M/_Dp3P43euxkp5Lzdg0iN4OyliYH2wToqACLcB/s320/Nicotiana%2BIntervention.png" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nicotine in the Hidden History of Humanity.<br />
<b>Special thanks</b> to <a href="http://mirish.deviantart.com/" target="_blank">Miranda Hedman</a> for<br />
"<a href="http://mirish.deviantart.com/art/Black-Cat-9-stock-393671718" target="_blank">Black Cat 9 - stock</a>", used to create<br />
the green "<a href="http://wikifiction.blogspot.com/2014/12/nereids-are-us.html" target="_blank">sedronite</a>".<br />
<b><i>The Nicotiana Intervention</i></b><br />
Science fiction by <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#EKJ" target="_blank">E. Kavie Jarvis</a> in the<br />
Ekcolir Reality. Reconstruction by <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/2014/03/ivory.html" target="_blank">Ivory</a> <br />
using original cover art by <a href="http://www.isfdb.org/cgi-bin/pl.cgi?58184" target="_blank">Joseph Tillotson</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I began <i>Trysta and Ekcolir</i> with a quick introduction to the Peterson family because in the specific time chosen for Trysta's earliest intervention into the course of my life she made use of a Peterson family member's body as a convenient vehicle (as described below). There is one little detail of the Peterson family that I do ask you to keep in mind. Given the history of the Petersons as producers of tobacco, it need come as no surprise that most members of the family, including Shana's granddaughter ("Mayness"), were tobacco smokers. I refuse to include in my story (below) any of the details of her addiction to smoking cigarettes, but I assure you, Mayness stank of cigarette smoke.<br />
<br />
Almost certainly the Peterson family's long flirtation with nicotine contributed to Trysta making use of Mayness as the medium through which she had her first contact with me. The important role in the Hidden History of Humanity for nicotine as a psychoactive chemical is one of the mysteries of human nature that must be resolved during this saga.]<br />
<br />
Now, back to the Petersons... <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Eanru House</b></span><br />
If Trysta can be trusted, then "eanru" is just a punchline from an obscure Scottish Gaelic joke that need only remind us of Henry Peterson's ribald sense of humor. The first time I saw the word "eanru", it was there above me, carved into the slab of granite that Henry had set above the side door to "his" lake-front house in the woods. I must put "his" in quotes because, by the time I arrived on the scene, it was clearly Shana's house.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfRoOybVMCkMlbVOzWk6Lb9kaLl5toUTrMA_VgIcMtCFo0P9FbOVSupDskPlYayBcQp-TCOv3xpAkwx0gewCpwyML3BWQsy_NEUIv2tcXN2DroaXLIAI0918PJbs4NFGJpnzA_oI-P6Xc/s1600/Shana+with+Map.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfRoOybVMCkMlbVOzWk6Lb9kaLl5toUTrMA_VgIcMtCFo0P9FbOVSupDskPlYayBcQp-TCOv3xpAkwx0gewCpwyML3BWQsy_NEUIv2tcXN2DroaXLIAI0918PJbs4NFGJpnzA_oI-P6Xc/s200/Shana+with+Map.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shana Peterson</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
That's a depiction of Shana, there to the right. When I walked into the mud room of Eanru House, an oil painting of Shana was prominently displayed on the wall of the entryway. Her smiling face was superimposed on an old map of New England. Next to that glass-encased and wood-framed display was an embroidered silk greeting sign that read, "Please stay awhile". I suspect that back in the 1940s, before Henry died, Shana had hung a different message on the wall, right there where Henry would see it, something probably along the lines of, "Leave your work boots out here!"<br />
<br />
When I arrived in that mud room, there was no mud in sight. It was a sunny summer day and we'd only walked from the adjacent garage across a neatly black-topped driveway. I'd been invited by a close childhood friend to spend the holiday weekend with his family, who had received an invitation to visit Eanru House. My friend's mom (who must remain nameless) glanced at the painting of Shana and said, "There's the old bird."<br />
<br />
Looking upon the painting, my friend's dad gasped in surprise. "My word!" He asked, "Was she ever that young?" He had only know Shana as an old New England widow lady who had outlived her husband by three decades, having finally died just six months previously.<br />
<br />
Mom: "This was painted soon after her first best-seller made her famous."<br />
<br />
All such conversations about Shana had no meaning to me when I heard them. However, by using doses of nicotine to modulate my Bimanoid Interface, I can now access long lost memories from my youth. I'm not sure if those memories simply resided in my zeptite endosymbiont or if I am tapping into a pool of information that exists in the Hierion Domain. No matter.<br />
<br />
Ignoring the words that passed between his parents, my friend and I were on our way into the house, hauling our bags upstairs to the bedroom we would use. Only much later did I realize that Shana Peterson had been a rather well-known writer of historical fiction. She'd turned Eanru House into a country retreat where she could write and entertain her literary friends who would come up from Boston or New York for a break from civilization. Only later did I learn that in the <span title="the Reality that came just before the Buld Reality (our universe)."><a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#ER" target="_blank">Ekcolir Reality</a></span>, Shana's <span title="due to the Momentum of Time, many Earthlings have had an analogue who lived in each Reality of our Reality Chain."><a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#analogue" target="_blank">analogue</a></span> was an important science fiction author.<br />
<br />
We arrived at Eanru House near the beginning of a long Fourth of July
weekend. My buddy and I had a day and a half of fair weather during
which we explored the lake and the dark forest near Eanru House. The forest lost much of its charm because of the swarms of mosquitoes that a wet spring and summer had generated. Early on Sunday morning we explored out into the woods parallel to the lake shore and loaded our bait cans up with fat pink earthworms.<br />
<br />
Sunday evening we feasted on the landlocked salmon and lake trout that we had caught. Our sunburns and mosquito bites seemed a fair price to have paid.<br />
<br />
By late
on Sunday, rain arrived and we spent Monday inside playing card games
and board games, quite happy to be skipping school. Late that afternoon
the house filled up as other family members arrived. Among the those
arrivals was the new owner of Eanru House, my friend's aunt. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>The Mayness Intervention</b></span><br />
Mayness was of the correct age to have become a flower child, but she was pragmatic and a scholar, having graduated from high school at the age of 15. By 1972 she was determined to go to law school and would soon be starting an internship with the Women's Rights Project, on July 15th.<br />
<br />
Previously there had been some bad blood between my friend's mom and Shana, but that was in the past and now even a stranger such as myself could intrude upon Eanru House, if only for a weekend when the house would otherwise have sat empty. I expected my friend's aunt Mayness to be an elderly lady, but she was only about five years older than my friend and I, just old enough to legally inherit her grandmother's property. I can't use her real name, so I'll call her "Aunt Mayness". I'm certain that she did not ask to serve as the host body during Trysta's first intervention into the course of my life, so the true identity of "Mayness" deserves to be kept secret.<br />
<br />
Upon becoming the owner, Mayness had immediately turned the spirit of Eanru House upside down, putting an end to decades of stately dignity and stuffiness. That third of July evening, with Mayness leading the revelry, there was loud 1960s music pounding out from the stereo and fireworks on the beach. Nobody except me seemed to notice the falling rain or the danger of an improvised sea battle fought with bottle rockets launched back and forth between competing war canoes.<br />
<br />
When all of the extensive arsenal of fireworks had been expended we all climbed back up the stone steps that connected from the lake shore to Eanru House. Along the path, electric lights glowed from their settings inside ornamental tin sap buckets attached to tree trunks. Once back in the house, Aunt Mayness insisted that the proper method for drying off after the splashy fireworks session was to tell ghost stories around the fireplace.<br />
<br />
I don't think Trysta actually took control of Aunt Mayness's body until later that night after everyone else had gone to bed. Don't ask me what "control" means. Maybe it is better to say that Trysta exercised her ability to temporarily animate the body of Aunt Mayness. I first noticed the change from up in the attic. I found myself listening to rain on the roof and wind pushing at the big trees that surrounded Eanru House. My friend and I had taken sleeping bags to the attic so that our elders could use all of the second floor bedrooms.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"The Residents who wear white are to woo- to beguile."<br />
-<a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/2015/04/trap.html" target="_blank">Jack Vance</a> <b><a href="http://jackvance.com/ebooks/shop/?q22_action=view&q22_id=8" target="_blank"><i>The Palace of Love</i></a></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Unable to sleep, Aunt Mayness was on my mind. Actually, Trysta was <i>in</i> my brain. I was smitten, never having imagined that anyone's aunt could be so young and pretty and unconventional. With the help of a small flashlight, I made my way down the stairway from the attic and there she was, coming up the stairs from the first floor. Trysta was expecting that I'd respond to her summons; she had a job for me to perform.<br />
<br />
Silently, she (Mayness/Trysta) took me by the hand and led me into the master bedroom, half of which was crowded with books, like a library. She carefully closed the door and locked it and then went to one of the shelves and pulled out a thick book. Trysta was careful to still use the body of Aunt Mayness<b>*</b>, but she made no effort to use the other woman's voice or New England accent. She handed the book to me and told me, "This is the book." Trysta's accent reminded me of the type of English that might be spoken by someone from one of the former British colonies such as Grenada.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wixlbGYDYpI/V4ML8nAWesI/AAAAAAAAZ4o/HQUWibpA3304pzusKotn5tValFjpE-ovQCLcB/s1600/Miners%2Bof%2B1959.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wixlbGYDYpI/V4ML8nAWesI/AAAAAAAAZ4o/HQUWibpA3304pzusKotn5tValFjpE-ovQCLcB/s320/Miners%2Bof%2B1959.png" width="219" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>Miners of Earth</i></b>, written by Thomas<br />
Iwedon, was first published under<br />
the name <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#EKJ" target="_blank">E. Kavie Jarvis</a> in the Ekcolir<br />
Reality. Reconstruction by <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/2014/03/ivory.html" target="_blank">Ivory</a> using<br />
original cover art by <a href="http://www.isfdb.org/cgi-bin/pl.cgi?58184" target="_blank">Joseph Tillotson</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
*[<b>Editor's note</b>. I believe that the "book" given to me by Mayness was probably a swarm of <span title="technically, nanites are nanoscale devices, but through time the term has been generalized and expanded to include all types of submicroscopic robotic devices, particularly including femtobots and zeptites."><a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#nanites" target="_blank">nanites</a></span> disguised as a book. That nanite swarm invaded both the body of Mayness and my brain in order facilitate Trysta's mission. I suspect that those nanites enhanced the physical structure of Mayness, ensuring that her already superb features matched my fantasies of feminine perfection. Trysta wanted me in a state of worshipful awe, "willing" to instantly follow her instructions.]<br />
<br />
There was no need for me to ask questions: I knew that I was expected to read the book. On the cover in big pink block letters was "Miners of Earth". I don't know what the material was that had been used to make that book's cover, possibly some kind of tough flexible plastic. I may never know the answer to such minor mysteries since it was a book that had been brought over into our universe from <span title="the Ekcolir Reality came just before the Buld Reality (our universe)."><a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#ER" target="_blank">a previous Reality</a></span>. After handing me the book, she went and sprawled across the bed and then things got weird.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wKpVyvhzUyY/V3lttshsBjI/AAAAAAAAZ1E/kh2sIsDRJ8IT7hYhW4MAWvSVrTaMWYKoQCLcB/s1600/miners_of_june.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wKpVyvhzUyY/V3lttshsBjI/AAAAAAAAZ1E/kh2sIsDRJ8IT7hYhW4MAWvSVrTaMWYKoQCLcB/s320/miners_of_june.png" width="245" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First published in book format, 1961.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It must have been about 1:30 AM and <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/2013/08/miners-of-earth.html" target="_blank"><i>Miners of Earth</i></a> was a very long book. I sat down at what had been Shana's writing desk and turned the front cover, opening the book: there was the author's name, Thome Jeket, followed by the words: <b><i>the author of this disturbing story is a minor and so only a pseudonym is being printed here</i></b>. I don't know if Trysta spoke just then or if there were <span title="information nanites. A form of advanced technology based on nanoscale (or smaller) devices; used to hold, process and transfer information."><a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#infites" target="_blank">infites</a></span> inside me that had been programmed to provide we with the help I needed to understand this story that Thomas had written in the Ekcolir Reality. By this point, the book had completely taken control of my mind. Here, I'll write this account as if Trysta spoke to me: "Thomas is my son. He used 'Thome Jeket' as a pen name."<br />
<br />
[<b>editor's note</b>: see <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html" target="_blank">Trysta's family tree</a>.] <br />
<br />
That admission came into my mind along with a cloud of ancillary facts. Trysta was communicating with me via multiple channels. I knew that I was being instructed by someone who called herself Trysta Iwedon, but that name was only used for her convenience. Due to the wonders of infites, I already knew that Trysta was from someplace much further away than Grenada... in fact, I was aware that she had not been born on Earth. However, it took me another 40 years to discover her original <span title="The Asterothropes are a primate variant that was designed to efficiently spread through outer space and colonize new worlds."><a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#Asterothropes" target="_blank">Asterothrope</a></span> name.<br />
<br />
Well before dawn, Trysta had successfully completed her mission in Eanru House. I won't say that I read <i>Miners of Earth</i> that night, but a change had been imposed on my brain that was the functional equivalent of having read it. I handed the book back to Trysta and she laughed at me and my reaction to Thomas' story. She assured me, "You need not be so surprised. You'll have decades to seek out and accumulate confirmation of the basic facts of Earth's past that were revealed to Thomas in his infancy."<br />
<br />
I was already a junior science nerd, devoted to a strict materialist view of reality. I was amazed by the story told in <i>Miners</i>, particularly the idea that the human species had been created. With my sense of wonder now singed, I was in a state of awe. I mumbled, "Are you... are these Asterothropes the <span huaoshy="" title="a term used on planets like Hemmal to refer to the assumed creators the Prelands. Less religious and more scientific Genesaunts use the term "><a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#Creators" target="_blank">Creators</a></span>?"<br />
<br />
Trysta laughed. "No. You will discover, just as I did, that my people, the Asterothropes, were created long after the human species had grown old. I was sent back... well, you must seek out the stories that Asimov published. He told the story of that part of my life." I had no idea who "Asimov" was. Left to myself, I would have bombarded her with many more questions. She rolled off the bed and physically pushed me out of the master bedroom. At the same time, Trysta was clamping down on my thoughts and pushing my over-loaded neural circuits towards sleep.<br />
<br />
Of course, one of the reasons that Trysta had made use of Aunt Mayness was the fact of her physical beauty. As an adolescent male, by exposing me to Mayness, I had been effectively provided with a muse, a source of enduring inspiration for the challenging task that had been assigned to me. I turned one last glance over my shoulder and saw that she remained there in the doorway of her bedroom, watching me walk down the hallway. Trysta had known that I would turn and look at her and she was ready with a reassuring flutter of her fingers and a knowing smirk on "her" pretty lips.<br />
<br />
More dazzled and stunned than merely surprised, I returned to the attic. Before I could crawl back into my sleeping bag I felt the penetrating tendrils of Trysta's touch slip away from my mind. She was done with her high-level conceptual re-programming of my brain. As I slipped into sleep, I made a promise that I would find physical evidence that that aliens were secretly on Earth. But while I slept, my <span title="humans are a symbiotic life form composed of biological cells and sub-nanoscopic zeptites."><a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#ze" target="_blank">zeptite endosymbiont</a></span> quickly and efficiently re-structured all of the fine structure of the synapses that held my memories, sealing off from my conscious mind all knowledge of having been contacted by Trysta. Only much later would I be allowed access to those precious memories (see Chapter 2).<i><br /></i><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Me Again, the Editor</b></span><br />
In any case, on that night it was not intended that I remember any of the story details from <i>Miners of Earth</i> or even the name 'Trysta'. On that day, Trysta's mission was to ignite my mind with a fire, to make me understand that written science fiction existed as a literary genre. <i>Miners of Earth </i>accomplished <i>that</i> to perfection.<br />
<br />
<i>Miners of Earth </i>was a guide to the secret history of Earth. Thomas had grown up with a technology-assisted telepathic link to Trysta's mind, so he knew some parts of her life story. The remainder, everything that Trysta had to keep hidden, Thomas invented and imagined and extrapolated and wrote into <i>Miners of Earth</i> along with the meager core of facts.<br />
<br />
I like to think of that early morning on July 4th as my introduction to Trysta, as my own personal First Contact. Decades passed before I was allowed to remember having "met" Trysta that night, but I'd been put on my proper course of discovery. What follows here in <i>Trysta and Ekcolir</i> is Trysta's story as an Interventionist agent on Earth, at least a version of her story that I have been able to patch together with help from my fellow investigators. Along the way, I'll provide an account of how and why Trysta was busily traveling back and forth through time at the last minute before the Huaoshy altered the dimensional structure of the universe and put an end to time travel.<br />
<br />
Before I provide you with my account of Trysta's life in the Ekcolir Reality, I feel compelled to first introduce you to my collaborators here in our universe (in the Final Reality). Why? It is my hope that you will find it possible to view Trysta's life story as more than just science fiction. To accomplish that, I need to convince you of the reliability of my sources.<br />
<br />
In this chapter, above, I described my first encounter with Trysta. Next, I'll provide an account of our most recent rendezvous which may have been the only time that I actually physically interacted with Trysta herself.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/2016/06/ex-code.html"><b>Next</b></a>.<br />
<a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/table-of-contents.html">Contents</a>.
<br />
_______________________________________________________
<br />
<a href="http://i.creativecommons.org/l/by-nc-sa/3.0/88x31.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://i.creativecommons.org/l/by-nc-sa/3.0/88x31.png" height="31" width="88" /></a><i><b>Trysta and Ekcolir</b></i> is copyright <a href="http://exodemic.blogspot.com/p/john.html">John Schmidt</a>, but the text of the story is licensed for sharing under the<b> <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/" target="_blank">Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike</a> (CC BY-NC-SA) license. </b>John Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12557999612244024954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5227702646415315219.post-63218467661084645902016-06-30T10:38:00.000-07:002019-07-28T16:45:58.708-07:00Ex-code<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8J-jZ3QeE6Q/V3RLM7-7-5I/AAAAAAAAZxw/X4fv5qDwv3g2-sX_hTlJaf_sabZNzc5ygCLcB/s1600/Trysta2016.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8J-jZ3QeE6Q/V3RLM7-7-5I/AAAAAAAAZxw/X4fv5qDwv3g2-sX_hTlJaf_sabZNzc5ygCLcB/s320/Trysta2016.png" width="269" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trysta on Earth</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #666666;">Buld Reality - 2016</span></span><br />
<br />
I was walking through the lounge, but I wasn't really there mentally. As usual, my thoughts were elsewhere. That day, my thinking was all tangled up over the possible deification of my unreliable collaborator, <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#Gohrlay" target="_blank">Gohrlay</a>.<br />
<br />
Yes, I did see someone sitting there. It is a lounge: people are supposed to sit there and they often do. But not <i>her</i>. What pulled me back into time and place was the fact that she was so happy. I could sense that she was freakishly happy. And why not? I suppose that if <b><i>you</i></b> could see all times and visit all places in time then you'd smile, too.<br />
<br />
Her joy punctured my self-absorption, but not enough to slow me down. Until the next day. I was beyond just being punctured when I saw her again. Neurons or infites of my unconscious were shouting: "Who <i>is</i> she?"<br />
<br />
I was out of the lounge and three strides down the hallway before my conscious thoughts caught up with the reality of her intrusion. I turned around and went back. She was gone. A flick of motion: I saw that she was in the adjoining utility room. I followed her and I wanted to ask <i>Why are you so happy?</i> but instead I asked, "Who are you?"<br />
<br />
Of course, she was not going to speak to me <i>there</i>, not in such a public place, so everything got crooked and the world broke. <b><i>Pop</i></b>. For an instant she was gone, having slipped through a crack into another universe, but I was caught up in her wake. Another <b><i>pop</i></b> and I could see her again. Close. Something deep inside me said: <i>Trysta?</i> She took hold of my hand and pulled me out of the Time Gate. Or whatever. Maybe I've never traveled through time. I'd be the last to know something like that. I felt her inside my mind and a strange thought formed there, like a crystal: would Trysta have really been able to make a trip upwhen, to a point in time so far from the 1970s? Could she do that? Not giving me time to think about such fine points, she confirmed her identity, "You know me as Trysta."<br />
<br />
<i>Click</i>. She folded in half the "tablet" she'd been holding and it disappeared. And why not? It wasn't really a tablet computer. <i>Click</i>. She reached up under her long hair, twisted the chain latch and pulled off her bulky necklace. Up close I could now decipher its coded message: it was a colorful representation of a ribosome, the nano-technology that allows living cells on Earth to translate coded genetic instructions into protein nano-devices.<br />
<br />
She'd previously programmed my endosymbiont to recognize that ribosome as a code signal and now a cascade of infite-encoded memories suddenly became accessible to my consciousness. A long string of repressed memories that had been accumulating inside me for decades now bubbled and churned inside my brain, competing for my attention. Staggered by the impact of that memory flood, my consciousness was momentarily swept away as if blowing on a storm front. <i>Click</i>. I knew that this seeming stranger actually was Trysta and so a silly grin came to my lips. She giggled and seemed pleased, "There, now you remember." She hung the necklace on a protruding wall decoration.<br />
<br />
I felt like it was more than just remembering because she had previously quite carefully walled off all of these hidden memories from my conscious introspection. Recovering those lost memories of Trysta felt more like living the experiences of previously being with her, but it felt like I was living those many events in an instant. I stammered, "I thought... didn't you depart into the past?"<br />
<br />
She gave her head a shake that sent her mop of hair flying. "No, not quite yet. Soon. I have a few more errands that I'd like to complete here in your lifetime, if possible."<br />
<br />
Reflecting upon the total scope and content of all my "new" memories, I realized that she'd provided me with what was effectively a list of all the many times that she had "checked in with me" through the course of my life. I was amazed by the plethora of times that she had "slipped into" the bodily form of someone I knew (as I've described <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/2016/07/first-contact.html" target="_blank">here</a>, for example), just so that she could spend some time with me or provide me with a subtle behavioral correction. I began to complain, "Wait... all these... you've been messing with me steadily for decades..."<br />
<br />
Trysta laughed merrily at my dismay and said teasingly, "After a while you finally caught on, so I had to do extra memory suppression." She shook her head and seemed to look back dreamily through the past. "You were quite a handful."<br />
<br />
For a just a moment, a hot resentment flared within me over the way she had manipulated me, but then I had to laugh at myself. In retrospect, I could see that Trysta had worked hard to keep my spirits up through the years of what might otherwise have been a long dreary slog and agonizing decades of waiting until I could perform my function. I could tell that she was bubbling over and eager to tell me something. I was even more eager to ask her questions. I blurted out, "Why did you wait so long?"<br />
<br />
Trysta was in my mind and she knew exactly what I meant. "Well, of course I had to wait until after the Buld spaceship reached Earth-"<br />
<br />
I interrupted, "That was four years ago!"<br />
<br />
"Yes, only four years. Much has happened since then. And then I needed to wait and study the <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#tryp%27At" target="_blank">tryp'At</a> Overseers and discover what rules they were using to police Earth. I've worried that if you knew too much about me then you'd get booted off of Earth, like <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#Ivory" target="_blank">Ivory</a> did."<br />
<br />
I muttered, "I worry about that everyday." I could sense that Trysta was full of confidence. All of <i>her</i> doubts had been resolved. "Do you now really believe that I'm safe from the tryp'At?"<br />
<br />
Trysta laughed uproariously. "Oh, yes!" She was giggling so much that I nervously started chuckling. Her happiness was contagious. Finally she could speak again, "After all, <i>you</i> are tryp'At."<br />
<br />
I'd been fearing that was true for some time and I suppose it was for the best that Trysta had popped into my life to joyously confirm it as fact. I quietly said, "But that means-"<br />
<br />
She let the concept fully develop and flower in my thoughts. "Exactly. So I had to watch carefully and see how you and Gohrlay would get along. During the past two years nothing bad happened. Now I'm satisfied that you two are not going to go to war."<br />
<br />
There was no arguing against the facts, but I could not share her sense of relief and satisfaction at how her great protect had turned out. "I still don't want to believe it. I'm on the wrong side!" I'd come to view Gohrlay as the shining future for Humanity, struggling against absurd restrictions that were being imposed on Earthlings by the upstart tryp'At. I did not want to be playing the role of someone who was holding Gohrlay back and working against her lofty goals.<br />
<br />
Trysta was truly laughing at me. "That's the beauty of it. Grean not only planted her agent where I never thought to look, she planted an agent on Earth who was totally oblivious to his mission. I'd call it an act of genius, but in retrospect, I now see that it was the logical solution to her predicament."<br />
<br />
Even if grudgingly, I had to pay tribute to Grean, "She tricked me."<br />
<br />
Trysta nervously looked around the workshop and commented, "This would be the natural time for her to show up and gloat."<br />
<br />
I had no memory of ever having met Grean, so I was a bit cocky. "Only if she wants to get punched in the nose." I mused, "How am I going to live with myself, and with Gohrlay?"<br />
<br />
Trysta started laughing again and sputtered through her mirth, "Nothing has changed, except you are now slightly less ignorant."<br />
<br />
"And how am I going to break the news to Gohrlay? I've been having so much fun collaborating with her-"<br />
<br />
Trysta interrupted and corrected me, "You've been driving her crazy with all your questions. She'll be please to have an end to that."<br />
<br />
I realized the truth of Trysta's words. My relationship with Gohrlay would now be shunted in a new direction. An odd thought came into my mind. I searched through the newly recovered memories that Trysta had released to me. I said wonderingly, "Do you mean to tell me..."<br />
<br />
"Yes, Gohrlay has always know that you are tryp'At. I mean, in this Reality." Trysta could not restrain herself from adding, "She was a clueless twit in the previous Reality."<br />
<br />
Without a doubt, Gohrlay had transformed and evolved, attaining a near god-like status in the Final Reality. I asked, "So when did <a href="http://foundationreality.blogspot.com/2013/06/biographical-information.html#R.%20Gohrlay" target="_blank">R. Gohrlay</a> make the memory hand-over to Gohrlay?" It was my belief that Gohrlay had come into possession of the entire store of R. Gohrlay's memories from <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#DT" target="_blank">Deep Time</a>.<br />
<br />
"Mmmm... good question." Trysta briefly reflected on the matter then shrugged and replied, "I'm not sure that the process of memory transfer is complete, even now. As Asimov taught you, there <i>are</i> physical limitations to the memory capacity of brains and there are also limits to the rate of information flow."<br />
<br />
I knew well the story to which Trysta referred. "I've long been uncomfortable with the way Asimov told that story." I was thinking about the way that Daneel had found a biological brain that could hold all of his 20,000 years worth of memories. "I'm not comfortable with the idea that all the vast contents of a positronic brain could be transferred into a humanoid brain."<br />
<br />
Trysta reminded me, "Well, of course, Asimov was not allowed to make mention of <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#ze" target="_blank">zeptite endosymbionts</a>." We'd been slowly wandering through the abandoned workshop and now we'd arrived at the Viewing Chamber. She absently ran her hand over the control strip, but the Viewer did not activate: there was no longer any possibility in the universe for pushing sedrons back and forth through time. The Viewer no longer had any purpose, but Trysta was gazing upon it as if it were some sort of shrine.<br />
<br />
As usual, I was lost in my own inner world. I had to agree: the presence of zeptites inside human brains was a real game-changer. I began pondering the question of how efficient the <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#pek" target="_blank">pek</a> were in placing a zeptite endosymbiont inside every Earthling. In particular, had they done so for the members of Trysta's family? <br />
<br />
My "new" memories of past contacts with Trysta solidified and clustered around the time when I had last seen Trysta, about two years previously, not too long before Gohrlay had revealed herself to me. At that time, Trysta had introduced me to another member of <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#Andy" target="_blank">her family</a>, her daughter, Gwyned. Now I experienced a wave of shame because I'd made a promise to Gwyned, a promise that I had not kept. Trysta said, "Don't punish yourself over that silly promise. <i>Now</i> I'll let you own that promise, here and now, from this day forward it will bind you."<br />
<br />
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Trysta's kindness was sweet and soothing, but it annoyed me that she could prowl through my thoughts and glibly comment on my guilt. However, I didn't want to turn this encounter into a bitch session. Still, I could not prevent myself from a touch of sarcasm. "How nice of you to take the time."<br />
<br />
My pettiness was not going to wipe the smile from her face. She gave a delicate shrug and pointed towards the Viewer. There, still locked in the control matrix of the Reality Viewer was Earth and, beyond, in the distance, I could see the silver globe of our Moon. She spoke with obvious pride, "Earth is free. And you are now free to do as you please with your memories of me."<br />
<br />
I could suddenly remember having been in this "workshop" before. "I" had even previously seen someone using the Reality Viewer to look into the future. My memory of that was muddled; it rested in my brain more like an illustration in a textbook than an actual past experience.<br />
<br />
Trysta turned her head and she glanced over my shoulder. Her eyes widened. I turned and saw that we were no longer alone in the workshop. I'd long imagined what a Kac'hin might look like, having for years been provided with clues. Here, now, suddenly, was the perfect image of what I imagined to be the form of a female Kac'hin. Trysta grabbed hold of my arm and whispered, "Grean."<br />
<br />
Grean was not there in person. Speaking as a kind of projection, she explained, "Pardon my intrusion, Trysta. I'm here on Tar'tron, but I detected someone prowling in our workshop."<br />
<br />
I could sense that Trysta was surprised, but she spoke calmly. "I wondered if you were still on post here, monitoring Earth."<br />
<br />
Grean was not buying that. "You know that the tryp'At have cleared all alien influences from Earth. Were I to now teleport into the workshop it would be a violation of the Rules of Intervention."<br />
<br />
Trysta sighed deeply, seemingly with relief. "If that is so then it is good news. However, I doubt if those Rules have ever been enforced against the Huaoshy."<br />
<br />
Grean observed, "You never were able to comprehend my relationship with the Creators. I simply served as a tool; I was always subject to the same rules as you."<br />
<br />
I was awe-struck by Grean, even if she was thousands of light-years away. I'd long dreamed of having a chance to meet Grean and question her. Finally seeing Trysta and Grean glaring intently at each other, I recognized them as two ancient warriors, now unhappy to be meeting again after the peace treaty had been signed. In this case, the Trysta-Grean Pact was in effect, but these two soldiers would always believe that their own side had been correct in the war, the enemy misguided. I asked Grean, "And what of me? What do the Rules of Intervention say about an Overseer who is on Earth?"<br />
<br />
Grean chuckled. "Technically you are not an Overseer, merely an Earthling, just one of seven billion."<br />
<br />
Trysta pushed the point, "But he is not just any Earthling. He is telling the hidden history of Earth to his fellow humans."<br />
<br />
Grean seemed puzzled by Trysta's concerns, her attempt to score one last point in their long battle. "Why worry about such hair-splitting details and legalities? There is nothing you can do anymore to change things. I'm happy to be in retirement."<br />
<br />
Trysta seemed to grow bolder the more that Grean professed disinterest in Earth. "I'm happy to learn that you've turned over affairs to the tryp'At. That leaves Earth open and susceptible to my influence."<br />
<br />
Grean gave a delicate shrug and blinked her large eyes. "Irrelevant, Trysta. You are 10,000 years in your grave and long since forgotten."<br />
<br />
Emboldened by Trysta' feisty attitude, I could not pass up my own chance to contradict Grean. "I will never forget."<br />
<br />
Grean raised a hand in mock salute. "I see that nothing important is happening. Given the awesome challenge that you face, I suppose that you Earthlings need to continually work to keep your spirits up. I wish you luck! Carry on."<br />
<br />
Before Grean could break the communications link that was projecting her image into the workshop, Trysta shouted, "Grean, wait! I have one last question for you."<br />
<br />
Grean waited a few seconds in silence then asked, "Well?"<br />
<br />
Trysta asked, "Why did you show an Earthling how we perform Time Changes? Wasn't that a violation of the Rules of Intervention?"<br />
<br />
With Grean there in the workshop, I could almost recall my lost memories of having witnessed the Eanru Intervention. I was buffeted by a strong sense of déjà vu. Grean looked in my direction and replied, "That should be obvious to you, Trysta. I put a lock on his memory of having witnessed a Reality Change, so that was not a violation of the Rules. I just wanted you to realized that it was permissible to bring Earthlings here. Obviously, you figured that out." With those final words, Grean's projected image blinked off.<br />
<br />
Trysta still had a grip on my arm. "She always brings out the worst in me. Thank you for telling her that you will not allow the memory of my efforts to fade away. I knew that you would not be changed by the memories that I shared with you today, no matter how much you resent the way I've tricked and deceived you. You know, I was always acting with good intentions."<br />
<br />
"Yes, I know that." I also knew that nothing as paltry as being in a grave would ever keep Trysta down, but something told me that after almost six decades of haunting me, Trysta was finally saying goodbye. That wasn't fair since the memories that she had awoken in me actively itched at my curiosity and pointed towards dozens of intriguing mysteries and unanswered questions. As if I were not already <strike>full of</strike> overflowing with unanswered questions. I complained, "There is so much more that you can teach me. For example, why did you bring me here today?"<br />
<br />
She was not trying to be cruel, but her honesty stung. "Wrong. I've judiciously given you as much information as you can safely process. Please don't resent your own limitations. Just finish up your chore."<br />
<br />
It was not fair that she was in my mind, pushing at me, shaping my thoughts and using tricks on multiple levels. The "chore" that she alluded to was my assigned task of telling her story to the people of Earth. She was giving me my final marching orders and then, I knew, she would be gone from my life. One last complaint was on my mind. "I'm an old man. I might not have time..."<br />
<br />
She laughed and threw her arms around me. She rested her head against my shoulder and pressed herself close. Speaking softly in my ear, she reminded me of the facts. "I'm older than you. True, I have good genes and a swarm of medical nanites at my disposal, but I'm an old lady. Even my boy Thomas is older than you."<br />
<br />
Yes, I knew that she could control her own physical appearance and she'd been peering into my thoughts during the entire course of my life, learning my likes and pleasures. She knew exactly how to push my buttons and get me to do what needed to be done. I put my arms around her, knowing that she had shaped her body so as to conform to my personal fantasies of the perfect woman. And her cognitive connection to my brain was not entirely one way. I could sense that she was thinking of Ekcolir and she was eager to take the final time travel trip into the far past. I asked, "Is he waiting there for you, in the past?"<br />
<br />
She shook her head and explained, "No, but there is a copy of him waiting for me in the past, at the time of my final time travel mission. So, I don't fear death. There will be an artificial second life for me and a chance to be with Ekcolir again. Part of him." She pushed herself away, looking at me from arm's length and she sternly said, "Now, I won't bother you any more." But I could sense that there was something more that she wanted.<br />
<br />
It did not matter that she looked human. I could see little sweat droplets on her upper lip and her face was flushed. As an <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#Asterothropes" target="_blank">Asterothrope</a> female, she responded instinctively to contact with a male. I knew that she was ready for me to depart, but I did not want to leave. I quietly mumbled, "That's all?" I was thinking of two years previously and the lecture that Gwyned had given me.<br />
<br />
She replied, "I'm limited in what I can say to you. I did not need to be with you today. We did not need to be <i>here</i>. Your infites could have been remotely activated, allowing you to finally remember all of the past times when I contacted you. However, my own curiosity got the better of me. I wanted to see if I could trick Grean into revealing how she blocked your memory of watching her kill Henry Peterson. She uses a different method for performing memory surgery than I do, a technique that I've never been able to understand. Of course, none of that really matters. I was silly to ever imagine that I might know and understand the fantastic technological abilities of the Huaoshy." Trysta's joy had deflated and her shoulders slumped.<br />
<br />
"I understand." I thought I did. "You needed to show me that you can still reach me, even in the far future, decades after time travel became impossible."<br />
<br />
She shook her head slowly. "No, this is a trick. For me, it is still before the end of time travel; I can still travel in time. But too many microchanges have already been made. The Final Reality is forming and solidifying around you and it is increasingly hard for me to reach you from the past. I was lucky to connect with you today... I almost could not find you. I'll try again at the next critical point, but chances are this is the last time we will meet."<br />
<br />
I sensed that Trysta was still waiting for something. And we were running out of time. My fascination with the mechanics of time travel would not let me drop that topic. All I could do was guess about the nature of the physical effect that was building a temporal barrier between her and I. "Why so? Can't you see and visit everywhen?"<br />
<br />
She seemed rather weary of trying to explain such things to me. "Here in this time, you are moving into the Final Reality. A Change, a wave front composed of many microchanges is sweeping over you. This is a very complex Reality Change. For now, I'm still engaged in the process of making the Final Reality Change. Anyhow, I'm not able to explain. I was never taught the detailed mechanics of time travel. R. Gohrlay and Grean did not want to lead me into the temptation of improvisation. Now, go back to your collaborator or muse or your god or whatever it is you call her now."<br />
<br />
I knew that she was speaking of <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#Gohrlay" target="_blank">Gohrlay</a>. I observed, "You are jealous."<br />
<br />
She giggled. "And why not? When I was young, when I was Skaña, I was shown a future in which it was to be me who lived out my final days here in this time on Earth. Neither you nor I could possibly be happy with how all of this has played out. It is to be her who has the honor of seeing this new beginning for Humanity. I was given other compensation."<br />
<br />
I panicked at the thought that even Trysta had been kept in the dark about the shape of the future. I had to ask her: "So do we make it or not? Is there a future for Earth, for humans?"<br />
<br />
"I did my best to make it so." She laughed rather wildly at the perversity of the universe. "Now it is up to you." She was waiting for me to notice what was in her mind, naked and open before me.<br />
<br />
I'd sensed her guilt and I had mistakenly attached it to my own personal source of guilt. I said it: "Guilt."<br />
<br />
"Yes, I'm sorry for what I've put you through. You were designed to seek out truth, but I could not provide you with truth. Not all of it. All you got was a story. The makings of a story." Her eyes were full of tears, but she had complete control over her body so she was able to carefully and secretly drain them away. Tears were one more way to control silly, lumbering males, but she was wise enough not to over-use them. One small tear escaped her right eye.<br />
<br />
I found it impossible to be seriously angry, even though I deeply resented having been used for decades and kept ignorant of why I was being used. I took a deep breath and wiped the tear from her cheek. "I forgive you, but it breaks my heart that we have not exercised our free will. I hate being a puppet."<br />
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<br />
She brightened and said, "Thank you for being so forgiving. No matter how much I have abused you, you really should embrace your role. It is better to be a puppet in interesting times than to exercise free will when nothing matters. Anyhow, you do get the last word, you do get to decide how to tell the story."<br />
<br />
I still wanted more than words. "But can people learn from a science fiction story? If we had some physical evidence-" Trysta did not want to waste her time listening to me complain. I felt her clamping down on my mind and then -POP- I was back where I had started, in the utility room, but now I was alone.<br />
<br />
Yes, I'll wait and hope that I might see Trysta once again, but I don't think she was kidding. That was probably the last time that she managed to find her way into the future of the Final Reality. I believe her bones are in some lonely grave in the middle of Asia, or maybe now all that is left of her is a silent smear of dissolving chemicals. It is up to me to make a monument to Trysta and everyone else in Deep Time who worked so desperately to make this universe and give we Earthlings a chance to reach the stars.<br />
<br />
[<b>Editor's note</b>: it is with a sense of uneasiness and trepidation that I have allowed myself to share the story of how Trysta took me into the <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#HD" target="_blank">Hierion Domain</a> and gave me a little tour of the workshop where she and Grean created our universe. I believe that Grean played a trick on Trysta by making Trysta become responsible for my ability to (partially) remember watching Grean make a Time Change. I think Grean knew exactly how to make me believe that time travel had once been possible without violating <a href="http://foundationreality.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#RoO" target="_blank">the ethical rules</a> of the Huaoshy.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y5uXdFPcTmc/V5cYCbF08KI/AAAAAAAAZ_Y/BUNTLLa2j_8o4yxVp2zccCx8DpUcuNvvgCLcB/s1600/WORKSHOP%2Bpool.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y5uXdFPcTmc/V5cYCbF08KI/AAAAAAAAZ_Y/BUNTLLa2j_8o4yxVp2zccCx8DpUcuNvvgCLcB/s320/WORKSHOP%2Bpool.png" width="278" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Depiction of Trysta and Grean from the time<br />
when they worked together at Grean's workshop.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>On the physical appearance of Grean</b>. I'm reluctant to act as a witness and describe the physical features of Grean. Above, I've provided a fairly good indication of what Trysta looked like, and I believe that she did reveal her "true" physical form to me. I put "true" in quotes because although Trysta was an <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#Asterothropes" target="_blank">Asterothrope</a>, in order to facilitate her mission on Earth she had been carefully crafted to have the physical form of a human. In the case of Grean, I suspect that "she" presented me with an artificial perceptual experience that allowed me to "see" her as having exactly the physical form that I imagine Kac'hin hermaphrodites have. As a Kac'hin from the planet Tar'tron, Grean was able to take control of my zeptite endosymbiont and force me to perceive her physical appearance in a way that conformed exactly to my personal preconceptions of what she should look like.<br />
<br />
My appreciation for Grean's ability to manipulate the human perceptual apparatus arises from two sources: 1) <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#Ivory" target="_blank">Ivory Fersoni</a> and her clone sisters, and 2) <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#Gohrlay" target="_blank">Gohrlay</a>. In this chapter, I've allowed Grean to wander across the stage and begun to provide my account of how Trysta and Grean collaboratively created the universe as we know it. Where to next? I feel obligated to introduce you to Ivory and Gohrlay.]<br />
<br />
<a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/2015/09/roben.html"><b>Next</b></a>.<br />
<a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/table-of-contents.html">Contents</a>.
<br />
_______________________________________________________
<br />
<a href="http://i.creativecommons.org/l/by-nc-sa/3.0/88x31.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://i.creativecommons.org/l/by-nc-sa/3.0/88x31.png" height="31" width="88" /></a><i><b>Trysta and Ekcolir</b></i> is copyright <a href="http://exodemic.blogspot.com/p/john.html">John Schmidt</a>, but the text of the story is licensed for sharing under the<b> <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/" target="_blank">Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike</a> (CC BY-NC-SA) license. </b>John Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12557999612244024954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5227702646415315219.post-29194621464860048552015-09-05T23:37:00.000-07:002019-07-28T17:44:01.818-07:00Roben<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roben Skapp - 2365 (Etruscan calendar)<br />
at the Paumanok Water Park</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
[<b>Editor's note</b>. As mentioned in the <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/2016/06/ex-code.html" target="_blank">previous chapter</a>, Trysta harbored some resentment over the special role that Gohrlay played in Earth's Reality Chain. When Trysta was sent into the 20th century, <a href="http://foundationreality.blogspot.com/2013/06/biographical-information.html#R.%20Gohrlay" target="_blank">R. Gohrlay</a> had never bothered to inform her that she might run into other fellow time travelers. Trysta mistakenly assumed that by destroying the time travel device that existed on Earth, she had put an end to all time travel.<br />
<br />
A word about R. Gohrlay... positronic robots do not have a major role to play in <i>Trysta and Ekcolir</i>. For an account of the origins of robots and R. Gohrlay's exploits, readers should explore book 2 of the Exode Trilogy: <a href="http://foundationreality.blogspot.com/2013/06/vortex.html" target="_blank"><i>Foundations of Eternity</i></a>.<br />
<br />
I believe that R. Gohrlay did intentionally deceive Trysta about the end of time travel. Further, when Trysta was finally brought into contact with the positronic robots of Earth, those robots did not make an effort to warn Trysta about the importance of Gohrlay. Eventually, Gohrlay became my collaborator and an important source of information about Trysta, so I need to provide you with some background information about how and why Gohrlay was inserted into the timeline of Earth. I'll take this opportunity to provide you with your first glimpse into the Ekcolir Reality.<br />
<br />
Planet Earth, a world we feel that we know well, but ours is a world that has gone through many alternative Realities. <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#Roben" target="_blank">Roben</a> was born on a version of Earth that was physically identical to our planet, but which had more rapidly gone through its industrial age. The year of her birth was the equivalent of 1960 in our Reality, but in Roben's version of Earth, the planet had already surpassed a population of 10 billion people and the first Moon walk had come in 1953 (Gregorian calendar). With the inevitability of passing Time, Roben was now transitioning from her childhood as a skinny and bookish girl into a "second life" as a young woman who never failed to attract the gaze of those who saw her...] <br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>1. Paumanok</b></span><br />
<br />
Roben finally realized that she was awake. She had a habit of imperceptibly transitioning from the dreams of REM sleep into waking consciousness.<br />
<br />
It was summer and Roben was luxuriating in carefree days during which she could do only those things that she wanted to do. While slowly regaining full consciousness, she noticed that she was aimlessly imagining herself in another world: living out the exciting life of Cecilie, the protagonist in the novel she had fallen asleep reading.<br />
<br />
But something had interrupted her lazy, half-dreaming fantasy...what? It was the soft buzz of the pager that her mother had given to her. She reached towards the pager, but only felt a vast expanse of silky, soft bed sheet. For a moment Roben was disoriented, then she called out: "Light."<br />
<br />
Her voice-activated reading lamp came on. Now Roben remembered that she was on vacation and in the hotel suite that was being used by her family during their visit to Paumanok Water Park. She'd stayed up all night reading a new Vance novel.<br />
<br />
Roben rolled over and stretched across the wide hotel bed and grabbed the pager off the night stand. Scrolling through the text message on the little L.E.D. readout of the pager she read, "AWAKE YET?" She quickly confirmed that her mother had been sending a message every half hour for the past four hours. She checked the time: 2:03 PM.<br />
<br />
Roben realized that she was hungry. She had not eaten since dinner the day before, about 20 hours previously. Rolling back across the bed she felt a lump: it was the book she had been reading. Instantly forgetting about both food and family, she quickly found the page in <i>Araminta Station</i> where she had fallen asleep, only about thirty pages from the end of the story. She quickly re-read that page and smiled at the antics of the spunky Westive Tamm, the secondary character who had moved to the center of the story after the horrific death of Cecilie.<br />
<br />
Sorely tempted to forget about her mother and just finish reading the novel, Roben gathered her will power and closed the book. She jumped off the bed and stepped into the adjoining room to empty her bladder. The first mission of her day accomplished, she returned to the bed chamber and called out: "Curtain." The blackout curtains altered their molecular orientation and began letting in some outdoor light. The room brightened and Roben could see her clothing where it lay scattered on the floor between the door and the foot of the bed. She quickly dressed for the day, putting on the same clothes she'd worn the day before.<br />
<br />
While pulling on her shorts, Roben briefly became distracted by the annoying fact that she had to struggle to zip up her favorite denim cutoffs. Her thoughts were still off in Cecilie's world, so Roben was perfectly able to ignore the tight clasp of the shorts around her hips. She remained almost completely oblivious to the changes that were now sculpting her body into that of a woman. With the shorts successfully zipped and buttoned, Roben took one brief glance in the mirror and patted her skinny tummy as it rumbled. Imagining a reason for the tight fit of her clothes she thought: <i>I've been eating too much during this vacation</i>.<br />
<br />
Roben scooped up the paperback novel off her bed, detached the little reading light from the book and manually switched it off. Anticipating another long night of reading, she plugged in the lamp so that the rechargeable battery could top off. Roben left her bedroom and looked around the main room of her family's hotel suite. The room wad immaculately clean and tidy, the only indication of occupancy was her mother's array of notebooks on the big writing desk in the corner of the room. Roben sniffed and inhaled the slightly herbal scent that lingered after the cleaning staff had been in.<br />
<br />
Roben went to the writing desk and flipped open Mary's writing log book. She saw that her mother had written from 5:00 AM until 8:17. Roben marveled at her mother's discipline and her daily writing routine, the relentless authorial habit that had allowed Mary to write and publish 23 books during the 28 year course of raising her four daughters. Mary was unable to allow even a family vacation to take precedence over her writing obsession.<br />
<br />
As a well-paid and fairly famous author, Mary Skapp regularly financed two long and expensive vacations for her family every year, but part of each vacation day was still devoted to her writing. An early riser, Mary could usually grab some quiet writing time before any of the rest of the family stirred in the morning. Roben touched the cover of another notebook on the table and she was tempted to read what her mother had written that morning, but she reigned in her curiosity and went out into the hallway. She took the elevator down to the lobby and walked outside.<br />
<br />
Roben was hit by a wave of hot and humid air. Every year that passed set a new record for global temperature. Even here on the coast, at the sprawling Atlantis Water Resort, September was too hot, but mercifully cooler than the summer had been in Ithaca. With long strides, Roben quickly went down the slope from the hotel towards the water park, sparing only one brief glance at the towering water slides before opening the book and resuming her reading.<br />
<br />
While she walked, Roben was vaguely aware of the jiggle of her small breasts and the ticklish glide of her nipples against the synthsilk fabric of her halter top, but she had not grown out of her comfortable little girl's mindset. Roben had no interest in boys, bathing suits, brassieres, birds or bees. The people she passed invariably wore swimsuits and sported stylish sun glasses. Most of the women were topless, as was typical at any vacation resort of the Ekcolir Reality. Several of the park guests who passed Roben were completely naked. The official rules for Paumanok Park stated that full nudity was restricted to designated parts of the park, but the rule was seldom enforced and few guests noticed or cared about nudity.<br />
<br />
Ignoring her surroundings and the beads of sweat forming on her skin, Roben fixed her attention on the book's print and she soon re-immersed herself in the flow of Cecilie's world: a distant planet that had been imagined by John Vance. Cecilie's world was a wild planet with no cities, no highways and no pollution; a great fantasy world for a girl, or woman, like Roben to escape into. As the youngest of four daughters, Roben particularly enjoyed imagining herself as a member of Cecilie's small family and positioned by birth as the oldest of two daughters. In this case, two siblings who Vance depicted as getting along well and never squabbling.<br />
<br />
Roben had for several years been a fan of the novels of Jack Vance. <i>Araminta Station</i> was her first journey into a John Vance novel, although she had previously read some of his short stories. Conventional wisdom held that Jack's novels were superior to John's long fiction, but John was renowned as a master of the short story.<br />
<br />
Roben soon reached the gated entrance to the water park and kept reading while the line of waiting customers inched slowly forward towards the array of ticket booths. Finally reaching the front of the line, Roben soon discovered that she was supposed to have brought one of the guest passes down from her family's hotel suite. <br />
<br />
The attendant, no more than five years old than Roben, had to wait about ten seconds for Roben to notice that he was waiting for her to approach the ticket booth and buy an entry pass for the park. He was surprised to see a guest who was not wearing a swimsuit and who was carrying a book. He wondered: <i>Does this kid know where she's going? </i>He spoke rather tersely, "Can I help you?"<br />
<br />
"I'm trying to find my parents. They're already in the park."<br />
<br />
He asked, "You're family is staying at the hotel?" Not waiting for her reply, he held out his microphone though the little window, extending his hand from inside his air-conditioned booth and asked, "What's your name?" <i></i><br />
<br />
Suspecting that the voice recognition system would likely fail, she replied, "Roben Skapp. With a 'k' and two 'p's."<br />
<br />
After a few impatient seconds of waiting, the attendant muttered, "You're not coming..." Quickly abandoning the voice recognition system, he typed her name in on a keyboard.<br />
<br />
Roben watched the attendant as he tried to find her in the hotel's guest data base. Her eyes adjusting to the dim interior of the booth, Roben could see that his employee badge said, "Myk Yellen". Myk, his attention focused on his computer display, watched as the software system achieved a facial pattern recognition match and he finally said, "There you are. Registered guest." He waved her past, "Go on in." He pushed the over-ride button to release the turn style and watched her walk off into the park until she was lost from sight before turning his attention to the next customer waiting in line.<br />
<br />
Upon entering the grounds of the water park, Roben turned left and entered the half of the park that was for children. She turned one glance over her shoulder and into the part of the park that was designated for full nudity then she began scanning the crowd, looking for her family.<br />
<br />
Beside the first pool that she came to was a bar where she could eat "breakfast". She sat down on a stool with her feet in the water and ate while she finished reading the novel. Upon closing the book, she emerged from Cecilie's world and only then realized how much she had just eaten. Slightly disgusted with herself, she shrugged. She'd been incredibly hungry of late, but had not really noticed the growth spurt she was going through. For a moment she reflected on the surprise ending of the novel. <i>Well, really, how much of a surprise could it be? It's called the Cecilie Trilogy, after all. Of course Cecilie had to have survived, somehow</i>.<br />
<br />
Slightly irked by the ending of the book and knowing that she would have to wait at least a year before book two in the Trilogy would be published, she watched people playing in the pool and tried to imagine how Vance might explain Cecilie's apparent return from the dead. Noticing that she had finished her book, the attendant at the bar started trying to engage Roben in conversation, but she could tell that he knew nothing about Vance in particular or science fiction in general. She excused herself and slid off the stool and climbed the short set of steps that led up and out of the pool.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>2. Henry</b></span><br />
<br />
Resuming the search for her family, Roben walked away from the lunch counter and pushed the paperback novel into her back pocket, but it was a very tight fit. She didn't notice that the button of her shorts had popped open and now only the zipper was precariously holding things together. When she went up a short flight of steps to the next pool area, the book popped out of her pocket and fell to the the ground. She turned just as a boy picked up the book and, after briefly scanning the title, held it out to her, "You dropped your book."<br />
<br />
She waited at the top of the step and just gazed at him. He looked like one of the water park "rats", one of the many deeply-tanned kids with sun-bleached hair that hung out all summer at the park. He was wet, either from sweat or swimming and had a scraggly growth of facial hair by which Roben estimated that he might be a few years older than she was. He came up the steps and now she could tell that he was broad and stocky, his eyes just about level with her own. Still she did not reach for the book, but said, "Thank you."<br />
<br />
The boy was puzzled to see a girl in the park who was not wearing a swimsuit. Again he glanced at the cover of the book and said, "This isn't a safe place for a book. Everything is wet." Mischievously he shook his head as sprayed her with a few drops of water that shot off of his hair. He laughed. "There, now you're wet too." He held out the book towards Roben.<br />
<br />
With three older sisters-worth of training behind her, Roben said, "I suspect you're an expert at getting the girls wet."<br />
<br />
Not really understanding her joke, he immediately apologized, "Sorry I splashed you. Well, not <i>really</i> sorry." He smiled engagingly, showing off dazzling white teeth.<br />
<br />
Roben started to grab her book, but her hand would not move. The boy slowly lowered his arm and her eyes drifted first towards his swim trunks then back up to his face. Suddenly she forgot about the book and a voice seemed to reverberate in her mind: <i>He's cute</i>. Roben absently muttered, "No need to apologize." <br />
<br />
"Come on; I'm going back up Big Red." He gestured towards the tallest water slide.<br />
<br />
Roben glanced dubiously towards the towering water slide. "Thank you for the invitation" She was afraid of heights, but her inner voice said, <i>Don't be such a coward</i>! "I'll go with you. First I want to leave the book with my mother. My name is Roben."<br />
<br />
"I'm Henry."<br />
<br />
Roben turned and continued searching for her parents. Henry followed along, still carrying her book and catching peaks at her bottom where it almost hid from view in her skin-tight shorts. While they walked, he chatted about the features of the various water slides, stating his expert opinions on the caliber of thrills that were generated by the dips and twisting shapes of each. Finally Roben found her parents, sitting at a table under a sun shade and playing chess.<br />
<br />
Roben's mother, Mary, saw her approaching and said, "Roben finally got up."<br />
<br />
Roben's father looked up from the chess board and glanced at his daughter as she approached the table. He noticed instantly that she was not wearing the bra that Mary had bought for Roben and he saw that the button of her shorts was undone. <br />
<br />
Mary spoke to her daughter, "Good afternoon." With a glance at Henry she asked, "And who is this?"<br />
<br />
Roben explained, "Henry is going to show me the slide." She jerked her thumb in the direction of Big Red. "Will you hold on to my book?"<br />
<br />
Henry handed over the book and casually introduced himself, "Henry Korensky. Nice to meet you."<br />
<br />
"I'm Mary. And this is Roben's father, Brian."<br />
<br />
Roben's father asked from across the chess board, "Korensky? Is you mother Evie Korensky?"<br />
<br />
Henry replied, "She's my grandmother."<br />
<br />
"Ug! I'm getting old. I worked with your grandmother back when she was in charge of heat shield development for NASA."<br />
<br />
Mary chuckled and said, "You had better run, Henry. He'll start talking spacecraft and you'll never get back in the water."<br />
<br />
Roben suggested, "Just invite Henry to have dinner with us, then dad will have a captive audience."<br />
<br />
Henry said to Roben, "I'd love to have dinner with you."<br />
<br />
Mary formalized the dinner invitation. "Good! We'll expect you to eat with us this evening. Now go have fun." Mary waved Henry towards the slide, but added, "Just let me have a quick word with my daughter."<br />
<br />
Brian quickly got to his feet. He placed a hand on Henry's shoulder and slowly guided him a half dozen paces away from the table while asking casually, "Did you ever get to meet your grandmother? She died at a tragically young age..."<br />
<br />
While Brian distracted Henry, Mary quickly extracted a safety pin from her purse and used it to secure her daughter's shorts in a fully zipped and buttoned configuration. "You really should let me buy you a swim suit. These shorts no longer fit you."<br />
<br />
Roben, her eyes fixed on Henry, fidgeted impatiently and muttered, "I just ate too much lunch."<br />
<br />
Mary shook her head in dismay at her daughter's lack of self-awareness and kissed Roben's forehead. "Go have fun."<br />
<br />
Roben went to where Henry and Brian stood talking about Henry's grandmother. Brian said, "I'll tell you some old NASA war stories over dinner."<br />
<br />
Henry took hold of Roben's hand and led the way towards Big Red. "Wow, your dad works for NASA. That's really cool."<br />
<br />
Roben corrected him, "Used to work for NASA. Now he runs his own composites research lab at Cornell."<br />
<br />
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Henry chuckled, "Oh! You're a nerd, too. My mom is a professor at NYU."<br />
<br />
Roben suggested, "She should join my parents for dinner, too."<br />
<br />
"She's at work in the city. I take the train out here just about every day. I've got a season pass."<br />
<br />
They had reached the stairs that led up to the top of the giant water slide. Now that they were off of the shaded paths of the park and fully exposed to the hazy sunlight, Roben began to seriously sweat as they climbed.<br />
<br />
On the platform at the top there was mercifully a slight breeze. Roben looked uneasily down the length of the slide. Henry said, "Your a virgin, eh? Never done this before."<br />
<br />
Roben replied, "You're right. I'm more than a little nervous. You go on down. I'm going to gather my courage."<br />
<br />
"No hurry. Just remember, it will be fun!" He turned and ignoring the attendant and the posted requirement of going down the slide feet-first: he dove head-first down the slide. Henry let out a wild scream of joy.<br />
<br />
Roben heard a quiet voice above the murmur of the wind. "Join me over here in the shade while you prepare yourself." Roben turned and took notice of a woman who stood in a shaded alcove at the far end of the platform. She walked over allowed her eyes to adjust to the shade. The woman appeared to be about 18 years old and was dressed in a park attendant's uniform. "Hi, I'm Romie."<br />
<br />
There was something odd about the woman, a hint of predatory attentiveness in her eyes that sent a chill up Roben's back even though she was seriously sweating under her long black hair. Slowly crossing the platform, Roben had to dance around a group of five noisy children who just then came up the stairs, ran across the platform and went down the slide after receiving a gentle reprimand from the male attendant who guarded the top of the slide: "No running!"<br />
<br />
As the screams of the children faded away, Romie took one last look down the stairway and then pulled Roben into the shade, causing her to pass through an invisible portal and into the <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#HD" target="_blank">Hierion Domain</a>. The Roben who arrived in the Hierion Domain was actually a copy of the biological Roben who remained with Romie in the tiny attendant's break room on top of Big Red.<br />
<br />
The biological Roben stayed just a minute with Romie, enjoying the cool air of the tiny air-conditioned break alcove. Romie prattled ingeniously about the fact that nobody had ever died going down Big Red. Roben felt foolish for being afraid of the slide when even little kids who barely met the height requirement for the slide were obviously having great fun going down it. She took a deep breath, thanked Romie for her words of encouragement, walked across the platform and finally went down the slide.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>3. In the Hierion Domain</b></span><br />
<br />
The copy of Roben first noticed the sounds of the park fading away, then felt a dramatic cooling of the air. Returning her gaze to "Romie", suddenly the woman seemed much taller, about six feet tall. A moment before, Romie had been in a two piece swim suit, blue top and green bottom, in the colors of park, but now <i>this</i> woman wore a silver shimmering jumpsuit.<br />
<br />
Roben's whole visual field shifted and the water park faded away. Now she was alone in a chamber with the woman, or, rather, <i>a woman</i>, but even her facial features were now shifting and morphing. Roben watched with fascination as the woman acquired long pointy ears and strangely large eyes with a metalic glint.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#Gohrlay" target="_blank">Gohrlay</a> said, "Welcome to my workshop."<br />
<br />
Roben tried to speak but she only got out a broken, "Wha-". Even as she tried to speak and make sense of what was happening, her pattern of thought shifted and she began to remember the memories of her <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#replicoid" target="_blank">replicoid</a>. Now she knew that this was no woman: this was a creature known as Gohrlay, an artificial life form that could take any physical form and who could move freely between the world of humans and the Hierion Domain, an alternate universe.<br />
<br />
Roben felt her own identity shifting as she accommodated herself to the vast memory stores of her replicoid. Recollection flooded her consciousness and she knew: <i>I am Gohrlay</i>. Or, more precisely, Roben was the analogue of Gohrlay in the Ekcolir Reality.<br />
<br />
There was one thing that this newly created copy of Roben wanted to know, right away. She asked, "Is the war over?"<br />
<br />
Gohrlay laughed, "Sorry, but not yet. However, do not fear...we are getting close to the end. Trysta and Grean are mapping out the Final Reality."<br />
<br />
The copy of Roben quickly compared her brief life as a child in the Ekcolir Reality to her previous lives and felt a crushing disappointment. <i>I've done nothing in this life!</i><br />
<br />
Gohrlay, reading Roben's thoughts, said, "Don't fret. Things are going to get more interesting for Roben."<br />
<br />
For a moment it was strange to hear Roben discussed as a third person, but then the copy of Roben crossed the cognitive divide and managed to think of herself as her former self: the replicoid of her analogue from the previous Reality.<br />
<br />
Now remembering herself as a replicoid of Gohrlay from the Asimov Reality, the "copy of Roben" suddenly felt comfortable thinking of herself as "Isabel": the name she had used as an Interventionist agent on Earth in the previous Reality. <i>I'm almost Isabel; Isabel with a layer of Roben on top</i>.<br />
<br />
Gohrlay also preferred to think of this new mixed Isabel/Roben construct as Isabel. She said, "Welcome back, Isabel."<br />
<br />
Isabel turned and walked across the workshop to the Viewing Chamber. "Show me Roben's future."<br />
<br />
Gohrlay had quietly followed along behind the replicoid and could sense that Isabel's thoughts were still being dominated and guided by the memories of Roben and it was that echo of Roben who so desperately wanted to be shown a glimpse of her future children. Gohrlay made no move towards the Viewer's controls and complained, "I'd rather not."<br />
<br />
"How many children will Roben have in this Reality?"<br />
<br />
Gohrlay hesitated then decided there could be no harm in answering some questions. "If you must know: three."<br />
<br />
"Sexes?"<br />
<br />
Gohrlay laughed rather harshly. "You're getting way ahead of yourself! Don't you even care about the identity of your husband?"<br />
<br />
Isabel powered on the Viewer then looked carefully at Gohrlay. Struck by a disturbing thought, she asked, "Don't tell me...surely not that kid? Henry?"<br />
<br />
Gohrlay shook her head. "No, it will be another six years before Roben meets her husband. He had to be imported from the Galactic Core."<br />
<br />
Isabel was surprised. She asked incredulously, "He's not human?"<br />
<br />
Gohrlay laughed, "Don't jump to conclusions. He's perfectly human, in a way."<br />
<br />
"What the hell does that mean?"<br />
<br />
"You'll find out, eventually. Now stop asking so many questions. I had to assemble you here today so that I can show you just one small part of Roben's future: a mistake. There's a little detail of her life that must be corrected." Gohrlay adjusted the focus of the Viewer so that it gave Isabel a view of a specific moment in Roben's future.<br />
<br />
Isabel allowed the Viewer to take control of her visual cortex. She "saw" Roben twenty years in the future: frail, sickly, dying. Gohrlay explained, "In the current Reality, you are infected by a virus. Even worse, you pass it on to your husband and your first child before the infection is even recognized." Gohrlay snapped off the Viewer. "You must prevent that future."<br />
<br />
Isabel wondered out loud, "Henry? It must be Henry. He's the source of the infection?"<br />
<br />
Gohrlay nodded. "Now, we'll hook you up to Roben using the Interface. You have to prevent her from having sex with Henry."<br />
<br />
"This virus is sexually transmitted?"<br />
<br />
"Yes."<br />
<br />
Isabel said, "I've never heard of such a thing."<br />
<br />
Gohrlay explained, "It's a new human disease, arising in this Reality. The result of a freakish genetic mutation. That's why we did not anticipate it when we brought this Reality into existence."<br />
<br />
Isabel nodded, "I see...a chance genetic event. There's no way to avoid them all, not in a germ factory like Earth."<br />
<br />
"Exactly. So, now, are you ready to link back into Roben?"<br />
<br />
Rather appalled that Roben would lose her virginity to a water park rat, Isabel asked, "When does it happen? The sex?"<br />
<br />
"Does it matter? It's best if I not say. Just break things of with Henry as soon as possible, today."<br />
<br />
"How should I do that?"<br />
<br />
"Tell him you have a headache."<br />
<br />
"Is that a joke?"<br />
<br />
"No. By the time Roben's family assembles for dinner, she'll be sunburned. Just before the last ride down the slide, my agent, Romtha can provide her with an emetic. She already dosed her with an inhibitor of gastric emptying. Roben should tell Henry that she is not feeling well and then vomit her lunch on his feet. That should put an end to it."<br />
<br />
"Romtha?"<br />
<br />
"My agent is the woman working on top of the water slide. Romie." <br />
<br />
"Oh." Isabel nodded slowly and glanced at the Viewer. She knew that Gohrlay must have a reason for not allowing her to see more deeply into the new future. Obviously, Gohrlay had carefully examined the new Reality that a vomiting Roben would cause to come into existence. The part of Isabel that was the collected memories of Roben wanted to see "her" future, but Isabel knew better than to ask Gohrlay to allow such a peak into the future.<br />
<br />
Gohrlay asked, "Are you ready to connect?"<br />
<br />
Isabel replied, "Yes. I'll do it in my chambers." She turned and immediately returned to the nearby rooms that were her home and office. She connected into the Bimanoid Interface and established a stable connection the the zeptite endosymbiont that resided inside Roben.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>4. Courtous Interuptus</b></span><br />
<br />
It was time for dinner, but Roben and Henry were taking one last run down Big Red. They'd raced up the stairs and Roben paused to catch her breath. He put his arms around her and said, "Let's go down together."<br />
<br />
"Ow!" Roben pulled down a sleeve and looked at her shoulder and saw how red it had become. The thin fabric of her halter top had not protected her from sunburn. She was vaguely annoyed with herself for not having applied any sunscreen. She shook her head and said to Henry, "That's against the rules. Just go. Quick now. It's time to join my family for dinner, they'll be waiting for us at the restaurant." She pushed him towards the slide. He got a running start and once again he went down head-first.<br />
<br />
Roben looked at the safety attendant and noticed that now it was the woman she had spoken to earlier in the afternoon who was on duty guarding the entrance to the slide. Roben asked, "Don't you enforce the rule about no head-first sliding?"<br />
<br />
Romie shrugged, "He's here all the time. He knows what he's doing." She casually grabbed Roben's arm and guided her into sitting position in the little water-filled depression at the top of the slide.<br />
<br />
At the bottom of the slide, Henry splashed into the pool and moved out of the landing zone. The signal light showed green and Roben pushed off and went down the slide, now carrying a special packet of nanites that had just been inserted into her body by Romie.<br />
<br />
At the bottom of the slide, Roben plunged into the pool and then came up gasping for air. Suddenly she felt dizzy. She made her way to the edge of the pool and didn't have the strength to climb out. "Henry, I don't feel good. Help me out." He grabbed her hips and lifted her out of the water. She sat on the edge of the pool, her head spinning.<br />
<br />
He asked, "Did you injure yourself on that last run?"<br />
<br />
She started to reply then vomited on him. Somehow most of her lunch had remained in her stomach for hours and now it came out in a sticky acidic gush.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>5. In the Grean Area</b></span><br />
<br />
Back in the Hierion Domain, Isabel stayed connected to Roben until she had been taken back to her hotel room and put into bed by Mary. When Roben drifted into sleep, Isabel disconnected from the Interface.<br />
<br />
Returning her attention to the Hierion Domain, Isabel discovered that she was being watched by Grean. Isabel had never entirely grown comfortable being near Grean. Under the terms of the <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#TGP" target="_blank">Trysta-Grean Pact</a>, Grean and Gohrlay were supposedly allies, but Grean was an alien, a Kac'hin. Not only a Kac'hin, but the Kac'hin who has been the main foot soldier of the Huaoshy during the Time Travel War.<br />
<br />
Now Grean appeared in disguise before Isabel, having adopted the physical form of a human female. Isabel was not fooled by the cute and demure posturing that Grean used in an effort to put Isabel at ease. For the benefit of the Roben mind assemblage that now resided withing Isabel, Grean said, "Hello, Roben."<br />
<br />
Having just ruthlessly intervened to interrupt the first romantic stirrings ever experienced by Roben, Isabel was in no mood to play Grean's game. She asked bluntly, "What do you want, Grean?"<br />
<br />
"I only want to congratulate you on correcting Roben's life."<br />
<br />
Isabel asked, "Are congratulations appropriate?" She stood up and walked away from the equipment that she used while accessing the Bimanoid Interface. "How do I know that Henry does not persist in his pursuit of Roben and still infect her with the disease virus that he carries?"<br />
<br />
Grean explained, "No, I've seen into the new Reality that you just created. There were nanites from Romtha that migrated into Henry by way of Roben's vomit. Because of the combined effect of the vomit and the nanites, he has completely lost interest in the idea of adding Roben to his growing list of sexual conquests."<br />
<br />
Isabel allowed a thought from the Roben memory assembly to emerge: "Might it not have been simpler to just cure the poor boy of the infection?"<br />
<br />
Grean shrugged, "Well, we could have taken the time to prevent the entire AIDS epidemic, but doing so would not have been simple. And besides, we are quite happy with Roben's life and this entire Reality as it has developed, so I would not want to risk any unexpected alterations that might arise from hunting down the origin of the HIV virus. No, just scaring off Henry was simpler."<br />
<br />
Isabel commented, "You know, Roben quite enjoyed Henry's attention. Now she's upset by having vomited on him and by the prospect of having scared him off."<br />
<br />
Grean nodded, "Yes, her sexual frustration was anticipated. That's why I introduced her to the Cecilie Trilogy just before her encounter with Henry."<br />
<br />
Isabel did not follow Grean's reasoning. "Eh? What does Roben's addiction to science fiction have to do with it?"<br />
<br />
Grean explained, "Hm, I see that you have not had time to fully explore Roben's memory assemblage. I've been carefully fostering Roben's interest in science fiction. In the Asimov Reality, you had an awareness of science fiction as a literary genre, but for Roben, science fiction is a major part of her life. For several years she has been expressing her sexual fantasies through extrapolations of the lives of female protagonists who appear in the science fiction stories that she reads. Of course, Roben and the rest of the world is unaware that 'Jack Vance' is a pen name for Joan Vance. In fact, most of the major science fiction authors in the Ekcolir Reality are women."<br />
<br />
Isabel complained, "It is rather sickening. At least in the Asimov Reality science fiction was technically oriented, if horribly male-dominated. Here in the Ekcolir Reality, science fiction is really a sub-genre of romance. I'd call it kiddy porn: pornography for young girls."<br />
<br />
Grean laughed, "My, you are harsh in your judgement! What is pornographic about <i>Araminta Station</i>?"<br />
<br />
Isabel replied, "Don't ask me. I have not read the book."<br />
<br />
Grean suggested, "Allow Roben to answer my question."<br />
<br />
Isabel could 'hear' what the Roben memory assemblage wanted to say: <i>It is true. I've fantasized about being Cecilie and allowing a certain young police cadet to make love to me in my backyard rose garden</i>.<br />
<br />
Isabel tried to change the subject. "You've congratulated me. Now won't you leave?"<br />
<br />
Grean suggested, "You really should start paying attention to Roben's fascination with science fiction. It is only through science fiction stories that you humans can be made aware of the secret history of your species."<br />
<br />
Isabel felt justified in her decision to pay little attention to science fiction. "No, Gohrlay has shown me that part of the future...unless....." Isabel was suddenly struck by a possibility. "...did this intervention into the life of Henry Korensky somehow alter that part of the future?"<br />
<br />
Grean replied, "No, in this Reality, science fiction remains as a fringe literary genre. Only a few cranks will ever take seriously the idea that stories written by people like Isaac Asimov and Joan Vance include facts about real alien visitors to Earth. However, we are laying the foundations for the Final Reality. That is where science fiction will have its full impact as a way to skirt the Rules of Intervention."<br />
<br />
"So why should I care about Roben's obsession with science fiction?"<br />
<br />
"Well, the main reason is that her husband will be one of the cranks who actually believes that science fiction stories contain information about past Realities."<br />
<br />
Isabel was startled. "Really?"<br />
<br />
"Of course, the problem comes in finding reliable sources who can funnel information about past Realities to Roben's husband. In this Reality, there is only Thomas who can play that role."<br />
<br />
Isabel asked, "Thomas?"<br />
<br />
"Trysta's son. He is a science fiction writer himself, but his true importance will only be realized in the next Reality."<br />
<br />
Isabel moaned, "I can't believe that Gohrlay is playing along with you on this silly science fiction ploy."<br />
<br />
Grean had been agonizing over the shape of the Final Reality. "If you can devise an alternative means of working Earthlings past the restrictions that are imposed by the Rules of Intervention then please let us know. Until then, we have to run with the idea of using science fiction as our tool."<br />
<br />
One of the close-kept secrets of Gohrlay was the list of exactly who would be privileged to make the transition from the Ekcolir Reality to the Final Reality. Isabel knew that the short list included both Ekcolir and Trysta, but she had previously given no thought to their son. "It is my understanding that Thomas will have an analogue in the Final Reality."<br />
<br />
Grean knew that Gohrlay instinctively kept secrets from her helpers. However, there could be no harm in sharing this particular secret with Isabel. "Of course, but the Thomas from this Reality will be brought across into the Final Reality. We'll need half a dozen channels of information that can be fed into the analogue of Roben's husband in the Final Reality. You'll be another."<br />
<br />
Isabel shook her head. "What a sad fate! I suppose my entire life will have to be told as a science fiction story."<br />
<br />
Grean nodded, "Yes, of course. I've viewed the Final Reality and seen that you will be right there, featured in a chapter of a science fiction novel called <i>Trysta and Ekcolir</i>."<br />
<br />
"Ug. Who on Earth would ever believe the weird events of my life?"<br />
<br />
Grean giggled. "Exactly. That is why the Huaoshy will allow your story to be told: because the people of Earth will view your amazing life, or more accurately, your multiple lives, as fictional."<br />
<br />
"Thomas, me and who else? You implied that there will be other poor souls who facilitate this farcical transmutation of fact into fiction."<br />
<br />
"Well, we're trying to keep this all in the family. The other key sources are all descendants of Trysta. For example, Ivory Fersoni, who will be a granddaughter of the analogue of Thomas in the Final Reality."<br />
<br />
"His granddaughter? Hm...I think you just gave me some interesting information about the timing of the end of the Time War. Are you sure that you are allowed to tell me such things?"<br />
<br />
Grean shrugged, "Such revelations fall into a gray area, but I don't mind telling you how long you will have to wait for First Contact in the next Reality, particularly since the timing is a bit different here in this Reality. In the Final Reality, First Contact will be in the year 2012. Only then will the flood gates open for release of information about the secret history of Humanity and the role of aliens in creating the human species."<br />
<br />
Isabel was alarmed by Grean's use of the word "flood". "Gohrlay has assured me that something will be done about global warming and catastrophic sea level rise in the Final Reality."<br />
<br />
"Gohrlay is a mother hen. She is now overly concerned about global warming. In the Asimov Reality all she did was fret about nuclear war. There are far greater dangers facing the human species." And with that ominous proclamation, Grean winked out and disappeared from Isabel's apartment.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/2014/07/the-alien.html"><b>Next</b></a>.<br />
<a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/table-of-contents.html">Contents</a>.
<br />
_______________________________________________________
<br />
<a href="http://i.creativecommons.org/l/by-nc-sa/3.0/88x31.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://i.creativecommons.org/l/by-nc-sa/3.0/88x31.png" height="31" width="88" /></a><i><b>Trysta and Ekcolir</b></i> is copyright <a href="http://exodemic.blogspot.com/p/john.html">John Schmidt</a>, but the text of the story is licensed for sharing under the<b> <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/" target="_blank">Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike</a> (CC BY-NC-SA) license. </b>John Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12557999612244024954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5227702646415315219.post-86698173062628311142015-08-17T19:59:00.001-07:002016-07-04T11:02:35.446-07:00Dead<i>World Obituary Record</i> - August 18th, 2315<b>*</b><br />
Pevtha Zalthu, known to her fellow researchers as "Pevi", died yesterday at the age of 158 years. Recognized for her role in the discovery last century of the bioremediation process that is now reducing atmospheric carbon dioxide levels, she had enjoyed a peaceful retirement at her beachfront property in Arkansas, not far from Memphis. Until the last five years of her life, Ms. Zalthu taught a course at the University of Tennessee on the engineering of photosynthetic bacteria.<br />
<br />
<b>*</b> [<b>Editorial note</b>: I've translated the year into the calendar of the Final Reality. In the Etruscan calendar of the Ekcolir Reality year 2315 is actually year 2706.] <br />
_____________________________________________________________<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2MAFtp-sWj8/V3qiJSP7Y-I/AAAAAAAAZ10/ODHOGalw3Ew6uupfq_jbMxlHwh_W2jtjwCLcB/s1600/Time%2BTeller%2BFinal.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2MAFtp-sWj8/V3qiJSP7Y-I/AAAAAAAAZ10/ODHOGalw3Ew6uupfq_jbMxlHwh_W2jtjwCLcB/s320/Time%2BTeller%2BFinal.png" width="281" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://wikifiction.blogspot.com/2015/01/dream-within-dream.html" target="_blank">source</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">I</span>rhit, who in the next Reality would become the editor of the Exode Trilogy, died on August 17th in the year 2315 of the Ekcolir Reality. Although quite old, and already having lived two lives (three, if you counted his artificial life in the Hierion Domain), he had struggled to live on, wishing until his last breath that he would be reunited with his long lost love, Gohrlay.<br />
<br />
A medical opinion might have held that Irhit died of old age, but there is also the wider perspective to consider. Earth was in the grip of an ugly little war and objective observers would count Irhit as a casualty in the Time Travel War, although he had only once traveled through time, a little trip into the future that accounted for his death coming more than three centuries after his birth.<br />
<br />
Grean had been timing Irhit's breaths and monitoring the blood oxygen level of the body that was linked to Irhit's replicoid. When that body (which happened to be a female body) began its natural descent into brain death, Grean finally severed the link that forced Irhit's replicoid to maintain its connection to the nanite endosymbiont of the dying body.<br />
<br />
On Earth, the woman's decaying body was found the next day and disposed of. She had led a useful life, having played a key role in discovering the means to use bacteria to suck unwanted carbon from the atmosphere. Her obituary had long before been written and it duly noted her seminal work, but few Earthlings had ever been stirred to celebrate her work or her life. The oceans were still an acidic soup and the people of Earth had long since adapted to the rise in sea level that had accompanied the melting of the Antarctic ice sheet.<br />
<br />
When Irhit found himself back in the Hierion Domain, he was not surprised to have survived Pevi's death. He let his eyes slide from Grean and he looked for Gohrlay. Grean said, "She's not here."<br />
<br />
Irhit tested the look and feel of his replicoid's body and confirmed that he no longer had any link into Pevi's mind. Trying not to show the depth of sadness he felt at not being greeted by Gohrlay upon his arrival in the Hierion Domain, he returned his attention to Grean and asked, "Who are you?"<br />
<br />
Grean smiled and said impishly, "I'm your secret admirer. I've long watched you and I'm taking this opportunity to speak with you."<br />
<br />
Irhit chuckled, "I suppose that means that you don't plan to tell me who you are or what you want from me."<br />
<br />
Grean shrugged. "I don't mind telling you those things, but it will do you no good. Not where you are going."<br />
<br />
Irhi frowned and asked, "Has the plan been altered? Am I not to be sent back into the past?"<br />
<br />
Grean giggled. "Relax, Irhit. Your game of twenty questions is not productive. My name is Grean."<br />
<br />
Irhit had heard rumors about Grean from his Interventionist friends. Now he felt a cold lump deep inside. So, was this the end of his long mission?<br />
<br />
Grean shook her head, "No, I approve of your mission."<br />
<br />
Irhit could feel something massaging his consciousness, a kind of cognitive tickle, that left him with no doubt that Grean was inside his mind. He had to ask, "Telepathy?"<br />
<br />
"Technology-assisted telepathy. I can read your replicoid like a book, I've read its memories through the course of your entire life."<br />
<br />
Irhit looked at her carefully and resisted the impulse to touch Grean's skin. Grean move close to him and said, "You can touch me if you like. I've taken human form in an effort to put you at ease."<br />
<br />
"So, you <i>are</i> an alien."<br />
<br />
"I'm Kac'hin, so yes, technically I'm an alien. However, you tryp'At and we Kac'hin are close cousins, evolutionarily speaking."<br />
<br />
"tryp'At?"<br />
<br />
"That's the human variant, the modified clan of the human species that you are a member of. Both you and I were carefully designed for our missions on Earth."<br />
<br />
"Wait, are you saying that I'm an alien?"<br />
<br />
"Well, that's a matter of opinion. You were conceived on a planet of the Galactic Core, but you were born on Earth. But as a tryp'At you are human, at least as far as the Rules of Intervention are concerned."<br />
<br />
"The Rules of Intervention?"<br />
<br />
"Golly, I don't want to go into that with you, not now. In your next life you can sort all this stuff out. First, I need to get you back to Gohrlay."<br />
<br />
Irhit demanded, "Where is Gohrlay? What have you done with her?"<br />
<br />
"Calm! Calm. She's waiting for you in the next Reality. In fact, this interview is my last task before I terminate the current Reality. You were the last part of this Reality that had to be brought in and shielded from the upcoming Reality Change." At that moment, Grean dissolved the barrier that was keeping Irhit from having access to his memories of the last time that he had spoken to Grean.<br />
<br />
Now regaining access to those memories, Irhit remembered what was meant by a Reality Change: a discontinuous shift in Earth's timeline of events. Before being linked to Pevtha, Irhit had learned from Grean that no matter how long Irhit remained linked to Pevtha, Grean would wait patiently for Pevtha's death. Irhit had insisted on that, hoping that somehow, if given enough time, Gohrlay might find a way to reach him.<br />
<br />
Of course, Grean had told him that he was being silly. Now he knew that Grean had not lied. Silently cursing himself for all the wasted decades he had spent attached to Pevtha, decades after he had completed his mission, Irhit began to sink into a feeling of defeat. Was there no way to resist this devil Kac'hin?<br />
<br />
Grean said, "Don't think of me as an evil force, Irhit. Look, I know you want your girl and you want to save your planet, but don't be so impatient. You'll like the next Reality. All the more so given the hellish time you've been through in your first two lives."<br />
<br />
Unable to control or hide his dislike and distrust for Grean, he snarled, "Then let's get on with it."<br />
<br />
Grean shrugged. "I expected you would be impatient." Grean sent a swarm of infites into Irhit. "Okay, I'm done. When the time is right, you will recall what I wanted to tell you about this Reality, details that even Thomas does not know."<br />
<br />
Irhit experienced a brief image of Thomas in his mind, then that memory path was closed off. Grean explained, "You'll meet Thomas in about 18 years. Try to be patient with him. See you on the other side." And with that, Grean was gone.<br />
<br />
The infites that Irhit had received from Grean continued their program. He did not notice as memories of Grean were once again isolated from his conscious mind. In their place, his thoughts were flooded with awareness of the next phase of his mission. For that, Irhit needed to travel into the past, back to the previous millennium, where he would be born again into his new life.<br />
<br />
[<b>Editorial</b>. I grudgingly acknowledge Irhit, my analogue from the Ekcolir Reality, as one of my collaborators. During the past few years, with the help of Ivory and the "permission" of Irhit, I have had some small success using the Bimanoid Interface. That gave me limited access to some useful sources of information such as Ivory's mother, Marta. This chapter and its brief introduction of Irhit marks the end of Part I of <i>Trysta and Ekcolir</i>. I've introduced you to all of my important collaborators who have helped me learn about events that occurred in the Ekcolir Reality, back before the Final Reality was brought into existence. Now, on to Part II and the story of the time-twisted lovers Trysta and Ekcolir.]<br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/2013/09/training-for-earth.html">Next</a></b>.<br />
<a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/table-of-contents.html"><b>Contents</b></a>.
<br />
_______________________________________________________
<br />
<a href="http://i.creativecommons.org/l/by-nc-sa/3.0/88x31.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://i.creativecommons.org/l/by-nc-sa/3.0/88x31.png" height="31" width="88" /></a><i><b>Trysta and Ekcolir</b></i> is copyright <a href="http://exodemic.blogspot.com/p/john.html">John Schmidt</a>, but the text of the story is licensed for sharing under the<b> <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/" target="_blank">Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike</a> (CC BY-NC-SA) license. </b>John Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12557999612244024954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5227702646415315219.post-7911841225442071192015-04-04T21:20:00.000-07:002016-07-04T10:44:31.568-07:00Trap[<b>Editor's note</b>. Many of my collaborators such as Ivory and Angela we newly formed in the Final Reality and they had no analogues in the previous Reality (what I think of as the Ekcolir Reality). So far, I've only given you a brief glimpse into the Ekcolir Reality, in <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/2015/09/roben.html" target="_blank">the chapter about Roben</a>. Starting here, below, the next dozen or so chapters of <i>Trysta and Ekcolir</i> are all accounts of events in Deep Time. Collaboration with Ivory and Angela and Anney's ability to access information from past Realities was of critical importance in allowing events from the Ekcolir Reality to be told here in the Final Reality. Of course, some of my collaborators originated in Deep Time and when they arrived here in the Final Reality they could provide me with access to their memories of the Ekcolir Reality. In the Ekcolir Reality, the analogue of Jack Vance was born as twins. One of those twins (John) was "extracted" from that Reality and brought over into this Reality where he founded the <a href="http://deadwidowers.blogspot.com/2014/10/the-dead-widowers.html" target="_blank">Dead Widowers Society</a>.]<br />
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John Vance had never met the editor of <i>Future Science</i> magazine. For a dozen years the editor, Dennis McGee, had helped John publish a<br />
large number of stories in the magazine, providing a welcome and steady flow of income.<br />
<br />
Now John and his wife were going to pass through New York City. They were returning from two months in Europe and had arranged to stop over for one night on their way back home in California.<br />
<br />
With his wife settled in to their midtown hotel where she would utilize the spa and beauty salon, John set out to visit the offices of Zane Publishing. Arriving ten minutes early for the appointment, he checked in with McGee's receptionist. She was a middle aged brunette with gray just beginning to shade her dark hair. She beamed at John and said with a slight southern accent, "I'm so pleased to finally meet you, Mr. Vance. I've handled all of your manuscripts over the years."<br />
<br />
He gently shook her hand and read the name plate that rested on the edge of her desk. "Oh! You are Mrs. Edelstein! Thank you for all your help over the years."<br />
<br />
"Not much help. And you can call me Sally. Dennis never makes many changes to <i>your</i> stories."<br />
<br />
"For that I am grateful."<br />
<br />
"Dennis...I really should say Mr. McGee...always praises your writing. Your manuscripts arrive in almost publishable format."<br />
<br />
"You can thank my wife for that. She's a wonderful editor and constant pillar of support."<br />
<br />
"How lucky you are!"<br />
<br />
The door to McGee's office opened and a young man came out, walking quickly. He handed a sheaf of papers to Sally and said, "For the March edition." He glanced at John, nodded politely and quickly strode out of the office.<br />
<br />
Sally looked through the manuscript and shook her head at all the red editorial markup. "This is what I usually have to deal with. I'll have to re-type the entire thing." She pushed a toggle on her phone and said, "Mr. Vance is here already."<br />
<br />
"Perfect. Please let him in."<br />
<br />
"Mr. McGee can see you now." She let John into McGee's office.<br />
<br />
McGee was seated behind his desk. John stepped forward and saw that McGee was sitting in a wheel chair. McGee said, "Polio got me as a boy. But who needs legs as long as you can lift a pen, eh?"<br />
<br />
John leaned across the desk and shook McGee's hand. "Nice to finally meet you Mr. McGee. I'm grateful for my mobility. It does me good to travel the world and discover new ideas for inclusion in my stories."<br />
<br />
"Wonderful! But for me, as an editor, I only need to sit ten or twelve hours a day and read manuscripts. Functioning legs would do me no good.....probably just make for distractions from my work."<br />
<br />
John shrugged, a bit dismayed at the idea of a man trapped in a wheel chair. "I appreciate your quick turnaround and attention to detail. It is always a pleasure publishing in <i>Future Science</i>."<br />
<br />
McGee gestured towards Sally who waited at the door. "Before we settle in and get down to our business, would you like some refreshment? Coffee? Tea? Sally, do you still have some of those doughnuts? Or, perhaps you prefer something more brisk, Mr. Vance?"<br />
<br />
John shook his head, "I'm fine. After our cruise I think both Mrs. Vance and I need to go on diets. And please call me John."<br />
<br />
"I shall, John, as long as you call me Dennis. That's all Sally." She closed the door and McGee picked up a file folder from his desk. Within he found a draft table of contents. "Your story 'Blind Luck' will be in the February edition. Thank you for continuing to submit your stories to <i>Future Science</i>."<br />
<br />
"You pay twice as much as any other magazine. I can't afford not to submit my work to you."<br />
<br />
"Well, it is nice that you think that is true, but I suspect you could make more if you packaged your work as novels."<br />
<br />
"Not every story is novel-length."<br />
<br />
"But more and more writers are bundling together ten or twelve short stories and publishing them as a connected narrative, in book format."<br />
<br />
"That's a practice I despise. No, I'm satisfied to publish my short fiction in magazines and my longer works as novels. I'm not looking for any publishing innovations."<br />
<br />
"Ah, but you are an innovator.....the way you play your own work off against that of your brother."<br />
<br />
"We both like each others writing, so we can't resist reacting to each other."<br />
<br />
"Yes, and your fans love it. I've tried to entice Jack into publishing in <i>Future Science</i>, but I've had no luck."<br />
<br />
"I hope you have not invited me here in order to ask me to talk him into writing short stories."<br />
<br />
"No, I would not ask you to do that. Still, I've long wanted to meet you and get to know you better. Maybe if I understood you then I'd gain some insight into the mysterious life of your brother."<br />
<br />
"He's just a private person who enjoys his isolation from the bustle and scurry of civilization. I don't believe anything will change that."<br />
<br />
"Hmm. But change is part of life."<br />
<br />
John stifled a yawn and took off his suit coat and then leaned back into the comfortable leather chair. "Why did you invite me to visit today?"<br />
<br />
McGee solemnly said, "Today marks a big change in your life. Really, you will now be moving on to your second life."<br />
<br />
At that moment, John was rather alarmed to see a man and woman suddenly appear to the side of the desk. At first John imagined that the man might be his brother, Jack, but he looked like an exact copy of John, right down to the same tie and shoes. The woman who had appeared was a complete stranger to John, yet somehow he felt he should know her. She was eye-catching, with beautiful dark skin and classically beautiful features. <br />
<br />
Strangely, McGee seemed unconcerned by the magical arrival of two people in his office, as if he was expecting them. John tried to speak, but he found that he could not move; he could not consciously control any of his large muscles. With special effort, he could still exert some crude control over his eye muscles.<br />
<br />
McGee gestured towards the duplicate John Vance. "This is your replicoid, the new Mr. Vance. Even your wife won't notice any changes when he takes over your life. Meanwhile, you will be moving on to more important affairs." McGee got up out of his wheel chair and seemed to have no trouble walking. He went to stand beside the duplicate Vance and placed a hand on his shoulder. He asked, "Is everything ready for Mr. Vance within the Hierion Domain?"<br />
<br />
The alternate Vance nodded, "We've been waiting for this day a long time." He looked at the real Vance and said, "I think you will enjoy your new life, Mr. Vance. Prepare yourself for wonderful new experiences."<br />
<br />
Vance was struggling mightily to speak and move, but he was trapped and immobile in the soft chair. <br />
<br />
The mysterious woman and the duplicate Vance pulled the real Vance to his feet. McGee picked up his coat from the chair and placed it over John's shoulders. The woman spoke in a soft voice, "Step back, Maghy".<br />
<br />
McGee returned to his wheel chair and gave a final silent nod of farewell to John. The duplicate Vance released his grip on John, leaving him supported and steadied only by the woman's strong arms. An instant later Vance and the woman disappeared. McGee rolled himself across the room to the door and opened it. He said, "So nice to meet you, John. I'll be waiting anxiously for your next submission to <i>Future Science</i>."<br />
<br />
The duplicate Vance turned and shook McGee's hand. "A pleasure doing business, Dennis." He turned and walked out of the office, whistling a tune. He nodding briefly to Sally and gave her a quick two fingered salute as he passed.<br />
<br />
After "Vance" had departed from the room, Sally said, "Well, he seems pleased. Did you talk him into it?"<br />
<br />
McGee replied, "Actually, I think he was ready for a change. You can move ahead with our plans to repackage Mr. Vance's stories in book format." He picked up a file folder from his lap, opened it and extracted a legal document. He handed her the crisp sheet of paper. "Here's his signed release for the project."<br />
<br />
McGee wheeled himself back into his office.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/2015/08/dead.html"><b>Next</b></a>.<br />
<a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/table-of-contents.html">Contents</a>.
<br />
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<br />
<a href="http://i.creativecommons.org/l/by-nc-sa/3.0/88x31.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://i.creativecommons.org/l/by-nc-sa/3.0/88x31.png" height="31" width="88" /></a><i><b>Trysta and Ekcolir</b></i> is copyright <a href="http://exodemic.blogspot.com/p/john.html">John Schmidt</a>, but the text of the story is licensed for sharing under the<b> <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/" target="_blank">Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike</a> (CC BY-NC-SA) license. </b>John Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12557999612244024954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5227702646415315219.post-36950069478070812312014-07-26T17:41:00.000-07:002015-09-19T14:45:13.636-07:00The Alien<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Editor's note</b>. <i>I believe that travel through time is impossible. Now. I first learned this from two time travelers, Trysta Iwedon and her son Thomas. Independent confirmation of this important fact about the universe came to me from Ivory Fersoni, who has been the conduit for information flow from her clone sisters, information from other Realities that otherwise would not be available to we Earthlings. Ivory manged to live two decades before she began to learn her role in telling this story, the hidden history of Humanity.</i> <i>Ivory was investigating the origins of Humanity long before I, so she should be allowed to tell the story</i> of how she discovered her own alien origins.....<br />
<br />
___________________________________ <br />
<br />
Growing up near the Atlantic coast, I liked nothing more than rising early to go down to the beach where I could explore what the waves had brought on shore during the night. My mother, who I knew as Marta Fersoni, always encouraged me to imagine the hidden world below the waves that was home to the alien-looking creatures from the deep that I often found stranded on the sand.<br />
<br />
Twenty years later, my daily explorations had shifted from that long sandy beach to the long twisty DNA of the human genome. In the genetics research lab that I had joined, we were trying to solve the mystery of how people long ago spread from the human cradle of Africa to South America. That work, tracing the origins of groups that had migrated by land and sea, still continues its conventional course of discovery.<br />
<br />
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My discovery was alien and unconventional, revealing that our human origins are not easily explained. My journey into the domain of alien science began to unfold when I was rushing to complete one day's experiment. I needed a control for comparison with my South American test subjects' genomes, and I casually used my own DNA.<br />
<br />
When my DNA sequence failed to fit into any known human category from Abenaki to Zulu, I quickly decided that I would have to obtain a DNA sample from my mother. In those days I was quite busy with my lab work and for several years I'd felt guilty about how long it had been since I'd gone back for a visit. Now I suddenly had a work-related excuse to go home.<br />
<br />
After booking my fight, I called home, but only got an answering machine. This was in the middle of the 1980s and I was surprised that my mother even had an answering machine. She finally called me back a couple of days later, the evening before my flight. She explained that she was busy with one of her projects and that she would not be meeting me at the airport.<br />
<br />
Believing that I had made an important discovery in the strange pattern of my family's DNA, I was imagining a quick but splashy publication in <i>Nature</i> and and fantasizing about getting out of my postdoctoral apprenticeship and finally moving on to having my own well-funded research lab. I decided to rent a car and drive myself home from the airport. <br />
<br />
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When I pulled up in front of the house where I had grown up, I could sense that something was wrong. All of my mother's belongings were gone, from curtains to carpeting. The front door lock was shiny and new, but my key still opened the door. Wandering through the empty and echoing rooms, all I found was a pair of my running shoes and the answering machine. Why the shoes from among all all my belongings? For what reason had these shoes been left there, alone in the empty house?<br />
<br />
The answering machine was an all-digital device, what I later learned was a military communications computer. It had confusing controls of a design I'd never encountered before, but I eventually got it to play an audio recording and so I was able listen to the last words from my mother.<br />
<br />
Her voice came out of the machine: "Please don't bother searching for me. You must abandon the idea of sequencing my DNA. I suggest that you forget the silly idea of publishing the sequence data for your own DNA. Even if you are willing to have yourself singled out for scientific investigation of your biological nature, think also of the others who, like me, do not want attention brought to their plight as strangers on this world. None of us asked to be here and we are trying to make the best of things. Don't ruin our lives. If you take my advice and drop this dangerous thread of genetic investigation then I will contact you again. Please carefully consider following my advice Ivory...there's no place like home and your misguided desire to examine my DNA has now deprived us of our home."<br />
<br />
I only heard her words once. That digital recording was erased as it played. I could barely believe that those had been my mother's words, so solemn, impersonal and analytical, not at all like the happy and flamboyant woman I knew my mother to be.<br />
<br />
I spent the rest of the day searching around my home town, visiting my mother's friends and anyone who I thought might be able to give me a clue about where she had gone. I spoke to several cleaning crews that had emptied and scrubbed clean the house, one of which had been hired to continue tending the yard on a six month pre-paid contract.<br />
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In the evening I walked to the familiar beach where I had spent my childhood. Under a half moon, I walked, marveling at how much development had occurred along that previously wild shore in the years since I'd gone off to pursue my education. I walked all night and thought about what I knew concerning my family.<br />
<br />
My mother had never wanted to talk about my father, but I had the idea that he was from Portugal and had died when I was two years old. What did Marta mean when she had described herself as a stranger on Earth? Marta's words seemed to constitute proof that she shared my unusual DNA pattern, but what about my father? Was he also one of these "strangers"? Such were the questions I pondered that night while I walked.<br />
<br />
Shortly after sunrise I arrived at the ocean-side resort that was managed by the family of my closest childhood friend, Gabriela. When I found her, she was still helping a final few drunken guests back to their rooms. When she saw me she smiled and waved to me, then after she was finished with her work she came back and complained to me about my not having given her advanced warning of my visit. I tried to excuse myself by explaining that this was to have been a quick business trip.<br />
<br />
We were at a pool-side bar, watching the cleaning staff tidy up after the night of partying. Gabriela reflexively put a drink in front of me. She asked innocently, "Still collecting DNA samples?"<br />
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I gave a terse and evasive reply, which only stimulated her curiosity. I could not think of a good way to tell her about my mother's disappearance, so I was mostly responding to her with monosyllabic replies. She started prattling about our childhood and suddenly I was reminded of watching <i>The Wizard of Oz</i> with my mother.<br />
<br />
Marta was always saying odd things. On one occasion, while we were watching Dorothy click together the Ruby Slippers, she said to me, "If you ever need some magic, try that." Suddenly, while Gabriela reminisced about our school girl days together, I knew why my mother had arranged for my running shoes to remain in our empty house. I rudely cut off Gabriela and asked her to drive me back into town.<br />
<br />
Not wanting Gabriela to see the abandoned house, I pretended that I was staying at a downtown hotel. As soon as Gabriela's car was out of sight I flagged down a taxi and had the driver take me back to Marta's house. Feeling foolish, I put on the red running shoes walked through the empty rooms. Did it matter where I was?<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R-G3khVa_G0/Vf3WtVboiqI/AAAAAAAAUtQ/cINv2VdmPWk/s1600/Entering%2Bthe%2Bcolor%2Breality.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R-G3khVa_G0/Vf3WtVboiqI/AAAAAAAAUtQ/cINv2VdmPWk/s320/Entering%2Bthe%2Bcolor%2Breality.png" width="141" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"<a href="http://budislav.deviantart.com/art/Entering-the-color-reality-180559312" target="_blank">Entering the color reality</a>"<br />
by <a href="http://budislav.deviantart.com/" target="_blank">Budiscau</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Acting on a hunch, I'd gone to stand near our fireplace, close to where Marta and I had sat together while watching Dorothy try to teleport herself back to Kansas. What if this did work? I briefly thought about retrieving a few items from the rental car, but I had no interest in the material things that I had accumulated. Rising on the balls of my feet, I smacked together the heals of my shoes. Of course, nothing happened.<br />
<br />
Why had I been so sure that those shoes were magical? I felt it, deep inside me. Later that day I returned to my lab and continued exploring the mystery of my DNA, struggling to reconcile my desire to publish against my mother's wishes that I not reveal our shared secret to the world.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/2014/03/ivory.html">Next</a>.<br />
<a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/table-of-contents.html" target="_blank">Contents </a>
<br />
_______________________________________________________
<br />
<a href="http://i.creativecommons.org/l/by-nc-sa/3.0/88x31.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://i.creativecommons.org/l/by-nc-sa/3.0/88x31.png" height="31" width="88" /></a><i><b>Trysta and Ekcolir</b></i> is copyright <a href="http://exodemic.blogspot.com/p/john.html">John Schmidt</a>, but the text of the story is licensed for sharing under the<b> <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/" target="_blank">Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike</a> (CC BY-NC-SA) license. </b>John Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12557999612244024954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5227702646415315219.post-61840082384843866142014-06-28T13:03:00.001-07:002016-07-04T10:20:10.746-07:00The Ivory Intersect<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>The Editor's introduction to Ivory</b></span><br />
<br />
I hope that you have enjoyed being introduced to Roben, Gohrlay, Grean, Ivory, Angela and Peter. In strict temporal sequence, Peter was the first of these folks that I met, back when we were in college together. At that time, I knew that Peter was exceptional, and later, when I learned about his alien origins, that new knowledge really did not surprise me. By then, I knew Ivory well and I had grown comfortable with the idea of alien beings secretly visiting Earth. <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-79GvGiQ6w48/V3qYnBP2fJI/AAAAAAAAZ1k/XvCp9S_sNVkRgHIcXen3x3SuD_rn15CrACLcB/s1600/Future%2BScience%2Bbaseball%2B1941.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-79GvGiQ6w48/V3qYnBP2fJI/AAAAAAAAZ1k/XvCp9S_sNVkRgHIcXen3x3SuD_rn15CrACLcB/s320/Future%2BScience%2Bbaseball%2B1941.png" width="235" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">in the Ekcolir Reality</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I first knew of Ivory's existence when I read her "story" called "Thomas and Izhiun" in the February 2012 issue of <i>Future Science</i>. <strike>I suggest that you find a copy of that edition and read her story; you can judge for yourself if "Thomas and Izhiun" is actually a science fiction story</strike>. [<b>Editorial note</b>. When I wrote this chapter back in June 2014, I mistakenly believed that there would be few if any restrictions on published accounts of Deep Time and the hidden history of Earth. Ivory proved that a false assumption. Her published stories won her a ticket off of this dreary planet. Her publications such as "Thomas and Izhiun" were really just a way of attracting my attention and establishing our all-to-short period of collaboration. Don't bother searching for the magazine of <i>Future Science</i>; it has been deleted from this Reality.<br />
<br />
I first met Ivory in 2013. Back then, I selfishly imagined that she and I could have a very long and productive collaboration, but now I realize that she was desperately scheming to find a way to escape from Earth.]<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>1. The Meeting</b></span><br />
<br />
It was mid-April in Boston and I was riding a bus back to my hotel. Many of the passengers on the MBTA bus were discussing the upcoming marathon. I suppose some of them were riding out to the airport to meet runners arriving from across the country. I hardly noticed.<br />
<br />
All my attention was on my motion sickness and sincere hopes that we'd get through the tunnel under the Bay and I could step off the bus before I vomited. I desperately went through every compartment of my backpack, but I knew I did not have a plastic bag with me. I was surprised by how quickly this bout of dizziness and sweating had come upon me. I pulled off my jacket and used it to catch my vomit, thankful that the bus was not very crowded.<br />
<br />
All that came out of me was a vile fluid that had been produced by my stomach. Since I had nothing else in me, I stayed on the bus until I reached my intended stop at the airport terminal. It was evening and only the last few flights of the day were still due to arrive. I walked unsteadily towards my hotel, wishing that my nausea would dissipate.<br />
<br />
After riding up an escalator and turning into the walkway that crossed over the roadway I just arrived on, I paused next to a trash can. I tossed in a wet napkin and briefly closed my eyes, hoping that the world would stop vibrating. My self-directed misery was interrupted when a woman passed by me and something made me pop open my eyes.<br />
<br />
Of course, even if traffic on the roadway below made the walkway vibrate slightly, most of the problem was me. When I opened my eyes she had already stepped onto the moving walkway. She was walking fast, her long legs propelling her quickly across the bridge. I imagined that she might be a marathon runner. She wore a hooded sweatshirt that covered her hair, but there was something odd about her hands.<br />
<br />
She wore gloves that looked like thickly padded bandages, possibly for a burn victim. Then she turned her head back over her shoulder and I could see that she was wearing sun glasses. I thought that was a bit odd since it was night time, but I was concerned with my own problems.<br />
<br />
I slowly started moving and stepped onto the moving walkway, letting it carry me along. At the end of the bridge I pushed the elevator call button and turned around to see which floor the second elevator was on. I saw her again, watching me through glass door that linked to the next bridge that continued on towards the other terminal building. She opened the door and came over and got into the elevator car with me. I asked, "Are you lost?"<br />
<br />
She smiled and nodded her head. I could see a fringe of blonde hair under the hood, framing her face. "I was worried that you might be too dizzy to make it back to your room."<br />
<br />
I guessed that she had been on the bus and seen me vomiting. "I think I'll be fine."<br />
<br />
The elevator door opened and we walked into the bridge that linked over to my hotel. She walked along at my side. She was wearing a pair of old age-faded red running shoes with new white laces. I asked, "Are you in town for the race?"<br />
<br />
All she said in reply was, "No."<br />
<br />
I almost asked what was wrong with her hands, but I was preoccupied with just trying to keep walking in a straight line at the quick pace she was setting. We entered into the hotel and she suggested that we stop in the lobby restaurant if I wanted to try to settle my stomach with some food.<br />
<br />
I had no interest in food. What I was feeling was more than the uncomfortable sensations of fading motion sickness. "No, all I want right now is a shower." I made it into the hotel elevator and slumped against the wall. She had hold of my arm with one gloved hand and she tried to push the button to select a floor with her other hand. She had to pull off the glove so she could get the touch-sensitive button to light up. She'd selected 23 and I said, "Could you hit 12?" I got a look at her hand: she had strange long fingers.<br />
<br />
She pulled the glove back on and said, "I want to explain what's happened to you and I've got something in my room that will help me explain."<br />
<br />
I remember stepping out of the elevator and starting down a long hotel corridor, but my world was shrinking into a tunnel of narrowed vision. I had an arm around her shoulders and she guided me towards her room. <br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>2. Even More Odd</b></span><br />
<br />
Later I regained consciousness and I tried to reassemble the threads of my memory. I could remember slumping to the floor just inside her hotel room door. She picked something up from the desk that looked like a gun and held it to my head. For a few seconds I saw flashing "stars".<br />
<br />
I reached up and felt my head. Then I heard her voice from across the room, "Welcome back."<br />
<br />
I sat up and realized that she had dressed me in a fresh change of clothes and it seemed like I had been bathed. She sat down next to me on the bed and asked, "How do you feel?"<br />
<br />
My nausea was gone, but there was now something new, as if my sensory apparatus had shifted into a new operating mode. It didn't help that she had her gloves off and her long delicate hands and fingers were out in full view.<br />
<br />
This was my first opportunity to get a good look at her face. I realized that I had seen her before, during my poster session at the scientific meeting I was attending in Boston that week. She was just one of hundreds of meeting attendees moving through the rows of posters on the vast floor of the convention center. She'd caught my eye, although I was busy and she only touched the edge of my consciousness. I noticed that she was tall, slim and dressed in a very unconventional suit of what looked like silk or possibly an odd semi-metalic foil that reflected -or projected- mysterious and unknown colors in a patterns that defeated brain's attempts to categorize it. I'd forgotten all about her until she plopped down on the bed next to me.<br />
<br />
During the meeting I'd only gotten a glimpse of part of her face. Even indoors at the poster session she had worn dark glasses. I'd imagined she was a graduate student or maybe a member of the press, there to report on recent scientific advances. She'd turned her body and I was left looking at the golden nimbus of her hair.<br />
<br />
Now what I could see of her hair seemed artificially crafted into a fly-away pattern, but the end of each strand of her fine hair seemed to disappear into a submicroscopic tip - the overall effect was to create a shimmering blur that framed her delicate face like some sort of halo.<br />
<br />
Struggling to stabilize my consciousness, I tried to put what I was experiencing into words, "Everything looks odd."<br />
<br />
She nodded and a mischievous smile twitched onto her lips. "It's going to get even more odd." She Pushed back the hood and pulled off the sun glasses. Now I could see that she had large eyes and irises with a kind of metallic glint rather than a normal color. The pointed tips of her ears could be seen poking through her hair. I reached out and pinched the tip of her left ear. It did not feel like I could pull it off. She giggled, "They're real." <br />
<br />
The feel of her hot little ear seemed to awaken all my senses and I noticed that there was a pizza across the room on the desk. She followed my eyes and asked if I was hungry. I was most urgently thirsty. She went over to the desk and prepared a glass of ice water. I got off the bed and took the glass from her. After I quenched my thirst we sat down and ate.<br />
<br />
I ate, she mostly talked. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Ivory Fersoni." Somehow I was not surprised. It was as if part of me already knew who she was and I did not feel any surprise at her unusual appearance. I'd read descriptions of the Asterothropes and now here before me was someone who had oddly mixed Human-Asterothrope features. She had a strange Caribbean-like accent and somehow I knew that she had spent many years living on an island in the Atlantic and before that in South America.<br />
<br />
Ivory and I had been exchanging communications over the internet for more than a year and she had always refused to discuss the idea that we might meet. I could sense that something had happened to change her mind. She explained, "I was contacted by Thomas."<br />
<br />
We had often discussed Thomas and the fact that I had even met him back when I was in school. Still, I tended to think of Thomas as a theoretical entity. The mere mention of his name seemed to make my mind expand and I had the odd sensation of the discovery of a vast new domain of my memory that was all about Thomas. The world seemed to rock and shift slightly. I set down what remained of the piece of pizza I had been eating. She asked, "Do you feel his memories inside you?"<br />
<br />
I did, but how was such a thing possible? I guessed, wrongly, "Are these my memories of Thomas?"<br />
<br />
She shrugged. "They are now. I apologize for that, but I did not want them. It took some arguing, but Izhiun and Thomas both eventually realized that you are the proper recipient of their infites." Everything she said was clicking into place inside my mind. I even knew that "infite" meant "information nanite". Memories originating from a nanorobotic symbiont that had lived inside Thomas were now available to my brain. And it was a similar situation for Izhiun, even though the origin of those infites was actually his grandfather.<br />
<br />
Ivory continued her account, "Thomas and Izhiun were there on the bus with us. They sent their infites into your brain." In a strange kind of constructed memory I could suddenly remember having seen two men and Ivory sitting at the back of the bus when I got on and took my seat.<br />
<br />
I reviewed the memories from both the Thomas and the Izhiun infites, memories showing how they had intended to leave the infites with Ivory, but she had requested that they take her off of Earth and leave the infites with me. I'd spent a year trying to meet Ivory, and now that we were finally together I knew that she was ready to depart from Earth. I asked, "Both you and Angela?"<br />
<br />
She looked ashamed to be running away from Earth. I knew that she was very much concerned about the future of our planet, but I could now "remember" her telling Thomas and Izhiun that she was eager to escape from Earth. It had been many years since she had decided to grow out her Asterothrope/Kac'hin/Ek'col bodily features, and she had no desire to remain on Earth as a sham human. She politely gave me a minute to rummage through my new memories and find the answer for myself. "I can't speak for Angela, but I've already told you that she fears you humans of Earth. She does not want to be revealed as an invader, as what the xenophobes will view as a freak. I must ask you once more: please don't try to seek out and reveal my sisters."<br />
<br />
"Sisters?" I immediately regretted my question.<br />
<br />
"Did you think there would only be one clone of me? But what does it matter? One or many, you must put us all out of your thoughts. You now have within you what you need to tell the story of Gohrlay and Trysta and Grean...the whole hidden history of Earth. You don't need us anymore."<br />
<br />
I knew that she was right, but I could not suppress all my petty complaints. What good would it do for me to tell this story if it was just my voice alone? And I envied her right to escape from this world, her ability to go out and explore other worlds. She put on the dark glasses and pulled up the hood to cover her ears. "Goodbye." She stood up and walked out of my life as swiftly as she had appeared.<br />
<br />
<b><br /></b>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>3. Back to Reality</b></span><br />
<br />
I sat there for more than an hour, mostly looking through the memories that had been donated to me by Thomas. I quickly confirmed the structure of the strange tales that I had heard from Ivory's clone "sister" Angela, tales that I had never previously been able to independently verify. Perhaps the most shocking thing I learned that day was that neither my brief meeting with Ivory nor, many years earlier, with Thomas, was the first time I'd met an alien. I'd repeatedly meet and interacted with Trysta when I was young. She'd seen into my future and had known the role that I must play in this Reality.<br />
<br />
When the shock of that revelation began to fade, I got up, took one last look around Ivory's hotel room and rode the elevator down to my room. In a few hours I would catch my flight out of Boston. I would that day return home, but I would not be returning to my life as I had known it.<br />
<br />
[<b>Editorial</b>. I miss Ivory, even though I'm glad that she was able to escape from this world. She came to believe that her entire life here on this planet was an ill-conceived and poorly-executed lie. I still don't understand how she was able to "regress" the structure of her fake human body back to the form of the alien-human hybrid that she was. It does not matter. What matters is that she sought me out and shared with me both her alien genetics and access to Angela.]<br />
<br />
<a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/2015/04/trap.html" target="_blank">Next</a>.<br />
<a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/table-of-contents.html" target="_blank">Contents </a>John Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12557999612244024954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5227702646415315219.post-52272765435856368192014-03-09T04:36:00.001-07:002019-07-28T19:58:28.740-07:00Peter<b>Editor's note</b>. <i>I met Pete when we were in college together. He was a master of getting both himself and others into trouble. Only later did I learn about his family relationship with Ivory. At my request, Ivory asked her family members to provide written contributions to the Exode Trilogy. For completeness, I include here what Peter wrote, only slightly edited by me. Peter "provided" several women who gestated some of the Ivory clones.</i><br />
___________________________________<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>1. Mothers of Clones</b></span><br />
<br />
From a very young age I was taught to not speak about my family. Of course, I knew that we were wealthy. I was indoctrinated with stories about kidnappings and other crimes targeting the super rich. <br />
<br />
I never thought of myself as having "a home" until I was in my middle twenties. By then, my parents had "resided" at a dozen locations around the world. I believed that my grandfather had been one of the early electronics engineers for JCN (Transistorized Computing of Japan). My father, as an artist, seemed to always be on the move: two or three times a year going to a new city to put up and display his works at some museum. I did not think about the source of all the money that I spent. I assumed that my grandfather had more than enough wealth to support both my father and myself.<br />
<br />
In my 26th year, my carefree life finally came to an end. At that time I was deeply in love with a young woman who wanted children and a family life. I'll refer to her a Tina. I had good reason to believe that I was infertile. I'd paid a biology researcher to test my sperm and he confirmed that my cells did not interact normally with egg cells.<br />
<br />
Tina refused to even think about adopting children until we had made "serious" effort to produce our own offspring. I had no objection to going through the motions of that "effort", but I made the mistake of contracting with a sperm bank and trying to impregnate Tina with sperm from a third party. When she did become pregnant we were both pleased, until the complications set in.<br />
<br />
We had about one month of joy after realizing that Tina was pregnant and before Tina's health began to decline. Biological warfare had begun between her body and the cells of the embryo growing inside her. At great cost, I hired a research lab to investigate and I was shocked to learn that Tina was carrying my child. The biologists assured me that the embryo was not viable. It was growing more like a tumor than human embryo.<br />
<br />
Fearing that my foolish actions would kill Tina, I went to my father for help. He immediately told me to bring Tina home. The next day Andy met us at the airport in Miami. An hour later we were on a yacht and cruising out into the ocean before I learned what "home" meant to my father.<br />
<br />
With Tina and Lili still up on deck, Andy took me below and explained our destination. "You were six years old, so you don't really remember, but you did grow up at sea."<br />
<br />
I searched back into my earliest memories and could not imagine what he was telling me. My early life was a kind of blur that mixed together in my mind images of many hotels, rented houses and private schools. I asked, "Here? In the Caribbean? Are you trying to tell me that I grew up in Cuba?"<br />
<br />
He laughed. "Cuba? No. When I say 'at sea' I mean on a ship."<br />
<br />
The yacht we were on was comfortable, but I could not imagine it as a home. With me glancing around at the luxuriously appointed interior of the yacht my father had no trouble guessing my thoughts. He went on, "No, not this old tub. Tonight, after dark we will transfer over to <i>Many Sails</i>."<br />
<br />
Of course, I asked if <i>Many Sails</i> was a sail boat. Andy quickly grew tired of my questions, sat me down and explained the strange truth of my childhood. However, I did not really believe what I was told until later. About four the next morning Andy woke me from my sleep and called me out on deck. By then the yacht was inside <i>Many Sails</i> and we walked through a short tunnel that took me from the world of men into into the alien domain of the spaceship. First I was shown Tina, already sedated and in the care of the sentient spaceship that is <i>Many Sails</i>. There was not much for me to see in the medical suite since Tina seemed to be sleeping and all the medical work was being done by submicroscopic devices.<br />
<br />
I then got to renew my acquaintance with <i>Many Sails</i>. I was shown recordings of my early life aboard the spaceship and given to chance to confirm that many of my early memories did indeed originate there.<br />
<br />
A day later I was introduced to Grean. <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/2014/03/ivory.html" target="_blank">Ivory</a> has already introduced you to Grean, so you should be able to imagine my shock and amazement. What was most difficult for me was watching my mother when she allowed her features to morph and reveal that she is a Kac'hin female, complete with pointy ears and over-sized eyes.<br />
<br />
I could almost believe my father when he told me that he would also have had an alien appearance except for the fact that his embryonic development had been carefully altered so as to give him a near normal human appearance. Of course, I mean Earth human. Technically the Kac'hin can be counted as humans, too, almost. The whole complex story became more than I could process when Andy tried to explain that his father was an Ek'col, yet another human variant.<br />
<br />
My attention was on Tina and since no attempt was made to explain to her that we were inside a spaceship, we were happy. <i>Many Sails</i> created the illusion that Tina was in a hospital and within two weeks what had briefly been a difficult pregnancy had been converted into a happy and uneventful time for us to enjoy. We left the "hospital" and "our" child was born five months later at my father's house on East Umbrella Island.<br />
<br />
Those months spent at Umbrella Key were a joyful and peaceful respite after our fears that Tina's pregnancy would end in disaster. Most days we had long walks on the white coral sand beaches and Tina grew to feel very comfortable with Andy and Lili, who would arrive by car from the mainland to spend most of the weekends with us.<br />
<br />
During that time I was struggling to understand who I was, where I had come from and why my parents had kept so much hidden from me. They wanted me to have a "normal" life. However, I was not normal and it did not take me long to ruin my relationship with Tina. I'd been allowed to keep most of my memories from our time aboard <i>Many Sails</i>, but I was unable to discuss my new knowledge with anyone but my parents. Each time I was with Tina I felt like a sneak and a liar.<br />
<br />
I had become intrigued by the idea that it was possible for me to have children of my own. However, to do so would require that I turn over control of my life to Grean and <i>Many Sails</i>. I treasured my freedoms and the carefree years I had spent traveling around the world. I took the middle route, keeping knowledge of my origins secret while retaining my freedom to live among the masses of Humanity.<br />
<br />
In other words, I did not change my ways. The only thing that had changed by the next time I returned to Many Sails was that Anna was waiting for me. Until then I was only vaguely aware of how my sister Marta was living out her life. I did know that she had a daughter and that she had lost her "husband" tragically. Or maybe I should say that she lost her husband "tragically". In any case, Marta was more like a distant cousin to me than a sister.<br />
<br />
A normal person might wonder how I could be stupid enough to find myself in the exact same situation with Charlet as I had been in previously with Tina. All that really matters is that when Charlet and I arrived aboard <i>Many Sails</i> I was determined that the outcome of her pregnancy would be different. It was still early in the pregnancy and Charlet was in perfect health. I had searched long and hard for a woman who was so perfect and I had even found a way to prepare her for what she would face if we tried to have children together. I could not tell her the truth, but I told her that any child of ours would need extensive medical care.<br />
<br />
Charlet was a free spirit and more interested in money than children. Did I buy Charlet so that I could have a child of my own? That is one way of looking at my actions. I prefer to say that we came to an agreement that satisfied us both. Charlet got enough money to keep her comfortable for the rest of her life. I got more than I had bargained for.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>2. Zeptoscale Symbionts</b></span><br />
<br />
In the years after losing Tina<b>*</b>, I finally came to know my mother's secrets. Only much later did I begin to realize how extensively she lied to me about her origins. Lili knew exactly how to entice me with her stories about tiny creatures living inside human bodies. I became fascinated by the idea that Earth could develop a new science of nanoscale robotics.<br />
<br />
I wasted years on the foolish idea that Earthly technology might be able to detect the alien devices that are present inside our bodies. My thinking was limited to the universe of conventional matter. Before the arrival of the Buld spaceship, we Earthlings were not allowed any knowledge of hierions or sedrons. However, I knew just enough to stumble down a path that became useful to Anna.<br />
<br />
Anything I can tell you about Anna is wrong and incomplete. Angela and <i>Many Sails</i> could easily sweep away all of my confusion, but they both know the burning depth of my resentment over how I was deceived. Tina and I were allowed to believe that she gave birth to a normal human. Only much later was I told that Tina was the birth mother of Anna<b>*</b>.<br />
<br />
<b>*</b>[<b>Editor's note</b>. Given Peter's desire to live out among the people of Earth, he was systematically deceived about many things. Further, when he wrote this chapter, he was trying to "go along" with some of those deceptions. In particular, Peter invented the name "Tina" and a false life for her, much in the way he invented a false identity for his grandfather. As shown in <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#TF" target="_blank">Trysta's family tree</a>, the first woman he managed to impregnate was <a href="http://exodemic.blogspot.com/2012/09/hana.html" target="_blank">Hana</a>. Hana gave birth to Hilde. The true story of Anna's birth is an entirely different story that need not concern us here.]<br />
<br />
When I first met Anna I had never known my niece, Ivory. I knew of her existence, but we had never met. I'd never been close to my sister Marta and she had no reason to even send me a photograph of Ivory. In fact, when I brought Charlet to <i>Many Sails</i> I hardly even noticed Anna. I had become comfortable thinking of <i>Many Sails</i> as "Atlantis", what I imagined as the base of operations for Grean. I was not allowed to even speculate about the nature of Grean's mission on Earth, but my mental model of "Atlantis" included the idea that dozens, if not hundreds, of people worked with Grean to support her effort to prepare Earth for the arrival of the Buld. I thought of my own efforts to advance computer and nanotechnology as a small part of how Grean used "her" influence to push ahead Earthly technology. I was comfortable living with that fantasy view of reality and I assumed that Anna was one of Grean's tools.<br />
<br />
Lili knew how wrong I was, but it suited her to allow me to persist in my ignorance. Of course, <i>Many Sails</i> was the "Trojan Horse". With all my jokes about "Atlantis" I never contemplated the fact that <i>Many Sails</i> was ancient and at least as important as Grean. Lili needed a dupe and she used <i>Many Sails</i> to set me up as the target for Grean's wrath. Over the course of years I was led to believe that I had successfully isolated alien nanites from my own body, discovered how to erase their programming and insert my own. I had no idea that I was amusing myself with a game that had been invented by Lili, a game that served only to build up my confidence in the belief that I could use those nanites to guide a child of mine successfully through embryonic development.<br />
<br />
I expected Charlet's pregnancy to be an experiment. I anticipated a difficult pregnancy with constant travails and improvisation in how to use nanites to push our embryo as far as possible towards viability and birth. I did not allow myself to imagine that our first try would be successful.<br />
<br />
Just as with Tina's pregnancy, I did not notice when a clone of Ivory was substituted for the original embryo that Charlet and I had produced. When there were no complications during the pregnancy Lili was fulsome in her praise for the masterful job I had done in programming the nanites. I knew that given my primitive understanding of developmental biology, an uneventful pregnancy was as likely as continually rolling sevens on a pair of dice. My anxiety increased daily until Charlet was safely into the second trimester and Anna finally approached me.<br />
<br />
Many Sails had snuggled up to a tiny tropical island and Lili, Andy, Charlet and I were enjoying a day exploring the reefs. I was never a great swimmer so by the middle of the afternoon I was on the beach trying to figure out how Tina's pregnancy could have gone so wrong while Charlet's was so smooth. Anna appeared and sat down on the hot sand beside me.<br />
<br />
She was sweating and without perceptible modesty she pulled of her clothing. She was young and her perfect body seemed to glow in the sunlight, an image of health an vitality. I'd seen her occasionally aboard Many Sails and I'd assumed that she was present as a medical technician or nurse. I'd never spoke to her more than a few words; casual greetings made in passing.<br />
<br />
She surprised me by disrobing then surprised me again with her words, "Uncle Peter, allow me to introduce myself."<br />
<br />
Caught by surprise, I stammered, "You're my niece?"<br />
<br />
"Well, not precisely, but I don't know how else to describe the situation. You see, I'm a clone of your niece, Ivory."<br />
<br />
I could see hints of my sister Marta in Anna's features, but I was slow to believe what she was telling me. I quickly rattled of a half dozen questions that expressed by doubts, surprise and particularly my anger at the idea of being kept in the dark about such a thing, if indeed it was true.<br />
<br />
That day Anna was on a mission, wanting to win me as her collaborator before Charlet returned to shore from her snorkeling. She ignored most of my questions and pressed on to the heart of what she wanted to tell me, "I know you've been trying to expand your knowledge of biology, but your efforts have been directed towards the wrong time frame."<br />
<br />
I instantly knew that she was correct about me being wrong. I'd spent a decade studying the early critical period of embryonic development when the major organ systems were formed. Then the growing embryo inside Charlet had effortlessly cruised through all of early development and was now into the less eventful period of growth. Anna continued, "Left alone, Charlet's baby will turn out like me, another copy of Ivory, not significantly different in her behavior patterns. I need your help to take Angela to the next level."<br />
<br />
I closed my eyes and rubbed them, wondering if I might soon awake from a dream. When I opened my eyes, Anna was still there, sparkling in the sun. I asked, "Angela?"<br />
<br />
She nodded. "The child growing inside Charlet. I'm in communication with her and I needed to give her a name."<br />
<br />
I objected, "That's crazy."<br />
<br />
"No, the tiny devices in our brains allow us to communicate."<br />
<br />
I knew at once that nanites could provide such a telapathic link, but I was uncomfortable with the idea of communicating with an embryo. "But her brain is just forming itself."<br />
<br />
"You are too concerned with the biological components. The sedronic parts are there, fully formed already. I need your help to trigger the sedronic nervous system to activate its Kac'hin developmental program."<br />
<br />
For a moment I did not know what she was talking about, then all my thinking shifted and I realized that she was absolutely correct. There had to be such a program and if it was dormant inside Angela's brain then it might be an almost trivial matter to switch it on. Anna was still talking, "The zeptoscale symbiont inside Angela is busily giving her a conventional human form. All we need to do is shut off that program and her brain will be free to develop along the Kac'hin developmental pattern."<br />
<br />
I jumped to my feet, "Yes! It is even easier to shut off a program!" And I knew how to do it. I'd already learned how to shut off an existing nanite program. Anna and I hurried back to <i>Many Sails</i>. In my first flash of inspiration I'd imagined that we could almost at once give Angela a Kac'hin mind. I was wrong and it was not as simple a task as I first guessed, but we were successful. Even before Angela was born we knew that we had given her a very special brain. Of course, Anna and I were unaware of Thomas, so we imagined that Angela would be the first such Earthling to have Kac'hin-like cognitive abilities. <br />
<br />
Given the telepathic link between Anna and Angela we also knew our next step. We needed to make another "Ivory clone" that would undergo brain development not just with the help of Anna, but under the guidance that could be provided by Angela. Even before the birth of Angela, Anna had named that next clone Anney.<br />
<br />
And so it came to pass. The only complication was that I needed to find Anney's birth mother. No longer in need of a superb physical specimen, I found Cory<sup><b>✝</b></sup>, a woman who would be a good mother to both Angela and Anney.<br />
<br />
When Grean finally noticed what Anna and I had accomplished it was clear that we had been the tools used by Lili to create Angela and Anney. Anna and I were never subjected to Grean's wrath. In fact, Grean came to realize that Angela has an important role to play in the difficult process of merging we Earthlings into Genesaunt Civilization. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/2014/03/angela.html" target="_blank">Angela's perspective</a> is more of a Kac'hin view than an Earthling's view of where human civilization now stands. Some day this world will have to decide if it is wise to follow Angela into the future.<br />
<br />
<sup><b>✝</b></sup>[<b>Editor's note</b>. In the end, Anna was the birth mother of Anney. When Charlet and Peter went back out into the human world, Cory remained inside <i>Many Sails</i> and she was a very good mother to both Angela and Anney. I owe a special debt to Peter because of the way he linked my life to that of Hana, but that is a story that must be told as part of <a href="http://exodemic.blogspot.com/p/about-exode.html" target="_blank"><i><b>Exode</b></i></a>.]<br />
_____________<br />
<a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/2014/06/the-ivory-intersect.html">Next</a><br />
<a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/table-of-contents.html" target="_blank">Contents</a>John Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12557999612244024954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5227702646415315219.post-80833271164788126902014-03-05T05:29:00.000-08:002019-07-28T19:42:53.655-07:00AngelaI was asked to write about the Interface, but I'd rather be reading minds. Have you ever tried to tap out a message using Morse code? Imagine doing so for someone who is deaf and blind. That's how I feel when I am forced to write. Also, I have very little patience for reading text. The linearity of written communication is a poor match to reality.<br />
<br />
I was spoiled at a young age. The first human mind I explored was simple and pure. The mind of <a href="http://foundationreality.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#MS" target="_blank"><i>Many Sails</i></a> is only pure. I got to watch Anney's embryonic brain come alive. Later I discovered how to enter a mind even if it was not able to invite me in and show me around. I'd rather not enter the minds of most Earthlings. Ew.<br />
<br />
I do enjoy looking into Ivory's mind. She is an explorer. Ivory cannot rest until she understands everything. And it is so hard to know anything without the Interface. I take pity on Ivory. With no access to the Interface, Ivory uses science. She invents guesses and hypotheses. Then she insists that I falsify her theories. That is not very hard to do, usually.<br />
<br />
However, the Interface is not magic. It is hard work for me to search through the vastness of the Sedronic Domain. Example: Ivory has quaint ideas about Grean. Often, when Ivory thinks that she is asking something simple, she invents a question such as, <i>did Grean anticipate the children of Deomede</i>? At such times, she is really asking the wrong question. An Earthling should ask: how did Tar'tron guide the life of Deomede?<br />
<br />
For a 3D being like Ivory, Tar'tron is a dark mysterious hole in space. Grean was the remotely controlled probe sent out from planet Tar'tron to Earth. The Kac'hin of Tar'tron knew everything about Grean, but Grean was forced to work without access to the vast group mind of Tar'tron. Compared to a mind-reading freak like me, Ivory is deaf and blind. Similarly, Grean was always at a disadvantage. While on Earth, Grean worked with her eyes closed and cotton stuffed in her ears.<br />
<br />
Ivory wants to understand everything, but sometimes she is not able to accept the truth. Example: I've learned that Ivory is not really able believe in time travel. Grean knew that in order to end the time travel war with Earth it was not possible for the Kac'hin of Tar'tron to share with Grean all that they had learned by viewing possible Realities. To avoid time travel paradoxes, Grean had to work in the dark. Sometimes for Grean it was kind of like pretending you don't know about a surprise party that has been planned for you. You should "play along" and be a good sport and you should pretend to be surprised (even if you aren't) just so that other people can have the fun of thinking that they were able to surprise you. The fact that Ivory is cognitively closed to time travel is a restriction that was imposed on her, a restriction on her thought processes that made it possible for her to escape from Earth. Without that restriction, she would have become trapped on this dust ball, like some other people I know. [<b>Editor's note</b>. Angela wrote this chapter before Ivory left Earth, but it now seems obvious that Angela had been forewarned of Ivory's impending death. She was resentful of the fact that I would live on after Ivory's departure and take over from Ivory her effort to draw out from Angela secrets from Deep Time.]<br />
<br />
<b>Threedees</b>. Or 3Ds. Earthlings are threedees: beings trapped in the three dimensional universe that constrains the movement of conventional matter. The Interface gives me access to the higher dimensional Sedronic Domain. The Huaoshy are 10Ds: they exist within the Sedronic Domain. The Kac'hin were made as a tool that allowed the Huaoshy to repair the damage that Earthlings did to Genesaunt society. With the recent arrival of the Buld spaceship in the Solar System, Earthlings are now starting to become aware of the Genesaunts, the great swarm of aliens who exist beyond Earth. <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Different Channels</b></span><br />
The vast information content of the Sedronic Domain is not just "out there" waiting for me to glance at it. Imagine that it was your assignment to look into the brain tissue of a whale and find one specific memory from that individual's life. It would not be easy.<br />
<br />
The Huaoshy live forever. Think about it. If you had to live (forever) with your mistakes you would be highly devoted to doing RIGHT. How else could you live with yourself through all eternity? Earthlings long ago subjected the Huaoshy to an ethical crisis. The Huaoshy were forced to change their ethical code, a code that had persisted through hundreds of millions of years. The Huaoshy have guilt and shame that motivates them to hide their errors. They believe deeply that humans must not know some of those shameful things. Yes, I access the Interface, but I am like a young child with a parent who selects which cable TV channels I can watch. The Huaoshy know from their vast experience with other threedees from other planets that Earthlings must be protected from knowing some things.<br />
<br />
Well, you've read <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/2014/03/ivory.html" target="_blank">Ivory</a>'s theory of my origins. Why should I try to correct all the shortcomings and errors in that theory? Maybe some day Earthlings will learn how to move themselves down the kind of path that leads to the Interface, but until then, I'm a freak. Allow me the luxury of basking in my freakishness. <br />
<br />
I'll continue to answer Ivory's questions. Ivory will continue struggling to understand what I tell her. An attempt is being made to share what I know with the blind masses of Earth. I can write no more.<br />
<br />
[<b>Editorial</b>. From my selfish perspective, the Atlantis clones became a very important source of information about Deep Time and the hidden history of Earth. I think that Angela was not very happy on this planet, but in a way, Angela was the perfect Atlantis Clone. She had the ability to act as an intermediary or translator, relaying information from Anney to Ivory who, in turn, provided me with information about part Realities. For a time, I imagined that Angela might be permitted to remain here on Earth, but with each passing year and no further contact with her, I increasingly suspect that she has been removed from this world.] <br />
<br />
<a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/2014/03/peter.html">Next</a>.<br />
<a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/table-of-contents.html" target="_blank">Contents </a>John Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12557999612244024954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5227702646415315219.post-77649000744080895032014-03-02T14:02:00.002-08:002019-07-28T19:27:46.784-07:00Ivory<b>Editor's note</b>. <i>Over the years, Ivory composed several accounts of her life and her discovery that she had an alien in <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#TF" target="_blank">her family tree</a>. Rather than edit the following account, I've left it intact. Given Ivory's recent death, I don't find it possible to edit or truncate what she wrote.</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>1. Marta and the Mystery of My Origins</b></span><br />
<br />
When I was a little girl I never questioned the fact of my mother's interest in the Apollo space exploration program. At an early age I imagined myself living in space, possibly on Mars. My mother certainly did nothing to inhibit me from speaking about my idea of one day moving to Mars.<br />
<br />
When I grew up, I quickly accepted the reality of space travel; that I would <i>not</i> become and astronaut. By then, I'd become particularly interested in biology, although I never neglected the physical sciences and I never lost my enthusiasm for the idea that the people of Earth must some day spread outward from this world and explore the vastness of outer space.<br />
<br />
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Everything changed for me in 1991. At first, I could not accept what I was seeing with my own eyes. I was looking at my latest DNA sequencing gel and trying to imagine what type of contamination might account for my absurd results. I was certain that some kind of non-human DNA had contaminated my sample. However, tree analysis indicated that my odd mitochondrial DNA sequence was human, just not like any previously known type of human mitochondrial DNA.<br />
<br />
I collected a new sample and repeated the experiment, being very careful to avoid any possible contamination. The source of the DNA was myself.<br />
<br />
I had simply wanted to use my own DNA as a control sample for my analysis of DNA patterns among the native peoples of South America. I'd grown up, from the age of nine, in Salinópolis, Brazil, then I'd become a scientist and come to be involved in tracing the genetic origins native Americans.<br />
<br />
Of course, the second sequencing run for my mitochondrial DNA gave exactly the same results as the first. That's when I started thinking. Just who was I? I'd never really known my father well. I do have memories of him and I remember my early life on Annobón, but as a small child my life had revolved around my mother. When my father was home from working at sea, he seemed like a visiting uncle.<br />
<br />
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After I'd seen my strange DNA sequence, I asked my mother about the origins of my father. I could tell that she did not want to discuss the past and all she told me that he was from Portugal, which I already knew. What I really wanted was a sample of her DNA and I told her that I would be returning to Salinópolis so I could obtain some of her cells for study. Over the phone that day I tried to ask about my mother's ancestors, but she claimed ignorance. When pressed, she promised to look into the matter and she told me that she would gather together what documentation might be available by the time I arrived in Salinópolis. I could sense from her voice that she was hiding something from me.<br />
<br />
Growing up, when the weather was fine my mother and I spent long days on the shore. Other days were spent in exploration of my budding scientific interests. Later, when I was allowed to go to school and spend time with normal families I began to realize how unusual it was that I knew nobody in my family except my mother.<br />
<br />
I'd always assumed that my mother was uncomfortable talking about the death of my father and all aspects of her life before we arrived in Salinópolis. How could I have imagined what she was hiding from me?<br />
<br />
When I arrived back in Salinópolis, I found my mother's house deserted. Neighbors told me that they had not seen her since about the day when I had called to say that I was coming home for a visit and for a sample of her DNA. For a week there after, a cleaning crew had come to the house every day, apparently trying to remove from the house every stray cell and strand of DNA from my mother.<br />
<br />
I was mystified by my mother's disappearance from Salinópolis. I had still been able to reach my mother by phone, right up until the previous day when I was flying home. However, when I got home all I found as a remaining link to my mother was a computer and an email address through which I could contact her.<br />
<br />
In our email exchanges, she apologized for running off, but was firm in her insistence that I would never see her again if I persisted in the investigation of my unusual DNA. She refused to explain anything about her early life and my ancestors.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">2. Grean: the</span> </b></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Mary Olwen identity</b></span><br />
<br />
Months later, when I was only a few weeks away from submitting for publication an article about my unusual DNA, I finally began to make some progress towards understanding my mysterious origins. I received an email from my mother telling me to expect a visit from someone named Mary Olwen, but who was actually Grean, a Kac'hin.<br />
<br />
My mother told me that "Mary" could explain my origins and why my DNA was so unusual. When Grean arrived at my home it was late in the evening and she appeared on my door step like a mysterious ghost shrouded in a gray robe. When I swung open the front door, she asked with her strangely metallic voice, "May I come in?"<br />
<br />
When I first saw Grean I thought she might be some sort of genetic freak. She had a hood up over her head and I could only see small flashes of light reflecting from her face. She was skinny and seemed to move oddly, like a patient with a movement disorder. We sat down in my living room and I offered her some tea, which she declined. I suppose my nervousness was obvious and he tried to put me at ease, "You might well need something to steady your nerves, but I'm fine without."<br />
<br />
I asked, "Your name is Mary Olwen? Are we related, somehow?"<br />
<br />
She laughed, making an odd chittery sound like a drunk bird. "Yes, we are, although not closely. 'Mary Olwen' is a fake name, a ruse to get me into your home so we can talk. If you accept my offer then you will learn my real name."<br />
<br />
I felt myself slipping into a vortex of lies and deception. Why couldn't my mother be honest about our past? What horrible secrets were there waiting for me, and why must I hear them from this strange woman? "So, my unusual DNA is from your side of my family?"<br />
<br />
"That's correct, I have mitochondria that are similar to yours. One Kac'hin is much like another...there simply are not that many of us."<br />
<br />
I could not really understand what she had said. Only later did I know she had said "Kac'hin". In my ignorance, I was asking, "Did you say 'cock in'?" while at that very moment she allowed her hands to emerge from the sleeves of her robe, revealing her long inhuman fingers.<br />
<br />
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"We Kac'hin are a human variant." She could tell I was staring at her hands. "I <i>am</i> human. Your grandmother was Kac'hin...the source of your mitochondrial DNA." She reached up an pulled back the hood of her robe, allowing me to see her head. I must have gasped, trying to absorb what I was seeing: strangely shaped ears, pointy and long, reminding me of horse ears and she had large eyes with bright green irises. She explained, "We...evolved on a distant planet. We are human, but different from any branch of the human family that has evolved on this planet."<br />
<br />
I got out of my chair and approached her: I needed to touch her and try to confirm that this was not some trick, not just a person in a costume. She allowed me to touch her and she seemed real enough, but I asked, "Will you allow me to analyze your DNA?"<br />
<br />
She asked, "What good would that do? Do you really think it is wise to tell the world about your...alien origins?"<br />
<br />
Weak kneed, I returned to my chair, only half believing the idea that my grandmother was a visitor from another world. I managed to stammer out, "This is a...the most amazing discover since...ever."<br />
<br />
She did not care about my perspective as a scientist who had stumbled onto genetic proof of alien visitors to Earth. Her voice was now tinged with impatience, "I've come to ask you not to publish your genetic findings. The people of your world are not quite ready for this knowledge."<br />
<br />
By that point, I'd spent months excitedly planning how I would astound the scientific community by publishing my findings. Until Grean's visit, I'd imagined that I was part of some previously unrecognized human lineage that had evolved on Earth. That I could trace my origins to a distant planet was even more astounding. It came as a shock to me that anyone -besides my mother- would ask me to keep my discovery secret. "What if I refuse to take your advice and I go ahead and publish my own DNA sequence?"<br />
<br />
Grean patiently explained the situation to me. "You are free to do so, but I ask you to hear my views on this matter first. In about 20 years a spaceship will reach Earth and then the time will be right for Earthlings to learn the truth, but now is not quite the time. If you reveal your unusual DNA then you will become an object of study and your family will be hunted down and harassed, all in a futile attempt to understand what cannot be understood by Earthlings."<br />
<br />
Somehow, I believed her. I sat there, taking note of the fact that something in her alien features did remind me of my mother. Strangely, I had quickly become more surprised by my own sense of familiarity with the alien Kac'hin form than I was shocked by her alien features. Later I learned that Grean had taken control of my brain so as to artificially calm my fears and allow me to think. Still, I felt the need to press my point. "Why should I trust you? What is this spaceship? Were you left here on Earth, are your people returning to pick you up?"<br />
<br />
Grean sighed. "It is all rather complex. The people who will arrive in 20 years are members of the Buld Clan...they are not Kac'hin. I am not stranded here....this is not some Hollywood movie plot."<br />
<br />
I knew, somehow, that Grean was not a personal danger to me and that the Kac'hin were not a danger to Earth. Even then I knew that Grean was not even a "she", but that was an issue that could wait to be resolved on another day. I asked, "Why <i>are</i> you here?"<br />
<br />
She was too warm in her robe, so she stood up and took it off, draping it over the back of her chair. I could tell that she did move gracefully, just oddly, not like a cripple. "Her" body contours were boyish and from that moment on I could no longer think of her as a woman. There, in my home, was an alien visitor from a distant planet, gently trying to tell me that my life, as I knew it, was over. She moved to a bookcase and spoke with her back turned to me, "I'd rather not go into all that unless you intend to take my advice. If you go ahead and publish your DNA sequence then I'll have to make you forget everything you know about me."<br />
<br />
She'd spoken with simple directness, but I sensed a firmness in her voice, a voice that was not that of the tomboy my eyes told me was standing in my living room, casually glancing over the titles of books on a shelf. I knew I was missing the point of her words, but I was forced to ask, "Is that a threat?"<br />
<br />
She turned around and approached me, then she paused and stood there, gazing calmly down at me, "It is a fact. Think about your poor mother. She planned to live out her life among her friends in Salinópolis. Friends that she had worked so hard to cultivate. Now she has been forced to move and go into hiding. She does not want to become an object of investigation, no matter how well-intentioned you and your fellow scientists might be. Sure, you might be able to engineer yourself into a position of fame and notoriety by revealing your unusual genetics, but do you want to live your life as a prized biological specimen?"<br />
<br />
At that moment I was struggling to imagine a future in which I would abandon my goals and my scientific career. "Do you really just expect me to forget..." Watching her glossy and inhuman eyes, I began to imagined what she might do to me. I interrupted myself and asked, "...do you intend to erase my memories of this discovery?"<br />
<br />
Grean nodded with approval. "Yes, exactly." The weight of her great eyes was upon me and I knew that Grean was a hermaphrodite and that I should think "thon, not "she". Thon continued, "I could do that, but I won't. You <i>are</i> free to publish your discovery. But first, listen to me. There is an alternative...a better future for you. Come away with me right now. Abandon your plan to publish and I will take you to a place where you can learn the truth about yourself, your family...a place where you can participate constructively in the process of preparing this world for contact with the Buld."<br />
<br />
Fine. Enough of that. Grean is not female, but so as not to confuse you, I'll continue to refer to "her" as "she", even though "she" had successfully inserted into my mind the fact that on "her" home planet a different pronoun was used for the hermaphroditic Kac'hin. <br />
<br />
Imagining some kind of alien abduction scenario, I asked, "You intend to take me away from Earth?"<br />
<br />
"No, your place is here, on this world, with your family."<br />
<br />
"Here?"<br />
<br />
"My spaceship is hidden here on Earth. Your family lives aboard my ship."<br />
<br />
"You're holding my mother on your spaceship?"<br />
<br />
"No, she refuses to return to her home. She was born on <i>Many Sails</i>, but she prefers being out among the masses. Your sisters live with <i>Many Sails</i> and they need your help, particularly Anna."<br />
<br />
"I have a sister?"<br />
<br />
Grean seemed to have satisfied herself that I was accepting her alien nature without suffering an anxiety attack. She stopped standing there over me, standing too close for my comfort, and she returned to her chair. "Yes, you have sisters. Actually, they are clones of you. Anna is the oldest...only five years younger than you."<br />
<br />
I was not really surprised. Growing up with my mother I had sometimes been lonely, but I had always imagined that I was not alone. Only later did I learn that my ability to converse with myself, to hold dialogs in my own mind, actually arose from telepathic contact with my "sisters". I could sense the truth of what I had been told by Grean, but the idea of cloning was a shock. "Clones? Reproductive cloning? You have made...copies...of me?"<br />
<br />
"Ivory, don't blame me." Grean jumped to her feet and came back across the room. She sat on the arm of my chair and pushed "her" long thin fingers through my hair. "No, I was not clever enough to recognize the importance of your biological excellence nor imagine the role that you must play. However, it now is my duty to make sure that you understand these mysteries and make it possible for you to play your role in liberating Humanity."<br />
<br />
Her words seemed overly dramatic. I took hold of her hand and traced the spidery delicacy of her fingers with my own. I felt a cold chill up my spine and I had to ask, "Liberation?"<br />
<br />
Grean leaned forward and squeezed my hand between hers, "You Earthlings have been carefully confined to this world...your coffin. Think of all the species that have come into existence, had a time under the Sun, but are now gone...returned to the dust. You, Ivory, can give your people the stars. I offer you the chance to participate in that great adventure...or you can stay where you are, dutifully nailing up the coffin of your life on this dingy little planet."<br />
<br />
By then I had already decided to accept her offer, but I was curious about the details. "Where is your spaceship hidden?"<br />
<br />
Grean pulled me to my feet and we walked slowly across the room. "I will, show you." She led me into my bedroom and went right to where I had put the pair of red running shoes, the one material piece of my past that my mother had left for me. Grean handed the shoes to me and I knew that I should put them on. Sitting on the foot of my bed, I changed shoes. I stood up and Grean took my hand and led the way back to the living room. She explained, "These shoes contain a targeting system for access to the Hierion Domain." A moment later we were aboard <i>Many Sails</i>. Our teleportation was so smoothly instantaneous that one foot fall was in Brazil and the next inside <i>Many Sails</i>. There, leaning over a bench in her lab was my sister, Anna. She turned her head and smiled.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>3. Atlantis </b></span><br />
<br />
Anna exclaimed, "Ivory!" Grean released my hand and I embraced my "sister". Anna was an image of me, the "me" as I was five years before. I marveled at the sensation of holding myself, but something deeper than my sensory system was responding to the feel of her warm body in my arms. Anna took my hand and quickly pulled me from the laboratory into a corridor. "You must meet your family. Can you feel them?"<br />
<br />
Strangely, I could. In particular, Angela was there, in my thoughts and I knew she was running. Then I saw her, a tiny little girl running towards us along that wide corridor inside Many Sails. I picked her up and we hugged. Of course, she knew my name and I could almost hear her saying it. But that was all in my head.<br />
<br />
Anna was speaking, "Angela has not yet begun to speak, but she will. Her older sisters were also delayed for speech, but they are now using their voices."<br />
<br />
I had to say something, so I foolishly said, "Telepathy."<br />
<br />
Anna nodded, "It is technology-assisted telepathy, if you must use that label. The Kac'hin find it convenient to impregnate Earthlings with microscopic devices that allow us to connect our minds."<br />
<br />
I looked around, realizing that Grean was no longer with us. Anna knew that I was looking for Grean. "Grean leaves us to ourselves. Thon simply did thons duty and brought you back to us."<br />
<br />
Standing there and looking around myself, I was suddenly remembering having been inside <i>Many Sails</i> before. Strange childhood memories that had never made sense were there in my mind, meshing with what I was now seeing. Then <i>Many Sails</i> spoke, "Yes, Ivory, you were like Angela, late to speak. Your memories of being here inside me are pre-verbal memories." The spaceship projected an image of another little girl, indistinguishable in any significant way from Angela, running down the corridor. "There you go." And there, in the projected image from decades earlier was my mother, picking me up and holding me just as I was now holding Angela. The image faded away.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Angela, Anney, Cory</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Anna put an arm around me and guided me into a children's room that opened off of the corridor. Everything in the room was suddenly familiar to me. I was introduced to Angela's little sister, Anney, and Cory, the woman who was raising Angela and Anney. Anna said, "Cory, this is Ivory."<br />
<br />
Cory nodded to me, but I was saddened to sense that she and I did not share any of the telepathic connectedness that I felt between myself and my clones.<br />
<br />
Angela wanted to be placed on the bed, and I could "hear" her plea for help in my mind. I set her on the bed and she began to bounce. Soon the room was filled with shrieks of joyful play from Angela and Anney and Cory was hardly any less rambunctious.<br />
<br />
With all my old memories rushing back into my consciousness, I said to Anna, "This was my bedroom."<br />
<br />
She nodded, "And it later became my bedroom after you had left <i>Many Sails</i> to go live among the masses. But I never knew how to find you until I saw you in Angela's mind. Of course, Grean knew exactly how to find you when I finally discussed you with thon."<br />
<br />
I already knew what Anna was telling me, but I was still getting used to knowing things by way of telepathy and the Interface. "Thon? Grean?"<br />
<br />
Anna explained, "The Kac'hin who brought you here is Grean. This is her ship. Grean is a Kac'hin hermaphrodite, although she can morph into any physical form she likes."<br />
<br />
Anna and I sat down at the far end of the room while the kids continued their noisy play with Cory. Anna and I were holding hands and I felt at peace, knowing that Grean had told me the truth...this <i>was</i> where I belonged. However, my mind was racing to assimilate the strange facts that were now all suddenly revealed to me. "Anna, tell me: just where does Grean come from?"<br />
<br />
"She was born on a world of the Galactic Core and soon she'll return to her home. She's not really happy here on Earth, but she had a job to do. Actually, she's been so much happier since I found you and we decided to bring you back here. Grean thinks you are 'the last puzzle piece' and now that you are here there is nothing remaining for her to do on Earth."<br />
<br />
I could sense that I was needed to help with Angela and Anney, but I could not immediately guess exactly what I was expected to contribute to their care and upbringing. Anna spoke quickly and sternly, "I was so afraid that I had done wrong. When it became clear that Angela could not only tap into my mind but also access...other sources of information...we had a crisis. She could not make sense of what was open to her mind. I thought she might become insane. Of course, I need not have worried. Grean knew what Angela was experiencing because I had managed to provide Angela with access to what all the Kac'hin normally experience: the Bimanoid Interface."<br />
<br />
It took years for me to understand the Interface. On that day of my return to <i>Many Sails </i>Anna did her best to explain it to me. I'll provide an "explanation" now, but this is really a topic that Earthlings can only slowly come to comprehend. I'll leave it to the Editor to do the heavy lifting, but here is the short version...<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>4. Interface</b></span><br />
<br />
The Kac'hin were designed to have full access to the universe. Most Earthlings lack the special Kac'hin gene combinations that allow them to use the Interface. One of the great discoveries of 20th century science on Earth was the fact that most of the universe exists beyond the subset of things that are perceptible to human senses. In a way, humans evolved on Earth like blind mice trapped in a deep cavern...with limited senses appropriate for our environment.<br />
<br />
What is there beyond the limited subset of the world that is revealed to us by human senses? Most importantly, there is the Sedronic Domain. Existing in dimensions beyond those we can enter and composed of exotic matter known as sedrons, the Sedronic Domain is the 95% of the universe that normally escapes human attention. However, there <i>is</i> a technological path by which primitive biological creatures can gain access to the Sedronic Domain and the Huaoshy went down that evolutionary path and crossed over into sedronic existence hundreds of millions of years ago.<br />
<br />
The Huaoshy originated in a distant galaxy as biologicals, as life forms not too different from we humans. Existing as advanced artificial life forms within the Sedronic Domain, the Huaoshy gradually lost interest in the mundane affairs of biological life forms. Then, there was a crisis that originated right here on Earth. To deal with that crisis, the Huaoshy needed the Kac'hin as a way to interact with Earthlings. That is why Grean came to Earth.<br />
<br />
Imagine being born blind while all around you is an unseen world of light and color. For you, as an Earthling, that kind of blind existence <i>is</i> your life. Angela was the first Earthling who could see. As Grean admitted, it never entered thons mind to try to give an Earthling the ability to use the Bimanoid Interface. But it was Grean who brought her sister Lili to Earth. Grean was playing the role of sentimental match maker for Andy, my grandfather. That all too human weakness is what made it possible for me to come into existence.<br />
<br />
Lili suffered some embarrassment about her children. Now, here, at this point in the story, this is when I'll start lying to you. I'm not going to use the correct names for the rest of my family members. Anna, Angela and Anney will never interact with you Earthlings so they gave me permission to use their names in the telling of this story. However, other members of our family are out among the people of Earth and they need to be protected.<br />
<br />
Anyhow, the children of Lili, who you will know as Peter and Marta, have tried to construct lives for themselves on Earth among the masses. Peter is an extrovert and gregarious and it is he who "recruited" Cory to Atlantis.<br />
<br />
This is an inside joke, but the "code word" for <i>Many Sails</i> is "Atlantis". Grean arrived on Earth in the 20th century and used her spaceship, <i>Many Sails</i>, as a base of operations. Peter was the one who coined the term "Atlantis" to refer to <i>Many Sails</i>.<br />
<br />
Over the years, Peter has managed to fall in love with several different Earthlings and the general rule is that his relationships have a finite lifetime. Peter is not cruel, but the idea of monogamy is foreign to him. Cory was one of the Earthlings who was impregnated by Peter. Without the assistance of medical nanites, such a pregnancy had little chance of coming to term. Cory went through a difficult pregnancy and so Peter brought Cory to <i>Many Sails</i>. By then it was too late and their child could not be saved. However, Anna stepped in and played a trick on Cory.<br />
<br />
Anna performed an exchange and implanted one of my clones into Cory's womb. Thus, Cory became the surrogate mother of Anney. Similarly, Angela's birth mother (Charlet) was also a "Peter recruit". While Cory was happy to stay inside Many Sails and raise Angela and Anney, Charlet was bored with life at Atlantis and soon went off to be with Peter. Angela knows that Cory is not her biological mother and not her birth mother, but Cory is her spiritual mother, the woman who raised her and has given her a life full of motherly love and devotion.<br />
<br />
In some sense, Angela is the center of a perfect storm. Lili's meddling created the conditions for my birth. My arrival on Earth gave Lili the idea to create Anna, and that started the production of what we jokingly call the "Atlantis Clones". It was Anna who imagined the possibility of access to the bimanoid interface. When Grean realized what Lili had done, how Lili has violated the Rules of Intervention, Lili was abruptly removed from Earth. However, Anna ran with Lili's scheme and brought it to fruition.<br />
<br />
I feel foolish for all this name dropping. None of this will have meaning to awe-struck Earthlings who are finally learning the hidden history of their planet. However, allow me a second chance. The story of my family and my own genetic uniqueness begins with my great grandfather, Deomede.<br />
<br />
From the perspective of Grean, Deomede was an irrelevant example of temporal momentum. Because Ekcolir had been needed in the previous Reality, Deomede would exist in the Final Reality, by default. Grean did not care about such fussy details and gave the existence of Deomede no thought.<br />
<br />
Oh, my! Now I've mentioned the matter of time travel. Ignore that! Accept the fact that Deomede was trained for a mission to Earth. Deomede was told nothing about time travel or Asterothropes and could easily have lived out his life with no awareness of the fact that genetically he was an Ek'col. However, Trysta could not leave it at that. Trysta was lonely and bored and correctly guessed than an analog of Ekcolir would exist within the Reality that she found herself in. Trysta hunted down Deomede, teased out the facts of his existence and seduced him.<br />
<br />
Most importantly, Deomede made the natural assumption that there was no woman on Earth who could be a mother to his children. But Trysta did bear his children. He had no training in how to guide the cognitive development of Gwyned and Andy, so they grew up like both Trysta and Deomede had: shaped to the physical form that is typical of Earthlings, but without any special awareness of the Interface. Gwyned got herself in trouble and had to be removed from Earth, but Andy remained on this world and became an object of pity for Grean.<br />
<br />
Of course, pity would naturally turn Grean's thoughts to Lili. Lili: the heterosexual freak of Tar'tron. Andy and Lili...it was a match made in the Sedronic Domain...or as Earthlings might say, a match made in Heaven. Of course, Lili despised the years of her imprisonment on Tar'tron and she could not accept the idea that her own children would live as prisoners on <i>Many Sails</i>. With guidance from Lili, both Peter and Marta took naturally to life outside Atlantis. With Peter and Marta living out among the masses, each year that passed was a victory for Lili.<br />
<br />
Of course, Lili knew about the Interface! However, she also knew that Grean was watching Peter and Marta. If they were to freely mingle with the masses of Earth then there must be nothing to make them stand out, nothing to draw attention to Atlantis. Grean would make certain of that. But Lili made certain that her cubs were not sent out unprotected into the jungles of Earth. I lived with my mother for many years and I've seen Peter in action: they were well equipped for survival on Earth. Beyond the perfection of their bodies and intellects, they did have a rudimentary capacity to unconsciously tap into the Interface. If you've ever met someone who seemed to know your thoughts before you did then you know what I mean. Marta has always known what I'm thinking. Nothing I ever did surprised her. I grew up taking for granted that she was my soul mate, the one person in the world who understood me completely. Only slowly did I realize how freakish that was.<br />
<br />
I have no real memory of Lili. Not long after I was born, Grean realized that Lili was modifying my brain's development in an attempt to push me even closer towards Kac'hin-like abilities to use the Interface. Lili was sent back to Tar'tron and I went out from Atlantis to find my place in the world. Of course, Lili was not ready to concede defeat. Being removed from Earth was the best thing that could have happened to her, from her perspective. Out of sight, out of mind. Grean let thons guard down.<br />
<br />
Anna was the first clone and she got only a glimpse of the Interface. She knew it existed. In time, Anna worked to make sure that Angela was given access to the Interface. I've never heard how that was accomplished, but I suspect that both <i>Many Sails</i> and Peter do know. However, they don't want to stir up Grean's wrath, so they say nothing about such dark matters to me.<br />
<br />
I suppose that Anna was born to another one of "Peter's recruits", one of the women who Peter brought back to Atlantis, a woman whose name I've never heard. When Grean realized that Anna was a clone of me, it was too late. I'm sure that Peter cajoled and endlessly badgered Grean. By then I had grown out of my awkward early years of cognitive delay and I suppose that even Grean knew that it was not fate, not the chance circumstance of an ocean storm that had brought together my parents. Was my father eliminated so as to prevent any more such "perfect pregnancies"? If I had evidence linking Grean to my father's death I would...well, I have no such evidence. It hardly matters. My collection of genes was "in hand", in Anna, and that perfect ensemble exerted irresistible attraction on Peter and Lili.<br />
<br />
So, with a bit of meddling performed by Lili, Anna got even closer to the Interface than I ever could, but not close enough to make a big difference. Anna's mind has always resonated with mine, but on her own she has no more ability than I do to actually use the Interface. However, she grew up knowing that the Interface existed. Her conscious awareness of that fact turned the direction of her life down a path that had not been open to me. Anna became the first Earthling to study nanotechnology and the science of guided brain development. I have no doubt that <i>Many Sails</i> provided an information channel to Lili on Tar'tron, a channel that allowed Anna to guide Angela's brain growth along the path of typical Kac'hin development. Anna's first try was perfect. Anna took things too far with Anney, much too far. With Anna present to accelerate everything, Anney was pushed beyond a pattern of behavior that could be sustained on Earth. Anney has gone her way out among the stars...I miss her, but I know it is best that she is not imprisoned on this dreary planet.<br />
<br />
So, that is all I have to say. Angela can tap into the Interface and reveal the hidden history of Earth. I have the motivation and the means to pass along her knowledge and prompt her with specific questions. The Exode Trilogy tells the story that has been revealed by Angela. Enjoy.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/2014/03/angela.html" target="_blank">Next</a>.<br />
<a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/table-of-contents.html" target="_blank">Contents </a>John Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12557999612244024954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5227702646415315219.post-25842392412040911282013-09-08T08:17:00.001-07:002015-09-12T17:32:04.677-07:00Training for Earth<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Ekcolir heard the front door of his house open and then the voice of Syon called to him, "I'm home!"<br />
<br />
Usually Ekcolir let Syon do all the cooking, but she had mysteriously disappeared in the middle of the night with Gwen, and he had grown hungry. He put down the bowl of batter he had been preparing, wiped his hands over the scrubber to remove the zucchini remnants and turned just in time to see Syon enter the kitchen.<br />
<br />
As always, she looked so fresh and vibrant that he wanted to hold her and confirm that she was real. And then she was in his arms and the world was again in balance. But only for a second.<br />
<br />
The memories of what she had told him the previous evening came crushing down on Ekcolir. Today would be his last day at Lendhalen. After this day he would never again see her, hold her, benefit from her guidance.<br />
<br />
Holding her tightly he whispered in her ear, "Where have you been? Where is Gwen?"<br />
<br />
"I was testing the connection to Klyz. We don't often transmit that far and depending on cosmological conditions the guidance circuits can require adjustments. The feedback circuit is now live."<br />
<br />
Ekcolir was none too certain about the safety of teleporting halfway across the galaxy. It seemed magical that today he could be here in Syon's sweet embrace and tomorrow he would be dealing with the hideous Fru'wu. "I missed you. And I made a mess of the kitchen."<br />
<br />
"You'll have to take care of yourself on Earth. I've spoiled you."<br />
<br />
"Yes. I'll never survive without you. I might as well just stay here..."<br />
<br />
She cut him off with a harsh, "No!" <br />
<br />
Syon laughed, surprised by her own tension over what must happen this day.<br />
<br />
Ekcolir had to admit he would not miss her laugh. He thought: she was one of those people who had never learned to laugh musically. Her laugh was like the grinding of two bricks against each other. Then he remembered what she had said last night and he wondered: <i>is she a person</i>?<br />
<br />
Ekcolir preferred not to believe that Syon was a machine. He looked into the back yard and thought about the plans they had made for the garden. All those shattered plans. For a moment he wondered if she would maintain the garden. Would she have a new trainee to break in as soon as Ekcolir teleported out? Ekcolir wondered: <i>how quickly will she forget me</i>?<br />
<br />
"How is Gwen taking it?"<br />
<br />
"Well, as I expected. I prepared her for this. She'll be fine. We'll have each other while you go off on your great adventure." <br />
<br />
"It breaks my heart to leave you two here."<br />
<br />
Syon snuggled comfortably against his chest. "I did not make that very clear last night before you pulled me into bed. Your mission to Earth, your entire existence has been carefully planned. Our personal feelings now mean nothing. It is time for you to be on your way."<br />
<br />
"I still don't understand. If you are a machine then how did we make Gwen? I watched you swell up and give birth to our daughter." <br />
<br />
"I'm a sophisticated machine. Why shouldn't I be able to gestate a baby? Anyhow, we had to test and make sure that it is possible."<br />
<br />
"So she is our daughter...biologically, even though you're not biological?"<br />
<br />
"My DNA...the DNA of the biological that produced my mind...that DNA code is in the data banks. Anyhow, we knew it would work. I was just selfish. I wanted a piece of you here with me when you are gone. We'll miss you, but don't worry about us. You have so much ahead of you...your life to live. Soon your time here will seem like a dream."<br />
<br />
Ekcolir liked to think that he was prepared and confident, but it was unsettling to realize how much effort had gone into the preparations for his mission and how high Syon's expectations were for his success. "Why don't you come with me?"<br />
<br />
"My work here is not done. Now, stop distracting me and listen." She slipped out of his arms and finished making his breakfast. Ekcolir watched her swift and efficient movements and tried to believe what she was saying. Watching her move, he had to admit that she seemed to have machine-like perfection in her actions...not a single imperfection.<br />
<br />
Syon was saying. "...forget all that. There is one more thing that you need to know about Trysta: she is not of this time, she's not even human."<br />
<br />
Ekcolir chuckled nervously, "What does <i>that</i> mean?"<br />
<br />
Syon glanced over her shoulder, "She won't talk about this, but she's a time traveler. There's no reason to talk about it and, in fact, you will have no reason or desire to talk about it, but I want you to know." She turned back to her work, cleaning up the mess that Ekcolir had made with the butchered zucchini.<br />
<br />
Ekcolir suggested, "I suppose I'll have no reason to even believe it."<br />
<br />
"No. No, the day will come when something that Trysta does or says will remind you of today. And then you'll know. You'll know that Trysta is from another time. You'll remember me, now, telling you this and you'll be thankful."<br />
<br />
"I'm thankful now. In fact-"<br />
<br />
Syon poured the batter into the cook wheel. "Stop right there! Don't distract me with your charms. Save it for Trysta. We've had three years together, but think of the centuries you have before you."<br />
<br />
"If she's not human...if your biological origin is not human... then how did we make a beautiful little girl?"<br />
<br />
"You were designed for the task. Don't ask questions that you don't really want answers to. Can't you accept that we crafted you for a task, that you have a future of infinite opportunity before you?"<br />
<br />
Ekcolir smirked. Syon had tried to explain that he was essentially immortal, that he need never die. He asked, "If I'm immortal then why are you so worried about the teleporter?"<br />
<br />
Syon popped open the wheel and set the steaming cake on the table. They sat down, but Syon did not eat. She asked, "Did you hear what I told you last night?"<br />
<br />
Ekcolir had an excellent memory. He was unaware that a nanite symbiont in his brain made it essentially impossible for him to forget anything. "I can repeat it all word by word. I just don't believe it."<br />
<br />
Syon nodded. "Good. Belief is not important. One day you will know the truth and it will not shock you <i>then</i> because I have warned you <i>now</i>. I'm not biological and eventually you will also cross over into existence as an artificial lifeform. That is the plan. Of course the plan can fail. It would all end today if the teleporter was not correctly aligned."<br />
<br />
Ekcolir watched as Syon seemed to slip out of the "now" and disappear in her thoughts. He asked, "How can 'the plan' fail?"<br />
<br />
Slowly she came back from her fight of thought and she seemed to struggle with his question. "My plans might have failed. I'm no god. I don't know...but I expected you to be here long before. It's been nice finally having you here, but I had envisioned this all playing out another way, another triangle."<br />
<br />
Ekcolir laughed. "I don't know what you're talking about. Triangle?"<br />
<br />
Syon stared into his eyes...and she seemed lost in there. "My expectations. I was wrong. I suppose you find no comfort in that, but you asked." It was disturbing for Ekcolir to see her vulnerable and pensive.<br />
<br />
For a minute Ekcolir ate and he changed the subject: he asked about the garden. Then he noticed that Syon was not eating and he asked about that. She shrugged. "I've pretended to be a woman, to make your life here a calm and peaceful time for learning. I had a job to do and could not allow myself to get too comfortable with you. Now you are ready to move on. I don't need to keep up the act, eating, working the garden with you...none of that. I moved in here with you after you selected this house. I'll move on when you are gone. You'll soon forget about me. Earth and Trysta will be so much more interesting for you. Just remember: she'll be playing her role, too. As a time traveler there are many things she will not be able to tell you. She does not need to tell you. Just respect her reality."<br />
<br />
Ekcolir took hold of Syon's hand. "Trysta...is she a...a real woman?"<br />
<br />
Syon squeezed his hand. "She's biological, just like you. You'll like her. Listen, I don't know what the Fru'wu have planned for you at Klyz. The Fru'wu are inordinately proud of their robots. You'll have little difficulty finding the differences between biologicals and their robots. But be warned: the Fru'wu are amateurs. There are other forms of artificial life that could easily trick you into thinking that they are biological."<br />
<br />
"As you did, except for your laugh."<br />
<br />
"See, you already believe. I could have faked a more human laugh, but I needed you to recognize the truth about me here, on this day. That's how it works. I've given you all the clues that you need. You are ready." She pulled her hand away from his and sat rather primly, looking impatient for him to finish eating.<br />
<br />
"I suppose that Trysta, with her dark secrets of time travel, will be as maddening as you when she talks...saying things to me that make no sense."<br />
<br />
"Oh, yes! Trysta will remind you of me. Look, I've tried to make this clear. Trysta has traveled in time. She will travel in time. You'll pass on from biological to artificial and she will do so, too. Can't you understand how it is possible for me to know these things?"<br />
<br />
Suddenly he did know. He had known, but his conscious mind had not processed it, had not accepted the consequences. As he spoke it the concept became reality: "You...you're Trysta."<br />
<br />
"I'm what's left of her. The reflection of her mind."<br />
<br />
Ekcolir tried to fit the possibility of time travel into his conceptualization of the universe. "Then you do know...you know my future."<br />
<br />
Syon tipped her head in a brief nod of acknowledgement. "I hope I do. But these time loops can shatter. If all goes well..." Syon fell silent. She cleared the table and then took his hand again, pulled him to his feet. "It is time for you to go." They embraced once more.<br />
<br />
Ekcolir tried to force from his mind her words, words that seemed to echo and grow louder. '<i>I've pretended to be a woman</i>...' Somehow he knew that there was still a woman there. But what did it mean to be a woman in a robotic body...for thousands of years? And if this crazy story was true, then it would be his own fate to find out, to one day have his mind transferred into a new artificial body.<br />
<br />
Syon broke away and led him by the hand out of the house and to a part of the City that Ekcolir had never visited before. She led him into a dim, strangely humming room. Syon finally released his hand and stepped back. Something snapped and Ekcolir was gone.<br />
____________________________________<br />
<b><a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/2013/09/trysta-and-william.html">Next</a></b>.<br />
<a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/table-of-contents.html">Contents</a>. John Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12557999612244024954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5227702646415315219.post-74289416955153027812013-09-08T06:49:00.002-07:002016-07-04T13:27:19.319-07:00Trysta and WilliamTrysta looked out the window and again thought about going into town, what she thought of as going on the hunt. She chided herself for letting her biological urges take precedence over her mission. "Better to take a cold shower, girl."<br />
<br />
Still, she could not erase her biological instincts by sheer force of will. Her species had been carefully designed to survive and spread through the cold depths of space. Her libido had won Merion to her cause and gotten her this far. Who knew where it might yet take them?<br />
<br />
Trysta was worried about that. Her methodical checking of temporal markers had recently revealed a Reality Change. She believed that Change had not yet greatly impacted events in Wales, but how could she be sure? So far, the only local change she had discovered was that the vial of sedronic matter provided by <a href="http://foundationreality.blogspot.com/2013/08/trysta-and-merion.html" target="_blank">Rycleu</a> had vanished. <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9FRio3ESH88/Ug--wwovgzI/AAAAAAAAK2Q/6yweioTPbkM/s1600/garth_pier.png" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9FRio3ESH88/Ug--wwovgzI/AAAAAAAAK2Q/6yweioTPbkM/s320/garth_pier.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Something had changed the timeline, and looking ahead in the 20th century she saw that human civilization on Earth no longer exploded with the horror of nuclear war. Still, the new future was not rosy. In just a few centuries Earth would find itself subjected to global warming, catastrophic sea level rise and a dismal decline of civilization.<br />
<br />
The worst thing was, Trysta had discovered the Reality Change while Merion was traveling. She had not yet had the chance to discuss with him how they should alter their plans. Still, how could his efforts to boost research on computer memory systems harm this new Reality they were now in?<br />
<br />
Trysta half expected Rycleu to come walking up to the font door, ready to explain what was going on, why Reality had been changed. But only half. Less than half. Trysta could find no trace of Rycleu in this new Reality.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8K4n858PoXU/UhAKoXSzoyI/AAAAAAAAK3A/ORvwteNZLu0/s1600/andrew_noys.png" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8K4n858PoXU/UhAKoXSzoyI/AAAAAAAAK3A/ORvwteNZLu0/s320/andrew_noys.png" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trysta and Merion</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
At this moment, there was simply nothing useful to be done about the fact that other time travelers might exist
in the Primitive, possibly working to counter her own actions. The frustration and tension she felt had an obvious solution, but Merion was not on hand to scratch that itch. And there seemed little hope of hunting up action in town, not in this prudish era. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
Trysta had been making plans to have
children. As far as she knew, her species had been eliminated from
existence and there was nobody on Earth who she could breed with to
naturally produce children. However, her nanites could easily initiate
pregnancies within her and she planned to let Merion believe that he had
fathered the children she would have. With so many uncertainties concerning this mysterious Reality Change, she could not allow herself the luxury of initiating a pregnancy.<br />
<br />
Still, Asterothrope females
were designed to be efficient and enthusiastic producers of children,
allowing for rapid population growth on newly colonized planets. Trysta could not stop thinking about her strong instinct to
reproduce. She knew that in the far future of Earth, the Asterothropes had
successfully colonize several planets in nearby star systems, and on new virgin worlds there had been some competition in the baby making realm. Supposedly some Asterothrope females had produced fifty or sixty children.<br />
<br />
Trysta was struggling to adapt
her libido to the cultural conditions that existed in Wales during the 1930s. Andrew was
frequently out of town, visiting centers of industry and research
throughout the British Isles, leaving Trysta alone and lonely. She had established a tentative
relationship with a local woman which provided her with an occasional
sexual outlet for times when Andrew was on the road, but the one play partner she had found was married and not often available. Trysta was still
carefully exploring the local population in search for additional sexual partners.<br />
<br />
She was now two
weeks into Andrew's first trip to the European mainland, and with that long separation and the Reality Change, Trysta was not in a stable mood.<br />
<br />
A movement outside caught her attention. A stranger on the road. The man paused for a moment and seemed to look up at the window where Trysta sat gazing down. He came up the walk to the the front door.<br />
<br />
Trysta ran down the stairs and opened the door just before he used the knocker for the second time. The man pretended to be a recent immigrant from
New Zealand, but Trysta had a good ear and immediately doubted that his accent matched his story. He introduced himself as William Ward, a writer in search
of a room to rent. Trysta was immediately intrigued by the idea of renting
a room to William. He was tall and handsome, almost pretty, but Merion was quite possessive and would certainly
not tolerate another man living there in the house with Trysta. Certainly not one as young and charming as this.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uc0U_YJ5e8s/UhAKaYu7bvI/AAAAAAAAK24/t_BBJw3RaSc/s1600/noys_ekcolir.png" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uc0U_YJ5e8s/UhAKaYu7bvI/AAAAAAAAK24/t_BBJw3RaSc/s320/noys_ekcolir.png" width="242" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trysta and William </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Trysta invited "William" in and he made himself so
agreeable that Trysta asked him to stay for dinner. After dinner and a
bottle of wine Trysta found herself in bed with William. She was amazed that he had magically appeared at her door just when she was desperate for companionship.<br />
<br />
William seemed content to talk endlessly about his journey from New Zealand to Wales. Trysta was happy to listen and gaze at his beautiful, almost girlish face.<br />
<br />
Trysta was also quite happy
with his willingness to maintain a discrete relationship.William rented a room in town and was always available to Trysta whenever
Andrew was traveling.<br />
<br />
When Merion returned from the mainland they discussed the Reality Change and likelihood that Rycleu had been swept out of existence. Merion was deeply disturbed by the fact that nuclear war had been replaced by a different, equally dreadful future. They agreed to abandon the search for a physics researcher who could make use of sedrons. With the sedron sample gone, there seemed no hope of introducing sedronic technologies into this century. They would continue to work to advance computing technology with the hope that better computer memory would be useful for Humanity in any Reality. Trysta could see that Merion needed to do <i>something</i>.<br />
<br />
For Trysta, her ability to use her nanosymbiont and gaze into alternative Realities left her depressed and not very enthusiastic about Earth's future. She could see no alternative Reality that included a happy and peaceful future for Earth, only timelines that quickly led to humans being replaced by another species, an hermaphroditic primate not too different in some ways from her own species, the Asterothropes. Still, she had not come this far just to have Earth reach the same end point that had been reached in her time, in her Reality. But what could she do?<br />
<br />
Seeing nothing that she could do to alter this Reality, she lived in the moment and allowed herself the pleasure of perfecting her relationship with William. And that was almost perfect. He introduced William to Merion and they all got along well as a trio. William pretended to be writing a book about robotics, and in fact, he seemed to know a lot about the subject.<br />
<br />
Merion suggested to Trysta that they find a way to make use of William in working towards the goal of advancing research on computer systems, but Trysta was uneasy with that idea. She was enjoying William, but nervous about the odd coincidence of him showing up in Wales just when the there had been a Reality Change. Trysta knew how she had been trained to entice and entrap and use Merion to change Reality. William seemed unnaturally suave and calm and effective in making Trysta feel appreciated and happy. She was so pleased with her triangular relationship with William and Merion that she doubted how such a perfect triangle could actually form. Wouldn't it have to be drafted and crafted and made perfect in just the way she had gone after Merion?<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RR79PqZ_sLg/Ug8DZYg57MI/AAAAAAAAK0Y/9Kr6HmKnTHg/s1600/embryo2.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RR79PqZ_sLg/Ug8DZYg57MI/AAAAAAAAK0Y/9Kr6HmKnTHg/s1600/embryo2.png" /></a>After a few months of joyfully playing the William and Trysta and Merion triangle game, Trysta was
dismayed to discovered that she was pregnant. She allowed Andrew to
believe that he was the father, but Trysta began a careful investigation
of "William".<br />
<br />
Using her nanites and some improvised lab equipment, she was able to confirm that William
was a genetically unusual human. Just how unusual she could not be sure with the primitive tools at her disposal.<br />
<br />
When Trysta and William
next met he could tell immediately that she was not her usual self,
eager to continue the game of exploring their intimate physical relationship.<br />
<br />
"William"
appeared on her door step late in the evening after Andrew had departed
for London. Rather than let him into the house Trysta left him standing
outside.<br />
<br />
Trysta attempted some rather blunt verbal
probing of his past and his claimed earlier life in New Zealand. William, equally blunt, asked her to simply tell him what was on her
mind. She did: "You're not from New Zealand. Who -or what- are you?"<br />
<br />
He replied simply, "I was trained for a mission; to come here and help you and Andrew in any way that I can."<br />
<br />
During <i>her</i>
training for a time travel mission deep into her past, Trysta had been
warned to always be prepared for the possibility that Eternity might not
be destroyed when she and Merion arrived in the Primitive.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dvyVaJlmhxo/Ug8E6VfPFXI/AAAAAAAAK0s/FDPeLVntQC4/s1600/chrom.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dvyVaJlmhxo/Ug8E6VfPFXI/AAAAAAAAK0s/FDPeLVntQC4/s320/chrom.png" width="157" /></a>Trysta
spent hours each day using her Reality viewing ability to search for
evidence of on-going time travel. Having found some hints of continuing
Reality Changes, she wondered if "William" was a time traveler and, if
so, exactly what was his reason for being in the 20th century?
Genetically he was not an Asterothrope, she could tell that much by direct comparison of their chromosomes. However, his chromosome pattern mysteriously hinted at a partial Asterothrope lineage.<br />
<br />
In
20th century Wales, Noÿs and Andrew were using the names Trysta and
Merion Iwedon. She was not happy to hear William use Andrew's real name.<br />
<br />
Trysta asked incredulously, "Why the trickish game? Why not tell me the truth the first time that we met?"<br />
<br />
William
replied rather uneasily, "I was trained to slowly gain your trust. I
was warned that if I was too direct in my approach then you might not
feel that you needed my help and that you might resent the idea of a
helper being provided."<br />
<br />
Trysta demanded, "What else were you told? To get me pregnant?"<br />
<br />
William
smiled rather sheepishly and nodded. "I was warned that it was likely
that you and I would have children. In fact..." He seemed to think twice
about what he was going to say and fell silent.<br />
<br />
Trysta warned him, "Don't try to keep secrets from me. What else were you told?"<br />
<br />
William
was now being made nervous by her brittle tone of voice. "I was warned
that you are dangerous and not to antagonize you. And I'm not sure that
you really want to hear the truth."<br />
<br />
Trysta, growing
increasing exasperated by his evasiveness, insisted on the truth. "If
you start lying to me and withholding information I <i>will</i> show you how dangerous I can be."<br />
<br />
William chuckled. "Noÿs, I volunteered for this mission even though I was warned that you might kill me."<br />
<br />
She snapped, "I'm Trysta. And <i>never</i> say 'Andrew'. His name is Merion. If you threaten to blow our cover I won't hesitate to kill you."<br />
<br />
He
reached out and gently placed one of his hands on hers where it rested
against the door. "I was well prepared for my mission. I'm years past the time when I was afraid of dying.
Let me come in...let us talk this through."<br />
<br />
Impressed by his cool response to her snappishness, she felt slightly silly and Trysta finally swung open the door and let him into the house. They sat down
and Trysta placed the candle she had been carrying on the low table that
was between them. She said, "<i>Please</i> use the names Trysta and Merion. I
suppose 'William Ward' is not <i>your</i> real name."<br />
<br />
William
nodded. "No, I adopted that name for this mission. I grew up using the name 'Ekcolir'." He continued his
story. "I was told that it would be a good strategy...that an effective
way to gain your trust would be...if we did have children. I was
specifically designed with the intention of making it very likely that
we would successfully breed and have children together."<br />
<br />
Trysta,
still upset over this bizarre turn of events, had to admit to herself
that William had been well designed. She asked, "Designed by who?"<br />
<br />
William
spoke for twenty minutes about his training at Lendhalen. He ended his
story, "I don't know how Syon knew so much about you and A-, Merion. I
asked about the name 'Syon' -Noÿs spelled backwards- but I never got an
explanation."<br />
<br />
Inwardly Trysta smiled. The name 'Syon' was
like a coded message from the far upwhen that only she could possibly
understand. Given Andrew's puritanical sexual mores and his inexperience
and insecurity with women, Trysta had never discussed with him the sexual
practices she had grown up with as part of Asterothrope society. While
being trained for her time travel mission, Noÿs had lived with an
hermaphroditic partner who, following tradition, adopted the name Syon
as a respectful reflection of 'Noÿs'. Nobody in the Primitive should
know the significance of the name 'Syon' for Noÿs. So, if William did
not know the reason why his trainer used the name Syon then he was not from her time.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N_hvab8At7s/UhAKElh1a9I/AAAAAAAAK2w/b1xWnVMW1rQ/s1600/syon_lab2.png" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N_hvab8At7s/UhAKElh1a9I/AAAAAAAAK2w/b1xWnVMW1rQ/s320/syon_lab2.png" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Syon at Lendhalen</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Trysta asked, "Are you certain that Syon was a robot?"<br />
<br />
William
rubbed his chin, "Well, I suppose that might have been a lie, but,
well...I had a pretty long and intimate relationship with Syon. I do
think that she was an artificial lifeform, what they called a robot at
Lendhalen."<br />
<br />
Trysta had to ask, "So, this robot was designed to have the physical form of a human female? Did this robot look like me?"<br />
<br />
William
thought back over the years he had spent at Lendhalen and replied,
"No...not really, although I must say...there is something about the way
you...move....and the way you talk that reminds me of Syon."<br />
<br />
Trysta was intrigued by the story of William's training
at Lendhalen and tempted to ask for some more details about Syon, but
she said, "You never answered my question. Who designed you with the
intention that we have children together?"<br />
<br />
William
shrugged. "I'm not sure what more I can tell you. The folks at Lendhalen
call themselves Interventionists. They want to help Earthlings develop
their technology...find ways to advance human civilization here on
Earth. I was told that you share those goals and that my mission is to
help you. The whole operation at Lendhalen is rather secretive. I'm just
a foot soldier...I really can't explain the roots of Interventionist
strategy."<br />
<br />
Trysta was far from satisfied by that answer. She pressed on, "Where is this mysterious Lendhalen?"<br />
<br />
"I don't know exactly. I believe that Lendhalen is located on a world far from Earth, towards the center of the galaxy."<br />
<br />
"You said that you were teleported to Earth. Exactly where and when did you arrive on Earth?"<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KFlBXgsXKNc/UhANWtvDUrI/AAAAAAAAK3M/ryGM-9p26nM/s1600/monowai.png" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KFlBXgsXKNc/UhANWtvDUrI/AAAAAAAAK3M/ryGM-9p26nM/s320/monowai.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">near Wellington</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
"I arrived in Wellington about a year ago. I spent some time adjusting to Earth then I came here to Wales."<br />
<br />
"What other Interventionist agents are on Earth? Who did you work with in New Zealand?"<br />
<br />
"Sorry,
but the only Interventionists I know on Earth are you and your husband.
I was the only Interventionist being trained at Lendhalen. I got the
impression that there has been a long history of sending Interventionist
agents to Earth, but there have never been very many. I was taught that
Interventionists are not welcome on Earth and there is danger that I
might be captured and interrogated, so I was not told very much about
other Interventionists."<br />
<br />
"Captured by who?"<br />
<br />
"I was taught that there is a police force watching over Earth. A team of Overseers watches for Interventionists."<br />
<br />
"Overseers?"<br />
<br />
"Maybe
you know them by another name. I was taught that there has been a long
struggle on Earth between the Overseers and the Interventionists. We
Interventionists want to help the Earthlings advance their civilization.
The Overseers try to prevent us from providing the Earthlings with new
knowledge and advanced technologies."<br />
<br />
Trysta had sent
some nanite probes into William's brain and she felt certain that he
believed he had told her the truth about Interventionists and Overseers
and his mission on Earth. She was still shaken by the implications of
what he had said and not at all certain that he could be trusted. "I'm
still upset that you deceived me and impregnated me."<br />
<br />
He
grinned and asked, "Are you really upset? I'm pleased that we have
a...do you know if it is a..." William hesitated. "...boy or a girl?"<br />
<br />
Trysta replied, "A boy. I've already named him: Thomas."<br />
<br />
"A boy! Thomas? Fantastic! I can't wait to meet my son."<br />
<br />
"Why did you hesitate...before asking about the sex?"<br />
<br />
William
shook his head and rubbed his chin in contemplation. "Syon told me some
strange stories. I was raised as a human and you seem human to me, but
Syon said..." William looked uncomfortable and fell silent.<br />
<br />
Noÿs
got up and moved across the room, her motion setting the candle flame
flickering. She sat down in William's lap and draped herself across him. Trysta whispered into his ear, "I think I can guess what she said about
me."<br />
<br />
William let his hands move over the soft contours of her body. "Syon said that you are not human."<br />
<br />
"To
be honest, I'm also very excited to be pregnant. That robot, Syon, told
you the truth. I do want children. My problem is that I have always
imagined that having children would be a very carefully planned affair.
I'm more than a bit nervous about you being the father of my son. I
think I understand why you had to be designed for this mission. If you
were human then we would not have been interfertile."<br />
<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GlYJSse3g5Y/UhD-HCapLiI/AAAAAAAAK3s/-ShJWSei63E/s1600/nek.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GlYJSse3g5Y/UhD-HCapLiI/AAAAAAAAK3s/-ShJWSei63E/s1600/nek.png" /></a>William
thought about what he had been told by the Fru'wu while he was at Klyz. He said, "I was told that I'm an Ek'col, a special type of human. Most
Ek'col are hermaphrodites. They told me that you can also have children
who are hermaphrodites."<br />
<br />
"That's true, either hermaphrodites or females. I was amazed to discover that our child is male. I never imagined having a son."<br />
<br />
"I
was told that there are few Ek'col males. Actually, the Fru'wu told me that the
Ek'col were designed and created specifically so that a male could be
sent on this mission." <br />
<br />
Noÿs laughed, "So, you were designed and trained to come here and seduce me...to make it possible for me to have a son? What is 'Fru'wu'?"<br />
<br />
William
relaxed, pleased that Noÿs was able to laugh about their situation.
"I'm sorry I tricked you and sprang such a surprise on you. But it is a
wonderful surprise. And now you know that I am here for you. My
mission...my official mission...was to help you and your husband, but my
personal mission...my commitment...is to always be here for you...with
you, when I can be." They kissed and William started to slowly undress
Noÿs, one button at a time. Then a strange memory bubbled up inside him.
"Thomas, eh? I'd forgotten something from Lendhalen."<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-u7P_lZ24nhw/UhD-Vf4I_eI/AAAAAAAAK30/kwn_j77B16M/s1600/backs.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-u7P_lZ24nhw/UhD-Vf4I_eI/AAAAAAAAK30/kwn_j77B16M/s1600/backs.png" /></a>During
her own training, Trysta had worked closely with a mentor named
'Tomaught', transliterated from the language of her homewhen. Noÿs had
long planned to name her first daughter in honor of Tomaught, but upon
realizing she would have a son she decided on the English name Thomas.
Now she asked, "What about Thomas?"<br />
<br />
"You probably don't
want to hear this, but...in bed, Syon was like you, frisky and
playful...insatiable. At other times Syon seemed as old as a
mountain...maybe senile. She'd start mumbling and have conversations
with people who were not there. One time, she probably thought I had
fallen asleep, she was lying there in our bed talking. I remember now,
she kept talking about someone named Thomas...who had a sister...what
was her name? Goldie? Gertie? Gwen? I don't remember...I was half
asleep."<br />
<br />
Trysta asked, "What was she saying about this Thomas?"<br />
<br />
William
shook his head. "Nothing that made sense. I have a good memory, but I
have not thought about this for years... There were many other names,
too, besides Thomas, all in a jumble. 'Izhiun', 'Deomede',
'Rechmain'...so many others....I can't remember. They were names that
meant nothing to me. But this reminded me...when Syon was telling me
that I should try to become your secret lover she once said that you and
I <i>would</i> have a son. At the time I laughed, but looking back at
my memory...I think she knew. Does that make sense? How could she have
known? In fact, I asked her that."<br />
<br />
"What did she say?"<br />
<br />
"She
said that there were some things I was not allowed to know, but...well,
she said, 'Trysta will know.' Syon often spoke as if she knew you very
well. At first I assumed that she had visited Earth and met you, although she
always denied that." William dismissed the mysteries of Syon from his
thoughts and returned to the pleasurable process of undressing Trysta.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o4VeCE4bZy8/UhD-bkU8IlI/AAAAAAAAK38/sDGlRWHl_RY/s1600/leg2.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o4VeCE4bZy8/UhD-bkU8IlI/AAAAAAAAK38/sDGlRWHl_RY/s320/leg2.png" width="137" /></a></div>
Now Trysta was infected by doubts. What did it mean if Syon knew of the
existence of Thomas years before he was even conceived? She almost asked
William a question about time travel, but she stayed silent. Was this
mysterious Syon her future self?<br />
<br />
Trysta wondered: at some future time
would she find a way to travel back through time and try to send
messages to her earlier self? Was the most fundamental of such possible
messages the mere fact that, even with Eternity destroyed, time travel
was still possible?<br />
<br />
She asked, "What did you say about 'Fru'wu'?"<br />
<br />
He explained, "There are aliens at work, trying to help the people of Earth. The Fru'wu helped get me to Earth. They seem to know a lot about you."<br />
<br />
Trysta wanted to trust William, but
she still could not fathom the way he had suddenly appeared in her life,
knowing so much about her, but also knowing so little about her origin
in the far future, all at the same time. Trysta thought that she would be
wise to send William away and tell Andrew the truth about her pregnancy,
but in her heart she knew that she did not want to tell Andrew such
truths, truths that would be so painful for him to hear and adjust to.
She decided that William was a source of information that she could not
afford to send away.<br />
<br />
Somehow she would get to the bottom of the puzzle
that he had revealed to her. The idea that there were alien beings involved was a new facet to the puzzle. With Rycleu apparently missing from this Reality...and Trysta began thinking of this as the "Ekcolir Reality"...could she afford to not explore the possibility of getting help from these aliens?<br />
<br />
And besides, William was a source of other
things, too. She told William to get upstairs in her bed.John Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12557999612244024954noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5227702646415315219.post-37948735090462518262013-08-24T17:57:00.004-07:002019-07-29T19:11:15.892-07:00Miners of Earth<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-__SD_qaYxz4/UhlZp1J4e7I/AAAAAAAAK_w/njjClEFoodM/s1600/miners_of_earth.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-__SD_qaYxz4/UhlZp1J4e7I/AAAAAAAAK_w/njjClEFoodM/s1600/miners_of_earth.png" /></a></div>
<br />
Well-schooled, quiet, enamored of books and learning, Mary Nova Goidel, arrives at Cambridge University in 1922. While at Girton College, Mary becomes insatiably interested in the long geological history of Earth. Just how long was finally quite clear due to the steady march of scientific inquiry. Mary hears a lecture by Arthur Holmes explaining how radioactive isotopes can be used to date rocks. Mary's conceptualization of the universe expands to the scale of billions of years.<br />
<br />
[<b>Editor's note</b>. When Thomas Iwedon (see <a href="http://ekcolir.blogspot.com/p/glossary.html#TF" target="_blank">Trysta's Family</a>) wrote <i>Miners of Earth</i> back in the Ekcolir Reality, he imagined it more as a play than a novel. Later, after his brain was invaded by advanced nanites from a positronic robot, a "record" of his memories of <i>Miners of Earth</i> was made. Later still, a swarm of infites was transferred to me that included that "recording" of <i>Miners of Earth</i>. This chapter of Trysta and Ekcolir is "my" reconstruction of the story. I actually had much help from the <a href="http://deadwidowers.blogspot.com/2014/10/the-dead-widowers.html" target="_blank">Dead Widowers</a>.]<br />
<br />
In the audience for the science lecture is a strange young man who catches Mary's "eye". Sensing an odd connection to the man, Mary tries to find him in the crowd after the lecture, but he seems to evaporate into thin air.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a3QD0tVSEzg/UcZI5LW5emI/AAAAAAAAKcs/Ue7ocgPqrCk/s1600/g_entrance.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a3QD0tVSEzg/UcZI5LW5emI/AAAAAAAAKcs/Ue7ocgPqrCk/s320/g_entrance.png" width="295" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Girton College</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Four years later Mary is hired as the teacher in the small school at Wenvoe. Arriving in the sleepy village at the start of a new school year with little more than the clothes on her back and the job offer letter from the local school superintendent, Mary learns that most of her students are boys, the sons of prospectors who continue to prowl and exploit the depleted and officially closed mines of the area.<br />
<br />
Mary sinks into a mild depression, feeling isolated in the tired rural village and wondering why most of her students seem so strangely quiet and reserved. <br />
<br />
Besides the school, there are few other going concerns in Wenvoe. The semi-retired Dr. Nader still maintains a medical clinic, but more often than not her patients are livestock on the nearby farms. Most of the time Dr. Nader can be found in the town library working on a multi-volume history of Wales. <br />
<br />
The only remaining business in the village is the DeCosmo Trade and Supply Depot, located in the old rail depot on the abandoned rail line that used to service the once thriving mines of the district. To Mary's surprise, she learns that the proprietor of the Supply Depot, Mailn Crunn, is the strange man who she glimpsed at the Holmes lecture four years previously. With little else to do, Mary spends an hour or two each day chatting with Malin.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YofYqOi55ow/UcZKMzNGQHI/AAAAAAAAKc8/zDRAf1-njVY/s1600/depot.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YofYqOi55ow/UcZKMzNGQHI/AAAAAAAAKc8/zDRAf1-njVY/s1600/depot.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">DeCosmo Trade and Supply Depot</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Mary learns that Malin is well educated and devoted to the welfare of the Depot's patrons who are mostly the local prospectors and their "families". As the school superintendent, Malin is Mary's boss, but he is seldom seen around the school. The Depot's stock boy, Jack, helps out at the school and the library doing maintenance work and cleaning.<br />
<br />
Over the course of several weeks, Mary can't figure out where most of her students, the prospectors or Malin live and she never sees any of their wives. Pressed hard by Mary for answers to these mysteries, Malin only admits to not being married. Mary asks, "Why are there so few women around here?"<br />
<br />
Malin shrugs and a pained grimace appears on his face. He mutters quietly, "We seem to scare off most women."<br />
<br />
Mary laughs. "You're such a shy man." She winks at Malin. "I get the feeling that it is you who is afraid of women."<br />
<br />
Malin says rather gloomily, "I'm just afraid <i>for</i> women." <br />
<br />
Mary laughs nervously and feels a tingle up her back. She comments, "When I moved in, I found some old letters in a drawer addressed to a Miss Wiley...was she the former school teacher?"<br />
<br />
Malin nods. "Aye. She lasted two years. I'll have to chastise Jack for not having adequately cleaned your place before you moved in."<br />
<br />
Mary's favorite game had become teasing Malin about how dead and dull Wenvoe was. "Fancy that, a young woman who lasted two whole years in this ghost town! And please don't punish Jack. He never has enough time to do all his work." <br />
<br />
Malin ignores her flip commentary and sinks deep in thought. There is a long pause in the conversation, during which Mary looks through a rack of women's clothing that Malin had just brought in to the Depot...all in Mary's size. Malin finally frowns then shrugs and he mutters, "I found <i>her</i> at Sumerville College."<br />
<br />
Oppressed by Malin's dark mood and terse replies, Mary doggedly makes an effort to engage Malin in further conversation. She says rather brightly, "Oh, that's the school of Vera Brittain, a writer I just discovered. My mother suggested that I attend Sumerville, but my aunt Jane's opinion won out and so for me it was Girton."<br />
<br />
Malin seems surprised and asks rather pointedly, "Your aunt?"<br />
<br />
"Both my aunt and my mother are very clever and opinionated. While growing up, I often felt like I had two mothers who never agreed on anything."<br />
<br />
"Hmmm...is that your cousin Diana's mother?"<br />
<br />
Mary is surprised. "You know Diana?"<br />
<br />
Malin nods. "Yes. She's at Newnham."<br />
<br />
"That's right, or she was. I'm afraid I got so busy I lost track of her progress. Last I heard she was trying to arrange some post-graduate research. But tell me, how do you know Diana? Did she also apply for the teaching job here?" <br />
<br />
Annoyingly, Malin just gives his head a little shake and he will say no more about Diana. Mary returns the conversation back towards Wenvoe. "Was Miss Wiley not happy here?"<br />
<br />
Malin looks at the well-worn Depot floor and scuffs his foot on the protruding corner of a warped board. "She was not a suitable choice."<br />
<br />
"You regret having hired her?" Malin just shrugs. "Was she a good teacher?" He nods but then he will say no more.<br />
<br />
Mary observes, "My salary here is twice that of my other job offers and I get a big furnished house at no rent and you've never let me pay you for anything I get here at the Depot. Do you imagine that you can induce a woman to live beyond the edge of civilization as long as the pay is high?" Malin remains silent. "What's your story Mr. Crunn? Should I recognize that name? Is your father some philanthropist trying to pay back a debt to a tired old mining town that his business exploited?"<br />
<br />
Malin finally cracks a bit under the barrage of her questions. "As you can tell by my accent, I'm a local boy. I learned to learn here at Wenvoe school. I've only occasionally gone elsewhere, for special events like that Holmes lecture."<br />
<br />
"I can't fault the way you keep up the school, particularly the library. And the village library is amazing. Still, I don't understand where all the money comes from."<br />
<br />
"Don't worry about the money...we're in no danger of running out. Just teach the children, Miss Goidel." <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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"I never worry, Mr. Crunn, I'm just naturally curious." Mary takes an amazingly decorative blouse off of the rack and puts it on. For a few minutes she struggles with the buttons that are on the back of the blouse. She feels Malin's eyes on her. "You're so quiet, I believe you enjoy frustrating my curiosity." Malin turns away and busies himself placing some cans on a shelf and mutters quietly. Mary turns her head towards Malin and asks, "Did you say something?"<br />
<br />
Malin finishes with the cans and glances back at Mary. He walks over and stands behind Mary where she is looking at her reflection in a mirror and holding a jacket up in front of her chest. "I feel a cold winter coming. I thought you could use a warm coat."<br />
<br />
"That's not what you said. I believe you said 'Curiosity killed the cat'."<br />
<br />
"I'd never <i>say</i> such a rude thing." Malin wonders: <i>Was she in my mind</i>?<br />
<br />
Mary looks at Malin's reflection in the mirror and notes his eyes sweeping over her image. For a moment she imagines that she can read his mind and suddenly she feels a rush of blood to her neck and cheeks. <i>Blushing like a school girl</i>...<br />
<br />
She asks, "You picked this out for me?" Malin takes the fur jacket and holds it so that Mary can put her arms through the sleeves. "It's so soft. It must be very expensive."<br />
<br />
"It complements your hair and skin tones nicely. It's yours."<br />
<br />
"I can't possibly accept such an expensive gift."<br />
<br />
Malin finally takes his eyes off of her reflection in the mirror and walks away. "Long ago when the mines were active, superintendent Brenner set up the Wenvoe Education Trust and built the new school. Of course, it's no longer new, but the Trust fund keeps us going. The fund disbursing rules specify that the school staff is to be adequately compensated... for all duties."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3Xki5I5mfEc/UcuzKdMVD4I/AAAAAAAAKgs/hlt_qTbFi94/s1600/globe.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3Xki5I5mfEc/UcuzKdMVD4I/AAAAAAAAKgs/hlt_qTbFi94/s1600/globe.png" /></a></div>
"Mr Crunn, you've sent my mind wheeling to imagine what duties I could perform to justify all the money you've spent on me during the past month. You are insanely wild in your spending, like when I complained about the old globe in the library...the next day you had a wagon load of new globes shipped in, one for each student."<br />
<br />
Malin chuckles. "You reminded me just how much I love maps. I personally wore out that old globe when I was in school." He takes the fur jacket and places it in Mary's shopping bag. Then he helps her unbutton the blouse. "This is designed so that your servant does the buttons."<br />
<br />
"You went to Cardiff and got this blouse for me and you expect me to wear it and forever need you nearby to do up all these annoying buttons?"<br />
<br />
Malin puts the blouse into the bag with the jacket. "Of course...you'll wear this lovely blouse on Friday night for our dinner with Doc."<br />
<br />
"Malin, why do you enjoy provoking doctor Nader into lecturing me about how to find a husband?"<br />
<br />
"It's funny. I don't think she ever so much as kissed a man."<br />
<br />
"That's obviously wrong. She's always talking about her great love and her tragic loss. You enjoy seeing her live vicariously through me."<br />
<br />
"Miss Wiley couldn't tolerate Doc meddling in her long-distance romance."<br />
<br />
Mary tried to draw some racy gossip about Miss Wiley out of Malin, but he again became silent.<br />
<br />
For ten minutes Mary tried to argue Malin into letting her pay for the blouse and jacket.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EEbOAYx8fXg/UcoREGEOZbI/AAAAAAAAKfU/-4E1Oe0TQX4/s1600/delivery_lorry.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="123" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EEbOAYx8fXg/UcoREGEOZbI/AAAAAAAAKfU/-4E1Oe0TQX4/s200/delivery_lorry.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.nrm.org.uk/ourcollection/photo?group=Derby&objid=1997-7397_DY_11285" target="_blank">National Railway Museum</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Malin cleverly shifted the subject of their conversation. "I've been thinking about replacing the supply wagon and buying a lorry. Jack is old enough to drive now. Look at this ad in the Adviser...here's a cheap used truck for sale." He waves the newspaper in front of Mary. "I was ready to buy it, then I saw this enclosed van that's now on the market. Isn't it so much more elegant? If you think my spending is reckless maybe you can advise me on the purchase of a motor vehicle." <br />
<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e9nt-i3EnlM/Ucu5-Q0wTxI/AAAAAAAAKg8/srLNnMZBwys/s1600/van.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e9nt-i3EnlM/Ucu5-Q0wTxI/AAAAAAAAKg8/srLNnMZBwys/s1600/van.png" /></a>Jack was the stock boy for the Supply Depot who routinely carted in supplies from Barry or Cardiff.<br />
<br />
Mary points towards the bag that now holds the fur jacket. "Spending lavishly on other things like globes and a van won't make me feel any better about having such an expensive coat."<br />
<br />
Malin rubs his chin and stares off into space. "In a few months, when I see the January snow falling down on the shoulders of that jacket, we'll both feel justified by the expense."<br />
<br />
Mary giggles, "My, my...you have such a romantic soul, Malin. I suspect that were I to ask for it, tomorrow you'd have Jack hauling the Moon into Wenvoe by wagon."<br />
<br />
"Mary, you might not have noticed, but even though we are beyond the edge of civilization, most nights we already do have the Moon here in Wenvoe. Come out with me tonight and I'll show you."<br />
<br />
Mary asks, "Are you proposing a date, Mr. Crunn? When I decided to take the teaching position here, my mother warned me to be cautious about coming and going out with strange Welsh men."<br />
<br />
"Bah. All you do is sit there in your tower all night reading."<br />
<br />
"How do you know what I do at night, Mr. Crunn?"<br />
<br />
Malin says no more and he begins whistling while he putters around the shop pretending to clean and making an obvious point of ignoring Mary's further questions.<br />
<br />
Frustrated by Malin's elusiveness, Mary gives her students a writing assignment in which they are to describe their homes and their families. However, only the sons and daughters of the few local farmers complete the assignment, depriving Mary of any insight into the mysterious lives of the prospectors.<br />
<br />
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That evening, Malin arrives at Mary's house, which is one of the few inhabited residences in the crumbling village. He informs Mary that as the school superintendent he can't allow her to disrupt the education of the students with frivolities. He suggests that she not force upon her students any more blatant probes of their private lives disguised as school work.<br />
<br />
Resenting Malin's evasiveness and the idea that he would presume to interfere with her classroom assignment, Mary bluntly asks, "Are you running some strange cult here? The prospectors and their boys all resemble you. Are you adherents of some freakish religion where you keep all the girls and women hidden away?"<br />
<br />
Malin sighs deeply and asks, "Do you really want to know? Can't you just do your job and not stick your cute little nose into other folks' business?"<br />
<br />
Mary knows that there is something strange going on and she can't control her curiosity. Pleased to hear him make a favorable comment about her physical person, but chilled by his mysterious aloofness, Mary comes to a sudden and firm decision. "I want to know."<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s_hnKBFUmAo/UcZLa6qkHjI/AAAAAAAAKdM/sEY1L6Q-5NM/s1600/tunnel.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="174" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s_hnKBFUmAo/UcZLa6qkHjI/AAAAAAAAKdM/sEY1L6Q-5NM/s320/tunnel.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/ben_salter/4860074473/" target="_blank">Ben Salter</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Malin takes Mary by the hand and leads her towards the door. Passing through the front entry she says, "Let me grab my hat!"<br />
<br />
They step out of her house and amble down the shabby street to the Supply Depot. He takes her through a secret sliding door hidden inside a closet in the back office of the Depot. They go down a long set of spiral stairs. As the light from above fades, Mary complains, "I can't see."<br />
<br />
Malin says, "Look, you'll be happier if you just turn around and go back up." He continues downward, his feet clanking on the metal steps.<br />
<br />
Mary asks, "Where are you taking me? Can't we bring a torch?"<br />
<br />
Malin calls up to her, "Just a second." Suddenly Mary can see a light below. She continues down to the bottom of the old mine shaft and is puzzled by the array of strange light fixtures that look like quartz panels set in the stone walls. Malin again takes her hand and pulls her into a small room.<br />
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A sliding door whisks shut behind them and he says, "Be warned, the elevator is fast." Suddenly the floor seems to drop out from under Mary and she grabs hold of Malin. As they plummet downward the air begins to warm. The heat keeps building and the elevator keeps dropping and dropping.<br />
<br />
Finally the elevator stops and Malin pulls Mary by the hand through a second sliding door that opens in the back wall of the elevator car. They quickly walk through a long echoing tunnel that looks like it might be part of a mine. At the end of the tunnel the walls transition into a finished corridor where Malin pulls open a sliding door and they step out of the sauna-like air of the corridor and into a much cooler room.<br />
<br />
The room looks like a factory locker room. Malin undoes his belt and takes off his trousers then opens a locker. He hangs up his pants then lifts a strange jacket off of a hook and pulls on the complex garment. Mary asks, "What is that?"<br />
<br />
Malin tersely says, "You have to wear one of these coolers. Take off your dress."<br />
<br />
Her heart racing and her thoughts swirling with questions about what Malin has in mind, Mary hesitates. Malin approaches her and undoes the buttons of her dress and removes a bulky beaded bracelet from her wrist and matching necklace from her slender neck. Mary shrugs off the dress and Malin offers a comment on the fabric band that constrains and flattens her breasts into boyish slimness, as dictated by the current fashion. "You'll be happier without that."<br />
<br />
"Mr. Crunn, I suspect <i>you</i> will be happier the less I wear."<br />
<br />
He acknowledges the truth of her suspicions with a nod and a grin. "I was favorably impressed that first day I saw you in Cambridge and I've been happy every day since your arrival and for my seeing you in Wenvoe...you are clever enough, I am sure, to know that you are a delightful sight clothed or ...not, Miss Goidel, and I understand the reluctance that you naturally feel in undressing now, but please believe me...this is for your own comfort and safety. I ask you to please disregard any pleasure I might gain from seeing your body and think only of yourself."<br />
<br />
Mary pulls off the elastic breast restrainer and sighs, "It's a relief to be free of that pinching concession to high fashion."<br />
<br />
Malin silently helps Mary pull on one of the complicated cooler suits. After her torso is again covered, Malin finds his tongue, "I like you better as woman than as a pretend boy."<br />
<br />
Mary laughs. "Two compliments in one day. I had no idea you possessed such a gallant nature, Malin." <br />
<br />
Malin busily roots around in a locker. Speaking ever his shoulder he says, "It might interest you to know that I wanted to bring you to Wenvoe two years ago when the opportunity first arose."<br />
<br />
Mary asks, "Do you mean to tell me that Miss Wiley literally wasn't 'suitable'...did <i>she</i> refuse to undress for you and put on this silly jumpsuit?" <br />
<br />
Malin approaches with an armful of equipment. "She was constantly writing to some distant and unseen don. If you found some of her letters you may know more about her great long-distance romance than I. She was never happy at Wenvoe and always seemed eager to leave. Hold this."<br />
<br />
After meticulously adjusting her suit to fit the feminine contours of her body, he explains, "These are body coolers. You'll be glad to have one in a few minutes as long as you keep the flow of coolant circulating through the fabric...that means no tight spots or bunches in the suit. Put on these boots."<br />
<br />
Slipping her feet into the odd boots, Mary is startled when they seem to magically seal closed and couple themselves to the rubbery legs of the cooler suit. In the thick soled boots she is suddenly three inches taller and a bit wobbly on her feet. Standing erect she sways and grabs Malin's arm to steady herself. She looks up into his eyes and says, "You are quite tall, Mr. Crunn."<br />
<br />
"As are you." Malin hands her gloves and explains the set of complex head gear. It takes them several minutes to strap into the complicated equipment and activate the cooling and radio systems of the suits. He then pulls Mary through a doorway at the far end of the locker room and into a second elevator. They drop again and as the heat intensifies, now they need to pull the transparent masks tightly closed over their faces. Malin speaks to Mary using the radio units that are built into their suits. "Careful now, don't step in any puddles. The floor is just about at the boiling point."<br />
<br />
When the elevator stops, the door slides open and they step out into a long tunnel that sparkles with crystals in the walls. Mary can feel intense heat under her boots, but the cooling suit prevents her from being burned. Still, she is very warm and sweating. "What is this place?"<br />
<br />
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Malin dryly says, "Some call it hell." After a long, down-sloping walk along the tunnel, he guides her through another sliding door. Once again in a cooled room, they pull open their masks and let the cool air caress their faces. Malin points to a strange device on a bench. "This is what you wanted to see."<br />
<br />
Mary examines the glowing machine, which she has trouble focusing her eyes on. Malin touches the device and its appearance seems to become more solid. It is humming and vibrating slightly. She can't imagine what it might be for. It reminds her of some of the strange devices she saw in the physics labs in Cambridge. On the bench there are several heavy dewars. Malin unscrews the lid of one and pours what looks like water into a slot on the side of the humming device. "That's all there is to it."<br />
<br />
Perplexed, Mary asks, "All there is to what?"<br />
<br />
"This is why the prospectors hang around Wenvoe. There's a platinum deposit down here with a couple hundred leaching fields. The leached ron goes in here." He pats the odd machine. "That's all there is to it."<br />
<br />
"Platinum mining?"<br />
<br />
"No, there's little market for platinum. These are persistent ore fields because the platinum doesn't leach out."<br />
<br />
"Then what's the point?"<br />
<br />
Malin takes off his gloves and sets them on the bench. He pulls off his ring and hands it to Mary. He jokingly says, "With this ring I do thee indoctrinate into the secrets of hell." He leans over and gently brushes his lips across her sweaty cheek. "I've been wanting to do that for weeks."<br />
<br />
Mary laughs. "Give me a ring? Is this a proposal?"<br />
<br />
"Actually, I've dreamed of kissing you for years. Since that first day I saw you in Cambridge I've known that one day we would be here, together. I knew before that, even...but until that day four years ago I did not know who you were or when I'd meet you."<br />
<br />
Mary shivers with the chill now being generated by her body cooler and the strangeness of Malin's words and the surprise of the unexpected hell she has found below Wenvoe. Here in this odd place, Malin suddenly seems fully alive and unguarded. Mary reaches towards him and gently strokes his chin with her finger tips. "When I first saw you I...I felt a connection. Like I already knew you."<br />
<br />
Malin shuts off the cooler suits. "Of course you did. You're a recent, too."<br />
<br />
"Recent?"<br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rWG2gZiMdAw/UcZhQsOnNxI/AAAAAAAAKdc/xf1xpJg5acs/s1600/ring+scanner.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rWG2gZiMdAw/UcZhQsOnNxI/AAAAAAAAKdc/xf1xpJg5acs/s1600/ring+scanner.png" /></a>"Recently updated human. The Clyte is constantly tinkering, modifying, improving us." Malin opens another dewar and peers inside. "Look in here. Look through the ring." He takes hold of her hand and guides her fingers so that she holds the ring near her eye.<br />
<br />
Bending over the bench top, Mary looks through the ring and into the dewar. She can suddenly see what looks like an explosion of blue sparks. The sparks are not visible except when looking through the ring. Malin explains, "All the prospectors use rings like this one to detect the ron."<br />
<br />
"Ron? Do you mean radioactivity?" She draws back apprehensively.<br />
<br />
"No, this is not dangerous."<br />
<br />
"But what is it?"<br />
<br />
Malin shrugs. "I can't do more than put a name on it. The Clyte call it ron. I'm not sure that the Clyte really knows much about it either."<br />
<br />
Mary is growing dizzy. "I feel strange." She leans against the bench and closes her eyes. "Did you hear that?"<br />
<br />
Malin whispers. "Relax. Hush. The Clyte is trying to explain something to you."<br />
<br />
Mary<i> </i>"hears": <i>Ron is a valuable form of matter. It is why the Clyte came to this dingy world</i>.<br />
<br />
Mary opens her eyes and looks at the glowing machine. "Radio?"<br />
<br />
Malin smiles and says, "You heard it!" He shakes his head and replies to her question, "Something like radio, but in your head. I was worried that you might not be ready for this, but all is fine...Clyte is inside you. You <i>are</i> one of us."<br />
<br />
"Us?"<br />
<br />
"We prospectors. We who collect the ron. The Clyte only communicate with us, not other people, outside the mines. I don't think the Clyte are particularly interested in people."<br />
<br />
Mary "hears" the disembodied "voice" again<i>: Eventually humans or your descendants may become interesting</i>.<br />
<br />
Certain now that the voice is in her mind, Mary grabs hold of Malin's arms, "What's going on?"<br />
<br />
Malin can see growing terror in her eyes. "Relax. Just relax. Come on, let's get out of here. There's nothing more to see."<br />
<br />
<i>Show her the clytellum</i>.<br />
<br />
Malin says, "No." He turns on their coolers, closes up their face masks, puts the ring back on his finger and they put their gloves on again. They return to the elevator shaft, but now the elevator will not move.<br />
<br />
The Clyte insists: <i>Show her the clytellum</i>.<br />
<br />
Mary asks, "Malin, what is going on? Tell me. Tell me everything."<br />
<br />
Malin puts his arms around her and presses his mask against hers. <i>I'm afraid. There's never been a woman down here. I don't trust the Clyte. The clytellum isn't something any woman wants to</i>...<br />
<br />
His lips were still...Mary felt Malin's "words" inside her...his thoughts inside her mind. She tries to send him her thoughts. <i>Can you hear my thoughts</i>?<br />
<br />
Malin nods. <i>But so can the Clyte. There can be no secrets</i>.<br />
<br />
The Clyte comments:<i> Foolish man thing, why do you want to hide the truth from this garbha?</i><br />
<br />
Mary could feel Malin's mind pulling back into his shell of secrecy. Returning to spoken language, Mary asks, "Malin, what are you hiding? Please, tell me... what is this hell hole really for?"<br />
<br />
He shakes his head and looks away. The radio transmits his words, "There is too much to tell...and I don't know the whole story..."<br />
<br />
The Clyte complains: <i>Enough drama. Just tell her...or I will</i>...<br />
<br />
Malin feels Mary's arms around him and he can sense in her mind that she is wise and strong and can deal with the truth. Knowing that the Clyte has just put those reassuring thoughts in his head, suspecting that the Clyte is taking control of her mind and forcing her to be strong and curious, still he gives in and says, "The Clyte came here billions of years ago."<br />
<br />
The Clyte elaborates: <i>Only two billion</i>.<br />
<br />
"First they harvested the primitive life that was here and then blasted Earth with a giant asteroid. That cracked the crust and allowed a magma plume to reach the surface and cool. The ron came up from deep in the Earth."<br />
<br />
The Clyte adds: <i>All the planets with molten cores and crust are treated thus. The Clyte harvest ron from all the worlds</i>.<br />
<br />
Malin continues, "The Clyte started changing Earth's lifeforms and finally planted back in the seas of Earth the altered organisms...newly designed forms of life."<br />
<br />
<i>I've altered organisms through all of these past two billion years. I made humans</i>.<br />
<br />
Mary looks into Malin's eyes seeking confirmation. "These invisible Clyte creatures made <i>us</i>? Made humanity?"<br />
<br />
Malin nods. "And the Clyte is still at it. Tinkering, modifying. So, I don't understand why the Clyte let you come down here, why it makes any sense at all for you to see the <i>clytellum</i>. Or why the Clyte explained any of this to me in the first place."<br />
<br />
<i>Because you asked me to explain</i>.<br />
<br />
"But why did you explain?"<br />
<br />
<i>Silly boy. I've worked two billion years to make a creature on this rock that could begin to understand what a billion years is. After all that time I've earned the right to share the truth with you. As your creator, are you going to defy me? Why? Because you love this cute</i> <i>garbha</i>?<br />
<br />
Malin shouts, "Don't call her that!"<br />
<br />
<i>Oh my, a temper tantrum. I do believe your male protective instincts are fully engaged. How charming. But I warn you, Miss Mary is not impressed by male rage</i>.<br />
<br />
Mary speaks to the unseen Clyte, "Even if you created me, I don't give you permission to snoop around in my mind and analyze my private thoughts."<br />
<br />
<i>Private thoughts? What a quaint idea. I can repeat and tell you every thought you've ever had. Malin, it might interest you to know the fantasies that Mary built up around you during the past few years</i>...<br />
<br />
Mary shouts, "Don't tell him that!"<br />
<br />
The Clyte did not laugh, but Mary sensed from it something like amusement<i>. Your pleading is futile. With time, your minds will fully open to each other and all your inner thoughts will be shared. Why fight this? I designed you to love each other. I've worked rather hard to perfect this thing called love.</i><br />
<br />
Mary explains, "If you can see my thoughts, if you know my mind then surely you know that people do not like having their lives planned and arranged and directed. Particularly not by some scheming creature in hell!"<br />
<br />
<i>What a tongue, eh Malin? Did you guess that mild mannered Miss Mary would be so ungrateful to her creator? My child, it is quite futile to imagine that you can deny your affection for Malin just to prove a point to me. I could erase your desire to prove that point in an instant and you'd never even remember having had such a foolish thought. Yes, that's better. When you calm down you can think like the rational life form I designed you to be. Do you have any idea how hard I had to work just to get a few privileged garbha educated to the point where you can understand the Clyte</i>?<br />
<br />
"Malin, what does it mean by 'garbha'?"<br />
<br />
"I can only guess. It does not matter. Listen to me Mary...to the Clyte we are like insects. We are breeding stock in a breeding game that they have played for millions of years."<br />
<br />
"Breeding? As in you and I...breeding...for them?"<br />
<br />
"I don't know. Until today I was not sure that the Clyte would ever let a woman come down here."<br />
<br />
<i>Foolish man creature, years ago I told you that I would. I showed it to you in your thoughts, just as it has transpired</i>. <i>Twenty years ago I knew Mary was the one...I knew when I watched the little girl collecting fossils and crystals...then the woman studying chemistry and geology.</i>..<br />
<br />
Mary complains to the Clyte, "Well now, listen. I'm very uncomfortable in this suit. I feel like I'm drowning in my own breath. Do you intend to show me this <i>clytellum</i> or not?"<br />
<br />
<i>Don't worry, my child, that suit won't let you suffocate or drown</i>.<br />
<br />
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Malin takes Mary's hand. "Come on, then. Let's get this over with." He pushes open another door in the side wall of the elevator car, revealing a short corridor. After leading her down the corridor he pauses at another sliding door. "Remember, I warned you not to come down here. I'm warning you now not to go in there. There's nothing in there for you." Resigned to her stubborn insistence to know the truth, he slides open the door.<br />
<br />
Mary can feel a rush of chilled air coming from the chamber beyond the door. She steps through the doorway and looks back at him, "Aren't you coming?"<br />
<br />
Malin shakes his head. "No. I won't do anything to...this is a mistake. I'll wait here until you are finished in there."<br />
<br />
The door closes. The chamber within is dim. While her eyes adapt to the gloom she pulls open her face mask and takes off her gloves. Moving towards the light, it seems to Mary like the black floor under her boots is stone; smooth and dry. Mary takes a deep breath of the cool air and shuts off her cooler suit. The air smells odd, like some mix of exotic spices.<br />
<br />
With her vision adapting to the low light, Mary can now see two ghostly figures, a man and a woman, asleep in each others arms, resting on a quilt or thin mattress on the floor. To the side is another cooling suit, carelessly strewn across the floor. After taking a half dozen more steps across the floor, she can see that they are very young, apparently adolescents, perhaps a few years older than the age of the students when they graduated from the little school in the village. Mary thinks about the mystery of why she has never seen the wives of prospectors, why the sons of the prospectors refuse to describe their families. Suddenly Mary recognizes the boy: it is Jack, the stock boy.<br />
<br />
Responding to her questioning thoughts, the Clyte says: <i>I only make males</i>.<br />
<br />
Mary looks at the girl on the floor and wonders, <i>Then where is she from? And I thought you said that you made me, too</i>.<br />
<br />
<i>Well, that is not a she. </i>That's the <i>clytellum...an artificial woman...an extension of me, a thing that I designed to please a male, to collect sperm. Look at the back of its neck.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Mary approaches the sleeping couple and hesitates.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>They won't awaken.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Mary kneels down and can only see a thin pillow under the boy's head. The girl's head is off the edge if the mattress, resting on the cool stone floor. Mary notices what looks like a thin, flexible tube, coiling across the floor...slowly bending and twisting with a snake-like motion. The tube runs from the back of the girl's neck into a hole in the floor.<i> An artificial woman?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Watch this.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Mary watches as the young girl transforms into what looks like a copy of Mary. Then the artificial woman morphs into the shape of another woman, older and obviously pregnant. Then the clytellum returns to the form of the young girl.<br />
<br />
Mary begins to tremble, not certain what she has just seen. She asks, <i>So, this </i><i><i>clytellum is you...Clyte, </i></i><i>clytellum.</i><br />
<br />
<i>Almost. It is more accurate to say that this </i><i><i>clytellum is an interface by which I can interact with animals. A convenience. </i></i><br />
<br />
Mary suggests: <i><i>So the prospectors don't have wives. None of them.</i></i><br />
<br />
<i><i>I use the prospectors of Wenvoe as my little helpers...of course I could collect all the ron by myself, but people need to have something to do. I allow them to imagine that they are normal humans, but they've been made for a higher purpose. Letting them have wives would be a useless extravagance. The </i></i><i><i>clytellum is adequate. </i></i><br />
<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YPMtXpo8Dxc/UceM-DL3_yI/AAAAAAAAKeU/lkhRPOi69Go/s1600/mary_radio.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YPMtXpo8Dxc/UceM-DL3_yI/AAAAAAAAKeU/lkhRPOi69Go/s320/mary_radio.png" width="162" /></a>Mary feels sick.<i><i> It disgusts me that you use people in this way. All for your precious ron?</i></i><br />
<br />
<i><i>The Clyte came here for ron. I stayed so I could play with the primitive life of this world. I made humans and still I am not satisfied. Humans are just one step along the way.</i></i><br />
<br />
Mary asks, <i><i>The way to what?</i></i><br />
<br />
<i><i>Who knows? Something like the Clyte? Something else? Only time will tell. </i></i><br />
<br />
Mary closes up her cooler suit, exits from the clytellum chamber, takes hold of Malin's hand and says, "Get me out of here."<br />
<br />
<i>___________________________ </i><br />
<br />
<i>I cannot publish your story for many reasons. Your depiction of a sexual relationship between minors and ancient aliens in hell is not the kind of material that is welcomed by the publisher of Astounding. I'm annoyed by your use of the present tense in the chapter that I read and...</i><br />
- excerpt from the rejection letter for <i>Miners of Earth</i><br />
_________________________________________________________________<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<i><b>Editor's note</b>. Thomas constructed several versions of Miners of Earth. I've reconstructed Chapter 1, above, so as to be close to the version that was originally submitted for publication. After the rejection of his proposal to serially publish the novel one chapter a month, Thomas rewrote the novel, incorporating some of the suggestions he had received. Thomas had an extensive collection of illustrations to accompany the text. I've substituted alternative illustrations for his hand-drawn art work.</i><br />
<br />
Chapter Two of Thomas Iwedon's <a href="http://wikifiction.blogspot.com/2013/06/thomas.html" target="_blank"><i>The Miners of Earth</i></a><br />
___________________________<br />
<br />
The door automatically slid shut behind them and Malin pulled Mary down to sit on a curved shelf that now protruded low on the wall. No sooner had they seated themselves and the elevator took them up from hell. Mary gasped at the sudden force of the acceleration. "How deep are we?"<br />
<br />
"The clytellum chamber is about five miles down."<br />
<br />
Mary complained, "No mine is that deep." Malin had nothing to say. Mary felt dizzy and wondered what it would be like to vomit in her sealed cooling suit.<br />
<br />
Malin had for years shared thoughts with the Clyte, but now Mary's mind had been opened up to him and he was intrigued and delighted by what he was finding there. However, her experience in the clytellum chamber had disrupted the pattern of her mind. Now, sifting through her thought currents, Malin could sense Mary's discomfort. <i>Put your legs up on the bench</i>.<br />
<br />
Mary reclined and rested her head in his lap. Gazing up at his face, she almost instantly felt better and mercifully the acceleration of the elevator car ended. <i>How can we know each other's thoughts</i>?<br />
<br />
Malin explained, <i>When it is convenient for the Clyte then it allows people to communicate in this way</i>.<br />
<br />
<i>It? They? What is the Clyte</i>? Mary could sense that Malin was sorting through possible answers in his mind.<br />
<br />
The Clyte cut into their discussion. <i>I'm an ancient artificial life form...sent out into the universe long ago to harvest ron</i>.<br />
<br />
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The elevator decelerated and slowed to a halt. The door opened and Malin helped Mary get to her feet. They returned to the locker room and pulled off the cooler suits. Malin handed her a towel and Mary dried most of the sweat off of her body and began to dress in her clothing. Malin said, "Don't put that ridiculous brassiere back on. The dresses you wear simply swallow your figure. You look like a boy walking around in a sac."<br />
<br />
"So, I'm a boy in sack? Ug...so much for your gallantry. Let me guess... you'd prefer me dressed as a slinky tart walking some alley off the Strand. Well, I suppose it doesn't matter...it must be dark out by now." She put on her dress and started fastening the buttons.<br />
<br />
Malin moved behind her and helped with the buttons. <i>It was more fun undressing</i>...<br />
<br />
She turned her head and thought at him, <i>You've been so distant since I came to Wenvoe...I had no idea what was going on in your thoughts</i>.<br />
<br />
Malin put their two cooler suits back into lockers. <i>I'm glad you're not shocked by what I think when I'm near you</i>.<br />
<br />
Mary laughed rather nervously. <i>I am a bit, at least surprised by.</i>..<br />
<br />
Malin could feel her pulling back, trying to close her thoughts off. They left the locker room and hurried down the corridor to the next elevator. They sat for the ride and as they started upwards they were again squashed down by the force of the elevator rushing towards the surface. When the acceleration eased, Mary again sensed his mind: <i>You should just relax. I'll eventually see the thoughts you are keeping from me...what is this secret you are trying to hide...something about your cousin</i>?<br />
<br />
Mary could not just relax. "We're the same age, we grew up together. We liked each other..."<br />
<br />
Enough fragments of her memories leaked through to Malin. "I understand."<br />
<br />
Mary asked, "You're not shocked?"<br />
<br />
"You were both young and smart...curious and playful...why shouldn't you have enjoyed your bodies when you were growing up?"<br />
<br />
"Well, it's not something a lady brags about...playing doctor. But I sense in your mind a similar story... so perhaps my youthful shenanigans were just kid stuff compared to your childhood." She thought of Jack down in the clytellum chamber and could picture Malin down there, given anything he desired by the Clyte. "I'm just a bit overwhelmed by the intensity of the...animal...desires that I sense in your mind..."<br />
<br />
"I'm a man. No doubt the Clyte has been preparing me for years, gradually nudging me and shaping my tastes and emotions to match...you."<br />
<br />
"Does it offend you to know that you are a puppet of the Clyte?" <br />
<br />
"Puppet?" He shrugged. "Call it what you like...that is the life I have lived. I'm not surprised that you are offended by my...animal...shallowness."<br />
<i><br /></i>
Mary could sense that he was laying bare his inner thoughts, being honest...unless the Clyte were tricking her<i>. I can see in your mind... you are comparing me to Diana</i>. "Now I'm jealous."<br />
<br />
"Sorry, but I'm not going to try to hide my thoughts from you. Had Diana finished up at Newnham before you, I would have offered her the teaching job."<br />
<br />
The Clyte interjected: <i>No, man thing. Diana knows nothing about geology. I delayed her so that you would not bring Diana here first</i>. <i>There is no remaining doubt...during this past month I have confirmed that Mary is perfect...the one</i>.<br />
<br />
Mary concentrated on the quick bursts of thought that she could sense in Malin's mind. "I see it all in your mind. If I did not work out...if I was not suitable...then Diana would have been next. And I see glimmers of...another girl in your mind. Many others...I can almost recognize some of them..."<br />
<br />
Malin picked up her hand and pressed it between both of his. "I've been surprised to learn just how many women have been fathered by prospectors. But they do not matter now. You are what the Clyte needed."<br />
<br />
The elevator rides were completed and they started climbing the metal stairs. Mary wondered out loud, "What the Clyte needed? What about you?"<br />
<br />
"I'm relieved that you are...you. You're taking this all so well, almost in stride. I'm glad that you are not repulsed by me."<br />
<br />
Mary laughed. "Here in this dark hole I almost feel like I'm in a dream. Repulsed? I can see into your thoughts...I know that you are honest and..." She relaxed her mind. <i>I like you, too. And I can sense that the Clyte has long schemed and maneuvered and pushed you and I together...and I know that it has some great adventure planned for us</i>.<br />
<br />
They reached the surface and emerged into the dark Depot. He lit a lamp and Malin's swirling thoughts slowed into a linear pattern. <i>You are right. I don't know where it expects us to go...but the Clyte expect us to leave Wenvoe</i>.<br />
<br />
Mary could now see in Malin's mind that the couch in the Depot's back office was where he spent much time, often reading at night. "You don't sleep?"<br />
<br />
Malin replied, "Sometimes I do fall asleep, out of boredom, but we prospectors don't <i>need</i> to sleep."<br />
<br />
"I've always wondered why...in my family....none of us sleeps more than a few hours at a time." She took his hand. "Come, we missed dinner." The Depot was well stocked with canned and dried food for the prospectors, but Mary was disgusted by the almost total lack of concern that Malin held for food in his thoughts. They strolled through the deserted village towards her house. "I'll cook us a real dinner and you can tell me about the Clyte."<br />
<br />
Malin quietly muttered, "The less you know the better."<br />
<br />
"I want to know everything."<br />
<br />
"You don't, not really. After seeing the clytellum do you really want to know..."<br />
<br />
Mary felt that Malin's mind had a closed off part, some of his past that he had tried to forget. "I do, rather..."<br />
<br />
They had returned to the house that Mary had been living in for the past month. Together they prepared a meal and then they ate, avoiding all discussion of the Clyte and that evening's earlier journey to hell. Mary talked about her family and Malin watched her with a growing sense of horror. Now becoming aware of the structure of her family, he realized that her life had been nearly as strange as his own. He ate very little and finally she asked, "You don't enjoy my cooking?"<br />
<br />
Malin shrugged and tried to invent an excuse for his lack of appetite, "I'm used to eating out of a can."<br />
<br />
Mary laughed, "You don't sleep, you don't eat. It can't have been much of a life for you growing up here. Prospectors don't have mothers?"<br />
<br />
Malin was relieved that she had stopped talking about her family, but he knew that his childhood was even more of a horror. "I was one of the lucky ones. Most prospectors are rejects, used for gathering ron and..."<br />
<br />
Mary completed the thought she had glimpsed in his mind: <i>and breeding more prospectors</i>.<br />
<br />
"No, I don't think so. Once the Clyte relegates a boy to the mines I don't think his genes are wanted, or needed, anymore."<br />
<br />
Mary had never seriously studied biology, but she had come across discussions of genes in her reading. She had read <i>The Physical Basis of Heredity</i> by Morgan. "Are you saying that these odd boys who I teach don't have fathers <i>or</i> mothers?"<br />
<br />
Malin slowly shook his head. "The Clyte can <i>make</i> a person, line up the desired genes on a set of chromosomes and there need be no parents, certainly no natural act of conception. But the Clyte are rather secretive about their genetic experiments. I do know this: the Clyte select a few prospectors, the brightest ones, and send them out, away from the mines, to live among the free people of Earth. Your family is a good example."<br />
<br />
"You mean my father was a prospector?"<br />
<br />
Malin nodded then added a correction, "Is."<br />
<br />
Mary asked, "Is? You don't know what you're talking about. My father died in the war when I was eleven."<br />
<br />
Malin contradicted her, "Your father is still alive."<br />
<br />
Mary demanded, "Let me see that in your mind!" Malin opened up his thoughts to her and guided her through his memories....he could sense that she was furious. "I see in your memories... the Clyte told you that he is alive. But I don't understand <i>what</i> they told you...about where he is."<br />
<br />
Malin gazed off into dark corner of the room, sorting his memories. "I never did understand that myself. A bunch of nonsense about jumping to Clytel."<br />
<br />
The Clyte elaborated: <i>Many simple truths seem like nonsense to primitive beasts like humans</i>.<br />
<br />
Mary challenged the Clyte, "Are you suggesting that I can't understand? If you know where my father is, if he is truly alive then tell me!"<br />
<br />
<i>I'd rather show you, my child</i>.<br />
<br />
Malin could sense a deep layer of meaning in the thought pattern of the Clyte. He shouted, "No!"<br />
<br />
Mary, not yet as sensitive to thought reading, looked at the suddenly angered Malin and asked, "What?"<br />
<br />
She could see an answer in Malin's thoughts: <i>The Clyte means it wants to send you away...take you off of Earth</i>. Mary asked, "My father is alive, but no longer on Earth?"<br />
<br />
The Clyte corrected Malin: <i>you will both leave this world, together</i>.<br />
<br />
Malin spoke in a hushed voice, "So that is the great adventure...of course, now I see....I was a fool." He reached across the table and placed his hand over Mary's. "I should never have brought you here. I was selfish, unthinking..."<br />
<br />
Mary placed her other hand on top of his. "Well, now wait. I'm not sure I understand, but if my father is alive...maybe we can find him."<br />
<br />
Malin asked, "You'd leave Earth, leave the rest of your family, because the Clyte tells you a story about your father being alive? You'd volunteer to be taken away from Earth?"<br />
<br />
"Well, there must be other worlds...I see it in your mind, Malin, what you have been told about jumping to Clytel." She asks the Clyte: <i>Is Clytel your world, the planet that you came from</i>?<br />
<br />
There was no answer from the Clyte. Malin pulled his hand away from Mary, took his plate to the kitchen and started washing up. They cleaned in silence then Malin said, "I think it is more complicated...it is not that the Clyte came to Earth from Clytel. And Clytel is not a world like Earth, it is..." He fell silent, his brow furrowed in deep thought.<br />
<br />
Again, Mary could not follow his quick and fleeting pattern of thought. She prompted, "What?'<br />
<br />
He shook his head, unable to put his vague and fugitive thoughts into words. <i>Maybe it is...a state of existence...something different from anything we know here on Earth</i>.<br />
<br />
Mary whispered, "Would you go? Would you abandon Earth to go searching for this...Clytel. If my father is out there, I'd have a reason to go, but you...you are so dedicated to the prospectors here. Would Wenvoe survive if we went off on a journey?"<br />
<br />
All the dishes were washed and dried and stowed in cabinets. Malin took Mary's hand and led her out to the porch. They sat on the front steps and for a while watched the stars and listened to insects. In the distance a farmyard dog barked. Mary said in wonder, "Your thoughts are swirling!"<br />
<br />
After several minutes Malin finally felt his mind settle into a new order. "It is as if a curtain has been lifted...so much that I had been told I never understood." He brought her hand up and pressed his lips to her fingers. "A puzzle piece finding its mate. You really want to know about my past?"<br />
<br />
He knew that he had to tell this story. "I was worried. I've always had the Clyte in my head. They allowed me to...have access to your thoughts and those of your sisters. I knew nothing about women, but I understood that one of these wonderful creatures would come here and be linked to my mind. I thought that experience might be horrifying...I worried... an outsider suddenly learning about the Clyte... <br />
<br />
Mary shook her head in wonder. "No. You need not have worried. It was always there in my mind. I have...memories...of my mother being told these things by the Clyte. I hear it now, putting the thoughts in her mind: 'you are not ready, but one of your daughters will be prepared for what must be done...' I never understood that until today, but it has always been a part of me, so nothing that I've seen today is really a surprise."<br />
<br />
Malin asked, "Tell me, what did you see down there...the clytellum...what was it doing?"<br />
<br />
Mary told him about the sleeping boy. Malin chuckled. "Jack, that rascal. That was me...ten years ago. My earliest childhood is like a dream memory, memories I'm not sure that I lived. Then I went to school, but still I was not...alive." He fell silent.<br />
<br />
Mary again could not follow his racing thoughts. She brought up her free hand and placed it on his cheek. "Not alive?"<br />
<br />
Malin's mind came back from the past and he was momentarily shocked to find himself in the presence of the marvelous Miss Mary. He put an arm around her and pulled her close and whispered, "How do you think it would be possible to move memories from one person into another? Imagine...when you have your first daughter..."<br />
<br />
She giggled nervously, "Do you mean if I have a daughter?"<br />
<br />
"Sh." He suggested, "When we have our first daughter, what if we could put all of your memories into her mind, give her some bundle of memories to...start with."<br />
<br />
Mary thought back to her own childhood. "A girl should make her own memories, but...you are right. It is like a dark blot has been removed...it is as you say, there never was a little girl named Mary. I was Jane. It took me years to sort Mary out from Jane. I was...I was my mother...and....no! This can't be true." She looked into Malin's eyes: dark holes in the star light. "Can it?"<br />
<br />
Malin could see in her racing thoughts the horrible truth that the Clyte had now let her glimpse. He put both arms around her and rocked her gently. "I don't know which is worse, what the Clyte did to me or what they did to you."<br />
<br />
"I knew...I always knew. My father...my father..." She could not say it.<br />
<br />
Malin could not say it either, but the thought was there inside and ready to share with her: <i>I never knew my father, but...my father might have been your father</i>.<br />
<br />
<i>You don't know that</i>!<br />
<br />
<i>But it does not matter. It might be true</i>. <i>A father is nothing to the Clyte. They make us every which way, how ever they want to</i>.<br />
<br />
"It can't be true." She said it with no conviction, knowing that he might be right. After a long silence she gathered her courage and said, "My whole family tree, populated with tragic deaths. Fake deaths. My grandfather... My father... My uncle... Of course Diana looks like me...we had the same father. And my mother Jane, my aunt Ann...their father was...my father. And my gramma Nova..."<br />
<br />
Malin whispered in her ear, "Sh, sh, stop this. You're doing no good."<br />
<br />
"No, I need to say it. I need to...believe this, not hide it, not hide the truth. Why did the Clyte hide this from me? Why am I now allowed to know this strange and twisted truth?"<br />
<br />
Malin explained. "Now I understand. When the Clyte find a version of human that they prize, when a good combination of genes is found...they don't let it go. They keep at it and at it, again and again, over and around... mixing those genes up and in and around ...your family is like some collection of musical variations on a theme. As are the prospectors here in Wenvoe. ...year after year, generation after generation until the Clyte had produced what it needed... you and I."<br />
<br />
Mary looked up at the bright stars and shivered. She snuggled closer to Malin for the warmth of his body and the clear, calm insight of his mind. <i>If father is alive, then what about my grandmother Nova</i>?<br />
<br />
Malin asked, "What about her?"<br />
<br />
"I was told that she did not want to live without my grandfather. That she killed herself. But that was in 1914...not long after my father went to France. Of course, I believed that my grandfather had died young..."<br />
<br />
The Clyte was with them, as always, following their thoughts. Now the Clyte knew that Mary was ready for some truth that she could not pull from her own memories. <i>It was sixty years ago. You know him as your great grandfather, Peter...Papa Goidel. I sent him out and he found a wife. Among his daughters, Nova was the one who could best pass her memories along to her daughters. Clara, her little sister, I tried breeding with another prospector, William Wiley...as you said, a subtle variation on the Peter theme...those results were not favorable, but Miss Wiley, Clara's grand daughter served here two years while you finished your study of geology</i>.<br />
<br />
Malin needed to be certain that he understood. He asked, "Peter was Nova's father...and Jane's father...and Mary's father?"<br />
<br />
<i>Does that surprise you, my children? Yes, Mary's father, uncle, grandfather and great grandfather was the same man. Nova was able to pass memories on to Jane and Jane passed her memories on to Mary. I knew then that Mary would be able to share her thoughts with you, Malin, and because of her scientific interests she would be able to understand why her father left Earth</i>.<br />
<br />
Mary shivered. "Let's go inside, Malin."<br />
<br />
They lit a lamp and stoked the coal burning furnace and Mary said, "I'm worn out...it's all too much for one day." She took his hand and led him up to the second floor. She set the lamp on a table. "This is my library. My mother sends me another case of my books each week. What do you like to read?"<br />
<br />
She could see in his mind reactions to her books as he read the titles. <i>Ah, you like Verne</i>. "Here's my copy of <i>Around the World</i>...maybe we should brush up on it if we are going to be leaving Wenvoe, eh?" She handed him the book. "I want you here, near me." She reached up and put her hands behind his neck, and pulled his face down so she could kiss his cheek. "You're so damned tall. I've been wanting to kiss you for weeks, but you were so aloof. Goodnight!" She went to the room where she slept.<br />
<br />
Malin dropped the book next to the lamp and called to her down the hall, "Wait, you can't go."<br />
<br />
She looked back at him, glancing over her shoulder. He came slowly down the hall and then unbuttoned her dress, kissing her back where each button was pushed aside. She whispered, "Thank you," and went into her room, where it was quite dark. The rising Moon casting some light through the window. She slipped off her dress and got into bed under the quilts. She called to him where he stood in the hallway. "Goodnight."<br />
<br />
Malin went back to the library and picked up <i>Around the World in Eighty Days</i>. Thinking about geography and travel from London to Egypt, he remembered that the Clyte had recently asked him to contact Albrecht Blumenthal in Turin. He wondered, <i>Italy</i>?<br />
<br />
An image of the Alps filled his mind. Mary was still prowling through Malin's thoughts. She wondered, <i>There is another Clyte mine in Italy</i>?<br />
<br />
Malin replied, <i>So I have been told</i>...<i>not too far from Turin</i>.<br />
<br />
From Mary, drifting into sleep: <i>Even in our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the
heart, until in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom</i>...<br />
<br />
Malin looked at the book shelves and saw: Albrecht von Blumenthal. Coincidence? There are no coincidences with the Clyte. He reached for the book and pulled it from the shelf.<br />
<br />
Two hours latter Mary came back to the library where Malin was reading. She put her arms over his shoulders and hung her head next to his, peering at the book he was reading. "I don't know why I bought that. I can barely read German."<br />
<br />
Malin turned his head and brushed his lips against her cheek. Her eyes were still blurry with sleep and he could hear her thought: <i>I couldn't sleep with you in here</i>.<br />
<br />
I'm sorry I bothered you. I should have closed the door...<br />
<br />
She settled into his lap and draped herself across his long body, snuggled into his chest. "I like having you near...soon I will awaken from this nightmare."<br />
<br />
Malin closed Blumenthal's book about Aeschylus<b> </b>and placed the slim volume on the table beside the lamp and put his arms around Mary. "Blumenthal has some interesting ideas about...history."<br />
<br />
<i>I'm not sure he conceives of a gap between reality and fiction</i>.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>The question is, why has the Clyte drawn our attention to Blumenthal</i>.<br />
<br />
Mary asked, "Can the Clyte make me think or do anything? Make me walk into a book store and buy a particular book?"<br />
<br />
Malin suggested, "I think you might need to change your conceptualization of Mary Nova Goidel."<br />
<br />
Mary turned her head and looked into his eyes. "I suppose you," She touched the tip of his nose, "think that you understand me better than I know myself."<br />
<br />
"No, my plan is to spend many pleasant decades learning all there is to know about you. But I grew up here as a prospector...I think I was born knowing that I was not a normal human being. You had to live out there and you were allowed to think of yourself as...normal."<br />
<br />
"Well, I never felt normal. I never fit in. I had to keep quiet and pretend that I was part of British society. It was always a relief to return home where there were different rules, another set of conventions."<br />
<br />
"Hmm."<br />
<br />
"What does that mean? You keep closing off your mind."<br />
<br />
"Well, I'm afraid of offending you. And you do it, too."<br />
<br />
Mary sat up on his thighs and took his hands in hers. "Okay, whenever you close your thoughts to me I'll say...clytellum. When I close you off, you say-"<br />
<br />
"Diana. In fact, let's just both say Diana. When the Clyte decided to apprentice me at the Depot, I was cut off from the clytellum. That entire part of my childhood seems like a bad dream."<br />
<br />
"But I don't want you thinking about Diana."<br />
<br />
Malin asked, "Why not? I think you have great taste in women."<br />
<br />
"Have you ever met her?"<br />
<br />
"You probably know, she was in the <b> </b>Newnham College Boat Club. One day I was in Cambridge and saw her rowing. Nice pectorals."<br />
<br />
Mary pretended to slip off his legs and landed a dirty blow. "Yes, she's got a flamboyant figure, while I look like a boy."<br />
<br />
Malin laughed and pulled her back into his embrace. "Diana"<br />
<br />
"I don't want to think about that hussy."<br />
<br />
Malin said, "I can see your thoughts. You think about her all the time. There's something more, beyond your love for her..."<br />
<br />
"Don't be ridiculous."<br />
<br />
"Love <i>is</i> rather ridiculous. I think the Clyte planned it that way. But it makes sense that you find Diana attractive. The Clyte made women to be temples...places of worship."<br />
<br />
"What about men?"<br />
<br />
"Men are to be cast upon the alter...and judged by the woman."<br />
<br />
Mary tapped his chest, "That's a fine theory, but just remember: I consider <i>you</i> cast upon the alter of Mary."<br />
<br />
"Don't forget to let me know what your judgement is."<br />
<br />
"When you stop closing parts of your mind to me then I'll be able to issue my decree."<br />
<br />
"You still don't trust me."<br />
<br />
"I don't even trust that I won't wake up and find that this Clyte nonsense has all been a bad dream. Strangely, I do trust you, but I don't trust the Clyte to be letting me make that assessment on my own."<br />
<br />
The Clyte again intruded in their thoughts: <i>I think it would be best if Mary also sends a letter to Diana</i>.<br />
<br />
Mary asked, "What letter?"<br />
<br />
Malin thought he knew. "The Clyte want Diana to take over here at the school when we leave town."<br />
<br />
The Clyte suggested: <i>If you write your letters now then Jack can have them in the post first thing in the morning. If you are both enthusiastic, she will quickly accept the job offer and be here next week</i>.<br />
<br />
Mary says, "My understanding is that Diana is doing research with
Lorna Swain...applied mathematics for aircraft design."<br />
<br />
The Clyte explains: <i>I shut that project down two weeks ago...then you two decided to keep dancing around each other. Diana is back home now with nothing to delay her from quickly responding to your letters</i>.<br />
<br />
Malin added: <i>And Jack is ready to take over at the Depot. But who will the new apprentice be</i>?<br />
<br />
The Clyte asked Mary: <i>Which of your students is the most mature</i>?<br />
<br />
Mary's favorite was a clever daughter of one of the local farmers, but she knew that the Clyte wanted one of the recently designed "prospectors". <i>The oldest prospector in school, Allen</i>.<br />
<br />
<i>Then all is settled</i>, and the Clyte withdrew from their thoughts.<br />
<br />
Malin wrote a formal letter offering Diana the teaching position, on Mary's recommendation. Mary wrote her own letter, explaining that she and Malin were soon departing for the Continent and so an emergency replacement for Mary was needed at the Wenvoe school.<br />
<br />
Malin was ready to put both letters into one envelop, but Mary hesitated. "What's wrong?"<br />
<br />
"I'm not sure that Diana will be happy here."<br />
<br />
"The Clyte will take care of it...unless..."<br />
<br />
"What?"<br />
<br />
"I hope you're not going to tell me that this is another Miss Wiley situation. Does she have a boy friend?"<br />
<br />
"No, Diana doesn't like boys, but the last I heard she was living with...what was her name? Katie? Cathy. Cathy Nader. That's it."<br />
<br />
"Oh, my."<br />
<br />
"What?"<br />
<br />
"Oh, nothing."<br />
<br />
Mary insisted, "Clytellum."<br />
<br />
"Why do you need to know everything?"<br />
<br />
"Why do you think you have to keep secrets from me?"<br />
<br />
Malin sighed and shook his head. "I suppose I should not be surprised. Remember how I explained to you that you are related to Miss Wiley?"<br />
<br />
"Yes..."<br />
<br />
"Well, it's the same story for Cathy Nader."<br />
<br />
"What...do Diana and Cathy know this?"<br />
<br />
"I doubt it."<br />
<br />
"How closely related are they?"<br />
<br />
"I don't know. Your family tree makes my head spin." He sat back down at the table and took up pen and paper. He sketched out what he knew about her relatives. "It's like this. Papa Goidel had three daughters back in the middle of the last century. One was your grandmother, Nova. One was Miss Wiley's grandmother. The other was Cathy's grandmother."<br />
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<br />
"Growing up I never heard about Nova's sisters...there was just the immediate family, eight women in two wings of the Goidel mansion. The more I probe the memories I have of my father the more I wonder if they were real...or some invention of the Clyte that was slipped into my mind." She sealed her letter into the envelop with Malin's.<br />
<br />
Malin took the envelop and looked towards the door. Before he could step out to find Jack, Mary moved close and put her hands up on his shoulders. He kissed the top of her head and then her eyebrows and would have proceeded downward, but she said, "Don't distract me. I remembered something else. Blumenthal has been involved in translating some ancient tablets that were found in Umbria."<br />
<br />
"Yes, that was why I wrote to him."<br />
<br />
"Why would the Clyte care about translating lost documents from ancient times? If the Clyte have been here for billions of years, don't they know all of human history?"<br />
<br />
"I don't think they do. I've gotten the idea that the Clyte abandoned Earth repeatedly. Sometimes they return for a while."<br />
<br />
"Why?"<br />
<br />
"There's really nothing here for them. I think they get bored and leave."<br />
<br />
"Then why is the Clyte so interested in you and I?"<br />
<br />
"That I don't know, but I think your great grandfather, Peter, figured out what the Clyte are up to. And if he figured out this mystery, then I think we can too." Malin kissed the tip of her nose and went off to give Jack the envelop.<br />
<br />
Mary's life, that for a month had sunken into a depressing rural doldrums of daily routine, seemed to accelerate without stop into the future from the day that Malin took her to hell. The same day that they sent their letters off to Diana, Malin received a letter from Albrecht Blumenthal. He read it to Mary across their dinner table. Blumenthal was now pursuing clues from an ancient document that mentioned an ancient Etruscan mine. He invited Malin to visit, but he knew not where he would be in the coming weeks. He was working his way north towards the Alps in search of an ancient and lost Etruscan settlement.<br />
<br />
Mary took the letter from Malin and peered at Blumenthal's rambling German prose. "Why would the Clyte be interested in the Etruscans?"<br />
<br />
Malin started one of his flashing memory streams. After a minute his thoughts returned to normal. "I think I just accessed some of the memories that the Clyte...built into me. The Clyte believe that the Etruscan civilization should have risen to rule the Mediterranean."<br />
<br />
Mary giggled. "What are you talking about?"<br />
<br />
"They arrived from the East and quickly dominated the local primitive tribes. Then, defeat. Crushing humiliation. Their civilization was superseded, forgotten...but why?"<br />
<br />
"I think you've been infected by Blumenthal's extravagant imagination."<br />
<br />
Malin shrugged. "Why do you ask questions if you are just going to mock me when I answer?"<br />
<br />
"Sorry, but I don't understand. The Clyte try to guide the course of human civilization? The Clyte wanted the Etruscan Empire rather than the Roman Empire?"<br />
<br />
"Someone did. Imagine this: a Mediterranean world where men and women were equals, where eastern arts and sciences flourished, where the industrial revolution arrived centuries sooner."<br />
<br />
Mary laughed. "Let me guess. The Clyte made the Etruscans, established them in Italy."<br />
<br />
Malin nodded, "Something like that. Think about your family. Matriarchs handing their memories down from generation to generation. Look at the social changes in England over the past century...women being allowed to receive educations and vote. Imagine that happening 2,000 years ago. But then it all went wrong."<br />
<br />
Mary stopped laughing. "Are you trying to tell me that Blumenthal has found evidence to support this fantasy?"<br />
<br />
"We're going to have to go to Italy and try to find out. Remember, I told you that the Clyte don't seem to care about human civilization...who wins which war, who conquers and who is elected. But..."<br />
<br />
<i>But what if the Clyte are not alone? What if there are other visitors to Earth who do care, who try to pick the winners and losers of human history</i>?<br />
<br />
Two days later they each received a letter from Diana. She would arrive the next weekend and be ready to meet her students the following week. She would be arriving with Cathy.<br />
<br />
Malin looked up from his letter and saw Mary tittering over hers. He asked, "What's so funny?"<br />
<br />
Mary folded up the letter. "This is private correspondence, but since I know you can't resist sticking your cute nose in my personal business..."<br />
<br />
Malin bent down and kissed her nose. "Mmm...that sounds like fun."<br />
<br />
"Diana asked me about you and why I'm running off to Italy with you. She said that we remind her of some silly Shakespearean play."<br />
<br />
Malin chuckles, "I can see you as Julia, on your way to Milan."<br />
<br />
Mary put her arms up behind his shoulders and pulled his head down towards her face. She whispered in his ear, "I don't dress like a boy."<br />
<br />
"You don't wear any of the flashy clothing that I buy for you."<br />
<br />
"I suppose you'll expect me to bring the fur coat to Italy."<br />
<br />
"Of course, we might end up in the Alps."<br />
<br />
"If I dressed like a tart then the Proctors would run me out of town."<br />
<br />
The Proctor farm was the largest in Wenvoe and there were three Proctor children in the school.<br />
<br />
"Remember, I'm firing you from you schoolmarm position and promoting you to world traveler. We'll outfit you with a chic continental wardrobe as soon as we get across the Channel."<br />
<br />
"All expenses paid on the Wenvoe school fund?"<br />
<br />
"That's just one of the financial instruments that the Clyte designed."<br />
<br />
"Where do they get their money?"<br />
<br />
"I suspect the Clyte have vast stockpiles of gold and other valuables. I have access to the school money and a fat bank account for the Supply Depot which was set up long before my time. <br />
<br />
Mary wondered: <i>About the Proctors...what do you think they'll do when Diana and Cathy set up housekeeping together</i>?<br />
<br />
<i>I sent Cathy a job offer yesterday. I suppose we'll just tell the proctors that two smart women in the community are better than one</i>.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>What is Cathy's background</i>?<br />
<br />
<i>She graduated from the London School of Medicine and worked at South London Hospital during the war. She was doing physiology research with Roughton in Cambridge when she met Diana</i>.<br />
<br />
<i>Impressive. Don't you think both Diana and Cathy are over-qualified for the position of 'schoolmarm'</i>?<br />
<br />
<i>You want to know why they are so eagerly coming to the edge of civilization</i>?<br />
<br />
<i>Exactly</i>.<br />
<br />
<i>Well, Wenvoe offers several things, all the wealth of the Clyte and that is backed by their strange power of persuasion. I also told Cathy that she can build a state-of-the-art medical clinic and research lab here in the Vale</i>.<br />
<br />
<i>I see. That sounds exciting. Maybe I should stay here and help Cathy get that project going. You could run off to Italy with Diana...I'm sure she'd look fantastic in chic continental clothes</i>.<br />
<br />
Malin laughed. "Are you really jealous of Diana?"<br />
<br />
"I'll decide after I see Cathy. I want to know if she's as tall as you are and if she's a better kisser."<br />
<br />
"Does that mean you're in the mood for some research?" She was. They shared their first full-scale and high-moisture kiss. <i>I'm afraid I'm going to need several decades of practice to make sure I get this right</i>.<br />
<br />
Malin went to Cardiff with Jack and bought a new Rolls-Royce Phantom. The next day they met Diana and Cathy at the train station and Jack drove the Rolls to Wenvoe. Cathy asked if the car was new. Malin admitted that it was. "I realized that you will want to explore the Vale and find a good location for your medical center. Wenvoe itself is probably too sleepy. This car is yours, but Jack can drive you anywhere you need to go."<br />
<br />
"Jack drives like a nervous child," Cathy observed. "I've been driving for years. I'd feel silly with a driver."<br />
<br />
Jack muttered, "This is my first day driving, but I'm learning." <br />
<br />
Diana was more interested in Malin than the car. She asked, "So, why are you taking my dear Mary off to Italy?"<br />
<br />
Before answering, Malin tried testing to see if the Clyte would allow any direct thought exchange with Diana or Cathy, but it seemed that he could not even establish the basic empathic connection that he and Mary had felt the first day that they met. "We've discovered a common interest in the history of mining. We're off on a romantic quest to find a lost Etruscan gold mine."<br />
<br />
Diana asked suspiciously, "Just how romantic, Mr. Crunn? Judging by the letter I got from Mary she is quite smitten with you."<br />
<br />
Malin nodded. "Well, I must admit that I've taken advantage of your cousin. She quickly became bored with the quiet village of Wenvoe and I made myself a ready distraction. Just a few days ago she even granted me a wish and we shared our first kiss. At this rate I anticipate two or three more before the end of the year."<br />
<br />
Diana laughed. "Mary was always a shy little girl, an introverted bookworm. I'm not sure if she's spoken about our childhood...I suppose I shocked her with my wildness."<br />
<br />
Malin pretended to be unaware of Diana's past. "Shocked? Surely a lady like you wouldn't know how to shock anyone."<br />
<br />
Cathy said, "Surely you jest, Mr. Crunn. Diana goes out of her way to twist, contort and generally turn conventions on their heads. She's an expert at turning heads...your boy Jack is likely to put us in a ditch for not being able to keep his eyes off of her."<br />
<br />
"I can scarcely blame the lad. You make a dashing couple...it's amusing to imagine the impact that your arrival will have on our sleepy Vale."<br />
<br />
Cathy sighed loudly. "This is such a backwater. Maybe we can start to bring Wales into the current century."<br />
<br />
Malin handed a folder to Cathy. "Towards that end, we should visit the Provincial bank tomorrow and establishing your authority over the Glamorgan Medical Trust."<br />
<br />
After a minute Cathy handed the folder to Diana. She looked at the prospectus and exclaimed, "Five million pounds? Can this be right?"<br />
<br />
Malin chuckled, "It might not be right, but it should get Dr. Nader's clinic project underway."<br />
<br />
Cathy handed back the folder to Malin. "I can't imagine where so much money must be coming from."<br />
<br />
Malin shrugged, "Ah, as to that, I'm not at liberty to say. There is a family with old money from mining and shipping and other enterprises that wishes to aid the social and cultural development of communities with dilapidated ports and exhausted mines. The family name is not Crunn...I'm just a prospector's son who has been called upon to help spend some money where it can do good."<br />
<br />
Diana asked, "Does that philanthropic plan include shy science students named Mary and random nations such as Italy?"<br />
<br />
Malin shook his head. "With Dr. Nader arriving in the Vale I feel I can sneak off for a research expedition. Do you know that the Etruscans had their own mining boom thousands of years ago, much like what Wales has experienced?"<br />
<br />
Cathy remarked, "Hrmph. It seems like a tenuous connection to...modern concerns."<br />
<br />
Diana added, "Quite so. With winter approaching, it seems like a feeble excuse for a young man to slip off with a lover to a warm Mediterranean destination."<br />
<br />
Malin was on the verge of starting to try to justify the planned trip over seas, but the Clyte was heavy in his mind: <i>Say nothing, boy. Soon they will forget the whole matter.</i><br />
<br />
And the Clyte was correct. Cathy began describing a local Welsh doctor who she wanted to consult with about possible locations for the new medical clinic. Cathy and Diana never again questioned the fact that Mary and Malin would soon leave home for far shores.<br />
_______________________<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><b>Editor's Note</b>. That was the end of Chapter Two in Miners of Earth. Chapter Three described the travel of Mary and Malin from Wales to Italy
and the growing entanglement of their minds. At the end of the Chapter
they finally caught up with Blumenthal in Macugnaga.</i><br />
_______________________<br />
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1YHQiJg46e4/Uhix8OdY2iI/AAAAAAAAK9Y/TlxGg7b_5q4/s1600/macugnaga.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1YHQiJg46e4/Uhix8OdY2iI/AAAAAAAAK9Y/TlxGg7b_5q4/s1600/macugnaga.png" /></a><br />
<br />
Blumenthal explained that the ancient north Etruscans, with their capitol in Felsina, had metal mines in places like Macugnaga. The Etruscans shipped fine worked metal products out of their ports on the coast.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9GDWivMcC9k/Uhgbu3XNxeI/AAAAAAAAK8s/Nkmy_UCVZDE/s1600/ea.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9GDWivMcC9k/Uhgbu3XNxeI/AAAAAAAAK8s/Nkmy_UCVZDE/s1600/ea.png" /></a>Blumenthal described a high culture that briefly bloomed in Felsina, then quickly collapsed, leaving almost no record of its existence.<br />
<br />
Having consumed considerable wine during and after dinner, Mary, Malin and Blumenthal became rather animated. Mary challenged Blumenthal's rather romantic view of a great north Etrscan civilization. Blumenthal brought out a set of engraved metal plates.<br />
<br />
Mary found the engraved symbols incomprehensible, but the metal itself was interesting. Puzzled by the metal, she said, "Malin told me that you had seen some engraved bronze plates. This isn't bronze."<br />
<br />
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Macugnaga nodded. "Those bronze tablets are not this old, but they led me here to Macugnaga. I don't know what metal this is...or even that it is metal."<br />
<br />
Malin asked, "Can you read this script?"<br />
<br />
"Not really. But I tell you...these plates do speak to me. There is a familiarity in this writing...I...I know what it means. Look, this is a lineage, these are dates, these the names. But there is more. Look at this." Blumenthal pulled what looked like a cigar case from his pocket. He pulled out what at first looked like a fine while cloth, but it unrolled and spread upon the table, moving like a smoke cloud then settling upon the table like a sheet of pure white paper.<br />
<br />
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Upon the "paper" were some enigmatic lines. Blumenthal said, "Forget the question of what this is made of. Look at the map!"<br />
<br />
Mary and Malin struggled to interpret the line drawing as a map. Finally Mary said, "Africa!"<br />
<br />
Blumenthal pointed, "This is Antarctica, this is the coast of America, over here is India and this is the edge of Europe."<br />
<br />
Malin asked, "Where did you get this?"<br />
<br />
"I can't tell you exactly, but not far from here. A little community that has handed these artifacts down from the ancients."<br />
<br />
"What do you mean? How ancient?"<br />
<br />
Blumenthal turned the map over, revealing more of the indecipherable text. "Based on the script, this must be well over 2,000 years old."<br />
<br />
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Mary complained, "But nobody could have drawn a map like this so long ago."<br />
<br />
Blumenthal folded over the edges of the map. "This a legend for the map." Each time he touched his finger tip to one entry in the "legend", a location on the map glowed. "This is the largest marker, the first location in the legend."<br />
<br />
Malin did not seem surprised. "Southern Africa." Mary was there in his thoughts and he shared with her: <i>I understand now what the Clyte have always told me...that we would go to Africa</i>.<br />
<br />
Mary said, "Oh, my!"<br />
<br />
Blumenthal laughed and rolled up the map, returned it to his pocket. "So my young friends, will you help me in my quest to solve this mystery?"<br />
<br />
In the time it took Blumenthal to tuck the map back in his pocket, Mary explained to Malin: <i>Now I know why the Clyte wanted a geologist. I learned in school that just a year or so ago it was reported that there are platinum deposits in Africa, at the spot marked on this map</i>.<br />
<br />
Malin said to Blumenthal, "Certainly we will do what we can to help you. If you need financial backing, I'm prepared to offer you monetary assistance for your investigations."<br />
<br />
Blumenthal took Malin's hand and shook it vigorously. "That would be a most welcome kind of assistance. And I need help analyzing the composition of these artifacts."<br />
<br />
Mary said, "I can suggest some research labs for metal analysis, but I can't being to imagine how the map was made. Have you checked it for electrical and magnetic fields?"<br />
<br />
Blumenthal shook his head and lamented, "The past month seems almost like a crazy dream...each strange discovery leading to another." He packed the "metal" plates into a small black travel case. "I'm planning to go to Vienna next week to have some tests done."<br />
<br />
Malin said, "And I'm afraid we must be leaving for home in the morning. When you reach Vienna, check with Creditanstalt, they will have an account in your name. Perhaps you will find an opportunity in the future to come to London and present a summary of your results at the British Museum."<br />
<br />
Blumenthal shrugged, "I can't see into the future. This map will change the course of my life, perhaps the whole world! The history of man is not what we have believed it to be." Blumenthal stepped out into the cold night air with his guests. "I'll meet you at the station an hour before the morning train departs. We can chat again over breakfast."<br />
<br />
"Goodnight."<br />
<br />
Mary and Malin walked down the lane into town, returning to the ski resort where they had rooms. Mary asked, "Why did you say we are returning home?"<br />
<br />
Malin shrugged. "What could I say? If we get to Venice tomorrow then we can be in Port Said by Saturday."<br />
<br />
In the morning, when they found Blumenthal at the station restaurant, he seemed a different man than the previous night: dejected and depressed. "I'm sorry you wasted your time coming here. Still, I have some hope that I might find additional bronze artifacts in this region. My search will go on."<br />
<br />
The Clyte was with Mary and Malin: <i>he remembers nothing about the map and the ertea panels</i>.<br />
<br />
Malin tentatively asked, "In your recent letter you hinted at a map you had found."<br />
<br />
Blumenthal, "In every village there are shrewd craftsmen fabricating "ancient" maps and artifacts. Since the discoveries at Gubbio it has been a cottage industry. I see many maps and diligently prove that they are fraudulent. A few I buy, and it takes some effort to debunk them. I was enthusiastic about one such map when I wrote to you, but the chemists assure me it is of modern manufacture, carefully processed to look old, but not an archeological artifact. My search goes on. There is no doubt that the north Etruscans obtained gold from this region, but I've found no evidence of any written records from that time. The kings of Felsina might not have even been literate."<br />
<br />
They heard a warning blast from the waiting train. Blumenthal stood up and pulled his black Goldpfeil case out from under the table. They walked to the boarding platform where Blumenthal handed Malin the case, "Your case, sir. Have a safe journey." He nodded to Mary, "A pleasure meeting you Miss Goidel." He turned and departed from the train station.<br />
<br />
A few minutes later, in their private cabin onboard the train to Venice, Malin handed Mary the case. "You look."<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6cwKNeZil4U/UcogHlbpVBI/AAAAAAAAKf8/QJBh4SZke1A/s1600/boatn.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6cwKNeZil4U/UcogHlbpVBI/AAAAAAAAKf8/QJBh4SZke1A/s320/boatn.png" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mary on the voyage to Africa,<br />
illustration by Thomas Iwedon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The train began pulling away from the platform. Mary opened the case. Inside was a bundle of Blumenthal's hand written notes, the mysterious engraved "metal" panels and a black tube the size of a large cigar. She opened the tube and confirmed that the electronic fabric map was inside. The Clyte commented, <i>When the Etruscan civilization was erased, it was a nasty, contentious affair. Not a clean erasure. You have done your part to help me clean up some of the lingering mess</i>.<br />
<br />
Mary was not happy with the situation: <i>You are using us to help the Clyte hide the hidden history of Earth?</i><br />
<br />
<i>My child, I am Clyte. You think Blumenthal can make better use of these artifacts than I? What difference would it make on Earth if the truth were known? No, you two will take this evidence to Clytel where it will make a difference</i>.<br />
<br />
Mary closed the case and Malin took hold of her hand. <i>The Clyte want to help. There is some other force that has always countered the Clyte and kept human civilization in check</i>.<br />
<br />
Mary tried to relax and believe. "If Blumenthal could be made to hand over his great finds to us, without even being aware of what he was doing, then how can I trust my own thoughts and beliefs?"<br />
<br />
Malin had no real answer. <i>The Clyte could have collected this...evidence...without our help. Our involvement in this means that we, ourselves are important</i>.<br />
<br />
Mary wondered, <i>Why me? Why you? Why us</i>?<br />
<br />
The Clyte was silent.<br />
<br />
______________________________<br />
<br />
<i><b>Editor's note.</b> Thomas ended Chapter Four with the arrival of Mary and Malin in Cape Town. Chapter Five described how Mary and Malin reached the Clyte teleportation station near Rustenburg from where they departed Earth and began their travel among the stars.</i><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HWaBF5hkwBA/UhjIhsxIZ1I/AAAAAAAAK9w/X80zDIfXSV8/s1600/cloud_mandate.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HWaBF5hkwBA/UhjIhsxIZ1I/AAAAAAAAK9w/X80zDIfXSV8/s1600/cloud_mandate.png" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://i.creativecommons.org/l/by-nc-sa/3.0/88x31.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://i.creativecommons.org/l/by-nc-sa/3.0/88x31.png" height="31" width="88" /></a><i><b>The Foundations of Eternity</b></i> is copyright <a href="http://exodemic.blogspot.com/p/john.html">John Schmidt</a>, but the text of the story is licensed for sharing under the<b> <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/" target="_blank">Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike</a> (CC BY-NC-SA) license. </b>John Schmidthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12557999612244024954noreply@blogger.com0