Foray to the Future: Chapter 5

I think 5 chapters is enough. It's not like you want to read them anyway.

5

            Nathan awoke with a start several hours later, covered in sweat and panting. He wiped his brow with his gown, trying to slow his rapid breathing. What had he dreamed? Garbled images flashed before his eyes, but he could not discern any clear, coherent sequence that made any sense. He rubbed his face and, seeing the dark ward, dropped his head back into the pillow.

The next day came uneventfully. No questioning, no exams, no painful injections; just Nathan relaxing on his bed as the window went from an opaque wall to transparent, filling the room with fresh sunlight. Nathan was continually amazed by the technology; the wall faded away as the sun rose, though it was still solid. Nathan tried thinking of explanations for this, but in the end, his mind simply reverted to eh, it’s the future.

            He was allowed out of the ward, though he mostly used this time to look at himself in the mirror in the bathroom. Since he had arrived, Nathan had not showered, though one could not tell by smelling him. It seemed that the hospital gown collected all the dead skin that would normally cause a stench and had somehow removed it. He also had neither shaved nor brushed his teeth, and his patchy blonde beard was very apparent, though it seemed that the food he had been eating had taken care of any pungent breath he might have had.

            Doctor Baker, his facemask off, strode into the ward. He had his hands held behind his back. He walked straight to Nathan with a pleasant smile.

“Good morning! I have a surprise for you.” He pulled the book Mrs. Gene gave him out from behind his back and handed it to Nathan. Nathan took it eagerly, his mood taking leaps and bounds over what it was before. He ran his hands over the cover, feeling, if just for a brief second, the comfort of home.

“All of your belongings were delivered here this morning. I assume that the Acclimation Officer will be here relatively soon too.” Doctor Baker paused for a second. “Have you had breakfast yet?”

“If I knew how the work the magical dispensary over there, I most certainly would.”

Doctor Baker sighed. “One of the other doctors here should have offered, but they always seem reluctant to be in here…”

“How come there are hardly any doctors for the other patients?” asked Nathan. “I mean, it’s kind of noticeable, this being a hospital and all.” Doctor Baker’s voice softened.

“They are all members of Silens Terra, deemed terrorists. They all received some kind of injury when they clashed with members of the Defense Forces. They’re recovering here until they are well enough to be imprisoned.” Doctor Baker then headed to the small alcove, returning with another bowl of mush.

“What is Silens Terra, exactly? I mean, the two officers mentioned it when they were questioning me,” asked Nathan. Doctor Baker’s demeanor hardened a bit, his face displaying an odd wrinkle or two.

“They’re a group of people who believe that humans should remain separate from non-terrestrials. They use rather…unconventional means to get their message across.” Doctor Baker then went silent. Nathan thought of probing deeper, but Doctor Baker seemed rather sensitive on the subject.

“Anyway, I adjusted the ingredients slightly, so the taste should be different, hopefully a bit better.” He handed the silver bowl and spoon to Nathan. It still looked like moulding clay. Nathan sat up in his bed and crossed his legs. He put the book down at the foot of his bed. For a moment, Nathan thought he saw a bit of the food move on its own; undeterred, however, Nathan grabbed a spoonful and ate it with delight. It now tasted a bit like cinnamon and had no sickly aftertastes or embarrassing side effects.

“How is it?” asked Doctor Baker.

“Pretty damn good, actually. It tastes like real food,” said Nathan through a mouthful. Doctor Baker went to get himself a bowl and returned.

“So how does that thingy make this stuff?” said Nathan, who then realized how ridiculous his sentence sounded. “I meant-”

“It’s called the synthesizer,” said Doctor Baker, nodding towards the small alcove. “It can create basically anything as long as you know the atomic composition. Granted, to the layman such as yourself, that might be a little intense, and oh, you’re right, this is good, but since most objects such as food, clothing, and devices have been atomically mapped and catalogued, there is very little that the synthesizer can’t make.”

“Can it make living things?” asked Nathan, quickly finishing off his mush.

“Depends what you mean by living,” replied Doctor Baker. “It can make seeds for a plant, it can replicate animal proteins for food, but it can’t make a fetus. The human cerebral cortex, immune system, and nervous system are too complex for the synthesizer to replicate, though there are researchers attempting to do so even now. If they succeed, there will certainly be a revolution in treating diseases that will be surpassed by, well, probably nothing.”

“Amazing. How does it create things?” asked Nathan, rapt in attention.

“Haha, well, to put it simply, everything no longer needed is recycled. By recycled, I mean that it is broken down into its core atoms which are then stored, and those atoms are re-assembled into whatever you need them to be. Empty bowls, tattered clothing, even human waste, they are all recycled. There are a whole bunch of processes underlying that, but I’m sure that it wouldn’t make much sense if I tried to explain it to you.”

“I’m not as dumb as…well, yeah, technically I am,” said Nathan contentedly. “So, how do I work it?” Doctor Baker ushered Nathan over to the synthesizer. It was an indented space, only about seven inches into the wall. Just above the opening on the wall was a panel with a single blinking red square light button. Doctor Baker pushed it and it immediately disappeared; it was replaced by three oval buttons: a blue one that had “FOODSTUFFS” written in black letters in the center, a green one that had “MATERIAL” written in black letters, and a yellow one that had “RECYCLE” written in black letters.

“First, Nathan, place your bowl and spoon in the synthesizer,” said Doctor Baker. Nathan did so, and Doctor Baker pressed the “RECYCLE” button. Immediately, the bowl began disintegrating, its contents turning into small blue particles that appeared to fall through the bottom of the synthesizer, almost as if the bottom were another hologram. After the particles disappeared, Nathan poked at the bottom of the synthesizer curiously. It was completely solid.

“Well, now, obviously, you press the button that reads ‘foodstuffs,’”-he pressed it- “and then this menu comes up.” Smaller buttons appeared in varying colors, except they all had abbreviations that Nathan did not understand. Many only contained one letter and one number.

“Yeah, um, sorry, this does not make any sense. We all learn from a very young age about the codes. Here,” he pressed a green unmarked button to the very right of all the coded ones, “this is the vocal command button. Watch.” He cleared his throat. “Synthesize nutritional supplement Berringer R-CHHN24.” Small blue lights began accruing together, almost the exact reverse of what happened for recycling. A new silver bowl and spoon appeared, though this bowl was full of the mush. Nathan could not help but stare in awe.

“It’s such a simple concept…” said Nathan as he trailed off. He grabbed the bowl, examining it as if it was supposed to be different from his other bowls. It was exactly the same, except it was full. He took the spoon, running it through the mush slowly, examining if it had any differences from before. He then picked up a spoonful, examined it, brought it up to each of his eyes, and finally put it in his mouth. It tasted exactly like the bowlful he had before. Doctor Baker placed his empty bowl into the synthesizer and recycled it, though Nathan didn’t notice. He was still inspecting the bowl, as if it were composed of small diamonds.

“Come on, let’s go for a walk. You have yet to look outside.” Doctor Baker tapped Nathan on the arm. Nathan finished his bowl, placed it in the synthesizer, and pressed the “recycle” button. He watched in delighted amazement as the bowl broke down into small blue glowing circles, and as soon as they all disappeared, he followed Doctor Baker out of the ward.

            The inside of the hospital looked like any normal hospital except for the abnormal amount of white. Everything, from the incalculable number of doctors, to the walls, to the floors, was the purest of pure white, and everything was completely clean. Not a spot of dirt could be seen on the ground, though Nathan did not have much time to look around as Doctor Baker led them directly outside to the back of the hospital, through the solid-glass doors that parted for them.

            Seeing the outside world felt like an epiphany to Nathan; the sky was the shade of blue reserved for the most contented day in spring, and a gentle breeze caressed Nathan’s cheek in a way that felt almost familial. The back of the hospital was not at all what Nathan had been expecting; a widened circular drive able to fit several large vehicles encompassed a circular garden of flowers arranged in the typical flow of colors in a rainbow, except where the colors might border, the flowers were mixed, giving a smooth transition from one color to the next. Surrounding the drive on both sides was an expansive lawn where many people were walking about, sitting on benches, or talking to others. It was unusually calm for the typical hospital, at least in Nathan’s experience.

“Wow. This is…different,” remarked Nathan. He and Doctor Baker began walking along the grass.

“Oh? How so?” asked Doctor Baker.

“Well, this type of set-up was usually reserved for the asylums for the, you know,” Nathan whistled and spun his finger pointing at his head, “insane. I read a pretty good book on this stuff back when I was in college. You never saw this kind of thing in a normal medical hospital. Hell, you never saw this at an asylum. They were never so nice.” Doctor Baker chuckled.

“Well, we’ve learned quite a bit about mental and cognitive conditions since your time. We certainly don’t practice eugenics the way that it was once practiced, nor do we dull the mind with narcotics. There is a greater appreciation for the mind, which is recognized as separate from the brain. A soul, if you prefer old religious parlance. The mind is the portion where creativity and self is contained; you might think of it as composed of certain portions of the brain, but not confined to the brain itself. Also, we now believe that a bit of fresh air is necessary for a recovering patient, though only for those who can make it outside, of course. Come, sit.” Doctor Baker motioned to a nearby white bench.

“Fascinating. I feel like this pervades into some area of philosophy that I may or may not have learned about, though more likely not, but that is only because my philosophy class was composed of me staring at the incredibly cute blonde girl in front of me who sneezed whenever the professor said ‘Heidegger.’ Made for a pretty entertaining week on German philosophers,” said Nathan. Doctor Baker smiled, though he was obviously aching to say something.

“Look, Nathan, in approximately the next half-hour or so, you will be completely out of my hands. I won’t be able to protect you anymore, and even though the officers have assured me that they will no longer want you in prison, I still fear that you may be in some danger. I can only offer you my aid as a friend; if you need to contact me, simply use the wrist bracelet if you are given one, or contact me via your living quarters. You’ll have a computer terminal equipped with a communicator, so you will be able to find me if necessary. I’m sure your Acclimation Officer will show you how to use the basics of what you’re given,” Doctor Baker said reassuringly.

“Thank you, Doctor. If I sneeze, you will certainly be the first to know.”

Doctor Baker stared at Nathan dumbfounded for a second, then guffawed heartily.

“You’ve got quite the sense of humor. Come, let’s get you some better clothes than the ones you have already.” Doctor Baker stood up from the bench, and Nathan followed. It really was quite a beautiful day; Nathan could hear several birds singing happily in the distance, and somewhere near those birds were some patients, laughing heartily, while playing with what looked like a slightly oversized silver volleyball. On a bench nearby the patients sat a rather rough looking man wearing something similar to the officers, and from the distance, it looked like he was staring directly at Nathan. Nathan could almost swear that one of his eyes was unusually shiny, but Nathan turned away, disregarded the man, and entered the hospital without a word.

The Doctor led Nathan to a room in the hospital about half the size of his ward, though there was not much in the room aside from a synthesizer and what looked like an empty, silver doorframe in the center of the room. Upon closer inspection, however, this doorframe was longer than it appeared. It was more like an opened box, the beams on each side wider than Nathan. Several cables ran from the bottom of the doorframe to a standing glass control panel that looked like a podium. Doctor Baker went to the podium, the transparent display booting up at his touch. He looked up at Nathan.

“Step right into the imager right between the vertical beams.”

Nathan walked up to it and stood directly under the horizontal panel on top. He had not noticed before that, on the sides of the panels facing him, each panel was black with horizontal green lines spaced a few inches apart.

“All right, look directly forward, arms at your sides, try not to move too much, and stand up straight; your posture is sagging a bit.” Nathan stood like a soldier, looking directly forward at the wall. Doctor Baker pressed a button on the glass panel, and a low hum of electricity began to emanate from the imager. A red light emerged from the horizontal panel at the top, gradually moving down the frame until it reached the top of Nathan’s head. When it did, it paused, and then disappeared. Two new red lights emerged from either side of Nathan, moving gradually towards him until they reached his shoulders, after which they disappeared as well. Nathan looked around, wondering if the whole thing was done. A blue light, right on cue, began to make its way up his legs, scanning his entire body gradually. It felt like absolutely nothing was happening; there was not even a trace of heat from the light. Finally, when it reached the top of his head, the electrical hum stopped.

“You can step out now, Nathan.” Nathan walked out of the imager and towards Doctor Baker. On the glass control panel was a diagram of Nathan’s body, detailing his height, weight, and body classification. Nathan watched curiously as Doctor Baker tapped a few buttons, the options on the sides of the diagram changing each time.

“All right, what color do you want your clothes to be? Keep in mind that you can change it whenever you wish.” Doctor Baker looked at Nathan for an answer.

“Uh…blue?” said Nathan.

“What kind of blue?” asked Doctor Baker.

“I have to choose a kind of blue?”

“Well, yes, there are many various shades of blue. There’s navy, sky, aqua, cerulean, steel, azure, electric, royal…”

“Okay, I get it,” interrupted Nathan. He thought for a second. “Fine, just give me navy blue.”

“Navy it is!” Doctor Baker tapped one of the buttons on the side. “Matching shoes? Or black?”

“Wait, shoes? You’re wearing shoes?” Nathan looked down at Doctor Baker’s feet. He was, in fact, wearing white shoes that conformed perfectly to his feet without having individual slots for toes. The shoes themselves overlapped with Doctor Baker’s clothes, though Nathan could only tell because he was looking so closely. He couldn’t believe that he never noticed that Doctor Baker was wearing shoes. Nathan had figured that the entire skin suit covered the feet as well.

“Wow, I’m dumb. Yeah, make them blue. Wait! Can I have a stripe?” asked Nathan.

“You can have whatever you want on them,” replied Doctor Baker.

“Great, give me a black stripe perpendicular to the bottom of the heel. For once, I won’t have to pay for these.” Doctor Baker tapped another button at the side. The screen then wiped itself, completely blank. Doctor Baker walked to the synthesizer, turned it on, and tapped a few buttons. He turned around, and there in his hands were Nathan’s new clothes, his shoes on top. He handed them to Nathan who took them eagerly; the fabric was nearly weightless in his hands. He ran his hands over the clothes and the shoes; they all felt like silk, smooth and embracing.

“I’ll get you a shaver so you can get rid of that bird’s nest growing on your face.” Doctor Baker turned again to the synthesizer and came back with an item that looked like a silver butane cigarette lighter, except that there was a single blue button on it and the top was open.

“Just put the open portion on your facial hair and press the button. Move it around your face and for the love of all that is sacred, do not put it on your eye.” Nathan laughed and placed the item on top of his clothes.

“Also, go take a proper shower. While your gown might have absorbed a lot of grime from you, it certainly doesn’t cover your entire body. The showers are in the bathroom, just past the toilets on the left side. Just press the panel and set the temperature. I’ll see you back in the ward. If you have any problems in the bathrooms, please don’t call me; showering other people is not in my job description.”

“I shall return cleaner than a priest after a long Saturday night. And don’t worry, if I do happen to gouge my eyes out, I will call you. I believe something about that is in your job description.” And with a wink, Nathan turned and headed to the bathroom.

            After a very long shower, several poor renditions of an opera Nathan had once heard, a shave, getting dressed, and being amazed at how the clothes and shoes quite literally melded together, he walked into the ward a new man. His face looked young and wholesome and the clothes fit him perfectly. Nathan thought he looked almost like a super hero; the navy blue clothes matched his body shape almost to the micrometer, though it left ample room for his privates. The light blue Earth on his chest felt to him like a symbol of heroism; and I shall be called, ‘Earth-Man!’ Nathan thought to himself. He walked up to Doctor Baker, who stood next to Nathan’s bed with Nathan’s belongings.

“These clothes almost fit me too well. I feel like people are continually staring at my ass.” Nathan twisted around a bit, attempting to get a look at his behind. Doctor Baker grinned.

“Don’t worry about it. Actually, your Acclimation Officer just arrived. She should be arriving within the minute.”

“She, eh? I just hope she doesn’t find my ass too unappealing in these pants,” joked Nathan. A short silence then hung in the air, making Nathan feel a bit awkward. He felt as if he did not know how to express all the gratitude he wished to. Luckily, he didn’t have to, because Doctor Baker looked to the door of the ward a second later and remarked “ah.”

            Nathan turned, only to have the wind knocked out of him. He was sure his jaw had hit the floor and shattered upon impact. Standing there, at the entrance of the ward, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen before, and what’s better, he knew that she was there for him. Her black security suit left just enough to Nathan’s imagination to make what was underneath extremely appealing, but that was not what made his heart rate spike. Her eyes were the color of sand mixed with a red fire, giving them a strange, vivid tinge of brown; her hair was a light brown, tied in a professional bun behind her head. Even though she was a security officer, her face glowed with a white radiance, making it appear soft. She was neither too tall nor too short, but just the right height for Nathan. He wanted to touch her face, to caress it, but he figured that would not be the best way to make a first impression.

            She finally reached him, standing up straight and looking Nathan in the eye. She gave what might be called a forced smile and extended her hand. Nathan grabbed it with his, a stupid grin across his face.

“Lieutenant Denara Stewart of the Office of Defense and Security. Mr. Nathan Berringer, correct?” she asked in what sounded like a British accent. Nathan gave what sounded like a small dog’s whimper as a reply. Doctor Baker chimed in. “Yes, he is.”

“Very good. As you know, I have been assigned to you as your Acclimation Officer, as mandated by a joint directive by both the Office of Defense and Security and the Office of Vocational Placement and Aid. Are you ready to leave?” Nathan replied with another whimper, though he quickly cleared his throat.

“Mm, yes.” He stood eyeing her, while she looked at him expectantly.

“Do you need help moving your things?” Denara asked.

“What, oh, no, I’ve got it, no problem,” replied Nathan, quickly bending over to gather his belongings, unable to wipe the foolish grin off his face. He began to walk out, but stopped suddenly. He put his things down, turned around, and walked back to Doctor Baker. Doctor Baker looked at Nathan approvingly. He extended his hand and Nathan took it, squeezing it.

“Thank you,” said Nathan.

“Any time,” replied Doctor Baker. Nathan released his hand, standing for a second; he knew there was infinitely more to say to Doctor Baker, to thank him for being supportive, for protecting Nathan, but at the moment, a simple “thank you” seemed to suffice. Nathan turned, picked up his things, and walked out of the ward with the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Foray to the Future: Chapter 4

4

            Nathan thought all night about what Officer Denorus told him: “reported missing 20 August 2012.” Uncertainties about temporal paradoxes had him worried; since he was still reported missing in the past, did that mean that Nathan would not be able to leave the future? Does that mean that at no point in the future could he travel back to his own time? Or, alternatively, could he go back and live a comparatively normal life, changing how he was painted by the past? Nathan’s understanding of temporal mechanics was only as good as the science fiction he read in books and watched on television. Implausible theories and ridiculous fantasies of time travel all danced around like sensuous women in his mind; they all seemed so close and available, but he knew them to only tease his fancy. More and more theories emerged, one more ridiculous than the next, until his eyes slowly fluttered and he fell asleep.

Nathan awoke the next morning, though he would have preferred to remain in his calming imagination. He had dreamed that Mr. and Mrs. Gene were sorrowfully watching a news report about his mysterious disappearance, and then eagerly joined up with Henry Berringer to comb through the miles of highway Nathan had traversed. Henry seemed miserable; his face was bloated and his eyes were red, as if he had been crying the entire night. They walked through all the vast cornfields until they finally found Nathan, asleep in a small patch of downed corn. Everyone was overjoyed, even Henry;  and Mr. and Mrs. Gene hugged Nathan so tightly that his head almost popped off, and they all returned home. Henry and Nathan had a long, calm talk, and Henry finally allowed Nathan to find his own way in the world.

            Eventually, Nathan opened his eyes. The images of his dreams slowly faded away, leaving Nathan with a cold, hollow feeling in his chest. He lay there for an hour or so, hoping against hope that he had only been dreaming the unconscionable that had presented itself to him the day before. But, there was his small ward with the ceiling aglow, the large, open window, several doctors wearing their facemasks and skin suits, and five other beds containing five other patients. Nathan could not help but shut all this out, muting the world beyond the limits of his mind, thinking only of a darkness now being experienced by everyone he once knew. It was void of thought or emotion, and simply felt empty, like falling freely forever. The void felt cold, and pulled at him like hooks in his skin.

“Mr. Berringer.” Nathan snapped back to the present. Doctor Baker stood at the foot of Nathan’s bed, looking well rested and holding a silver bowl and spoon. He lacked the white facemask today. The skin around the rest of his face matched his forehead: relatively wrinkle-free. “I present to you the first of your nutrient-infused meals.” He handed the bowl to Nathan. Nathan certainly was hungry, seeing as his last meal had been nearly a day and a half ago. He grabbed the silver dish ravenously from Doctor Baker and was ready to bury his face into it before he looked at the meal itself.

            It was the color of a cloud during rain. There were a few lumps, making the thought of vomit creep perilously into Nathan’s mind. He looked up at Doctor Baker with a slight expression of disgust.

“Really?” Nathan asked. Doctor Baker smirked.

“It does not taste as bad as it looks, though I have no idea how it tastes, so I’m actually lying to you. I assure you though, it’s quite healthy and will enable you to eat anything you wish after you leave here,” replied Doctor Baker. He handed Nathan a spoon. Nathan reached for the spoon slowly, glancing back and forth from his meal to Doctor Baker, half-expecting the gray sludge to come alive and suffocate him. He poked the gray matter a few times with the spoon. It acted like porridge, except it was chunkier and not at all appetizing. Regardless, Nathan was hungry, so he picked up a spoonful, eyed it closely, and hesitantly put it in his mouth.

            It tasted like sour grapes. The taste actually surprised Nathan; he expected it to be as appealing as licking a spoonful of lead paint. It didn’t feel at all desirable in his mouth, but the taste was overwhelming enough so that he ignored the large chunks of stuff that reminded him of stale marshmallows. He swallowed it gratefully, taking spoonful after spoonful until there was no more mush for him to eat. He looked up at Doctor Baker, who stared in disbelief.

“It was actually good?” Doctor Baker asked, shocked.

“My expectations were just exceptionally low,” replied Nathan. He extended the bowl to Doctor Baker.

“More?” asked Doctor Baker.

“Please.”

Doctor Baker took the bowl, went to a small alcove in the wall adjacent to the entrance of the ward, pressed a few buttons, and returned a few seconds later. He handed the bowl to Nathan and Nathan took it eagerly, though his stomach unexpectedly started to grumble. He paused, surprised. He looked to Doctor Baker to help.

“What’s wrong?” asked the Doctor.

“My stomach, it feels upset.”

“Ah, yes, that would be the enzymes and amino acids taking effect on your digestive system. Toilets are out the door, to the right, about fifteen feet down. They will be on your left,” said Doctor Baker nonchalantly. Nathan leapt out of his bed. He felt unsure of whether or not he should run or walk based on the odd gurgling in his stomach, but he knew he should get there fast.

            Fifteen minutes later and after much fumbling with the odd toilets that Nathan would rather not remember, he finally returned to his bed. Doctor Baker stood leaning against the foot of Nathan’s bed, eating some of the mush. He looked up to see Nathan waddling awkwardly towards him with his hand on his backside. The Doctor opened his grinning mouth to say something, but Nathan pre-empted him and said, “No, no, just give me my mush, no comments.”

            Nathan sidled up next to his bed and climbed in awkwardly, issuing a sigh of relief once he laid himself upon it. Doctor Baker handed Nathan the mush, and the disgustingly hilarious cycle continued itself several more times and over the course of two hours. Doctor Baker would break into fits of stifled giggles every time Nathan entered the ward, as he would grasp his buttocks firmly and take each step with the utmost care. Finally, Nathan felt full without having to relieve himself. Doctor Baker pressed some buttons on his wrist bracelet, and a few minutes later, Officers Denorus and Ka’arin entered the ward. Nathan felt his control over his sphincter waver slightly.

            Doctor Baker, seeing the two men, adopted an unexpectedly welcoming disposition. He waved them over to Nathan’s bed.

“Officers, good morning. I hope you slept well and had decent meals. Mr. Berringer here certainly has. I know you have questions, and I certainly shall not impede your questioning process, but if you don’t mind, I will sit next to Mr. Berringer’s bed and provide color commentary where I feel appropriate. Just act as if I’m not here.” He grabbed a white chair from behind Nathan’s bed and sat on the opposite side from where the officers were standing. Nathan had never noticed the chair before; it looked rather like a spoon, except the handle was holding it up.

“Oh, one more thing.” Doctor Baker got up, jogged to the wall alcove, and returned with a bowl of mush. He began eating it and listening intently. Officer Denorus glared at the Doctor. Officer Ka’arin grabbed another chair from behind Nathan’s bed, similar to the Doctor’s, and placed it next to Nathan’s bed, on the opposite side of the Doctor. He sat in the chair calmly, not breaking eye contact with Nathan.

“Well then, Mr. Berringer, we certainly have quite the litany of questions for you to answer, as you can imagine,” gargled Officer Ka’arin, the water over his gills bubbling slightly. He pressed a few buttons on his wrist-bracelet.

“Please state your name for the record.”

Nathan cleared his throat and spoke exceptionally slowly.

“Nay-than Bear-inn-jerr,” a triumphant smile plastered on his face. “Esquire,” he added quickly. Officer Ka’arin squinted at him.

“Please list any educational qualifications you may have, in what area, and from what university.”

“Bachelor’s degrees in Agricultural Engineering, Astronomy, and Physics from the City University of Montana,” Nathan said flatly.

“According to the medical records we received, you appear to be temporally displaced by approximately three thousand years. Now, can you state for us where you were on the night of 15 August 18k243 and how you got there?”

“I was walking on the highway to Helena. I was going to try to catch a train from there to New York,” replied Nathan.

“A what?” asked Officer Denorus. His stolid expression broke to form an awkward curiosity. He almost looked like a dumbfounded child.

“A train. Choo-choo,” replied Nathan, moving his arms in a circular motion. Officer Denorus still gawked at Nathan.

“Old bit of transportation technology,” interjected Doctor Baker. “Please, continue.”

“Anyway,” continued Officer Ka’arin, “why were you going to take this ‘train’ to New York?”

“I left home,” replied Nathan coolly. “Dad and I had a falling out. I decided to leave and live with one of my relatives. Guess I never got that train, eh?”

“Right. Now, where did you get the ancient technologies that were found on your person?” asked Officer Ka’arin.

“I bought the telescope myself. 2004, I believe it was. My parents gave the phone to me when I was in college, 2008, I think. Damn thing barely worked anyway. I don’t know what other technology there is, unless you count the lunchbox and my underwear as ‘ancient technologies’,” said Nathan.

“We do not,” gurgled Officer Ka’arin. “Please describe how you arrived where we found you.”

            Nathan gave an exasperated sigh and recounted the strange buzzing he heard, the crack in space, how it threw him back, the blue portal, and his arrival to what seemed like the exact same place he had just left.

“Fascinating,” said Officer Ka’arin, his deep gurgling voice getting lighter. “Tell us more about this portal. Be very detailed.”

“It was…blue. It swirled with different bits of color, kind of like different bits of paint going down a drain. When I touched it, well, when my hand went through it, it felt cold. Not terribly freezing, but almost like a slight breeze in autumn. When I passed through it, I just felt the same cold feeling, nothing different.”

“And that crack, tell me again about it. Describe it in detail.” Officer Ka’arin looked at Nathan intently.

“Well,” Nathan started, “it was a crack. And it glowed. You know, take a hammer to a bit of wood or punch a window or something and it’ll look like that, though I suppose it won’t really look like a window because glass gets all spider-webby, so, actually forget I said that. That was just plain wrong of me; I apologize. But it did glow.

“Anyway, it kind of had a front and back, because when I went around it, there was no crack. It also buzzed like it was a beehive, and it got louder the closer I got to it. I could also feel some kind of warm, radiating energy from it, which kind of freaked me out, but at the same time, it was cold, so I didn’t much mind about that. So, because I’m an idiot, I decided to touch it, and then it threw me back like a hot potato.”

“Hm,” remarked Officer Denorus. Nathan had almost forgotten the statue was there.

“Oh, you’re here!” cried Nathan.

“Do the words ‘Silens Terra’ mean anything to you?” interjected Officer Ka’arin quickly. Nathan turned back to Officer Ka’arin.

“Sounds Latin. I think it means ‘Silent Earth,’ if language class taught me anything. What does that have to with me?” replied Nathan.

“Everything,” growled Officer Denorus. He seemed to have tired of the casual line of questions. “You seemed offended by my partner yesterday. Do human-alien hybrids disgust you? Do non-humans on this planet offend you? What are your plans for the upcoming election? Who are your co-conspirators? DO NOT LIE TO ME!” His eyes and tone were accusatory, staring unblinkingly at Nathan. Some spittle flew out of Officer Denorus’ mouth.

“I’ve just never seen one before. Kind of wish I had gills, I can’t swim.” Nathan then turned to Officer Ka’arin. “Do you have webbed feet too?” he asked, excited.

“My feet are actually three-toed fins, though they are too small to be counted as full-fledged Pompilian. I am a pretty good swimmer though,” remarked Officer Ka’arin with a relaxed tone.

“That’s so cool,” said Nathan, impressed. “Whenever I got into a pool, I’d sink to the bottom like a big ol’ lead weight. Nearly drowned once or twice.”

Officer Ka’arin continued.

“Anyway, not to get off-topic, and I’ll make this the last question,” at which Officer Denorus scoffed, “but have you ever experimented with temporal singularities or any kind of temporal or spatial distortion technology at any point in the past?”

Nathan looked at him, slightly bewildered.

“Not unless you count that time I made a clock powered by a potato for science class. Proud moment, that was, until it stopped working about ten minutes into my presentation.”

Doctor Baker gave a hearty guffaw at this, dribbling some mush down his uniform. The stains were absorbed by his clothing, which made them shrink like evaporating puddles.

“Sorry, it was funny,” said Doctor Baker, wiping his face with his sleeve.

“Well, I think we’re done for now. We are going to consult with our superiors and return within the hour. Thank you for your time, Mr. Berringer.” Officer Ka’arin stood up and turned to face Doctor Baker. “Doctor,” he said, nodding. Doctor Baker nodded in kind, and Officer Ka’arin turned to walk out of the ward. Officer Denorus lingered for a few seconds, his Easter Island-like face looking directly at Nathan. The man seemed to produce no major emotional changes in his face aside from the occasional tic and the ever-growing vein bulging out of the side of his forehead. His face was turning slightly red.

“Tyrian!” yelled Officer Ka’arin from the entrance of the ward. Officer Denorus finally turned away from Nathan and left. Nathan watched both him and his partner leave the ward, then turned to find Doctor Baker chuckling to himself.

“Temporal potato,” he giggled. Nathan giggled a bit too.

After approximately half an hour, the officers returned to the ward. Ka’arin looked nonchalant, though Denorus seemed angrier than usual. His right eye twitched on occasion, giving Nathan the impression that Denorus was trying to be awkwardly suggestive.

“Good news, Mr. Berringer, our superiors have determined that you are not a threat to Earth’s security. You’re free to remain here as long as the good Doctor feels you should stay. However, we do require a tissue sample in order to study the neutrino energy your body seems to have absorbed. Doctor, if you would provide that to us?” asked Officer Ka’arin.

“If Mr. Berringer doesn’t object,” said Doctor Baker. Nathan shook his head. Doctor Baker went to the wall alcove, pressed a few buttons, and returned with a device similar to the small metal peppershaker he used to inject the nanites into Nathan. This time, however, instead of having the peppershaker top, it had something that looked like a miniature bulls-eye on the tip. Doctor Baker was about to press it to Nathan’s neck, but Nathan drew back a little.

“I won’t want to break my skull open after you use that, will I?” asked Nathan, his voice wavering. Doctor Baker gave a short chuckle and pushed it to Nathan’s neck, where it made a sound like air expelling. It felt like a light pinch and it took less than a second. Nathan rubbed the area, amazed that he was still conscious after having some tissue removed. Doctor Baker handed the object to Officer Ka’arin, who deposited it in a hip pocket that did not exist before. The clothing continually surprised Nathan.

“Mr. Berringer, as you seemingly have no other place to reside, the Office of Vocational Placement and Aid has offered to give you a certification test. You say you already attended a school of higher learning and we will try to find your educational records. You’re going to need to take a certification test in order for the Office to gauge your aptitude for learning and comprehension of basic modern mathematical principles. There will not be a history portion, for obvious reasons, so it will be mainly mathematics. Luckily, basic mathematical principles have not drastically changed in the past few millennia, so calculus is still calculus. We can have the test ready within forty-five minutes, give or take. Do you agree to take it?” asked Officer Ka’arin.

“I suppose I have no choice, eh? I’m curious though, how come you’re so nonchalant about the mysterious boy from the past who appeared out of thin air, and is apparently three thousand years out of time?” asked Nathan incisively. The question had been residing in the back of his mind, finally making it onto his tongue. Officer Denorus seemed to want to answer, the vein in his forehead bulging, but instead Officer Ka’arin sighed.

“The fact is, we don’t quite know what to do with you. Something like this didn’t happen even before the temporal testing ban. We’ve got a million and one people running around back at the Defense and the Security offices, attempting to find out exactly what is going on. There have been requisition orders to incarcerate you, isolate you, dissect you, and question you thoroughly, though that would only happen if we found you were a…” Officer Ka’arin paused, thinking over his next words. “Anyway, you have your doctor here to thank for the unreasonably casual way you’ve been treated since your arrival. Thankfully, someone knows military law better than the military does.” Doctor Baker gave a clever smirk, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed.

“Well then, we will go to get your examination. I should let you know that, based on your performance on the examination, an acclimation officer will be assigned to you to help you become accustomed to our society.” Both officers turned to leave, but another question tumbled out of Nathan’s mouth.

“How did you know where to find me?” The officers stopped in place, and even Doctor Baker stood up straight. Officer Denorus, surprisingly, turned to answer.

“The terrestrial monitoring center picked up erratic neutrino readings in your location. We were dispatched to find out what they were,” he said in a very straightforward manner.

“What did you find?” asked Nathan.

“Not what we wanted,” answered Officer Denorus simply and sternly, who then walked out of the ward with Officer Ka’arin. Doctor Baker, after being satisfied about the officers’ temporary departure, lifted himself off the wall.

“Well, I’m sorry to say that I have other patients to whom I must attend. Good luck on your examination, Mr. Berringer.” Doctor Baker gave a nod.

“You can call me Nathan,” Nathan blurted out.

“Very well, Nathan. Don’t get too bored while you wait for your exam, and don’t leave the ward, please.” With that, Doctor Baker left the door-less exit.

            Much of the next half-hour was comprised of Nathan twiddling his thumbs, anxious about what a futuristic examination would contain. He could only help but imagine three-dimensional displays, interaction with geometrical shapes holographically projected in the air, or some kind of headset that would beam the examination right into his brain. Much to his chagrin, the officers returned with what looked like a piece of glass about the size of a normal piece of paper. Unlike paper, this piece of glass seemed to have some kind of blinking lights on it.

            Officer Ka’arin handed the glass to Nathan, and then looked at him for a second. Nathan looked down at this glass, unsure of what to make of it. There was his name in red print centered at the top with a little blue square box blinking below it. Beneath that, the glass read, “Examination dispensed on behalf of the Office of Vocational Placement and Aid, Earth, Terran System, subordinate in the Solar Confederation” in smaller red letters.

“Oh, right. Of course, sorry. Put your thumb on the blue box, say your name, and the process will begin. Circle your answer to indicate it is your final one. You can use your finger to write. There’s no time limit,” said Officer Ka’arin. Both officers then sat down in the two chairs next to Nathan’s bed, seemingly ready for an extremely long, drawn out process. Nathan pressed his right thumb to the box, being very gentle so as not to break the glass, though it did not seem very fragile. He spoke his name, and instantly the screen wiped itself. It now read “SECTION 1: SPATIAL GEOMETRY” at the top, and a “Question 1” had appeared beneath it. There was no multiple-choice option, so Nathan would have to work out the entire problem mathematically.

            Nathan worked at a reasonable pace, considering the consequences of his test. He felt that he did quite well on spatial geometry, though he completely flubbed four-dimensional geometry. Unfortunately for him, whenever he got a question wrong, the glass would glow red and would issue a small “beep,” which would prompt a snort from Officer Denorus. Nathan was able to get through geometric calculus with few errors, though he was absolutely dumbfounded by advanced differential geometry. There even came an odd section entitled “preferential symmetry,” which seemed to comprise more aesthetics than mathematics. Once traditional calculus came on, he was able to cruise through it without errors. Finally, and with a sigh of relief, Nathan came to a section on physics. Surprisingly, he faced a good portion of questions on Newtonian physics, and finally questions on relativity, gravitation, particle decay, atomic energy levels, and a plethora of things he knew relatively well. After more sections on astronomy, chemistry, and biology, mostly utilizing equations, he finished. A message appeared on the glass in red, saying, “CONGRATULATIONS, YOU HAVE COMPLETED THE EXAMINATION. PLEASE FILL OUT THE FOLLOWING QUESTIONS TO THE BEST OF YOUR KNOWLEDGE.” A new screen appeared, and the first question confused Nathan more than advanced differential geometry: “What is your favorite color?” He looked down the page, and the rest of the questions were all of the same nature, even going so far as to ask his sexual orientation, favorite holiday destination, and favorite day of the week. He wrote in all the answers, the glass flashed green for a second, and then wiped itself, now only a transparent piece of glass.

            Nathan looked up at the officers; Denorus had fallen asleep in his chair, his head slumped over, while Ka’arin seemed to be gradually sliding out of his, his head resting on his hand. He snored a bit, and whenever he did, the water next to his gills bubbled. Nathan cleared his throat.

“Ehem.” The officers didn’t stir. How long had Nathan been at it?

“BANG!” Nathan yelled, and both officers bolted up out of their chairs, looking around for signs of danger. Other patients even looked up at Nathan, who had a large, self-congratulatory grin on his face. After seeing no threats on their lives, both officers looked at Nathan.

“Oh, I’m done.” He handed the glass to Officer Ka’arin, who looked ready to squirt ink, if he had the ability to do so. Officer Denorus looked at his wrist-bracelet.

“Only took you four hours.” Nathan couldn’t tell if he was impressed or snide.

“We’ll send this to the Office and they’ll have the Acclimation Officer here tomorrow. In the meantime, do not leave the hospital grounds, or we may be forced to arrest you. Do you understand?” asked Officer Ka’arin groggily. Nathan raised his hand up to his forehead in a typical military salute.

“Aye, captain!” he said somewhat sardonically. Both officers rolled their eyes and left.

            Once they had gone, Nathan laid himself down in his bed. He stared at the perfectly white ceiling, thinking only of an uncertain life in this unbelievable time. He did not know what he would make of himself, and a sudden realization smacked him in the face: this was exactly what he wanted, but only in concept; a new beginning, a place in which he could make his own life, his fate guided by none other than himself. Of course, it would have been nice to have an understanding family member to take him in.

            Regardless, Nathan felt a bit more content that he had in the morning. His little sardonic barbs at the stone-faced officer had relieved a bit of stress, though not much; he still felt horribly anxious, though he tried not to show it. He looked around at the other patients; they all looked rather surly and stiff. Even their heads were directed forward, though their eyes would constantly dart around the room. There were no doctors around; in fact, aside from Doctor Baker, there hardly ever seemed to be any doctors in the ward, except for very rare instances.

“Hey, you, guy!” yelled Nathan at the man in the bed directly across from him. The man’s tiny eyes focused on Nathan. His black hair was disheveled, and a few days growth of facial hair made him look extraordinarily brusque.

“What are you here for?” asked Nathan. The man grunted loudly as if he were growling.

“Right then,” Nathan mumbled to himself. “Sleep it is.”

Small break

Watch the 2007 movie "Sunshine." Holy shit, watch the movie. It is some great visuals and incredible psychological tension. The ending is a different story, but goddamn, watch it.

Foray to the Future: Chapter 3

3

            Nathan was awake- well, if you could call it that. His eyelids felt weighed down by several metric tons, his muscles wouldn’t respond, and he still could not talk, but he was conscious, somewhat. He was aware of what happened to paralyze him, but he could not understand how. He had never seen that level of technology before, and the language that the men spoke sounded like nothing he had ever heard before. And that building, that majestic, glowing building, what was it? Something of that magnitude would have cost the state the entirety of its budget plus all the revenue the state could possibly make by selling all of its citizens into servitude. And the pod, the way the pod seemed to appear out of thin air behind Nathan, noiselessly and without alerting him with external lights, how was any of this possible? Theories upon theories began formulating within Nathan’s mind, every one seemingly more implausible than the next.

            Nathan was unsure as to whether or not he was asleep due to the effects of that forceful light. He could see himself in a setting, or landscape, and suddenly, it would change. He went in and out of dreams, re-living the past day in a million different forms. His father cried and understood why Nathan didn’t want to inherit the farm, and so Nathan went about his normal work, but began researching various employments outside of Montana; his father struck him, making Nathan strike back; a random, kind citizen lent Nathan a car; Mr. Gene gave Nathan a bottle of whiskey and a can of pineapple; Nathan rode a tractor through town with a sign saying “just emancipated” on the back; going through the blue oval caused Nathan to freeze in a giant block of ice; a rather attractive actress happened to drive by Nathan on the highway, stopping to give him a lift, ending with them getting married two years later; instead of a blue oval, Nathan tried to walk through his own mother, who disappointedly smacked him on the back of his head, took him by the ear, and brought him home.

            All at once, Nathan’s dreams faded as the weight on his eyelids vanished. He found himself blinking in the whitest room he had ever seen, his eyes attempting to acclimate themselves to the light that seemed to come from the ceiling itself. If not for the shadows cast by the room’s objects, he would have had a hard time telling anything apart. Nathan raised his head a bit; his neck muscles were sore. He was in a rectangular room on a white bed several feet above the ground. He looked around at the five other beds; they were all occupied and none of them had floor supports. They all appeared to be hovering over a spot marked by a glowing, blue circle. Opposite the exit of the room was a large window without any noticeable curtains; apparently it was later (or early) in the day. His clothes had been replaced by a spotless, white robe, which felt almost nonexistent against his skin. Looking behind him, several screens appeared to monitor his vital signs, though they weren’t actually screens; what Nathan at first thought were multiple computer screens were instead projections of light. They had no supporting frame or cables attached, so what else could they be? And how were they actually monitoring him without the typical assortment of cables?

            Nathan attempted to raise his hand to get someone’s attention, but he couldn’t; it felt physically restrained, though there appeared to be nothing stopping him. A man wearing (or painted in) a white skin-suit with a facemask (Nathan thought it was a facemask, though it just looked like everything on his face below his eyes was white) entered Nathan’s small ward. Nathan raised his head as high as he could.

“Hey!” he shouted at the man. The man turned his attention on Nathan, his thin frame walking slowly towards Nathan’s bed. About five feet away, the man seemed to pass through some kind of electrical disturbance; when he walked through whatever it was, it  crackled around his skin like a million tiny bolts of lightning. The man made no notice of it, as if he felt nothing when he walked through. He reached towards Nathan’s head and Nathan instinctively jerked away, though there was no place he could go. The man, with strangely fast reflexes, grabbed Nathan’s head, lifted his eyelids, looked into his eyes, and muttered something into some kind of elongated wrist bracelet. He turned his attention back to Nathan.

“Benum meern! Teco est istas?” he asked with an implied smile. Nathan simply looked at him with a befuddled grin. His slicked back white hair and almost wrinkle-free forehead contrasted strangely, one indicating more age than the other. The man’s facemask even covered the inside of his mouth, so that when he talked, all Nathan saw was the outline of lips covered in white. The man blinked his green eyes a few times emphatically.

“Bingle bongle, dingle dangle, zippity doo-da,” replied Nathan sardonically, the corners of his mouth extending into a big, sardonic smile. The man stared at him.

“Bingle bongle?” the man asked curiously.

“Yeah, bingle bongle. Do you speak English? Please tell me you speak English. Or do you know someone who speaks English? I really don’t want to start being that guy who speaks really loudly, as if that will help you understand what I’m saying, but I’m really close to doing so.”

The man stared at Nathan some more, and then raised an eyebrow.

“Yuvot ensin terra?” the man asked, leaning his face closer to Nathan’s.

“Oh! That guy who shot me with the thing asked me that! Or was it the other guy? I can’t remember.” The man got closer, peering into Nathan’s eye very strangely. Nathan looked back at him, slightly worried.

“Are you trying to kiss me?” Nathan pulled his head back as far as possible. The man finally stood up straight, pressing some buttons on the monitor that both was and wasn’t above Nathan. A new screen display wiped away the old one, showing a diagram of a brain. The diagram was oddly vivid, and the man continually pressed buttons until a giant, illuminated, spinning diagram of a brain appeared hovering over Nathan’s bed. Nathan let out a small yelp.

“What the hell? Whose brain is that?” Nathan yelled, looking at the man frantically. The man pressed some more buttons on the monitor, causing the giant, floating brain to stop spinning and focus on the stem. Suddenly, the area enlarged itself and the rest of the brain disappeared as if it went off-screen, if there were one. Several tags with words unknown to Nathan appeared, labeling themselves to different portions of the stem; this process continued as the stem moved up and around and even through the different portions of the brain, with labels popping up everywhere as the man continually said “hm.” Nathan felt like he was on the most disgusting and fascinating rollercoaster ride of his life, going through the different sections, seeing the internal structure, until finally the entire brain was again floating above Nathan’s bed. The man pressed a few buttons and the brain disappeared. He gave Nathan a quick look, then walked through the electrical field and out of the ward very hastily.

“What the hell was that all about?” said Nathan aloud.

            Several hours passed as Nathan lay there staring at the ceiling. It, too, was pure white, no imperfections, no breaking for ceiling tiles, nothing but white and light. The man finally returned with another man, dressed similarly, in tow. They both passed through the electrical barrier, talking to each other heatedly as the first man pressed buttons on Nathan’s monitor to bring up, once again, the giant brain diagram.

“Encreb tempor remitte en joral. Corpo delt cull manest pinar,” said the first man as he pointed to various sections of the brain. The second man looked on, perplexed and, from what Nathan could surmise, somewhat surprised.

“Yeah, it’s the great big brain. I think it’s mine, right? It makes sense.” The two men looked at Nathan for a second, then disregarded him and continued to look at the brain.

“Corpo delt cull iner tempor gratuer! Seram quisto zera,” said the second man, the sound of amazement in his voice. He was much younger than the first man, his hair a light shade of brown. It was slicked back like the first man’s, but several hairs wiggled their way onto his forehead. He also was not as thin or as tall as the first man.

“Requis dez nintoberats. Utir pex en corpo vir lang, pengato entidoner,” the first man told the second. The second nodded and walked through the electrical barrier, out of the ward. He returned a few moments later with a small, cylindrical, silver tube, about the size of Nathan’s thumb. Nathan noticed that one end of the tube had small black dots, almost like a peppershaker. The second man gave the first man the tube, and the first placed the dotted end against Nathan’s neck. Nathan looked around for a second awkwardly, wondering what was supposed to happen. Without warning, a stabbing pain shot through Nathan’s head as his brain felt as if it were going to explode. He closed his eyes and began screaming in agony, feeling as if his head were being split open with an axe. Tears formed and began to fall as he jerked his head to and fro, almost wanting to break his own neck to stop the insidious sensation. The men looked at each other, and when they looked back at Nathan a moment later, the pain had subsided. It was only a few seconds, but Nathan wouldn’t have been surprised if that feeling had gone on for days, months, years; it certainly felt like forever. He opened his eyes, the last of his tears running down his face. He looked at the first man.

“Why did you do that? I thought you liked me,” he said half-jokingly, breathing heavily. The man leaned in.

“Vuzet redion yourself, I did not understand you.”

Nathan looked at him, wide-eyed and surprised.

“You just spoke English. What happened to Italian?” The man gave Nathan a strange, white smile.

“I am Doctor Baker. This is my colleague, Doctor Rousseau. What is your name? And do you know where you are right now?” Doctor Baker asked Nathan. Nathan looked at the other beds, his monitors, and the two doctors.

“Nathan, Nathan Berringer, and I can’t be too sure, but I would have to say that I’m in a hospital. Never seen a hospital like this, though. Is it safe to assume that I’m in Helena?” asked Nathan.

“It is.” Doctor Baker looked at Doctor Rousseau. “Can you go get the officers, please?” Doctor Rousseau nodded and left the ward. Doctor Baker looked back at Nathan. “You must have questions. However, I believe that I have some more prudent ones; first, how old are you?” Nathan looked at him quizzically.

“I’m twenty-two. Why?” Doctor Baker touched some buttons on the monitor above Nathan’s head. The giant brain appeared once again with the labels. Doctor Baker stood upright and looked right at Nathan.

“Your chromosomal age is, indeed, twenty-two years past birth; however, the delta fluctuations in your temporal lobe were not functioning as a typical human’s would. In other words, you could not understand the Human language that I was speaking to you. I corrected for that by injecting you with a series of nanites to alter your delta wave functions. It took a few seconds, but you picked up the language.”

“But, you’re speaking English! And, nanites? What?” interrupted Nathan.

“It might sound that way, but to me, you’re speaking Human. The nanites modified the auditory and sensory receptors in your brain to coincide with the average human’s. Also, just in case, DNA scans show that you are completely human, unless you had genetic re-mod done recently?” He looked at Nathan seriously. Nathan had no idea what genetic re-mod meant. He answered with an unsure “no.” Doctor Baker continued.

“What also struck me as curious was that your entire body was bathed in neutrino energy, though it was very difficult to find at first. I’ve never seen someone so engulfed by neutrino energy. It’s, well, unprecedented. The only way that you could be so saturated with it is if you somehow traveled at the speed of light through a star, though that’s impossible, as anyone would know.” He paused and began walking slowly around Nathan’s bed. The floating brain partially blocked Doctor Baker. “What’s more, the neutrinos seem to have a decay rate of approximately three thousand years. I only took two years of verifiable quantum physics, and even I know that’s impossible. So, I decided to measure the age of your belongings. When we measured their atomic isometric age, they all registered as approximately three thousand years old. Your clothes and technology are reminiscent of those I’ve seen in museums, and your telescope is very, very myopic. I considered for a second that you might have robbed a museum, but with the items that you had, you’d be lucky to rob a cow.” Doctor Baker was still serious. He paused on the other side of Nathan’s bed, looking down at him.

“Uh…” Nathan trailed off.

“What year is this? Rather, what year are you accustomed to?”

Nathan gave him a quizzical look.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. 2012?” Nathan replied. Doctor Baker raised an eyebrow.

“Hm, 2012, old calendar. It would probably mean nothing for me to say that it’s the year 18k243.”

“No, it doesn’t mean anything. Why is there a ‘k’?”

“The modern year calendar was revised approximately two-thousand years ago during the Reformation to account for the beginnings of organized civilization. I suppose that means that, in your terms, this is the year…” Doctor Baker looked up, calculating in his head. “…5046? I think. Don’t quote me on that. As far as I know, we, in this century, do not have any kind of temporal displacement technology, seeing as research on it was banned several decades ago. Was there temporal displacement technology in your century? I don’t recall ever reading anything about that in history class. That’s the only thing I can think of that would leave behind such a strong neutrino signature with that long a decay rate.”

“No…” Nathan looked distraught. “You can’t be serious.”

“Completely.” Doctor Baker looked sternly at Nathan. The white facial mask accentuated the doctor’s green eyes. All at once, his demeanor lightened.

“That being said, you brought a host of unfamiliar bacteria and viruses, which is why we’ve had the energy field surrounding your bed. We’ve sterilized you and we’ve also inoculated you against the common sicknesses we have. We’ll have to feed you specially treated food so that you don’t get immediately sick from eating the local cuisine.” He suddenly looked around. “Well, where are those officers? You’d think they would be excited about this whole mess.” Doctor Baker exited from the energy field in a rush, leaving the ward.

“But…” Nathan trailed off. He sank his head down onto his bed and stared into the emptiness above him. Three thousand years… thought Nathan. The words seemed to rattle around in his ears, drilling themselves into his brain. It was unbelievable; Nathan not only missed making a new life in a time when he could have been so much, but he missed the smaller moments. He never got in contact with his aunt, he never told Mr. and Mrs. Gene that he arrived safely; they must have been worried. He would never have the chance of becoming employed, possibly working in a lab somewhere, making new discoveries and learning more and more about the world. He would never have the chance to attempt to reconcile with his father after becoming successful; he would never be able to return the book Mrs. Gene gave him. He would never have kids that he could introduce to Mr. and Mrs. Gene; they would never have grandkids. Nathan’s eyes began to well up. He sniffled and wiped his eyes, trying to erase the possibilities of his past from presenting themselves.

            The two men whom Nathan met on the highway entered the ward accompanied by Doctor Baker. They were without their helmets this time and, unlike Doctor Baker, their mouths were not covered by anything. Now that Nathan could see their faces, though, he became slightly anxious. Both of the officers were around the same height, reminding Nathan of his father, though these men were not nearly as Herculean. The officer on the right had black hair with dark eyes and little less-than-square jaw, but the one on the left had, in no simpler terms, gills. A set of gills protruded from both sides of his neck, though a small apparatus containing what appeared to be water covered them. His skin was dark and seemed to be covered in navy blue scales, though if they were scales, they were not very prominent. His face, though looking slightly human, had a nose similar to a pig’s, though slightly sharper. His auburn hair and grass-green eyes, though vividly colored, retained a common human form, though the color itself was unusually strong. Nathan stared at the officer, his inhuman form, in both awe and slight terror. He had never seen anything so…different.

            The officers stood before the energy barrier, looking at Doctor Baker. The Doctor was pressing some buttons on his wrist-bracelet, though Nathan had only ever glanced at it once. It was an odd thing; it went halfway up his forearm, and it seemed to have a rounded computer display, active on all sides of the bracelet. Doctor Baker would press buttons on one side and the display on the other side would change, causing the Doctor to flip his arm over to interact with the new display. Nathan’s eyes moved back and forth from the strange inhuman to the wrist computer, unsure of which was more astounding at the moment.

“Hang on, I’m ensuring that there are no foreign contaminants within the energy barrier. You don’t want to get sick, do you?” Dr. Baker said to the officers while he worked on his wrist computer.

“No, I suppose not,” said the human officer flatly. Finally after several beeps and boops, Doctor Baker seemed relieved.

“Lowering the energy barrier now,” and with a press of a button on his wrist, the barrier fizzled out, seemingly disintegrating into the air as pure nothingness. The officers, unfazed by this, walked to Nathan’s bedside. The inhuman stood closest to Nathan.

“I am off…” started the inhuman officer before Nathan interrupted him.

“Are those gills?” he yelled out suddenly. The officer looked shocked and upset, his face frozen on his last word.

“Yes, they are. I am one-quarter Pompilian. My name is Officer Eolas Ka’arin; this is my partner, Officer Tyrian Denorus. If you do not remember, we are the ones who found you on the road. Do you remember us?” His voice resonated somewhat through his water apparatus, though only enough to make it sound like he slightly gargled when he spoke. Otherwise, his voice was as deep as the ocean.

“Gills!” Nathan yelled again, laughing slightly, staring transfixed at Officer Ka’arin’s inhuman neck. “Can I call you Gill?” asked Nathan. Officer Ka’arin simply stared at Nathan.

“Right, no forget that. This is so cool! How are you an alien? What is it like being one?”

Officer Ka’arin furrowed his brow.

“Oh, right, um… Yeah, of course I remember you, you shot me. Or you,” Nathan nodded to Officer Denorus, “you shot me. I don’t remember who it was; you guys all look the same when you’re under your big black helmets. Why did you shoot me?”

“You were unintelligible. We had no way of knowing whether or not you would be violent, so we stunned you,” replied Officer Ka’arin.

“You could have killed me!” yelled Nathan, rather uncontrollably. His head jerked up and veins seemed to erupt from his placid forehead when he yelled.

“Actually, no, the stun setting is perfectly harmless,” interjected Doctor Baker, “though I hesitate to wonder why you would use it on someone who looks rather innocuous.” Officer Denorus turned his black eyes to Doctor Baker, his face seemingly cut with indignation. He had been fidgeting slightly in place, as if eager to speak.

“Hesitate to wonder or not at your own behest, Doctor. What we did secured a possible biological threat, however innocuous he might be. Now, you,” he turned to Nathan, pressed some buttons on his wrist-bracelet, and began reading off of it, “Nathan Berringer, aged 22, born 12 April, 1990, old calendar, reported missing 20 August 2012, old calendar. Father, Henry Berringer; mother, Carinne Berringer; sister Dorothy Berringer. Was the aforementioned true?” Officer Denorus looked up at Nathan, his stony expression unchanging. Nathan gawked at Officer Denorus for a second.

“Yuh, yeah. Yeah, that’s me.” Nathan’s mouth suddenly felt dry. He almost envied Officer Ka’arin. Officer Denorus turned to Doctor Baker.

“I’m going to file a request to move Mr. Berringer from this ward to a secured facility in order to question him thoroughly. He presents a possible security threat. You will receive the transfer materials in the morning, I expect you to approve and sign them. If you do not approve and sign them, then I will be forced to remove Mr. Berringer from this ward as per defense law fifteen, paragraph eight, subsection two, and if you do not approve and sign off this transfer, Doctor Baker, then you shall receive a rather blunt end to your medical practice. I hope this is clear to you.” Officer Denorus took a step towards the exit of the ward, but Doctor Baker spoke up.

“Defense code of ethics, paragraph fifty-two, subsection nineteen: in cases where a possible enemy combatant has contracted any unknown illness, a condition unsafe or unprecedented, or is critically injured, the attending physician has unanimous control over the proceedings of the patient in all aspects of handling. Should the question of a military injunction to remove the patient arise due to an interest on behalf of the military, the attending physician shall, and with full support of the law, have the final word with regards to the handling of the patient. In other words, Officer Denorus, medicine reigns supreme in this case. You may question Mr. Berringer here in the ward, but at no point can you move him without my authority. If you do so, Mister Denorus, I shall bring the full weight of the law down upon you, and I am quite sure it would bring a very blunt end to your service within the Solar Confederation.” Doctor Baker, with his thin frame and white hair, seemed to radiate with the glow of fire as his eyes pierced the stony face of Officer Denorus, making small cracks in the otherwise inscrutable expression. The Officer’s left eye began to twitch for a second before he turned and walked briskly out of the ward. Doctor Baker, staring at Officer Denorus’ back until he was no longer visible, turned then to Officer Ka’arin, who remained speechless during the entire verbal boxing match. Officer Ka’arin looked back and forth from Doctor Baker to Nathan, eventually resigning himself. He gave a slight smirk.

“We’ll return tomorrow with questions. I’m sure you realize how strange your appearance here is. We have much to ask you. Good night,” he gargled. He turned and left the ward. Doctor Baker, still burning with a force one might not expect from a man of his advanced years, watched Officer Ka’arin leave before finally letting his brusqueness fade. He exhaled and seemed to relax, his eyes closing for a second.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Berringer?” he said, his eyes closed.

“Well, you can let me move my arms and legs,” replied Nathan. Doctor Baker opened his eyes, still not looking at Nathan. He pressed some buttons on his wrist-bracelet, and like the energy field that once surrounded his bed, the constraints on his limbs dissipated.

“Try not to wander off.” Doctor Baker began walking out of the ward. Nathan flexed his hands and wiggled his toes.

“Thank you,” said Nathan. Doctor Baker stopped in place, looked slightly over his shoulder, and smiled. He continued his walk and left the ward.

            Nathan looked at his hands and feet and continued wiggling them around in strange motions. He smiled in adolescent delight as he traced and painted the air with his hands and kicked imaginary pillows floating above his feet. He suddenly looked up, half-expecting his parents or Mr. and Mrs. Gene to be watching him. His smile faded as he realized how alone he was; it was just him sitting on his bed, isolated from the world that he once knew, never to return to those for whom he cared. He had never wished so strongly to be home.

Foray to the Future: Chapter 2

Getting tired of this yet? Yeah, me too.

2

            The residents of Cochrane, Nathan’s hometown, were a very proud and exclusive group (with the exception of a few residents). Many were farmers and close friends of Henry Berringer, and at one point or another, Henry Berringer had done enough favors for just about every shop owner in Cochrane so that they all collectively owed him a small fortune; Nathan knew that Henry would call in those favors, asking them not to help Nathan in any way, so walking the forty-mile hike was Nathan’s only option.

A person’s debt from a favor in Cochrane has always been something held sacred, often repaid through labor, expensive beer, or some other agreeable term. No indebted person has ever allowed a debt to be wiped away, as it comes to imply something lacking on the part of the indebted. Regardless of how the debt is repaid, the indebted person will continually work until what is owed has been nullified by what was given, or at least if it appears to be nullified. Maintaining the Berringer farm was never an easy task, so a prime strategy within the family has always been to do favors for other families with the inherent implication being that the Berringer family eventually receives something in return, typically beneficial for the farm.

With that in mind, the departure of Henry Berringer’s son was the talk of the town within minutes, much to Nathan’s chagrin. In fact, Nathan hypothesized that his father had gone off to tell all the neighbors not to offer any help to Nathan on his departure. Not a happy thought, but knowing his father, it was very probable. The only people who might be willing to help Nathan were the Genes and the Majels, and neither of them owned cars because they were both elderly couples that never left the town. For them, bicycles always sufficed. Thus, Nathan was alone on his long trek.

           

            As Nathan walked along a perpetual stretch of highway, along endless green corn and golden wheat fields, distant cold, gray mountains, and a sea of blue-sky overhead, he could not help but feel pangs of regret about leaving the only home he knew. He had once made a promise to his father to maintain the family business after his mother’s death, and that promise still tugged at the back of his mind. He shook it off, however, because Henry had become self-obsessed about the farm after Nathan’s mother died, though he was only slightly less so when she was alive. Nathan had often heard Henry remark to himself, in what Henry believed were private moments, that “this house, and this land, and this home shall always be mine, mine no matter what, mine no matter what befalls, mine no matter what interrupts, mine no matter what dies.” To Henry Berringer, losing his possessions after so much grief, after so much anguish, was unbearable. Nathan looked at his watch; a quarter to four. He had been walking on the road for three hours now. He removed the small notebook and pen from his traveling bag, scribbled down the time, his surroundings, and proceeded to write down his thoughts:

But I wasn’t his possession, wrote Nathan. He thought I was some ball of clay or piece of wood that he could hammer and hammer until it became what he wanted, just some freakish facsimile of the family image. He just wanted another man as obdurate as he was running the farm, someone so blinded by their dedication that even love takes a backseat. What a pitiful life.

            At five-thirty, some animal in Nathan’s stomach decided to growl. The animal felt sluggish and tired, so Nathan planted himself on the side of the road and unpacked the canvas bag Mr. and Mrs. Gene had given him. He had not seen any cars go by in the time he had been walking, and found it rather curious. But, his hunger overshadowed his curiosity, and he ravenously opened up the lunchbox with the picture of the man in the suit next to the large blue box, and unwrapped the sandwich. He eyed it as a predator does his prey, examining it for its contents and looking at all its features, choosing the most vulnerable spot in which to strike. Finally, after hearing his stomach complain too much and having his mouth overflow with saliva, he struck. His teeth dug into what he chose as the best entry point, and the taste cascaded over his senses like a wave of ecstasy. Oh, the most delicious torture, thought Nathan. It just makes everything taste better. Looking at the rest of the lunchbox’s contents, Nathan noticed a small piece of paper tucked underneath the bag of grapes. Holding his sandwich in one hand, he picked out the note and read it to himself while he chewed away.

                                    Nathan,

                                                I hope you enjoy this food, as it was

                                    supposed to be my lunch today. Mrs. G said

                                    that you probably needed something to eat

                                    on your trip to wherever, and she puts too            

                                    much mustard on my sandwich anyway.

 Love her as I do, I have finally accepted that

I should make my own lunch from now on.

Enjoy that “tea,” along with my favorite lunchbox, and be sure to call when you get to wherever you’re going. For once, you’re going to regale ME with a story.

                                                                        Love Always,

                                                                        Julian Gene

                                    (and let’s not forget)   Doris Gene

            Nathan stopped chewing to smile. The note felt like a warm, comforting blanket on a cold night. Whatever worries and anxieties he had about the future were allayed for the time being as he began thinking about all the time he spent at the library with Mr. and Mrs. Gene. His mind escaped him as he now ate automatically, his eyes retracing the vast forest of memories he had about the library. He remembered his first time visiting there on a pre-school “field trip.” Everyone was not the least bit enthused about going on a field trip to the library down the road, and all the students made their protests quite audible. Upon arriving, the huge tower of books that reached to the ceiling impressed Nathan, at the time a tiny boy with overgrown blond hair and overalls. It is bigger than my dad, he remembered thinking. He grabbed the highest book he could, though that wasn’t very high. He looked at the cover, pronouncing each syllable with the utmost care.

“H. G. Wells, The Time…ma, match, matching…”

“Machine. The Time Machine.” A tall, thin man with well-parted salt-and-pepper hair knelt down to meet Nathan at eye level. He was clean-shaven, and he looked Nathan directly in the eyes with a friendly smile. Nathan, rather shy at the time, clutched the book with both arms, covering his mouth with it, eyeing this new stranger with the oddly parted hair who knew the strange words. The man wore a simple white button-up shirt and black pants with black dress shoes.

“Yeah, I love it too. I actually once read it for so long that my wife got a bit irked that I wasn’t washing the dishes. A good book will do that to you.” He waited for Nathan to respond, but Nathan continued to stand there, staring wide-eyed at the tall stranger.

“Want to know what it’s about?” the man asked. Nathan nodded slowly, not removing the book from over his mouth. The man planted himself in front of Nathan and crossed his legs.

“A brilliant English scientist builds a machine that lets him travel through time. Ten years, one million, to him, it becomes a second’s journey. He travels very far into the future, so far, in fact, that all humans have evolved into two species: the Eloi and the Morlocks. The Eloi look quite a bit like you, actually. They evolved not doing much work and not stimulating their minds that much, so they are carefree and only live for what tickles their fancy. The Morlocks, on the other hand, lived underground for millennia upon millennia, giving them pale, white skin, large glowing eyes, and thick, gray fur covering their bodies. They are actually the ones maintaining the Earth, though they only understand how to maintain, not to build. They eat the Eloi,” the man made an awkward biting motion, “like cattle. The scientist leaves that place, eventually heading forward in time to the end of Earth itself. All he finds is emptiness, an Earth desolate and devoid of human existence as we would know it. Saddened by this, he goes back to his present time, arriving only a short while after he left. He tells his friends of what happened, and then leaves again for another journey. Into when, we do not know.” The man sat with a satisfied grin. Nathan lowered the book slightly, though it still covered most of his mouth.

“You didn’t really get any of that, did you?” asked the man. Nathan was still silent.

“Oh, Julian Gene, by the way. That’s my name, though I suppose you’d call me Mr. Gene or whatever rubbish you’re respectfully supposed to call me.”

 Nathan looked at Julian’s smiling face, and uttered a single, high-pitched word.

“Nathan.” He was barely audible.

“What’s that, my hearing isn’t as good as it was fifteen years ago, though fifteen years ago I was in a band and that certainly didn’t help my hearing.”

Nathan repeated himself, louder this time.

“Nathan.” Julian reached out his hand, and Nathan trepidatiously met it with his own. Julian shook it very slowly, and then spoke in an affected British accent.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, young man. I certainly hope your literary taste outgrows your pituitary gland.” Julian chuckled a bit and Nathan looked at him curiously. Julian then sighed.

“Ah, kids these days. If you like to read, then you’ll like it here. As you can see, we’ve got plenty to read, and you honestly need to have all the time in the world to read it all, unless you break your glasses.” Julian smiled, and again, Nathan was confused.

“It’s a joke, Twilight Zone, you know, duh nuh nuh nuh duh nuh- oh never mind. Let’s find you something a little easier on which to start you off.” Standing up, Julian began walking Nathan out of the aisle. Nathan reached up and silently held Julian’s hand as they walked toward the section on the wall reserved for children’s books. There stood a tall, beautiful woman with hair the color of liquid gold. When she turned and smiled at Nathan, he felt comfort beyond anything he had ever felt before. She looked up at the strange man and back at Nathan, and then knelt down to meet Nathan’s gaze at eye-level. He didn’t cover his mouth in shyness, as he was astounded at this woman whose hair was even more sun-like than his. She spoke to him in a voice similar to a familiar song: “Hello there! What would you like to read today?”

            Nathan’s thoughts snapped back to the present as he coughed and sputtered after swallowing some of Mrs. Gene’s “tea.” The poignant taste of whiskey surprised Nathan, and he smiled at the tepid brown drink in the thermos. Mr. Gene had clearly put in a bit more whiskey than he let on. Nathan mopped his face with his shirt and took a few more sips. More than the surprisingly strong taste with the warm after-feeling, Mr. Gene’s compassion kept Nathan drinking it. From his seat on the side of the road, Nathan packed up his belongings and arose to continue walking the distance to the next town over.

            Night crept up on Nathan slowly, but certainly faster than he was able to walk. The temperature was dropping, though the whiskey lent him ephemeral warmth. He paused a second to look directly above him, the pale black sky aglow with the light of hundreds of thousands of elusive and beautiful stars. He closed his eyes, imagining himself launching off the Earth, hurtling past the moon, past countless stars, toward a planet untouched by man but suitable for life. He landed in an overgrown oasis, flowers of iridescent pink floating daintily on the air as if they were sentient. The trees around him hummed a song together at different pitches, each one combining to sound like a soft symphony. Looking up in his oasis, Nathan saw stars, but most noticeable was the very center of the Milky Way, shining brighter than Earth’s moon on any given night. The light yellow hue illuminated thousands of small specks in the sky, planets, asteroids, comets, that were all within the vicinity of his little oasis planet. There were thousands upon thousands more planets and stars and wonders to behold in this galaxy, and yet, this was Nathan’s oasis, his perfect spot in the entire universe, a place directly connected to his soul. Nathan opened his eyes, slowly inhaling, and wiped away a small speck from his eye as he walked on.

            After several hours of walking, midnight finally greeted Nathan with absolute nonchalance. Nathan was still only a few hours away from his destination, but he was tired; his feet were beginning to drag, and the whiskey was all gone. I’ll rest for a bit. Might as well, thought Nathan. He plopped himself down on the side of the road once again and removed the book Mrs. Gene had given him from the canvas bag. He took out his cell phone (noticing for the first time that his service had been cancelled) and used it as a light.

“Ian,” he read aloud. He opened the first page.

“We are the snowflakes of the world. Every single snowflake is different from the other, meaning that every single snowflake that has ever fallen throughout history has been different from the ones that fell before it. Snowflakes, unlike humans, become one complete entity with a purpose all its own, while humans remain fragmented, alone,” Nathan read aloud. “Well, that’s not depressing at all,” he remarked, laughing to himself. He continued reading.

“Snowflakes are beautiful at night, especially when reflecting light. It is as if each individual snowflake, for that brief moment they shine, contains within it a universe of billions of brightly-burning stars, with each star anchoring planets, and populating those planets, life, very much like our own. I wonder, are we not on a snowflake, slowly falling to become part of a greater, expanded universe of other snowflakes?” Nathan stopped, an impressed expression spreading across his face. “Not bad. Lovely analogy.” He flipped through the pages, occasionally stopping at a few. He caught some words, like “Beethoven” and the phrase “death is my expression of life,” and became intrigued at what the book had to offer. He turned back to the first page when a strange buzzing sound diverted his attention.

            Nathan looked up, expecting to see power cables to explain the noise, but there were none. It was a low hum, one typical of an active generator. Nathan placed the book back in the canvas bag, his phone back in his pocket, slung his bags around him, and began to investigate. To his left and his right were walls of cornfields, and in the pitch black, they were as daunting as any phobia or childhood nightmare. He walked in the direction of Helena, and the buzz became louder. His pace increased, the sound of his footsteps getting lost in the massive cornstalks. The buzz became louder and louder until Nathan could tell that it was distinctly to his left. Looking at the wall of corn, he entered the overgrown area with his travel bag in tow.

            The buzz seemed to vibrate the cornstalks around him. Each stalk he brushed against seemed to give him an electric shock, though Nathan kept telling himself that it was his fatigue that was causing the small jolts. As he walked further and further into the field, the buzzing grew louder and the vibrations grew stronger until Nathan could discern light coming through the cornstalks. He looked incredulously at the source of the light, as waves of energy seemed to wash over him. It was disturbing, but curious, as he felt drawn to the strange thing. His walk turned into an awkward jog as his bags jostled around until he reached what seemed like a small clearing; however, it was more like a large, perfect circle around what appeared to be a white, glowing crack in the middle of the circle, suspended a few feet off the ground in mid-air. Nathan looked around at the clearing: there was neither corn nor grass, only dirt, and instead of being a normal black or brown, this dirt was blue.

            Nathan approached the crack slowly. It had jagged edges, as if someone had taken an axe to the spot and broken a hole in…space. He put his bags down as he began circling around it. It didn’t seem to be three-dimensional. At the side, Nathan could still see light, but only in a straight line. When he got around to the “back,” there was no crack at all, only normal space in front of him.

“What the hell…” He reached out his hand to the spot where the crack would be. The volume of the buzz seemed to increase when his hand passed the threshold; his hand felt almost as if it were passing through warm pudding, but otherwise, nothing happened. It was as if he had touched nothing at all.

            Nathan circled back around to the “front” of the crack, looking at it in consternation. He took a deep breath and exhaled.

“For science.” He reached out his hand to touch the glowing crack. The buzzing got louder, and louder, and louder as his outstretched finger got closer and closer to the crack; then, his finger made contact. For a second, there was absolute silence; nothing could be heard but chilly crickets. With a blinding flash of light, Nathan was thrown back through the air into the cornstalks at the edge of the circle. He knocked over several, finally rolling to a stop on the several that he had flattened. His eyes were wide in shock, and he felt as if his ability to speak had been knocked out of him. Dusting himself off, he looked at the space where the crack was, except now, there was no crack; only some kind of oval-shaped, blue...thing.

            A sound of wind against a tree replaced the buzz; this object in space seemed much more serene than its noisy predecessor. In fact, what had once been a blinding white light was now a swirling, blue oval disc whose textures were reminiscent of a liquid being stirred. Various shades of blue spiraled in constant orbit around the center of the oval. Nathan approached this new shape slowly, fearing the same repercussions as touching the crack. The sound from the oval did not increase, nor did it decrease; it simply existed as-is, its contents spiraling around the center like an oceanic solar system. He reached out his left hand to the oval and touched the apparent surface; it felt slightly cool, as if someone were running a light stream of water over his hand, but otherwise, it felt like nothing at all. He withdrew his hand, examining it; nothing seemed different aside from a slight sensation of cooler air. He went to his telescope bag and removed his telescope, setting it up in front of the oval. He nudged it forward gently until the lens passed through the fluid surface. What am I doing, thought Nathan. What the hell am I doing? He bit his lip as he looked through his telescope.

            Corn. All he saw was corn. He stared dumbfounded at the oval, which was undisturbed by his telescope’s placement.

“Seriously? All that build-up and buzzing and throwing me backwards for nothing on the other side but what’s already there? Jeez.” He withdrew his telescope with an upset grunt and placed it back in its bag. Something, though, would not let Nathan leave without inspecting the oval more. He gathered up his things, breathing heavily, staring into the heart of this unknown object. What it represented to Nathan was the unknown, and that, as always, excited him. If his hand and his telescope were unharmed by passing through that oval, would he not also be fine? He closed his eyes; his courage and anxiety building themselves at the same time, fighting over whether or not to enter the oval. All at once, as if the universe paused just to hear this decision, he opened his eyes with a look of fierce determination.

“It’s just corn!” he yelled, charging as fast as he could through the oval. He was hit with a wave of cold as soon as he passed through the chilly surface, making him inhale suddenly and shiver. He exited and looked around; corn. Corn everywhere. Turning around, he saw the same blue oval, its hues rotating around the center, except the hues were spinning in the opposite direction from when he passed through. Curiously, he poked his head back through the oval. The cold hit him as his eyes only met with a disappointing amount of corn. He withdrew his head.

“God damn corn.” He walked off towards the highway.

Once he was back on the highway, he continued on the road to Helena. In the dark, walking for what seemed like an hour, little seemed to change, at least until something glowing like New York City shone in the distance. Nathan stared, perplexed. He jogged up the road a bit further, his travel bag bouncing annoyingly off of his foot. A massive skyscraper revealed itself in the distance, except this was unlike any skyscraper Nathan had ever seen, in pictures or otherwise: it was white and shimmering, a tower with a pointed top that looked almost like an elongated pyramid, except for a few rectangular portions closer to the top. The building seemed to glow from within, emanating a light so brilliant and blinding that it rivaled the view of a major city from space.

“Since when does Montana have the money for that?” remarked Nathan aloud. The sound of footsteps behind him told Nathan that he was no longer alone. He spun around, his bags flying indiscriminately; a car- no, an oval pod- hovered in the air a few inches from the ground. A quarter of the oval, the part facing Nathan, was completely black; the rest of it was white, except for a black stripe around the back that paused at a design that looked like a picture of the Earth. It was hovering. How the hell is it hovering, thought Nathan. Since when does Montana have money for THAT? Pulling his attention away from the pod, he noticed two oddly dressed men; their clothes seemed to adhere directly to their skin, unless their skin was painted. Their clothes had the opposite design of the pod; instead of a black Earth, their clothes were black with a white vertical stripe and Earth over the heart. They each wore a black helmet that covered the majority of their faces, except for their mouths. The man on Nathan’s right spoke.

“Issa ventuta bondan?” he asked with an upward inflection. Nathan stared at him for a second.

“Sorry, I don’t speak Italian,” Nathan replied. The two men looked at each other for a second. The one on the left spoke this time.

“Toh mee, yuvot ensin terra?” Nathan shook his head.

“I don’t know what you’re saying, I’m sorry. Do you speak English? And since when do people from Montana speak Italian?” Nathan asked, curious. The two men looked at each other again. They began whispering something that Nathan could neither hear nor understand.

“Sorry? Didn’t catch that,” Nathan piped up. The man on the left raised his hand quickly to Nathan, who only had time to fidget in place as an orange beam of light struck him in the chest. A hammer-like blow impacted Nathan directly in the sternum and knocked the wind out of him and he lost feeling in his legs, though he made sure to try to shift his momentum forward so as not to crush the telescope on his back. He tried to scream, but his vocal chords were frozen and his jaw seemed to have been glued together from the inside. He shook slightly, attempting to move, but slowly a dark, silent force closed his eyes and shut down his mind. Everything was a soft darkness except for a small part of his brain, where he rattled the bars of his cage, screaming for help; no one was there to listen.