The aurora city
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| Chapter 17
A light drizzle from a slow-moving cold front made the morning’s departure from Richmond bothersome. The Professor emerged from the hotel leaning heavily on his hospital-issue aluminum cane with Markman supporting his other arm. Secretly, Markman could feel the faint flow of healing electricity escaping his grasp, though the patient did not seem to notice. Instead, the Professor gave a guttural cheer at the watery affront
Mother Nature had prepared for his leaving, and paused to look up at the low gray clouds as he delicately stepped down from the terrace entrance. Cassiopia followed close behind, shielding herself from the rain by pulling her coat over her head. By the time they reached the waiting limo, all three were drenched, though the Professor continued to celebrate his newfound feeling of freedom. Markman opened the limo door and helped lower him into its dry comfort. Folded towels waited within. As he shut the door, a black sedan pulled up across the street. An MIB emerged, unfurled a black umbrella, and opened a rear door. John Paul climbed out, grabbed the umbrella, and trotted across the street to join them. “How is he?” he asked.
Cassiopia ducked under to share the umbrella. “He’s a handful.” “That’s a good sign,” replied John Paul. “Cassiopia, about your decoding work.” Cassiopia’s eyes lit up. “It is even more profound than even you may have thought. They worked on it all night. We have already found some references we did not expect.” Markman closed in on the pair, trying to hear from outside the umbrella’s shield. “What have you found?” asked Cassiopia breathlessly. “Too much to discuss in the rain. I will text you. Because of that decoding, I need to borrow Scott for a couple hours this morning. He can catch up afterward. Is that okay?”
“Is it dangerous?” “No, not after what you’ve given us.” “Okay.”
Markman straightened up in the rain wondering why no one was asking him. John Paul glanced over and then back at Cassiopia. “I’ll keep you both well informed. Things are heating up.” He handed his umbrella to Cassiopia, and dashed back to his sedan, where his strangely dry-looking driver opened the rear door. Cassiopia moved over to Markman so that they were both sheltered, though Markman was already as wet as he could get. She stared up at him, her make-up running, the light in her eyes just as bright. She hugged him and pressed her head against his wet chest, then looked up in time to meet his kiss.
“He said two hours. I won’t give him any more than that. You get your butt down to Florida, you hear?” Markman smiled. Water dripped from his chin. He reopened the limo door and took the umbrella. She climbed in and gazed up at him. No further words were necessary. On the way to the Taslam Industries building, the drizzle finally began to subside. Markman stopped at the hotel for a quick change. At the lab, he found John Paul seated at the conference table in the sensesuit test area studying a tablet. Markman pulled out a seat and waited for the man’s attention. John Paul looked up with a tired expression. “Your wife…. Oh, I am sorry. That’s the second time that slipped out. Forgive me. Cassiopia’s
work on this code is so extraordinary it almost scares me a bit. We knew the Cassells were getting too advanced. We were focused on the Professor. Perhaps we were keeping an eye on the wrong Cassell. Or, perhaps the two of them are a one family army. I really don’t know at this point.” “What have you got, John Paul?” “Well, straight to the point, we can now send anyone into the sensesuit computer without danger. We have complete control of the suit functions. So, what I need is for you to make one more short trip inside to reassure Trill that new people will be visiting on your behalf and he should not be alarmed by them. My staff will then take turns going in and scanning everything in that underground repository. We can do it from outside, but inside is far
faster and far more organized. Do you see any problem?” “Probably not. I’ll be careful about my choice of words, though.” “Be sure to give our people as much authority as you can in there.” “Will do. We’d better set up. You- know-who only allowed us two hours this morning. If I take any more than that we’re both in trouble.” “Ah, yes. A consequence to be avoided, certainly.” The system was energized and ready faster than Markman could get into the suit. When at last he was ready, no time was wasted in jumping once more into the future world of Crillia. As always, Trill was waiting. Markman paused to look out at the Aurora City below the observation balcony. Trill called to him from inside.
“My lord. Welcome to your adopted city.”
Markman turned and smiled. “Yes, Trill. It is that.” “Sir, what service may I be of?” Markman entered the office and approached Trill. He stopped beside him and paused to touch the crystal control column Trill so often used. The crystals jutting up from the column changed in color as his hand moved over them. “Trill, I’m just here briefly to organize some things with you. You know I’ve been doing some very serious work here during my visits.” “Yes, my lord.” “The information I found beneath the library is very important. There is a lot of it. I will be sending in some of my staff to visit you and continue working beneath the library. They will report
back to me after each visit. I will need you to support them in any way you can. Can you do that?” “Yes, my lord. I will anticipate their visits.” “These men are friendly and peaceful. There is no reason to worry about them. Do you understand?” “Yes, my lord. When will you again return?”
“I’ll make periodic visits just as I have been to continue the work.” “Very good, my lord.” “If my associates need access to the Terra Nova Castle, please coordinate that with DuMont.” “Yes, my lord.” “Okay. I knew I could depend on you, Trill. I need to disengage now.” “My lord, before you go, based on some of our previous discussions, I
believe there is one thing you should be advised of.” “Okay, what?” “Sir, there was another user in the system today.” Markman stood in confusion for a moment. “There was a what today?” “A visitor, my lord” “You mean someone visited the Centrex Pyramid?” “No, my lord. This was a user from outside the system.” “Outside where?” “Outside the system, sir.” “Trill, are you saying someone not from Crillia was here?” “Yes, my lord” “One of my associates was already here?” “No, sir. This user did not enter at this site. He entered at some other engagement point.” “Was this a player coming to enter a game?” “No, my lord. My information is that this user came through at the opening of a main gate as a dignitary, a visitor. That classification is generally assigned to a representative who is operating the system.” Markman stood confounded. “Trill, do you know where this entry was made?”
“No, my lord. That information can only be obtained by those operating the system.” Markman remained in disbelief. Finally, he raised one hand and nodded. “Very well, Trill. Thank you for that information. It’s important. Please find out any more you can about this other user. We’ll discuss it again when
I return.” Markman stepped into the transport tube and nodded. Trill waved his hand and the familiar flash brought Markman back to reality. Markman hurriedly peeled off his helmet, looked for John Paul, and shouted, “Did you get that?” John Paul called back, “Yes. We’re searching now.” Markman set his helmet on a table and went to John Paul’s station, his sensesuit hanging open at the chest. “Was he saying someone else has a sensesuit and entered our computer this morning?” John Paul spoke without looking up. “No. Our sensesuit computer was in standby right up until you went in. I believe he was saying that someone else has a sensesuit and a computer,
and because these computers are synched with each other, entering a different machine is essentially the same as entering ours.” “Well, that’s a disturbing damn thing.”
“Yes, if it’s true.” “Can you tell?” “Yes, but there’s no way to know how long it will take to find the path and follow it. I’m not sure how much the code will tell us, either.” Markman paced around for more than an hour, but searching sensesuit code for a mysterious visitor proved to be too time-consuming. With his two hour allowance used up, he bowed out with promises from John Paul that anything found would be passed on. He called for Core and was soon back on the road to Florida.
At the Cassell residence, a road- weary Professor Cassell pushed through the front door to find his beloved TEL 200D robot waiting just inside. He looked up at the empty machine face, and patted it lovingly on its silver metallic cheek. The robot’s gold-tinted visor seemed to glow affectionately. Though some of Tel’s shiny, silver exoskeleton was armored, there was still a certain grace about the thing. The grated opening in the face providing speech synthesis helped form a face that somehow commanded intelligence. The complex silver chest plate with its gold-plated trim almost seemed out of place. It was a miracle the Professor still owned the machine. Normally it would be impossible for a civilian researcher
to obtain such a lease. Just half a dozen production TELs had been built and delivered to the military before a determined suicide truck bomber was able to destroy the TEL Corporation factory and offices. That attack had been revenge for the successful extraction of hostages in a mid-eastern terrorist hideout. Because the TELs could see just as well in pitch black as they could in daylight, their rescue operation had been performed at night, leaving enemy combatants to wonder what kind of devils were overrunning them in the darkness. Though terrorists were all but helpless to defend their base, the subsequent bombing of the TEL Industries Complex offered a sore reminder of their resolve. Most of the technical data on TEL 100Ds had been lost in that well-
executed bombing, along with many of the leading TEL engineers. Later, reverse engineering a TEL proved to be a daunting task, one that yielded only fragmented success. The Professor feared the day would come when impatient military leaders would come to consider his TEL a perfect candidate for disassembly. His was one of the units that had not undergone final military programming and was still somewhat in its factory state. Cassiopia had done extensive personality profiling and intuitive programming on it, however, to the point neither she nor the Professor completely understood the machine. Putting his doubts aside, the Professor smiled and nodded to his machine friend. “Tel, I have missed my frequent debates with you.”
“Professor, your absence has been specifically noticed on forty-seven different occasions. I have reopened your intercourse files.” “Have there been any problems? What did we miss?” “Seven temporary power outages. Three doorbell soundings. Frequent noise by outside construction crews above the seventy decibel rating. Numerous usage of outside water distribution facilities. Two stray dogs in the back yard. Thirty-two police, ambulance, or fire sirens. A leak in the kitchen faucet of approximately 11 ounces per day. Eleven thunderstorms. Fifteen unanswered telephone calls. One unidentified person watching the house from across the street behind the trees.” “Tel, where is the dog?”
“The canine is presently in the backyard,” replied the robot. “Did you say someone was watching the house?” “It is the only logical explanation, Professor.” “What does this person look like?” “The individual wears dark clothing. Five feet, eleven inches in height. Estimated weight one hundred and ninety pounds. No other description is available.” “Did this person do anything suspicious?” “Professor, please define parameters.” Professor Cassell laughed to himself. “Never mind, Tel. I’m looking forward to my den and my Briarwood.” The Professor squeezed delicately past Tel. Tel rocked around to face him and
called out. “Professor, how do you feel?”
The Professor stopped and turned to face the robot. “Tel, what did you just ask me?” “Professor, how do you feel, a standard inquiry intended to address your current health.” “Why would you ask that, Tel?” “Update of your physiological profile, Professor.” The Professor relaxed. “Oh, I see. For a moment I though you were concerned about my well being. In any case, you may post that my recent coronary bypass surgery was perfect. I am now in better health than I have been for some time.” “The file updates are complete, Professor.” “Thank you, Tel.” The Professor
turned and resumed scuffling along to the den.
“I am glad you are well, Professor.” The Professor stopped once again at yet another comment suggesting emotional attachment. He shook his head and decided additional discussion would probably not resolve his doubts. This was probably something to do with Cassiopia’s incessant tinkering with the robot’s programming. He waved off the comment and continued on. As the Professor disappeared into his study, the front door again pushed opened. Cassiopia towing luggage entered and closed the door behind her. At the sight of Tel, she broke out in a big smile, dropped the luggage and hurried over to hug the hulk of machine.
“Tel, it’s so good to see you again.” “I have missed your input, Cassiopia.” “How’s everything been here?” “Seven temporary power outages. Three doorbell soundings. Frequent noise by outside construction crews above the seventy decibel rating. Numerous usage of outside water distribution facilities. Two stray dogs in the back yard. Thirty-two police, ambulance, or fire sirens. A leak in the kitchen faucet of approximately 11 ounces per day. Eleven thunderstorms. Fifteen unanswered telephone calls. One unidentified person watching the house from across the street behind the trees.” “Someone’s been watching the house?”
“One three occasions.” “What do they look like?” “The individual wears dark clothing. Five feet, eleven inches in height. Estimated weight one hundred and ninety pounds. No other description is available.” “Did this person do anything illegal or anything?” “Nothing recorded.” “He’s just watched the house on a few occasions?” “Yes, Cassiopia.” “Okay. Thank you for telling me. Tel, where is the dog?” “Speedy is playing outside in the backyard.” “Speedy? You named him Speedy?”
“Selected from the works of Asimov. A name he assigned to one of his robots that was also difficult to
catch.” “That’s cute, Tel. I like it.” “Cassiopia, how are you?” “I’m just fine, Tel. How are you?” “All systems nominal. All autonomous maintenance is complete.” “Well did anything else exciting happen?”
“Please specify perimeters.” “Anything out of the ordinary.” “All notable incidents reported.” As Cassiopia paused to consider Tel’s report, the front door burst open and banged into Cassiopia’s suitcases on the floor. It was Markman. “How could you have caught up to us this quickly?” “Don’t blame me. Blame the car.” “Really, Scott.” “I’m not kidding. The thing has a mind of its own.”
“We’re being irresponsible with that thing.” “It can’t crash. It has collision avoidance.” “Still.” “Well after all, I didn’t want to get in trouble for going over my two-hour John Paul limit.” Cassiopia went to Markman and wrapped her arms around his waist. “You’re always in trouble.” Markman kissed her on the forehead. “It’s the best trouble I’ve ever been in.” “There’s more bags in the limo. The driver is waiting.” “Oh boy.” Markman turned and looked behind him. “Hi, Tel.” “Greetings, Scott. Scans indicate you are well.” “I am, thank you. Did we miss
anything while we were gone?” “Seven temporary power outages. Three doorbell soundings. Frequent noise by outside construction crews above the seventy decibel rating. Numerous usage of outside water distribution faculties. Two stray dogs in the back yard. Thirty-two police, ambulance, or fire sirens. A leak in the kitchen faucet of approximately 11 ounces per day. Eleven thunderstorms. Fifteen unanswered telephone calls. One unidentified person watching the house from across the street behind the trees.” “Somebody was watching the house?” “On three occasions.” “What did this guy look like?” “The individual wears dark clothing. Five feet, eleven inches in
height. Estimated weight one hundred and ninety pounds. No other description is available.” Markman looked back to Cassiopia. “Maybe that’s part of the John Paul net.”
“I hope so. It could just as well be the people we are afraid of.” “I don’t think they could get that close without being detected.” “The driver is waiting.” “I’m on it.” “Just bring them in the door. Tel will take them the rest of the way. Tell the driver thank-you for us.” “Will do.” “Later, we need to go out and check out the new construction.” “As you wish.” “Thank-you, Westley.”
As evening settled in, Markman reclined in the Professor’s living room with his feet up, ignoring the new wall- mounted LCD TV. He fiddled with Cassiopia’s Rubik’s Cube and resumed contemplating the use of his new secret powers. As he considered them, a curious thought found its way into his mind. There was another power his old teachers had possessed, not unlike those he was now learning to deal with. It was a power much more common in the martial arts and quite well known. Older masters were able to throw their punches through the air. Markman had experienced the technique first-hand on countless occasions. When practicing with the older masters in light contact sparring, often times they would stop their punches one or two inches short, yet the impact of the
punch would knock the student down just as though they had made full contact. All the students had felt this power. Each time such an event occurred, the masters would invariably stop, bow repeatedly, and apologize to the student. In secret demonstrations, the masters would sometimes break bricks or knock down targets using the technique. It was occasionally referred to as a candle punch because the masters could extinguish several candles at a time without ever touching them. It was also called a Qi punch. According to the teachers, Qi could be delivered through the air by extremely well-focused punching technique. Markman wondered about the scope of his telekinetic power. It was certainly some form of Qi transmitted through the air. Would it work with a
punch or kick as it had for his masters? The idea was too much of a temptation. Markman stood and assumed a fighting stand. With one had held out and the other by his waist ready to strike, he chose a pile of DVDs sitting on the TV stand. With all of his concentration focused on the DVDs, he twisted his hips and threw an open-handed palm- heel punch. Immediately the DVDs exploded off the table in every direction, sweeping everything beside them onto the floor with a loud, crashing cascade of noise. Markman jumped and covered his mouth with his hand. He looked around worriedly and listened for anyone coming in response to the racket. He hurried to the mess and began furiously picking things up and putting them back as best he could. To his good fortune, no one
came. When the mess had been cleaned up, he sat back on the couch and shook his head at yet another newly discovered power, another unsolicited gift from the Coffer of Dreams. He rubbed one hand on his forehead and decided there was no remedy for this madness. He needed something to clear his head. He could run. There was nothing better than runner’s Zen. Once achieved, it offered a complete escape from almost anything. It was late, but running at night was just a different flavor of wonderful escape. All that was needed was a quick change into runner’s garb, and a word or two to Cassiopia. After a quick second check of the mess he had recovered from, he headed for the bedroom. With a quick change to running shoes, dark sweat
pants, and a hood sweat jacket, he stuck his head in the study and told Cassiopia. She looked up with a curious gaze but shrugged him off and went back to her computer. It was a wonderful night. Though the Richmond day had begun in drizzle and gray, the Florida weather was just the opposite. A blanket of dense stars filled the night sky. A gentle breeze carried the smell of cut grass and flowers. The air was cool and slightly damp. Though it was getting late, most of the lights were still on in the neighborhood. Street lamps cast shadows off the cars and trees along the black roadway. A helicopter chattered its way overhead. A mist was forming near the ground from cool night air meeting its warmth. Markman paused for some deep-breathing
exercise. After a few stretching techniques, he took off. So many arcane thoughts to be overcome by this run. Alien invaders plotting to overrun and devour Earth. A baby in the arms of its mother saved from a certain and untimely death by a man who knew little about medicine. The mysterious power to heal in the hands of that man. Objects levitated by mere thought. Now another new power, still barely tested. A martial arts technique allowing power to be thrown through the air. There were also dealings with a powerful agency unknown to mankind, one that had been in existence since the beginning of human development. Then there was Cassiopia Cassell. Of all the thoughts too absurd to comprehend, she was the most important and the most
perplexing. Thank God she loved him. He could not imagine any other life now. Markman cursed to himself as he realized he was not at all achieving silence of mind. As he picked up his pace in hopes that extra exertion would help that, car lights up ahead came into view around the next corner. Something was happening there. Cautiously, he continued forward. It was a car in someone’s driveway, facing out with the headlights on and the engine running. Both doors were open. Something large was on the ground by the driver’s door. An elderly woman was on her cell phone hurrying back into the house. As Markman closed in, he realized it was a man on the ground. He cut over onto the lawn as the woman disappeared
inside the house. Kneeling beside the man, he found it was an elderly gentleman, unconscious. Without giving a second though, he opened the man’s jacket and placed his hand on his heart. Electricity began to flow. There was a strangeness about it this time. The flow of electricity leaving Markman’s hand was the gentlest he had felt. The warming around the area was equally soothing and radiant. As the flow continued, the man coughed and opened his eyes partway. He tried to speak, but could only murmur. Markman held to the heart. The flow eased. Only a few minutes were required. The man began to come to life and tried to push himself up into a sitting position. Markman helped him sit up against the car without breaking the flow from his hand.
Abruptly the healing energy cut off. Markman stood up, overcame a moment of dizziness, and leaned against the car with one hand. The man’s eyes fluttered open. A sound at front door of the house startled Markman. Someone was coming. Quickly he pulled the hood of his jacket up over his head and down as far as it would go. He took a few steps to leave but had to catch himself from falling. Slowly, he staggered for the street as a woman’s voice called out, “Hello?” Markman tried to trot away across the street but it was a dizzy, wandering effort. He headed between two houses and brushed off the side of one trying to add speed to his stagger. He lost his bearings and was not sure which way to go. He could not seem to catch his breath. There was an empty lot with
trees across the next street. He headed there and stopped within the cover of brush. Deep breathing helped. He moved to the nearest tree and leaned against it, slowly sucking in air. Finally with enough strength regained, he looked around nervously to see if anyone was watching. There was nothing but the silence of a sleepy neighborhood. A moment later the stillness was broken by a faint, approaching whine quickly growing louder. It was an ambulance. Markman studied his surroundings and tried to remember exactly where he was. He knew from which direction he had come. Logic dictated heading back in the opposite direction would take him back. He began a steady walk, his stamina continuing to slowly return and with it his focus. He began to
recognize the street. He was a couple miles from the Cassell home. A few hundred yards ahead there was an intersection that would allow him back onto his street. He paced himself and began to feel okay again. As he rounded a curve toward home, a dark figure standing within the shadows of a vacant home withdrew into the hazy darkness. Upon reaching that spot, there was no one. Markman shook the fog from his mind and wondered if it had been an illusion. By the time the Cassell home came into view in the distance, he was back to normal. He opened the front door and emerged into the warmth and comfort of the living area. Dropping his jacket on the sofa, he went directly to the study. She was still there reading. She looked up with a tired smile.
“How was your run?” “Great. Just great.” “You don’t seem sweated up. What, are you sandbagging it?” “I took it easy. Just wanted to get out awhile.” “Next time I go with you. My body’s beginning to take the shape of chairs.” “Actually, it looks very good from where I’m standing.” Cassiopia twisted back in her chair to look at him. “Really? Is that an invitation?” Markman stepped forward and placed one hand around her shoulder. “Always.”
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