The aurora city
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| Chapter 3
The noisy crowd in the assembly hall quieted at the first appearance of the reclusive Professor Cassell. The drone from a thousand private conversations dwindled to murmurs of anticipation as he took the stage. The Professor placed an hourglass atop the podium, his signature timepiece intended to show how long he would speak. In keeping with his reputation, his papers slid off the podium into an unorganized heap on the floor. Two presenters nearby struggled awkwardly to help him regroup. He tipped his glasses up and down, shuffled his disordered papers unsuccessfully, and finally decided to ignore them completely. He tipped his head, lowered his glasses and looked out over the assembly as though they were students in one of his classes. Spontaneous, affectionate laughter broke out in a few places.
The Professor’s lecture began under the title, The God Perspective. Cassiopia stood at the back of the hall proudly watching her father speak with more eloquence and assertiveness than ever before. Normally, he stumbled frequently, losing his place and pausing
to find himself. This time was different. It was as though he was completely focused on the matter at hand, impervious to interruptions from the packed assembly. As the Professor spoke, a disheveled, travel-weary Scott Markman appeared at the rear entrance and quietly worked his way up beside Cassiopia. His faded jeans, athletic shoes and blue-collared dress shirt stood out, although Markman seemed to think the blue dress shirt qualified his appearance. Cassiopia’s eyes lit up upon sensing his touch. They nodded a silent, affectionate greeting. Markman slowly slipped one hand around her waist. Cassiopia pretended not to notice, although the bonding felt electric. The crowd listened intently with
appreciative fascination and became entranced as the sand in the hourglass ran down and the end of the Professor’s time slot neared. It was clear they would have preferred he continue. The
Professors tone
became entreating. “We can easily demonstrate our finite mindedness, our lack of the God perspective, even from the very beginning. For when we speak of the big bang, it is always in the past tense. We say, the big band occurred 13.75 billion years ago. The result of the big bang was
the formation and distribution of stellar matter. Mature celestial objects formed millions of years after the big bang. Yet, the truth is that the big bang is still happening. The accelerating expansion of the universe that followed the repulsive force is a part of that explosion. On the battlefield, a soldier does not stand up during an explosion and consider it concluded. Yet we, in our short-sighted consciousness think of the big bang as a very old, past event, even as it continues to unfold around us. In that misconception, the God perspective is absent. From God’s point of view, the big bang is an event just now occurring. When we open our minds to God’s view of the universe and all that lies within it, what changes for us? Stars become cosmic elements with half-lives that are minuscule. The formation of galaxies are rapidly passing events. The entire universe is an explosion that lasts but a few seconds. My friends and colleagues, step back and revisit your equations from the God perspective, …but only if you dare. Ladies and gentleman, I
thank you.” The applause was thunderous, punctuated by a few approving yells. Groups began to stand. Cassiopia clapped her hands in front of her face and bounced with delight. She grabbed Markman by the arm and dragged him out into the blue-carpeted hall and up a few stairs toward the stage entrance door. They arrived at the well-worn stage door just as the Professor emerged.
“Father, that was marvelous! It was the best I have ever heard you speak. You were so… so confident!” The Professor looked indifferent. He jerked his head around to study his surroundings, then returned his gaze to his daughter. “I’d like to rest.” “Aren’t
you famished?” asked Cassiopia. “You did not have time to eat. You could get room service, though. Do you want Scott and I to just take you back to the room? The next speaker is about to begin. We could probably make our escape easily.” “Yes. I’d like to get some rest.” The crowd of attendees that had gathered in the hallway was slowly compressing back into the lecture hall. When the bulge of people had thinned enough, Cassiopia led her father quickly by with Markman covering from behind. In the lobby, an elevator happened to be empty. They rode up in silence to the fifth floor, and at room 541 swiped the key card in the slot. It was an unexpectedly luxurious suite, a spacious L-shaped interior with a large picture window on the far wall overlooking a Knoxville shopping
complex. Parted yellow curtains on each side went from floor to ceiling, offering an escape from the busy city outside. A very large double bed decorated with a snow white bedspread and high, amber-colored head board took up one section. Orange-brown leaf patterned carpet covered the floor. An enormous LCD TV was mounted on the sand-toned walls. Round tables and comfortable looking tan lounge chairs were located at various points around the room. A large oak desk took up a portion of one wall near the window. The Professor’s two brown leather suitcase’s had been left next to the bed.
“Should I order you something, Father? Scott and I are going to get something downstairs.” “I will rest,” was the Professor’s only response. He went to the bed and
sat on the edge, staring blankly ahead. “Are you sure you are okay? It was such a wonderful lecture.” “I’m fine,” he replied. “You’re sure?” The Professor looked at her blankly. “Okay, then. I’ll stop pestering you. I’ll check in with you later and see if you need anything. Call me if there are any problems, okay?” “I’m fine,” replied the Professor. With Markman in tow, Cassiopia stepped outside the room and paused to look at Markman. “He’s acting a little strangely, don’t you think?” “How can
you tell,”
replied Markman glibly. “That’s not funny.” Cassiopia made a tsk sound, grabbed Markman’s hand and pulled him toward the elevator.
The lavish hotel restaurant was even more of a surprise than the Professor’s room.
Small diamond
chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Polished tables had leather cushioned chairs around them. Live plants, some five feet tall, separated them. Subdued lighting of various colors gave the place a rainbow effect. Except for one other couple, the dining area was empty. An attractive hostess in a long black gown greeted them as they entered. She motioned Cassiopia to a table in a corner. When she had gone, Cassiopia looked at Markman inquisitively. “I presume we have a lot to talk about,” said Cassiopia. “Yeah. I’m not sure where to start.”
“You once told me to start at the beginning and stop when you get to the end.” “You very funny lady.” “Really though, what is this all about? It’s been driving me crazy. I tested the men in black. I believe they were annoyed with me.” “You? Say it’s not so.” “Now you sound like my Father.” A waiter appeared, dressed in white with a stolid look on his face. Before he could speak, Cassiopia waved off the menu. “The large chef salad with shrimp, and ranch, please, and ice tea with that,” she said. “The same except only with salmon,” added Markman. The waiter scribbled, nodded, and turned away. “Salmon? You’re eating meat?” “It’s not a hard fast rule. The
object is to minimize how much you take for yourself.” “I’m a little surprised.” “A famous master once said; a fish saved my life once. I ate it.” “So what do the men in black want from us?” “We need to visit a man named John Paul at this address.” Markman pushed the business card across the table. “A security company? Home and business alarm systems? Why?” “That’s the cover. You’re not going to like the rest.” “I already don’t like the rest. Go on.” Markman
began the
story. Cassiopia’s expression became stern and disapproving. When he was done, she began tapping the fingers of one hand on the table top. “What do you think?” asked Markman. “One cannot think clearly when one is enraged,” replied Cassiopia. “Which part?” “Back when you were working with Ann Rogers, you risked your life to help uncover and destroy a terrible invasion and when it was over those people stepped in and forced both of us to sign a release that forbid us from ever speaking about it. They brushed us off as unimportant. Now they want our help.” “So you think we shouldn’t help them?” “I didn’t say that. I don’t know what I think. What’s that saying about a woman scorned?” “All I know is I’m on your side. If
you say screw them, okay. If you say help them, okay. Either way, it will scare the hell out of me.” “I know why helping them would scare you. That devil-suit kills people. But why would refusing to help scare you?” “The creatures that tried to invade our world. You know what they were like. If we don’t help in this, we’ll be going through each day wondering if those things are just around the next corner. We’ll be wondering if people we are talking to are secretly aliens in human bodies.” “Oh this is just so, so… despicable. The whole thing is.” “I think we’re accidentally seeing a bigger view of the world than was ever intended in this life. Maybe we should have guessed something like this would
happen, eventually.” “I concede that we have no choice but to visit this man and see what he has to say. But, I will not like it starting now. When do we go?” “He was wanting us there as soon as possible. He seems worried about this invasion thing. It’s near some place ca l l e d Culpeper, Virginia, five hours from here, four if I drive.” “We’re booked here for five days. My father is supposed to attend several sidebar panel discussions. I am, too. I can bow out, as necessary. I hate having this hanging over our heads, so I guess we should go. Maybe we can prove they don’t really need us.” Lunch
became a quiet, apprehensive exchange of glances and nervous gestures. Cassiopia tried to call her father several times to tell him
they would be away for a day or two, but could only reach his voice mail. She finally made a quick trip to his room to check on him, and found him sound asleep on the bed. Satisfied he was okay, she rejoined Markman in the lobby. They chose Markman’s mid- sized, white rental car over Cassiopia’s compact and took highway 81 north. Markman’s driving, as always, was patience in the city, too much speed on the open road. When Cassiopia had finally settled into the ride, she plotted their course on her phone. “Wow! You said it’s near a place called Culpeper?” “That’s what the card says.” “What a place! Why haven’t I heard of it? It’s packed with history. A hundred civil war battles there. George Washington did the original survey of the town. In more recent history, a
bypass took commerce away from the town, but that also seems to have preserved some of its heritage. There’s a ton of other history there. Wow!” “You got all that from your phone? You have got to teach me to use that thing.” Cassiopia spent the remaining time on the road becoming an expert in Culpeper history and commerce, but the beauty of the countryside quickly became a welcome distraction. As they approached the town, she became enamored by its calligraphy. The street was lined with shops and restaurants that seemed to have captured time and now held it in abeyance. Shades of brick in red, blue, tan, and brown made up a wonderful collage of businesses. Modern cars parked along the street contrasted the feeling of antiquity. A
green courthouse steeple was visible in the distance. The place did not smell like a city. It smelled like the countryside. “Scott, let’s stay here all week,” said Cassiopia. “Griffith Drive is a little ways out of town,” replied Markman. A few short streets later, they turned onto Griffith Drive and found a series of empty lots that surrounded a shiny new three-story glass building. A large italicized sign on a small tower in front said ‘Taslam Industries’. The parking area
was scarcely used. Markman parked in front. Through the glass doors, a security desk and uniformed guard were visible. At first
the guard
seemed indifferent to their entrance. Finally, he stood and waited their request.
“Markman and Cassell.” Markman tried to match the man’s indifference. “One moment,” was the curt response. They scanned the greeting area. The place seemed sterile and strange. An orange sofa stood against the polished wall to his right. It would have been considered ultramodern furniture back in the fifties. Offices with glass doors filled the left side of the room. Before
the wait
could become
uncomfortable, an elevator opened at the far end of the lobby, and John Paul, still dressed in his Victorian adornment, emerged and approached the desk. He nodded to the guard and waved the two visitors to follow him back to the elevator. Inside the elevator, John Paul pressed the
bottom button.
The elevator began a smooth descent. “Ms.
Cassell, thank
you for
agreeing to come.” John Paul held out his hand and gently shook Cassiopia’s. “I know Scott has briefed you. I would expect
you are
more than
uncomfortable about all of this. I promise
to answer
all of
your questions.” The elevator continued to descend. Markman’s expression became one of puzzlement. He looked at Cassiopia and she understood. “Mr. Paul, just how far down are we going?” she asked. “Only another few seconds, then the lateral transverse will begin.” Cassiopia raised her eyebrows and looked at Markman. He shrugged and folded his hands nervously. Just as John Paul had promised, the downward descent slowed and stopped. A slight kick to the left brought a new acceleration in that direction. The three stood and exchanged uneasy glances. When the doors finally slid open, a different world lay beyond. It was an office but it was a garden, as well. There were no walls, or if there were, all were concealed by flowers, small trees, shrubs, and fountains. Foliage also dominated the chamber in a number
of other
places where
computer work stations were located. The ceiling was sky blue and back lighted with soft white clouds moving across it, the floor covered with what seemed to be a soft green carpet, though it was faintly back lighted, as well. The place was so colorful it was breathtaking. The cool garden air was back dropped by the faint sound of
running water
coming from
the fountains. The foliage seemed to glisten as though there were tinsel within it. Cassiopia’s attention was drawn to the computer station nearest her. A comfortable looking white high back desk chair faced a desktop that appeared suspended in midair. There was nothing to support it or the chair. Above the desk, a large, transparent monitor also
seemed to
float unsupported. It was outlined in soft white light and as she stared at it, Cassiopia realized it was not a material object. It was more a projection of a monitor than an actual physical device. There was no keyboard or mouse or anything else on the desktop. As she watched, a strange-looking woman with snow-white hair, seated at the station, raised one hand slightly and pointed at
the screen. Colorful images began to appear and change on the screen, moving about as the woman directed. John Paul turned to his off-balance guests. “Let us go directly to the sensesuit laboratory. We can talk there. Perhaps a brief tour later.” He exited the elevator with his charges in tow, but paused at the workstation Cassiopia had
been studying. “Shandra, this
is Scott
and Cassiopia.” The woman’s face was a soft glow of white, her features small but perfect. She responded by holding out a hand to Markman. She nodded politely and smiled. She turned to Cassiopia and her expression changed to one of familiarity. She took Cassiopia’s hand and held it longer, casting a knowing, affectionate smile before releasing it. Cassiopia could not resist. “What are these images?” she asked, pointing to the screen. “Oh nothing, really,” replied
Shandra. “I’m just thinking out loud.” “This way,” said John Paul, and he led them through the garden office to a large, arched doorway, shielded by a snowy-white raster that looked like a TV screen with no picture. They passed through the field feeling no effects at all.
The lab area beyond was quite different from the office. The room was large and surrounded by mirrored walls. The air smelled sterile and felt dry. An object in the center of the room dominated the lab. It was an orb that reached from
floor to
ceiling, unattached, hovering in place, subdued color flowing and ebbing within its surface. A waist-high panel protruded from it and went completely around its circumference, alive with dozens of display screens busily displaying data. Two tall men were working there. They were bald, with very white skin and white lab coats. They wore white cotton gloves that ran up under their sleeves. Other sophisticated equipment was stationed around the room. To the left of the orb were the tall blue stacks of analytical computers, bordered in fluorescent green light. Floating, waist high tables with computer monitor surfaces were everywhere. Off to the right was something that caused Markman a pang of fear. A large gymnasium-size room adjoined the lab, separated only by movable clear acrylic panels. The walls, floor,
and ceiling were black, divided by thin, very precise illuminated white lines that formed grids. In the center, a clear acrylic case the size of a small closet held the object of Markman’s fear. Suspended there was the sensesuit he once had worn. The same suit he had chanced death in. The suit that gave a person a fully sensual experience inside an alien computer. The suit that killed users who failed its game. Markman stood mesmerized. The suit commanded irresistible intrigue, and absolute fear. In many ways, it was just as addictive as a drug or an extreme sport. John Paul noticed Markman’s stare and interrupted the moment. “Let us sit and review how we all came to be here.” He gestured to a meeting area off to one side, where the sensesuit
and grid room would still be visible. The meeting table was a softly illuminated white surface that floated just like the other objects in the lab. The seats were white and well-cushioned, suspended independently, as well. Markman went to one and tested it by grabbing the seat back. The thing was ready to move to any position he wished. He moved in front of it and sat with caution, expecting it to collapse. It did not. It moved and bounced slightly under his weight, but at the same time continued to be adjustable, as needed. He placed his hands on the table and was surprised to find it completely rigid and unmoving. Seated, the three of them paused and exchanged awkward stares. John Paul began. “To start, let’s review our mutual history. Scott, as
we’ve discussed, you were originally drawn into the sensesuit affair by Federal Agent
Ann Rogers.
Her investigative branch needed someone not listed in any law enforcement database. Your work as a discrete private investigator, along with your other abilities made you the perfect choice. Cassiopia, on the other hand, you were kidnapped and forced into the situation because of your programming knowledge and because of your father’s TEL 100D robot, both needed by a man name Leeds who had been injured and was physically unable to continue competing in the sensesuit games. Leeds was on the verge of winning his contest. The prize being promised was described as beyond imagination. Leeds wanted the prize so badly he was willing to commit kidnapping and even
murder to get it. He thought the robot, along with your programming intellect, would make him a sure winner. In the end, most of those people were killed by the Salantians. When my group was finally called in, Scott led us to the underground base the Salantians were using, and at that point, we took over the entire affair. For some reason Scott, you were unable to put the investigation behind you, and you ended up locating the yacht where the sensesuit computer and the future plans of the invaders were located. You beat us to it, much to our dismay. Before the yacht and the leaders of the invasion could be captured, they neglected to purge the yacht’s engine compartment of gas fumes and in starting the engines, ignited the fuel tanks, destroying themselves and
everything aboard. Does that fit your recollection of the events that occurred back then?” Markman stammered, “Most of it.” “Within the caverns being used by the invaders, we found the backup sensesuit computer. It’s that orb you see in the center of this room. We also recovered the sensesuit Scott wore, and the one forced on you, Cassiopia. It is possible there are other sensesuits out there somewhere that we don’t know about. We have not found any records indicating any other users were still alive when we took over, however. Expressed in the most simple terms possible, our mission now is to learn as much as possible about the Salantian invaders, the vortport technology they used to open doorways to Earth, and the sensesuit computer system they
brought along with them. Hopefully we can learn enough so that measures can be taken to prevent any future Salantian incursions.” Cassiopia could hold back no longer. “Mr. Paul, Scott has told me about your organization. It is quite a stretch to ask us to believe you are who you claim to be. We have nothing to verify your claims. How can you expect us to help complete strangers based on a story that is beyond belief?” “Cassiopia, Scott’s view of the world is one of spirituality. Yours is one of science. Have you looked around you?”
Cassiopia turned in her seat and focused on the unfamiliar equipment scattered around
the room.
The sensesuit computer orb
glowed brightly, casting fading shadows around it. John Paul raised one eyebrow. “Have you seen science like this ever before?”
Cassiopia sat back in her floating seat. It distracted her for a moment. “I’ve seen a magician make an elephant disappear on stage.” “When we intervened in the sensesuit affair, did we not rescue you from your captors and set you free?” “Yes, you did that. I am grateful.” “Did we not exhibit authority over and above the federal agency that Scott was helping?” “Yes.”
“That gives you three strong points-of-fact, as you call them, to support the hypothesis that we are who we claim to be. Add to that the necessity for
secrecy that
our organization must
maintain. Our
operatives have
been discretely watching you, but not hiding from you. In fact, you embarrassed them on the train, did you not?” Cassiopia stammered. “I did not mean to do that. I was collecting information.” “Yes, and
your information supports everything I’ve been saying, does it not?” “Yes…yes it does.” “How many points-of-fact would you need to conclude I am telling the truth?”
“If there is a governing force of advanced beings overseeing Earth, can I meet those in charge?” “No. The exposure would be harmful to you.” “What?”
“The human
mind and
consciousness are
designed with
protective barriers to prevent people from being exposed to things too advanced for their current state of development. Some people have used things like recreational drugs, or unorthodox meditation to break down those protective barriers. Those naive people usually die or end up in mental institutions because of it. The Celestial tier is directed by individuals so advanced they
radiate light
and consciousness to an extreme. Direct exposure to them could damage you just as psychedelic drugs have harmed many who have experimented with them.”
“But you implied some of these people are human.” “Very, very few have achieved
that level of spiritual advancement. Not that long ago, none had.” “Would any of them have names I might recognize?” “A shrewdly worded question, Cassiopia. Coming from you, I am not surprised. Those in charge of the Celestial tier are a group of one. Think on that for a while. I will not offer any names, past, present, or future.” Cassiopia wrinkled her brow and bit her lower lip. “And the ones in this Celestial tier who are not human? Who could they possibly be?” “At the risk of tempting your disbelief further, some of the Venutian people have been of great service to the management of human existence on Earth, even though Earth has on occasion been quite a nuisance to them. There was a surface mapping
satellite sent to map Venus quite a few years ago. Its primitive emissions caused havoc inside the planet where that population lives. Life was sometimes a bit uncomfortable while that went on. Nevertheless, they understood, being quite a bit more spiritually evolved than humans. There are other intelligent species in this solar system. How often do you hear stories of angels, or beings of light who rescue people? But, let us focus on the matter at hand.” “So you’re saying we’ve been told lies all these years about life in the solar system?” “Not lies, just not full disclosure. Were these things shown to Earth humans at their present stage of development, some would celebrate a new age of awareness and be glad.
Many, many more would be seriously harmed by the enlightenment. It would virtually destroy the purpose of this physical Earth existence. It is our job to maintain this Earth experience until the prescribed time.” “Where do these higher beings reside?”
“Cassiopia, you are pushing the limits of how far we can go into this. Remember, were I addressing Scott, I could speak in spiritual terms. In your case, you speak the language of science. Spiritual and religious terminology describes a science that man does not yet understand. So, when I speak to you, I must translate spiritual science down into the more primitive language of Earth science. That is a challenge. You want to know where higher beings pass their time?
The question itself is like a child asking a parent why the sky is blue. If I could use the word Heaven, it might be easier.”
“I believe in Heaven.” “Oh really? Then you believe also in angels, correct?” “I’m not sure.” “The foundation for both come from the same type of literature. It is not yet included in most collegiate science libraries, if you know what I mean. If you subscribe to the validity of a portion of a reference material, then you subscribe to most of it.” “Please go on.” “To answer your question, science has now accepted the fact that there may be quite a few other dimensions not previously known, correct?” “Yes.”
“Merging the two sciences I spoke of, I could refer to some of those dimensions as Heavenly dimensions, could I not?” “Wow.” “Is that enough of an answer to your question, where do spiritually advanced beings dwell?” “Still, if there is such power, the terrible things that happen on Earth should not be allowed.” “Oh, really? Cassiopia, it takes ten years or more to educate a doctor to repair the human body. Ten years to teach someone to pilot a large passenger jet. If it takes that long to learn those things, how long does it take a soul to learn the difference between right and wrong, good and evil?”
John Paul paused and folded his hands. “When someone is on the edge of choosing good over evil, the people around him can often help him make the right choice. But, when someone has become dedicated to selfishness, power, lust, and greed, only a long life itself can change them. Why do such terrible things happen? You know the answer to your own question.” Cassiopia nodded. “I admit I am impressed by your words, John Paul.” “There is another thing perhaps I should not mention, but I will. When a teacher wants to know which are the good children in her class and which are the bad, she need only leave the room for a time and watch through a window.”
Markman sat with his elbow on the table and his chin in his palm having finally come to believe it would not
collapse. Cassiopia looked at him for support, but he only raised his eyebrows in a questioning stare. She turned back to John Paul. “Why are you risking telling us these things? We haven’t agreed to help you yet. Aren’t you afraid we’ll alert the world to the truth?” “Ms. Cassell, do you not realize how easy it is to conceal spiritual-level events, extraterrestrial existence, and even their occasional unauthorized indiscretions? For every person willing to believe and reveal these things, there are ten more ready to ridicule and discredit them. Most people do not want to believe such things. Many others are so preoccupied with their own lives they cannot be bothered considering higher reality. Some would harm themselves and those around
them were the truth revealed. That is the stage of evolution most humans here on Earth are at. But, as they live and learn and the human consciousness expands, they will eventually be able to embrace the truth, just as some groups already have. The Trekers, Trekies, and all the other science fiction fanatics have already envisioned the future and have embraced it, but they are far enough ahead of the general population that even they are considered eccentrics or even lunatics. Some of that prejudice comes from people who suspect the truth but fear it greatly.” “A tier of celestial guardians. I’m not sure how I feel about all this,” said Cassiopia. “Well, please do not ask me to elaborate on this, but remember, I did
not say the Celestial tier was the highest authority.” Markman finally spoke. “So John Paul, if we agreed to help, what would happen next?” “Cassiopia would study everything we know about the sensesuit computer system and she would participate in its operation. When you were ready, you would suit up in diagnostics mode and test out the suit. Inside the computer simulation, you would again be Richard Baker, the man who the suit was actually intended for before you Yüklə 1,8 Mb. Dostları ilə paylaş:
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