Authors: Lorijo Metz
“The ancient book discovered by our ancestors?” said Revolvos.
“Yes, yes, and then some of the more…conservative Circanthians, began to complain and forced you to continue your experiments on long range space-time travel from the cave located in the
Cocombaca Forest
—ah, hah!”
“What is it?” said Revolvos.
“Look around you, old man; we’re in that very cave.”
“Ahhhh, so it would appear.” Revolvos stretched his arms again. “You know, if I do say so, this cave was a brilliant choice on my part. Only one entrance and it’s via the water.”
“Yes, yes, the location of the cave was brilliant; however, building your own
cortext
—”
“CORTEXT!” Revolvos and his hovering chair seemed to leap forward…and yet, as before, remained strangely out of reach. “You wouldn’t happen to have those instructions on you, would you?”
“This is a dream—remember? Your experiments proved disastrous. In your rush to build a cortext—”
“A device that allows us long range space-time travel. Think of the possibilities Bewfordios. THINK of the possibilities!”
“Revolvos—listen to me! You refused to heed my advice about finishing the translation of the Circolar before building your own blasted cortext…and then, you disappeared!”
“Disappeared?”
“To Earth,” said Provost. “Oh!”
“What’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You’re getting blurry.”
“Am I?” Revolvos scrunched up his nose and sniffed. “I believe that pretty little flight attendant is coming down the aisle. Ummm, do I smell chocolate chip cookies?”
“Hang the cookies, Revolvos. I need to finish. Had you listened to me, had you completed translating the Circolar, you would have discovered your actions had been predicted.”
“Ah, Hah! Predicted, meaning—unavoidable.”
“Your impatience, dear mentor, led directly to the problems our people now face with H.G. Wells and the
Tsendi
.”
“H.G. Wells?” Revolvos’ blurry form leaned forward. “Isn’t that a coincidence.”
“You know him?”
“I might.” Revolvos looked sheepish…or maybe he was just getting blurrier.
“Yes, well, your friend, ‘coincidentally,’ arrived on our planet at approximately the same time you disappeared. Oh my!” Provost leaned forward, squinting.
“Is there something in my teeth?” said Revolvos.
“Yes—I mean, no. All I can see is your teeth. The rest of you has faded.”
“Then you’d better finish your story.”
“Right.” Provost was feeling slightly blurry himself. “The problem is, if I cannot locate you and find the
Corona-Soter
, the savior of our people—also predicted in the Circolar—we’re doomed. The Circanthian race will become extinct. It may already be too late.”
“Then you must find me and this…what did you call it?”
“Corona-Soter. I believe I already have.”
“Bravo! Then, why are you pouting?”
“I am not pouting. It’s just—”
“Spit it out.”
“I didn’t expect the Corona-Soter to be a 14-year-old Earthling with an attitude. The truth is, the Circolar was rather vague…in regard to how exactly the Corona-Soter would help us. Or, not exactly vague—unfinished, it seems. So, even if I find this Corona-Soter, it could all be for naught.”
“Then perhaps it was you, Bewfordios, who made the mistake.”
“Revolvos. Wait—come back here! What’s your flight number? I could meet you. Do not disappear. Don’t you DARE disappear!”
********
“Principal Provost.”
“Don’t you dare!”
“Principal Provost, wake up.”
“Wake up?” Principal Provost opened his eyes. Drool was dripping from the side of his mouth and he was looking at—Concentric help him—cleavage! He’d fallen asleep on Mrs. Snipe’s shoulder. “I’m awake,” he stammered, sitting up. “I was trying to get a better look at—what I mean is, meditate on Mrs. Boncher’s wise words.”
Principal Provost shifted his gaze as far away from Mrs. Snipe as possible, aware that she was smiling at him.
Thank goodness, Mary Boncher appeared to be reaching the end of her speech. “And now I’d like to introduce Mimi Rosenbush,” she said. “Mimi is going to give us a preview of next year’s Parent-Teacher Partnership Program. I’m sure Principal Provost would agree, planning for our children’s future is an effort well worth…”
Blast it! If only Revolvos had listened to me. If only I’m not too late. IF ONLY THIS WOMAN WOULD STOP TALKING!
Chapter 6
DIARY OF JULIANNE WELLS
London, England 1896
continued…
Upon entering the study, the pounding, pulsating sound became almost overwhelming. My brother was nowhere in sight. Uncommonly eager regarding his safety and disregarding all protocol, I placed the teacup and saucer upon his desk, crossed to a bookcase in the back of the room and withdrew a tattered book entitled, Olmecs and the Cultivation of the Rubber Tree. Reaching into the empty space, I twisted a handle hidden therein; then, stood back and watched as the door to Herbert’s secret laboratory slid open.
The pulsating sound, overwhelming a mere second ago, was now deafening. My eyes did not—could not comprehend the chaos which lay before me. A whirling tempest spinning out of control, yet like so many pieces of a shattered mirror, a storm clearly composed of what had once been my brother’s laboratory. Slowly, very slowly, for it was as if the sound itself was pulling me forward, I stepped into the room. Words cannot do justice to the moment, for as my foot entered the room, it was as if my body began merging, bit-by-bit, blurring into a vast swirling storm of debris.
Frightened, I stepped back, relieved to find myself whole again. The experience had not been painful in a physical sense but, indeed, excruciating to my sensitive and yet unworldly perception.
The next part is still not clear, whether I saw Herbert sitting inside his invention within the storm or only heard him, the sound of his voice imprinting the suggestion of him on my mind. Whichever, the image will be forever fixed, remembered as the very last time I saw my brother, combined with the sound of him shouting, “It works Julianne, it works!”
Paralyzed, I remained on the edge of the precipice fearing for my life, for Herbert’s life, not for one instant believing that he was traveling through time or space; rather, that through his experimentations he had disrupted something. I could not imagine what that was, but likely, it was threatening to do great harm to Herbert, to our house, and possibly, to our world.
All these thoughts ran through my mind as I stood there for what seemed an eternity, when suddenly, I became aware of the sound again…fainter now.
I breathed for what I believed was the first time in several minutes, relieved to find I could now discern the outline of my brother’s form amidst the storm.
Dazed, I watched, hopeful that my brother and the room would return to their solid state. Slowly, the oak walls and floor, tools, tables, chairs, lamps, and other fixtures reestablished themselves perfectly into their former positions. However, as my brother’s form became clearer, filling in like the center of a jigsaw puzzle, I had an uneasy feeling something was not right.
The next moment, I gasped in horror, for there in front of me was this thing, an abomination of nature! Resulting, I was certain, from an incorrect joining of the particles that made up my brother and his machine. In my unsettled mind, Herbert appeared to possess one large sphere where his legs had once been.
Now, dear diary, I must pause…
***
FAR, FAR, AWAY…
Monday, March 16th
M
cKenzie waited, afraid to do or say anything. Truthfully, she wanted Hayes to touch the box. To see if anything would happen, because—
maybe it wasn’t only her. Maybe she wasn’t crazy. Maybe—
“It’s not warm anymore,” Hayes announced, shrugging his shoulders and turning away. “Must have imagined it.”
Imagined?
McKenzie chose her next words carefully. “Yes, I know exactly what you mean. I imagine things like that all the time.”
Hayes’ brown eyes crinkled in obvious amusement. “What ‘things’ do you imagine?”
“Nothing!” McKenzie looked down at her paper. “Nothing at all,” she snapped.
Hayes continued to fiddle with the box. “I can’t open this. I can’t even see through the glass; it’s grimy.”
McKenzie looked up. Hayes was holding the box. He poked and prodded, feeling around the edges as if looking for a button, a hook, or anything he could push or maneuver to open it. After a thorough but fruitless search, he placed the box on the floor and began walking around it, examining it from all angles.
“What do you think?” she whispered, unable to control her curiosity.
Hayes shook his head. “Probably empty.”
“NO. It’s NOT!” McKenzie blushed. “There is something, I saw it.”
“Then you open it.” Hayes picked up the box and set it on McKenzie’s tray. “My aunt says girls are better at finding things. I suppose you qualify.”
McKenzie ignored him and stared at the pale-blue box. Sitting on top of her tray, it towered over her head by at least a foot.
“Don’t worry.” Hayes strolled over and planted himself in front of the door. “I’ll keep watch.”
McKenzie felt strangely calm considering Principal Provost or Miss Chantos could appear at any moment. Slowly, very slowly, she touched the glass. Or rather, reached through it, for it had become frighteningly clear that there was nothing there except a thin film of loosely knit molecules creating a smoky screen of confusion for anyone who looked. Anyone, it seemed, except McKenzie.
As McKenzie’s hand penetrated the smoky haze, the sound she’d heard earlier began to reverberate through her head, pulsing twice as loudly now. Whether Hayes heard it too, she couldn’t tell. Hayes was whispering loudly in the background, “Put it back, put it back, he’s coming.” But, McKenzie was no longer entirely of this world. She was part of the box—her hand merging with the molecules, beating with a force not entirely her own.
Inside the box, sitting squarely in the center, was a small pyramid. The box was larger on the inside than on the outside. For some reason this didn’t surprise her. On the tip of the pyramid, perfectly balanced, was a thin, rectangular tile of metal. It shimmered. McKenzie’s impression was that she only sensed the shimmer, rather than saw it—like waves of heat rolling across desert sand. Pausing to wonder why Principal Provost would have such an object, she slowly, carefully, reached for the tile.
Outside the office door, Principal Provost could be heard fending off Nurse Prickel. “Principal Provost, you look plumb tuckered out. You’ve been doing too much for these kids. Take a vacation, someplace far away…”
McKenzie lifted the shimmering tile from the tip of the pyramid. As if she’d removed the stopper from a jar filled with angry, buzzing hornets; all chaos broke loose. The pyramid, the tile, the box—and then McKenzie—began to spin apart, breaking into tiny particles, flowing into a stream. It was like falling into a river—a melting golden river—only, instead of drowning, she became the river. And, it happened so fast. Alone, McKenzie might have been able to pull herself free, but Hayes was suddenly standing behind her, blocking her escape—and Hayes, undoubtedly shocked by the vision before him, was not going anywhere.
McKenzie tried to warn him, but she couldn’t find her mouth. Holding on to the back of McKenzie’s chair, the solid form of Rudy Hayes swiftly rearranged itself and became one with the river.
Right before they disappeared, McKenzie thought she heard Principal Provost’s voice.
“Concentric, help me,” he exclaimed, “she’s GONE!”
Chapter 7
Excerpt from the personal log of Agent Wink Krumm
Monday, March 16th
Just outside Avondale
The time has come for me to set out on what I refer to as, Krumm’s Tour of Back Roads and Forgotten Highways. After a quick perusal of agency archives, I’ve gathered enough information to make this trip something to write home about.
********
…an abandoned farm road, innocent enough, which should lead me straight to the little town of Avondale. A town I’ve recently discovered possesses a most “interesting” statistic. Sitting smack in the middle of a valley, surrounded by hills and farms and isolated from the rest of humanity, Avondale has three major manufacturing plants and the largest population of wheelchair residents in the world. The ENTIRE World!
Why? I have to ask myself. Why here? Conspiracy? Relocation? And now, of course, I have to know.
***
MIXED MOLECULES
Monday, March 16th
Somewhere in the Universe
S
he felt like stardust. As if her body had shattered into a trillion pieces and been tossed into a swirling stream of particles. Bits and pieces of metal and stars, planets and fibers, McKenzie and—
Hayes?
Hayes was here too. McKenzie could feel him, or—
YUCK
—she was him, or at least a fragment of him. Creepier still, she could read his mind.
I can’t believe he thinks I’m a snob!