Verse

“I have to tell you doc… I think this is a waste of time. I don’t really want to be here.”

“Most people don’t when they come to see me.”

“Not that likable a guy, huh?”

“I get a lot of folks like you who find it hard to open up.”

“Well anyway, I didn’t come to see you. I was ordered.”

“So why are we here?”

“Why? … They didn’t tell you?”

“I was briefed… I’d rather hear your version.”

I stared at the doctor a moment, then glanced around his office. Decorative knick knacks occupied the otherwise dull looking bookcases. On display were various degrees promising brilliance.

“If you don’t mind doc, what did they tell you?”

He hesitated a beat.

“They said your duties have been compromised because you’ve been having nightmares.”

“I guess you can call them that” I scoffed.

“What would you call them?”

I searched the floor for an answer knowing none would come. Instead a nagging thought bubbled to the surface.

“You’re… not military.”

He slightly flinched, as if my stating it were an accusation. It wasn’t, at least not overtly.

“I fail to see” He protested “why that should matter. I’m fully qualified to-”

“All they told you was I’m having nightmares?” I interrupted.

“And that sometimes you have them while you’re fully awake… and more to their point, while on duty.”

I had to know. “Are you a Tell?”

Becks annoyance was palpable.

“As far as I know the military doesn’t use telepaths. Their readings aren’t always-”

“You’re avoiding the question.” I interrupted again.

“What question? Am I a telepath? No. I can’t say I believe in telepathy despite what those in the media would have us accept.”

I’d personally witnessed a Tell’s military application. This shrink was obviously not in the know, which told me either he hadn’t serviced my division of the military for long or he stubbornly chose to hold fast to his way of thinking despite commonly accepted belief. It was weird of me to think that, coming to know faith in ways I hadn’t in the past. I chose to probe him further.

“I’m a bit surprised they would send me to someone who isn’t at least a low-level Tell.”

Now that question only served to annoy him further.

“Major Huch. There is no such thing as a low, medium, or high level telepath. I’m not sure what we’ve seen from so called Tells is real. Compelling as their abilities may seem, it’s more likely an anomaly caused by a… chemical imbalance. I’m well aware there are those who say after the Storm they acquired mental abilities. I’ve treated some of these people. They’re only rationalizing their trauma by applying some meaning to what happened. They need some justification for the loss they experienced… that we all experienced. It was a world-wide traumatic event. Nervous breakdowns, anxiety, depression… millions sought treatment. Millions needed treatment.

“Millions died doc... It wasn’t just in our heads.”

“You don’t have to tell me tha- what do you mean our heads?”

Here we go.

“The Storm was a long time ago doc.”

“You talk as if you had been born when it happened, like you were there.”

The memory wasn’t as painful as it used to be. I guess time does heal all wounds. I’d also come to know that in ways I didn’t before.

“During the Storm a quake killed my wife.” I volunteered “At the time she was giving birth to my son. I’m told he’s alive and living out his days on New Australia.”

That got the doc’s attention. He looked at me as if I had spontaneously grown a second nose.

“Your son? How old are you? Late thirties… early forties…”

“Actually, I’m ninety-five.”

There was a shock.

“Right…” He quipped.

My suspicions were proving correct. It’s obvious command hadn’t told him everything. They didn’t tell him about Doctor Skiles, his impossible invention, or Project Three, though he had to be authorized to hear what I might say.

“May I ask what level clearance you have?” I asked.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

Now he was annoying me.

“Doctor, we’re on a military base orbiting Europa. I know, for a fact, there should be no one on this base with a SCL lower than three. Very few of us have a SCL above five. My level is really high… the highest. You want to get into the inner workings of my mind? What’s been happening to me-”

“That’s an interesting choice of words.” He interjected.

“What’s been happening to me” I continued “I believe is tied into some pretty ultra sensitive shit. Now I presume command wouldn’t send me to someone in your profession who didn’t have the clearance to hear about any of that. But I learned a long time ago not to presume anything. Doctor patient privilege won’t cut it.” 

“I’ve had a level six clearance for about two years now.”

He flashed me his previously hidden icon. I was impressed. He could see it on my face, a civilian psychiatrist with a level six clearance? I looked up at the ceiling trying to break his gaze. A nannite-glassed dome was set in its center, imaged with a nice real-time view of Jupiter.

“With that kind of clearance I guess you’ve had the opportunity to treat some high profile individuals.” I postulated.

“Well that would be classified information, Major.”

I laughed, for what felt like the first time in a month.

“I guess it would be.”

“Major I’m curious. Your age… you must live an extremely healthy life.

I laughed again. “As a matter of fact, I do. It’s alright to be skeptical, doc. I’m sure you’ve treated a lot of off world psychosis. And looking at me you must think I’ve… gone bonkers.”

“Let’s not get into your diagnosis just yet, though your claim is… intriguing.”

“Intriguing? Is that some sort of therapeutic codeword for crazy?”

“I’d never use the word crazy to describe a patient.”

“Well doc when I tell you I’m ninety-five you can either conclude I’m crazy or I’m telling you the truth.”

“I apologize if it appears I’ve called into question your sanity. That was not my intention. You look abnormally young for a ninety year old. Your parents must have good genes… I’d say superior ones judging from what I see.”

There was a joke there, but I chose not to bite..

“Or maybe” The doc continued in earnest “This is some sort of undocumented side effect from prolonged exposure to DADLE.”

“They didn’t put us in hibernation. I came to Europa with one of the first expeditions. We were awake for the duration of the five year journey. NASA was none too pleased at the expense.”

“Oh that’s right… you’re ninety-five years old.”

The sarcasm was not lost on me. The doc seemed to be getting bitter in his old age.

“I think this was my first deep space assignment.”

“You think? You mean you don’t know?”

I didn’t.

“Maybe I am losing my mind.”

“Is that what we’re here to find out, Major?”

That was a dumb question.

“I guess so, doc. Command clearly thinks so.”

I didn’t like this. Almost all military medical matters were turned over to civilian control, over two hundred and fifty years ago, and some of us still kind of resent it today. Though there were a few military psych meds left, none were within a million miles of here, odd considering the operation being conducted on Europa. Chalk it up to military integration with the private sector, I guess.

Deep space assignments tended to play tricks on the mind for some. Nightmares were common. Some people even went certifiable, thus the need for shrinks, and to those more on a spiritual bent… chaplains.  I was ordered to meet with the man before me, Doctor Harold Becks. He had no clue what he was getting into. I had no doubt the doc had taken on some strange cases before because he was staring at me, for all the world, like this was just another typical session with the… what did he call them… the chemically imbalanced?

“It’s been my experience, Major, that people who are insane, don’t know it. An insane person would never describe themselves as being such. The fact that you think you might be… crazy… is a good sign that you’re not.”

“Good. Are we done here?”

Becks let loose a laugh of his own. “No I’m afraid not. There’s still the matter of your nightmares.”

Well the doc does have level six clearance. The President must think highly of him. Down the rabbit hole we go.

“Doc in your sessions did you ever treat anyone who talked about Project Three?”

“No.”

I liked to think I could tell when someone was lying to me.

“Really?”

Becks continued his gaze. I wondered how good he was at poker.

“You read my file didn’t you?” I asked.

“Actually… they didn’t give me your file.”

“They didn’t?”

“No. As I said earlier, I was briefed on your situation as they understand it. Ultimately they thought it best that you tell me your story with no preconceptions on my part.”

“Well that had to be different for you.”

“No. I’ve had my share of… atypical cases”

“Nonetheless it’s more likely they didn’t give you my file because they don’t know exactly what I might say in here. I wasn’t ordered not to tell you anything, but given the nature of this meeting… they knew it was possible I might tell you about my… past job experience.”

“Do you plan on telling me anything?”

There was no way this guy would believe me. He already had trouble accepting my age. But I guess his belief was irrelevant. He was paid to listen to my problems, find the cause, and then recommend a treatment. I could certainly provide him with cause. I seriously doubted there was a treatment he could administer. No man could possibly treat this. Command must still consider me an asset for them to send me to him at all. It’s nice to feel wanted I suppose.

“Doc, this is going to be a long session.”

“You have fifty-three minutes left.”

“Ok then I’ll be brief… About sixty years ago I was sent on an impromptu mission to go back in time and neutralize the man responsible for the Solar Storm of 2197. The Storm, as everyone is calling it, was in fact not really a storm, so much as it was our reality falling apart due to the negligence… pigheadedness, whatever the motivation was, of the crazy person I was sent to… oh I’ll just say it… kill.”

Becks searched my eyes for signs of jest.

“… Go on.” He insisted.

“That man’s name was Dr. Forrest Skiles. You might have heard of him. This base, the vessels we use to get out here, all the equipment used to drill Europa, modern space probes, various other devices, weapons and such, used by the military and civilian corporations to conquer and explore space, all of it was based on his designs and developed by his team of engineers, the company now known as SkiMann Tech.”

“I’ve heard of them and him.”

“He also manufactured the nannites used to make antigravitons which allow for all the neat things you’ve seen used in transportation, construction, militarily during the Pan-American war and by foolish thrill seekers today.”

“That I didn’t know.”

“One of his inventions for the military accidentally led him to discover… time-travel. It didn’t happen overnight. I mean a ton of stuff happened between that invention and the time machine, the details of which I’m not privy-”

“Major Huch.”

“Yes?”

“Time travel is impossible.”

“Yeah… I know.”

“You know? You seem remarkably lucid.”

“Care to reevaluate my diagnosis?”

“Sure…You’re crazy.”

We both laughed.

“Well, you said it.” I remarked.

“I mean c’mon… time travel?”

“I know. I know. I hate time travel stories too. I can’t stand when I’m watching Cosmos Effect or some of the classic Star Trek webisodes online and they’re using one of those time travel plots to distract us from the fact that the writers have run out of ideas. Do you watch Star Trek?”

“No. I have seen Cosmos Effect though.”

“Did you catch the webisode where Henry met up with the aliens, and they took him back in time, on their spaceship?”

“The one that ended with Henry running into himself, and we don’t know if future Henry or past Henry was the one that came back with the aliens?”

“So you did see it.”

“Is that what happened to you? Am I talking to past Major Eli Huch while future Eli Huch is stuck back in the past?”

I had to think about that for a moment. The grin on Becks face though, told me he was teasing.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I remarked “I’m just trying to point out how plots like those tend to wind up as convoluted as the automatrix in Chicago. It’s a played out crutch used by lazy writers who can’t think of a way to extend a seasons worth of webisodes... accept…”

“Accept?”

“Accept now I’ve lived it.”
         
Becks stared at me a moment. He appeared to look right through me. Damn if this guy wasn’t a Tell.

“You’re serious.” He finally spoke. “You actually traveled back in time… in a time machine?”

“No. I traveled back in time in a vortex created by a time machine.”

Becks sighed, and leaned back in his chair. He swiveled to the left, then right, back and forth not taking his eyes off me. He finally said.

“Is this why you’re having nightmares?”

“I think so, yes.”

“Tell me about them.”

I hesitated. I mean reliving this would not be easy. Suddenly I wasn’t so sure I wanted to continue this exercise. General Ballard was no where near as reasonable as my old CO. I’d argued my case against being here, but in the end Ballard ordered me to comply. I might as well come clean.

“I’m in a nondescript city.” I began “I want to say Los Angeles though I see nothing specific that tells me... It just feels like that’s where I might be. There’s a sensation of being… under water. It’s not exactly dark…murky? Yeah, murky works. I’m on a mission…. the mission. Everything is labored, walking, breathing…”

“You’re swimming?”

“No… it’s like the whole world is… thick.”

“Is anyone with you?”

I didn’t want to think about that.

“Something is with me… a presence… impossibly huge… though I can’t see it. It’s like it is close and far away at the same time, and though I can barely make them out… there are… things… moving way off on the horizon.”

“What else?”

“I’m searching for Skiles… searching for my target. Then… for some reason I can’t remember who my target is. I become frustrated. I try to radio back to my present, but the radio doesn’t work. I try Wi-Fi, Lightwave… nothing. So I’m standing there, in the middle of an empty street and suddenly everything feels… not there. I don’t know how else to describe it. I start to panic then…”

I was begining to sweat.

“It’s okay major. Please continue.”

“War. There’s a war. Soldiers are battling all around me. There’s an explosion, debris is falling everywhere and up ahead I see Skiles. Suddenly, he’s just lying there on a dirt road. He’s bleeding. He’s dead. I’m sure I killed him…”

“Not the explosion?”

“It was me, doc. I’d shot him.”

“What then?”

“I looked up from his body and I watched the war continue. Soldiers shooting one another, fighting hand to hand, it was… exhilarating. I’d fought in the Pan-American war and it was nothing like this.”

The doc noted something on his PDA.

“Far off in the distance a tornado formed. It looked like an F-5. I was compelled to walk toward it. I had made my way through the battle, towards a clearing, which stretched for about a half of mile to the twister. I walked steadily towards it, the gale force winds pounding against me. At about a hundred yards out, from what was certain death, I saw a figure, a man, standing in my path. It was Skiles and he was angry.

Then I wake up… and there he is.”

“…What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m awake… and Skiles is standing not three feet away… staring at me.”

“You mean you’re actually… awake?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know?”

“Well that’s a damn good question doc… I don’t know, because my screen is still on the web channel I left it on before I fell asleep?

“You’re one of those people who like to sleep with background noise.” Becks speculated.

“I can also feel my bed is soaked in sweat, even though the environmental controls of my flat are “operating within normal parameters” so my room tells me.”

“Still-”

“Or perhaps” I interjected “it’s because in the middle of an otherwise unremarkable day I can see the looks on my men’s faces. They look at me as if I’ve gone batshit insane.

Becks noted more on his PDA.

Mostly I think I’m awake because… I can hear myself screaming as well as they can… and Skiles is there. He’s always there. I don’t know, maybe I am dreaming. Maybe I’m dreaming right now.”

“Do you see Skiles with us… in this room?”

“No.”

Becks leaned further back in his chair. He appeared to consider what I just told him.

“Don’t tell me you’re about say this is a dream.” I warned.

“No. Your dream… the events are…”

“Intriguing?”

“I was going to say vivid.”

Becks made a gesture. A voice responded.

“Sir?”

“Debbie clear the rest of my schedule for today.”

“Including your meeting with Mr. Fontaine?”

“Especially my meeting with Fontaine.”

“Okay.” She didn’t sound particularly pleased.

“Thanks.”

“Your assistant’s name is Debbie?” I queried.

“She responds to that name so I assume it is. Why?”

“She looks like a Debbie.”

“Well that’s because she is Debbie. Her parents aptly named her I suppose.”

“I thought I had less than an hour doc?”

“Tell me about your mission… the actual mission. Did it happen like it does in your dream?”

“No. Not even close... Debbie wasn’t talking about Harold Fontaine was she?”

“I can’t discuss that with you.”

Harold Fontaine was commissioner of SAT 2 platform. SAT 2 was a space station totally built and ran by the private sector… That was before its unfortunate collision with an errant asteroid. Over a hundred deaths… the largest mass casualty since the Storm fifty years prior. Harold along with 12 others survived. He was last reported to be consulting at the civilian expedition of Calisto. It wasn’t that much of a leap, my guessing his association with Becks, given the doc’s security clearance. Calisto’s team members often used our station as a staging point to the platform under construction at IO. We used Calisto’s orbiting station as a waypoint back to Earth.

“You were about to tell me about your mission major.”

“Was I? I hadn’t decided.”

Becks propensity for silently staring at me was remarkable.

“You should know Dr. Becks if I tell you this you’re all in. It will change your life. At the minimum it will change your clearance. Whether positively or negatively is up to you. What you do with the information is on you. I suspect command won’t give you much of a choice but…”

“Major I have been on countless cases involving top secret military ops. Believe me when I tell you that I enjoy the full trust of Command.”

“And yet you’ve never heard of Project three.”

“I never said I hadn’t heard of Project three. Just that I’ve never treated anyone involved in that venture.”

“So why are you so skeptical about time travel?”

“Because I know time travel to be impossible. And, until now, did not know of its connection to Project three.”

“But that was Project three. After Skiles’s discovery, the military commissioned him to… explore every avenue of time travel’s application. I was assigned to the facility as the COS. It was part of my job to make sure the whole operation ran smoothly by minimizing outside knowledge and influence. For that to happen I had to know exactly what was going on in the lab. When they told me, I was skeptical like you. Then… the Storm.”

“The day all hell broke loose.”

We had no idea.

“It was discovered that Skiles research was more dangerous than acceptable. Command ordered Skiles’s lab dismantled and he, and his team, were to be reassigned to the Europa and Calisto expeditions… Project 2. It was members of Skiles’s own team who first reported the hazards of time travel. Skiles disagreed, but was forced to comply. I oversaw most of the transfer. On the last day I sent in a team to secure the machine for dismantle. Skiles and an accomplice killed my security detail and locked themselves in the lab.”

“You’re telling me a respected scientist managed to murder a trained security detail?”

“Doc it wasn’t that simple. Like I said he had an accomplice, whom we’ve never identified! My men weren’t expecting an attack!”

“I’m sorry Major. Please continue.”

“No. I apologize… I don’t know exactly know how they managed it. I just know they did. I’ll never forget the bodies of my men lying… I digress. My wife was giving birth to my son and I was actually on my way to be with her when I got word of Skiles’s treachery. While I sped back to the lab the Storm hit. I had no idea what the hell was going on, but thought it might be connected to Skiles’s work. When I arrived at the lab I was met there by my CO and members of Skiles’s team. They were attempting to override the lock Skiles had put, on the door, to the lab. I managed to break through too late. I watched Skiles enter the vortex... he actually waved at me.”

Becks continued to stare at me stoically.

“The effects of the Storm were not as intense the closer we were to the vortex. The team briefed me on what Skiles had done and told me what had to be done in order to undo what he was doing.”

“…Okay.”

“Skiles had entered the vortex unprotected. Not that it was detrimental for him, but it was indeed detrimental to us, to our present… at that time. This is the science as it was explained to me… and as I understood it in the ten minutes I got to take it in, while reality fell apart...”

“... Okay.”

“Apparently there is only one timeline. Skiles team confirmed this through all their research and whatnot. What Skiles machine did was bend a splinter of the timeline back on itself while providing a wormhole or vortex, for anything to travel. Also complicating things, time is very much tied into thought.”

“Thought… as in our mind?” Becks asked.

“Thought as in I thought you might like that.” I quipped.

“You know you are forcing me to reevaluate my usage of the word crazy.”

“I had a similar reaction as they were telling me this. Apparently with a disciplined mind one could influence where the vortex would take you… I’m going to skip over a lot of the details. Just suffice it to say, if I thought about it, I could go there using Skiles’s device.”

Becks looked like he wanted to interrupt but I held up my hand to belay that.

“The danger of this was evident as reports were coming in from all over. World wide disasters buffeted the planet. People were dying. The planet was dying. Our future was dying. We had to act fast.”

“So what could you do?”

“Skiles exerted influence on the vortex. The team postulated that if Skiles died the time line would correct itself. Since Skiles wasn’t going to off himself someone had to do it for him. I volunteered. My CO concurred and the team saw the wisdom in this as my combat training had also supplied them with the disciplined mind to work the vortex.”

Again Becks wanted to interrupt. Again I waved him off.

“Yes I know. All of this was conjecture. Yes I know. I only got ten minutes to process all of it. I didn’t understand the science but I do understand a seek and destroy op, whatever the circumstance. The team said the fact that the vortex was still open demonstrated the idea that Skiles was still alive. They said the vortex was tied to his… lifeforce, his spirit, his soul, whatever. I didn’t have time to debate the philosophy. It was still open so all I had to do was enter it, go back, find him, kill him, and everything would revert back to the way it’s supposed to be.”

Becks interrupted. He would not be deterred.

“Major. Let’s say I believe you…”

“You should. After we’re done here command will confirm.”

“The Storm was in 2197.”

“In 2197 I was thirty five years old when I walked through that vortex. After all was said and done… when I got back… it was 2227.”

That raised Beck’s left eyebrow.

“It’s now 2257.” He remarked.

“Crazy, huh?”

“You don’t look a day over forty.”

“I don’t know what happened. I can’t explain it.”

“I’m… I mean…”

“You’re speechless.”

Becks let out a breath then removed his glasses.

“Major you see these optics?”

“Yeah, I suspect they’re a diagnostic tool you use to monitor heart and respiratory rate. We use similar devices for interrogation.”

“You appear not to be lying to me.”

“Appear?”

“The system can be beat.”

“Doc, I’m not lying to you. This isn’t a game.”

“Okay hold on a sec. If you killed Skiles in the past, doesn’t it stand to reason that everything he had done would not have happened?”

“Sure if I killed the Skiles that existed in the time period that Forrest traveled back to. But I was going after the Forrest Skiles that had already made the machine.”

“… Never mind. How did you get back?”

“The first time it happened just like they said. I killed Skiles and…”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa… the first time?”

“It took a while for me to find Skiles, but I did eventually, and I killed him. Then I was back… in 2197, just in time to watch Forrest Skiles wave and walk through the vortex again.”

“What?”

“I explained to the team that the mission was done. They thought I was nuts. I gave them details, and it was determined I should try again.”

“Wait a minute. You were back in 2197 as if you hadn’t left?”

“That’s the gist of it.”

“Well… how did that- I mean, you’d just carried out your mission. I assume you were different...”

“Like it never happened, doc” I reiterated “Accept, I was the only one who knew it had.”

“But what had happened? You killed Skiles then suddenly you were… you were in 2197?”

“Exactly, I didn’t feel a jolt, there wasn’t a flash of light, and the world didn’t come crashing in. There was no physical manifestation. It was like I didn’t miss a beat between severing Skiles carotid and entering the lab just to watch Skiles, still very much alive, walking through the vortex.”

“You had cut his artery?”

“The first time.”

“How many times did you-“

“Six times doc. After the sixth time… I ended up thirty years into my future. The Storm abated, and everyone living out their lives.”

“This is unbelievable…what happened next?”

“I got in touch with Command. They were shocked to say the least. They thought I had died or was stuck in the past. The eggheads over at SkiMann Tech postulated that the stealth suit I was wearing… after I killed Skiles that sixth time, the suit had somehow displaced time. I was outside of it. I was outside of time.”

“That’s… incredible. How?”

“I don’t understand the science, doc. The suit was the invention Skiles created which led to his discovery of time-travel. The antigravinites, created by Skiles, used by the suit, bend light which renders the bearer invisible. It’s what turned the tide of the Pan-American war. Skiles team, after my third attempt, modified the suit to protect me and our present from the buffeting effects of the vortex. They only modified it that one time, so I’m not sure it had anything to do with why I kept repeating the mission over and over. But it was determined to have a definite affect on why I ended up outside of time. They said I just as easily could have ended up a million years in the future or a million in the past. All things considered I was lucky to end up only thirty years past the day of the Storm. Thought, light, time, it all appears to be connected.”

“Were you thinking send me thirty years into the future that time? I mean what was it like… being outside of time? What did you see?”

The thought of it made me shudder.

“Everything… I saw everything, the entirety of existence.”

“But how… how could you survive? How is it you’re here? Why haven’t you aged?”

“I don’t have those answers doc. My mind is too small now to comprehend the whys. All I know now. Is that I’m alive… and uh…I met God.”




                                                          II



That last line threw Becks for a loop. I spent the next thirty minutes explaining how command felt it prudent that Project 3 be kept under wraps. Skiles’s time machine had been dismantled and all traces of its existence destroyed when neither of us had come back. I was told the science team was forced to sign non-disclosure agreements under penalty of death. I was forced to sign the same contract but didn’t fear the consequences of telling the doc my story. Command would force Becks into the same agreement, of course.

After I was done, Becks wasn’t.

“Major, earlier you said you met God.”

“That’s right.”

“I assume that wasn’t hyperbole.”

“No it wasn’t.”

“You have hard evidence of God’s existence?”

I smiled.

“Nothing I could say would convince you, assuming you don’t already believe.”

“Tell me why you believe.”

“… I’m not exactly sure I do?”

“Then why say you met him?”

“How can I explain this?”

“Try by giving me the details.”

Just when I thought we had climbed out the rabbit hole.

“I heard a voice… while I was out there, while I was outside of time.”

“Was it God?”

“It sure wasn’t me.”

“What did he say?”

“I’m not sure it was God’s but I heard a voice say “Behold the Glory of God.”

“Well that’s a grandiose statement. You’re not sure God was the one who said it?”

“Not unless God likes to talk in the third person. Hmmm. Now that I think of it...”

“What?”

“My dad was a strong believer in God. He believed in the holy trinity, God, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”

“Oh I get it. So if God were speaking in the third person it would be the Holy Spirit.”

“Well growing up I was taught the Son is the Word of God so…”

“So it’s the Christian God we’re talking about here… the one you think is real.”

“All I’m saying is… I met Him.”

“Well, at least he’s speaks English.”

“I suppose if I were from China he would have spoken to me in Mandarin or Cantonese. I’m certain it would still translate to “Behold the Glory of God”

“Okay let’s shelf that for now. What did he look like?”

“Well not some glowing old white dude, wearing a robe, and sporting a long white beard, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Did he look like a man?”

“There wasn’t so much a visual. I was too busy being awed by the majesty of what I witnessed.”

“So how do you know he was there?”

“… I could feel Him. It was Him.”

“You know out of everything you’ve said today, I have the most trouble believing you met God.”

“I have moments where I can hardly believe it myself. Ever since I got back… you know, on this side of existence, it’s been hard to find God. I keep getting in the way of myself.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, like you, I have a problem with the concept that there is a God.”

“Do you now?”

“It’s like I know he exists, and yet?”

“And yet?”

“What if it was all a hallucination?”

“That’s a valid question.”

“I’m not so sure. It certainly looked and felt real.”

“What about the other gods man believe in? What about us? What if we are gods?”

“You’re one those divinity guys, aren’t you.”

“Well it makes sense. God is man. Even Jesus was a man.”

“My insides get all disturbed when you talk like that.”

“Well you said it. How do you know what you heard wasn’t a hallucination?”

“I only ask that question because my mind can’t absorb what my… soul, if you will, knows to be real.”

“So you believe in God and a soul?”

“Trust me doc. If you had seen and felt a fraction of what I experienced you would start to question a lot of what you thought was certain. Though I say my mind can’t absorb it, I can’t refute what it’s seen either. God is real. He showed me… everything. It wasn’t like dreamed it, save for the fact I can’t recall all the details of what I’d witnessed. I know the info is there. I just can’t access it.”

“Why don’t I try hypnosis.”

“I’d prefer you didn’t.”

“Why?”

“I tried it before and let’s just say the experience was unpleasant.”

“Was this before or after your mission?”

“After. Yes, I’ve been to therapy before. It was a few days after I had arrived back from outside time. He was a young military PsyOp agent and a Tell. The first one I had ever met. He tried hypnosis to get me to recall more details about the mission. The experience nearly killed him. He suffered a cerebral hemorrhage. While I was under, I saw things I never want to see again.”

“Fascinating”

“That’s one way to describe it.”

“So was that the extent of Command’s attempt to debrief you?”

“We didn’t try hypnosis again, if that is what you’re getting at.”

“I assume they ran a full physical.”

“And found nothing unusual. I was as fit and healthy as I was the day I stepped through the vortex. For them it had been thirty years, for me… less than a week.”

“You held a concept of time while outside of it?”

“I don’t recall, but I know how long it took for me to hunt down Skiles and kill him.”

“Major… When was your last physical?”

“After the space bridge accident about four months ago”

“You were involved in that?”

“I was examining the Lassiter manifolds when some genius decided to flip a switch. The hot exhaust fused my sleeve to my flesh and I fell over fifty feet to the deck below. The last thing I remember, from that day, was hearing my neck snap, as I smacked the steel plating.”

“Excuse me?”

“Everything checked out from the physical.”

Becks, not for the first time today, checked my eyes for signs of jest.”

“Major I’m afraid you’ve stretched my limits of credibility to the brink. Analysis yields no signs of deception so I can certainly see you believe the tales coming out of your mouth. I must admit, I can not. You are the new bar by which I will measure future bizarreness in the cases I’m assigned.”

“I’m honored.”

“You’re telling me you died in that accident?”

“No. I’m sitting here in front of you so obviously I didn’t die.”

“How did you survive the fall? Why are there no signs of you being burned?”

“That, Doctor Becks, is the half billion dollar question, which is exactly the amount it cost for SkiMann to get a vessel out here so their BioChem division techs could examine me.”

“Why SkiMann”

“Because during my pre autopsy scan, the coroner found their nannites in my blood”

“What?”

“Not only in my blood, but throughout my entire body. Needless to say they weren’t designed for that.”

“How’d they get in there?”
 
I shrugged.

“They couldn’t find a cause?”

“They speculate it happened somewhere between when I left Skiles for dead, and arriving thirty years later. They said it was as if the nannites had been reprogrammed in a language they had never seen before. All attempts to upload the data resulted in the corruption of the various devices used to do it. The only reason they knew it was their nannites running through my system was because of the unique structure and the SkiMann signature still present in those little bugger’s registry. The sig was amongst the only recognizable portions of the nannites programming.”

“So… you think… God reprogrammed the nannites to keep you from dying? Perhaps even from aging?”

“It’s the only theory that makes sense to me. The SkiMann techies are debating whether it was aliens. I hadn’t told them I’d met God.”

“You know this would make a pretty good webisode of Cosmos Effect.”

“I would sell them the rights to my story if it didn’t mean my execution.”

“Suddenly I’m not sure... I should read your file.”

“Doc, I told you. You’re all in.”

I felt uneasy.

“Well… if you want to debate philosophy I think you should probably pay a visit to this station’s chaplain.” The Doc offered.

“Commander Erickson and I don’t get along.”

“Yeah he’s an ass, but he’s a Christian and I’d think the two of you would share the same interest in spirituality. He also happens to be the only chaplain in the Galilean satellites. That is of course when he’s not piloting Hermes 1. I think he set up a small chapel on deck 4. I understand services are held on Sunday at 10:00am. I don’t think anyone goes, but I recommend you do. The two of you can discus-”

“You’re not hearing me, doc. I’ve already tried to talk to Commander Erickson about God. He has a funny way of not seeing things as they are.”

“Did you tell him you actually met God?”

“I can’t tell him that.”

“Why not”

“It means I would have to tell him about everything else. I have already broken my silence, once today.

“Have you told anyone besides me about your out of time experience?

“Not in such detail.”

“Not even command?”

“You’re the first person I’ve told.”

“So why did you tell me? You know there are not that many people nowadays who believe as you do.”

“I told you, doc, because it seemed important that I do so. Actually it seems important that I tell everyone who would hear.”

“And why would you do that? The nations of Earth have all but abandoned organized religion. It has caused more problems than it solves.”

“You don’t think Divinity is an organized religion?

“It’s a movement. It has no leader.”

“Then who are its followers following?”

Becks of course knew the answer to that. Everyone knew.

“Besides, I’m not talking about religion doctor. I’m talking about the existence of God.”

“I fail to see the difference.”

“And that is why it is so.”

Becks leaned forward and began entering data into his PDA.

“First, Major Huch, I am going to have to corroborate your story, the time traveling one, with Command. After that we’ll run some tests, if you wish we’ll explore this God thing further.”

“You still want me to see the Chaplain? I’m not one for ritual. Erickson seems to gain solace by going through the motions, but I can tell his heart’s not really in it.”

“But ritual is part of religion, isn’t it? It goes along with the belief.”

My uneasiness was turning to panic.

“You’re not one for spirituality are you, doc?”

“I think it has its place, certainly. But one should be careful not to substitute fact for fiction.”

“Fiction being in this case… God?”

“I don’t want to offend you. But there is no evidence of an all seeing all knowing God.”

“I’m telling you I met Him. While I was out there, I met Him.”

“But you didn’t actually see him.”

“I felt his presence.”

“And what did He feel like?”

“… Like a tangible, visceral, joy.”

“How do you know you weren’t just high?”

“Doctor, please.”

Something was wrong. I could feel it.

“Okay, I’m sorry” Becks said “Are you okay, Major? You don’t look good.”

“Something’s not right.”

“Not right? What do you…?”

Before doc could finish the station was rocked by an explosion. I hopped out of my seat and bolted for the door. I yelled for the doc to head to the nearest Evac point. I could tell from the jolt of the explosion that there had been a serious breach in the station’s hull. We had minutes perhaps seconds before...

I began to float. Artificial gravity had been compromised. It was worse than I had imagined. I tapped my communicator in an attempt to reach someone. Hollins, our rookie, replied. He sounded… busy.

“Sir?”

“SIT-REP! Hollins! What the hell!”

“Sir we’re dead.”

“I don’t want to hear...!”

I was cut off by another rock of the station due to a second explosion. The corridor, in which I hung suspended, rotated to the right, and then came the push, presumably, toward another breach. It was getting hard to breath as oxygen in the corridor rushed out before me. I bounced down the corridor uncontrollably, catching a glimpse of Doctor Becks ruined body, as he was smashed mercilessly against the bulkhead and flying debris. I rounded a corner and there before me was a sight unimaginable.

This was no mere breach. It was as if the station had been broken in half. Bodies, equipment, furniture, all flowed out to open space like carbonated bubbles to the surface of a soft drink. As I left atmosphere, the incredible cold took hold. At the same time, I could feel my blood begin to boil. This was it. I gave into the darkness and it embraced me. Before I blacked out I saw Europa… something without form and enormous moved on its surface. My brain’s last synapse would seem to be a question never answered.

What is that?