To Wake the Living (The Time Stone Trilogy Book 2) Read online

  To Wake the Living

  Second Book of the

  Time Stone Trilogy

  by

  Robert F Hays

  The Time Stone Trilogy:

  The Time Stone

  To Wake the Living

  Victim of Circumstance

  White Oaks Productions

  www.WhiteOaksProductions.com

  © Copyright 2011 Robert F Hays. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

  Paperback

  First published 1992

  Revised Edition 2011

  Third Edition 2013

  Kindle

  First published 2013

  Chapter 1

  Jim walked the grounds of his house admiring the colors and shades of early fall. He momentarily halted as an autoserve hurried past in the performance of its duties. The mobile devices were fully equipped and programmed with the ability to avoid him. His habits from years of experience with non-intelligent machines gave him quirks that were unusual in this modern time. He tended to avoid their projected path instead of letting them avoid his.

  This particular robotics machine was designed to clean up fallen, dead leaves and to retrieve piles of clippings left by the other gardening devices. He watched as it raced in the direction of the mulching bins. The household receptacle processed all organic waste materials from the house and gardens. It was an interesting system that efficiently converted all refuse into usable matter. Heat of decomposition was used for heating water. Gasses produced were burned for heating or general energy production. Other materials, after separation, were destined for factories to be turned into plastics. The bulk was returned to the soil as a natural fertilizer. As far as Jim could figure, nothing was added other than a few trace elements. The horticultural system needed no supplementary enrichment.

  He was slowly getting used to the size and convenience of living in this new age. None the less, he still felt occasional waves of nostalgia as he thought of his former home in the twenty first century. The two thousand years that had passed had changed the way people lived, but not the people themselves. This eased matters greatly. Friends were still friends. Employees still covered the full range from completely loyal to downright dishonest and the government still took more in tax than anyone thought was appropriate.

  He paused again to look across the lawns and through the lightly wooded boundary of his property toward his neighbor’s house about eight hundred meters away. The structure, if you could call it that, interested him. When he first moved in, he thought it was a giant rocky outcrop. In fact, it was exactly what he thought it was. A fascinating fashion fifty standard years before was to use natural terrain features, converting them into housing. The outcrop was hollowed using intense heat to melt the interior. Windows were cut and carefully shaped to match the natural contours of the exterior. A porch half way up one side was a modified ledge on the original natural edifice.

  He was invited to dinner several times. During the customary grand tour, he found the rooms equally absorbing. No two were on the same level. An intricate system of stairs led to gigantic niches with small elevators to transport the service robotics.

  Jim crossed the lawn, climbing the three steps to the porch of his three story, nine bedroom house. He stopped to admire the columns that supported the balconies on the second and third floor. Trailing plants from baskets hung from each. The whole building had the appearance of a pre civil war southern mansion. He had no idea how the style had come through to this time since all information on Old Earth prior to its destruction no longer existed. He could only surmise that the knowledge had been carried in the minds of the colonists who left Earth for the stars. They were then passed down from generation to generation.

  On entering the house, he walked straight through the foyer decorated with exotic, genetically engineered indoor plants and three dimensional pictures hanging from every wall. He walked past the door to the living room with its fully automated bar and computer controlled music system. His objective was the 3V room. He now preferred the three dimensional media where the show appeared as holographs at the other end of the room. He doubted that he could enjoy the old flat screen of his TV again.

  The show he wanted to see was the Compton network news. The segment was an interview, featuring him, recorded the evening before at the laboratory of the eminent archeologist Dr. Talin Redmond of the University of Batalavia.

  It was not vanity that compelled him to watch himself but a necessity. It was a habit after numerous interviews. He could not always remember what he had said. If questioned again on the same subject, he didn’t want to repeat himself, or even worse, contradict himself.

  On entering the 3V room he sat in one of the four comfortable, brown, pseudo leather armchairs present then settled back to watch the program.

  “Channel six hundred and ninety eight,” he announced to the voice activated controls.

  The plain gray walls of the room expanded into what appeared to be the interior of a gymnasium. The holographic image of three women dressed in multi colored, skin tight exercise outfits demonstrated a breathing exercise that reminded Jim of an Old Earth discipline of oriental origin. He sat for a moment trying to remember its old name.

  “Computer, is this the Compton Network?”

  “Negative, the Compton network is channel six hundred and eighty nine”

  “Damn,” Jim mumbled to himself, “always get that backward. Computer, channel six hundred and eighty nine.”

  The scene instantly changed. Jim smiled as he saw before him his two sons, Colin and Michael, sitting in a restaurant with a number of other children eating pizza.

  A cute young girl sat next to Colin dressed in a fashionable billowing outfit. “Colin, is this really like the pizza you ate on Old Earth?” she said.

  “Sure is,” Colin replied while grinning and grabbing at a thread of molten cheese hanging from his mouth. “It’s exactly like the ones we used to eat back in Texas.”

  “Yes,” Michael interjected, “it’s radical.”

  The children, in unison, slapped each others hands above their heads and yelled “Cowabunga dude!” The two thousand year old expression was reintroduced to mankind by the boys during a news interview. It was now a catch phrase used by the food company’s advertising agent.

  An announcer’s voice declared. “Jake’s pizza, the only authentic Old Earth pizza in the galaxy.”

  Jim smiled again as he remembered purchasing the original pizza at Jake’s in El Paso Texas. That was chronologically two thousand years ago, but for him it was a little over a year. His passage through time had brought him great wealth. Pizza was known only by name through legends and stories. The composition of the actual thing was lost during the holocaust that followed his own departure from Earth in the early twenty first century. The fact that he not only knew what went into one, but had a sample with him, was the source of only a small part of his fortune.

  The 3V scene changed to a flat screen image. A beautiful team of Clydesdales pulling an old brewery cart crossed in front of him. The familiar tune of an old TV Budweiser commercial sounded. Jim had made his passage through time with not just his sons and a half eaten pizza, he had a fully loaded rental truck containing the entire contents of his house. His videotape and DVD collection, among other things, caused a major sensation. Nothing still existed of twenty first century entertainment.

  While recording a movie from TV, he hadn’t switched off the machine during the commercials. This, for him, was fo
rtunate. He had with him a six pack of Budweiser. Food biologists recovered long lost varieties of yeast that gave Old Earth beer its distinctive flavor and reformulated the recipe and techniques of production. So, as well as being the galaxy’s pizza king, he was also the owner of one of its largest breweries.

  “This is Devon Stanley filling in for Carl Nagel who is on assignment with the Hemsly deep space mission.”

  The newsman stood in front of a building well known to Jim. It was the laboratory where he had first arrived in this time, a traumatic experience.

  The newsman continued. “We’re here today at the famous Redmond laboratory to talk with Dr. Redmond, Jim Young and Karla Brett. We understand that the latest arrival from the twentieth century, Mr. Earl Benner, is now ready for final decontamination. If that’s so, then Mr. Benner should be out walking the streets of our city within a week.”

  The three dimensional, holographic scene changed to the inside of the building. The newsman stood facing Dr. Redmond in the spacious lobby of the laboratory complex. Jim saw himself standing to the doctor’s left. Next to him stood Karla. The girl was in her early twenties, medium height, plain face with long black hair. She had arrived here four months ago from the year 1969. Shunning contemporary fashion, she was wearing a copy of the multi colored caftan and love beads in which she had arrived.

  Jim watched himself scratch the left side of his nose as the newsman began the interview. “Doctor, have there been any problems with this, the most recent arrival?”

  Redmond shifted his slightly overweight body and paused for a moment before answering. “Nothing in the technical field... ah.. Devon. It’s just that Mr. Benner has been a little more apprehensive than the other arrivals. It’s taken the past week to gain his confidence. At first, he would not allow the decontamination procedures to take place. As you probably know, someone from his time has to undergo an extensive clean up of the entire body, which is best done under anesthetic.”

  “Was he contaminated?”

  “No. We have to be protected from the normal organisms he carries and his immune system has to be prepared to cope with the organisms we carry. In Mr. Benner’s case it was difficult to get close to him at first as he felt compelled to defend himself with a large piece of metal water pipe.”

  “Then what is the problem with Mr. Benner? Is he a naturally nervous person?”

  “Not really... Um...” Redmond turned to his left. “Jim, I think you’d be best answer that question.”

  Jim took half a pace forward and smiled at himself sitting in the comfortable 3V room viewing chair. “No, he isn’t an overly nervous person; it’s just the time he came from. 1953 was not as technically advanced as the times Karla and I came from. The gadgetry seems to have overwhelmed him.”

  “Just the technology?” Stanley said.

  “No, it was also complicated by a specific paranoia of the era. When he first arrived, he thought that the Communists had kidnapped him in some sort of international plot.”

  “Communists?” the newsman raised an eyebrow. “I take it that these Communists were a criminal element of some sort?”

  “No, the Communists believed in a system of government opposed to the one we had in the United States.”

  “Ah yes,” the news man said, “the system of state ownership of all commerce. I understand that it’s explained in detail in the Young Encyclopedia.”

  Both Jim and his image grimaced. He still was not used to the renaming of his Britannica by the media. The newsman had obviously not remembered the facts himself. He, as all in his profession, had a team of experts coaching him through a radio receiver plug in his ear.

  “Yes, that’s correct. There was at that time a fear bordering on a mania with regards to the Communists. Mr. Benner had voted for a politician by the name of Joseph McCarthy in his native state of Wisconsin. He thought that the situation in which he found himself here was an organized attempt to neutralize that man’s supporters.”

  “I take it that you’ve told him otherwise,” Stanley said.

  “I believe that we have now convinced Mr. Benner that he has not run foul of some sinister international plot,” Jim’s image said as it waved a hand in the air to emphasize the point. Jim’s face soured as he watched, considering the gesture a little overdone.

  “All we’ve heard so far about the man’s profession is that he was a workman of some kind. Can you elaborate on that?”

  “Yes, he was a heavy equipment operator, a bulldozer to be precise. It’s an old machine something like today’s earthmover only fossil fuel powered. The man was clearing the way for a side road when abducted by the alien device.”

  The newsman switched his attention back to Redmond. “Doctor, has there been any new discoveries about that device that captured and held these people for over two thousand years?”

  Redmond shrugged and stuck out his bottom lip before replying to the question. “Nothing more than has already been made public. It’s an extremely old specimen collection device of alien origin. It somehow holds the specimens in suspended animation until released. How it holds the subjects is still a matter for the theorists.”

  “There has been no new information on the device?” Stanley asked.

  “The latest explanation is that it transports the subject into another dimension where time does not exist. This could be similar to our own parallel space travel, but instead of being instantaneous in our dimension it’s delayed. The subjects entered and exit as if no time had passed. It was very fortunate that we discovered, by accident, the system of microwave frequencies that unlocked them from their extremely efficient prison.”

  “So Doctor, no information has come to light about the little green men that made it?”

  “No, none what so ever,” Redmond said, shaking his head.

  “Mr. Young,” the newsman again switched his attention back to Jim. “Have the three of you discussed the causes behind the demise of Old Earth.”

  Before Jim could open his mouth Karla stepped forward to answer the question. She moved, placing a shoulder in front of him forcing Jim’s image to retreat half a pace. “We tend to disagree on the answer. I believe that it was entirely the fault of the wealthy. These people, just to further their own petty comforts, destroyed Earth with their filthy industries, immoral wars and degenerate materialism.”

  “And your opinion Mr. Young?”

  “Ah... That debate still goes on today. I think it was circumstance, our technology was far ahead of our understanding...”

  “No,” Karla interrupted, “it was a total lack of love in the world. Love of the earth, love of our fellow man, too much selfishness and materialism. They did not recognize the family of mankind and our oneness with the earth. They failed to recognize the warnings of more enlightened people of the time, make love not war.”

  “Ms. Brett, what were you doing in an area which at that time I understand was a desert?”

  Karla glanced down before replying to the question. It was obvious that her situation prior to her departure from 1969 bothered her. In numerous discussions both Jim and the doctor agreed that it was due to a general disillusionment suffered by many young people of the time.

  “I had a few decisions to make regarding my family and I love the desert. I was out there trying to find myself...”

  “And she found herself here,” Jim interrupted, trying to control a smirk.

  Watching the interview on 3V Jim saw, for the first time, the sour side glance the girl gave him when he made the remark. He also noticed Redmond’s attempt at a straight face. Jim found Karla amusing for the most part. He remembered her era from movies. When she used expressions such as ‘groovy’ and ‘the beautiful people’, he had to tell himself that she was serious.

  “A question for both of you,” the newsman continued. “Who or what does Mr. Benner think is responsible for the climate change that destroyed Old Earth?”

  “The Communists,” Jim and Karla said in unison then looked at each other
and burst out laughing.

  “Ms. Brett, what’re you planning to do now that you have established yourself here in this time?”

  “I’m going to be working for Jim’s literary company for a while, translating some of the older works that he brought with him into modern English. In particular the works of a writer named William Shakespeare. For people here, the language of the original is impossible to understand.”

  “You have experience in this field back on Old Earth?”

  “Yes, at California State University I studied English literature,” she said with a smile.

  “I see, you have a degree in the subject?”

  “Not exactly, I had a disagreement with the faculty on how the course should be run so I left without finishing my degree. But, I completed enough to be able to understand Shakespeare. You see, I’m not working for the money; it’s the literature I wish to save and return to mankind. When that’s done I plan to go to a wilderness planet and start a back to nature commune. I have no desire to become a filthy capitalist.”

  “Mr. Young,” the newsman said, again switching his attention back to Jim. “What are Mr. Benner’s plans? Have you discussed that with him?”

  “Oh yes, he wants to become a filthy capitalist like myself.” Jim said in a matter of fact manner. “We have convinced him that he now owns the bulldozer. The construction company he worked for no longer exists. It’s legally his. A legal representative has already registered it with the Batalavian antiquities dealers association and we are soon to be putting it up for auction.”

  “I have seen a picture. It is worth a lot.”

  “An estimated thirty million G, to him that’s one hundred and fifty million dollars. I’m sure you’ll agree it’s enough to keep someone in comfort for the rest of their life.”

  “Oops,” the real Jim said to himself. “Forgot to adjust for inflation. To him that’s ten million dollars.”

  “Yes but not as wealthy as you I take it,” Stanley said.