…2013 Mister Sigmund Shuei the Eighth was distraught to say the least. He had been born in 2761; the last recorded natural birth on Terra. Decades after achieving consensus within his polity he had led them in this heretical quest for Second Genesis. He had finally merged in their name in 2841. Since then he had led a five-dimensional life. After what seemed an eternity of consideration he finally migrated from 2843 to 2010 via the 2334 PREQUEL link.
Now, centuries before his time, he reclined, nearly spent from the mere process of thought, looking out upon a wintry world that had died, and would again, hundreds of years before his birth.
Oh my, how shall I ever survive long enough to achieve uplink? Even if, how could I ever manage such a feat in this state of degradation?
Have faith Sigmund. Open yourself to The Universal.
I am one with The Universal.
It was mid January and most of his operatives had failed to return from their May Missions. Inception Three had been aborted and Inception Four was due to proceed, and many of his human assets had yet to return from Inception Two! The barbaric Mister Bracken, his one purpose-built deep-retrieval asset, had been recalled by the Branch One natives to commit mass-murder in support of various territorial squabbles. So, rather than being on hand for more retrievals, his prime asset was tearing through Time driven by some crazed biological imperative that had somehow crept into his design post-gestation.
Time-branch One had seemed such a convenient seedbed. Now it is a war-frame and your long hand has become an errant fist.
Bracken’s side-kick Mister Edison did return after their establishment of Branch Two but had since absconded with Three-Rivers, the handicapped Iroquois savant; Scion of Hiawatha, the greatest human treasure that the teams had salvaged from the vanquished past.
How could we have imagined that that which we harvested from the wild would turn upon our newly planted garden with our very own tools?
Three-Rivers had apparently induced Mister Edison into spiriting him away after having stolen the Third Branch Capacitator from Doctor Robinson. Not only was the irreplaceable Iroquois boy missing, he had stolen a device capable of folding Space-Time and of wreaking The Universal only knew what kind of havoc on everything, everywhere and everywhen.
You must sense that we are ultimately your parent. Please come back to us.
The Toba Eruption Team had brought back some wonderful specimens of early man. But the technical and security elements of the team remained unaccounted for.
If you were not so old and frail you could have tracked them; traced their signatures with this infinite mind’s eye.
This is so terribly tiring. Exhaustion used to be a last step toward the joy of sleep. Now it is an agony all its own.
If only dear Tina were here to comfort me, then I would be able to adopt an alternate course of action. Living in such chaos is so very stressful. I had no idea that life among early postmodern primitives would be so taxing…
…Where is Tina? She should have returned a week ago. What is a week, a year, a decade now, or is it when—or one in the same?
Default imminent…
…Refreshment achieved.
How could I have unwittingly caused so much woe amongst my own faithful consenters? I suppose organic parents have felt like this for ages; poor souls.
Although the Neanderthal and Toba Eruption events had gained for them three unique specimens, all of the operatives from those two missions were either killed or missing or turned feral. The one bright spot had been Doctor London, who had been recalled to Branch One twice and had returned with four 17th Century males; men certainly hardy and resourceful enough to help found a colony in a post-terraformed Earth.
Thank The Universal for this stalwart man of science.
What of the others like him? To lose an animal like Bracken—no matter how potent—is one thing. But to lose men of learning and compassion capable of founding a colony on a reborn Earth would be tragic indeed.
The two best equipped expeditions from the Branch Two Inception had yet to return. The operatives for the Aristotle Event had been absent for seven months now, so he had recalled Hoost and the geographic insertion team. With Tina being absent Base security was now a pressing concern, since the PREQUEL staff had betrayed Second Genesis in favor of THE ENDEVOUR.
From Ancient Hellas there is not even an echo of those wonderful time-explorers that so believed in you Shuei. Can there possibly be such a thing as a rescue attempt through Time?
I would at least feel their faint tug across the ages if they but activated the unit. Nothing—three good souls lost to OUR overreaching impulse; OUR infinitely evolved hubris…
Last but not least, he could but wonder at the fate of Jan and that beast Randy. Would they truly return with Richard Burton? Would they even reemerge from Time’s abyss?
It has been six months for them; a long time as well. They should have returned in November with their charge. Are they lost also?
Sigmund began feeling ill, rocked by…
…major field disturbance
…access signature Loop Two…
…By The Universal they return...
As Mister Shuei sat in his easy chair, with his delicately slippered feet up on his pearly white ottoman, gazing through the periscope that linked his underground cubicle to the bustling young world above, he felt a sinking in his stomach. The veritable black hole at the core of his amalgamated being momentarily tugged at his very essence with such force that he feared implosion—but also selfishly yearned for the nothingness this disaster would entail. The singularity within ignited and the Oneness awakened, bringing him the picture in all its clarity: the Third Loop Capacitator has reappeared in Baltimore with… Jan, and yes Randy. There is another keyed individual as well, hopefully Burton—he I could confide in.
This is exhausting, even more so than dealing with the primitives...
Oh, oh another listens in, and another. Loop Six is also in Baltimore and closing—oh no; and Three-Rivers is listening also… from Branch One.
“Come back to me young brother. We are the only two of a kind you and I—certainly my innocent friend, we might commune in some way…
“How did you join with the singularity? I was merged in the Division Core. How could you manage such a thing on your own?
“You must sit and tell me one day over tea.”
An incomprehensible nausea began to wash over him like an all-corrupting force.
…Default in progress…
…deactivate please…
Sigmund drifted into the long sleep required for him to recover from such strenuous observations. When he returned to the waking world after his three days or so of dreamless slumber he would awaken first to a dream—the very last image imprinted on his preserved subconscious by his dreaming ultra-mind—of him having tea on a great polished tree stump with the little Iroquois boy; the only being in existence that could possibly empathize with his supremely altered state.
