Published: 13 Mar 2017

Epilogue

THREE WORLDS
Formerly Published as “0300 Books I, II, and III”

Postscript I
USF Charleston

Will came to my Ready Room. He seemed nervous. Actually, excited, and nervous. Mostly nervous, though. I invited him in, and sat down on the couch beside him. “What’s wrong, Will?” I asked.

“Nothing, yet. But… it may be,” he said.

“Um, you want to talk about it?” I asked.

Will nodded. I saw tears in the corners of his eyes. He released the mental block he’d been holding, and flooded my mind. Scenes, science, secrets flowed like an old 2D movie reel. I pieced them together.

“Will, stop worrying. You’ve done nothing wrong,” I said. “In fact, you’ve done exactly what I hoped you’d do.”

“Huh?”

I grinned, and pushed happiness. “Are you sure it worked?”

Will nodded. He had an even bigger grin. I reached out and hugged him. “I’m so proud of you, Will. Now, you can tell me who else helped.”

“All the guys,” he said. “All the Geeks helped. Some in the laboratory with the actual work, and some making sure no one else—including you—knew about it.”

The body lay on a table in the operating theater. It was clinically alive. Its heart beat; its diaphragm pulled in air and pushed it out. The brain waves, however, were flat. The electroencephalograph was sensitive enough to get a reading from a warm rock, but showed nothing. The GWGs and I watched.

“It’s now or never,” Will said. “The body cannot last more than a few minutes off the respirator and pacemaker.”

Danny acknowledged and sent the command.

They said, later, that every computer terminal in Fleet blipped in that instant before resuming normal operations. The maintenance teams on the solar satellites reported an unusually high demand for electricity that lasted only a few seconds. The lights in the operating theater remained steady: they were already on auxiliary power as a precaution.

The boy on the operating table below us sat up and opened his eyes. He stared straight ahead, and then said, “Would-you-like-to-play-a-game?”

Will might have fallen had George not held him. “That’s not right! It didn’t work!” he cried.

The face of the boy on the slab went ashen. The heart monitor hit 120 beats per minute, the blood pressure dropped.

“Will! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to frighten you! It was a joke!” Tobor said.

“A very poor one, son,” I said, and then looked at Danny. “But knowing your friends, I’m not entirely surprised.”

My door chimed. I felt Danny and George, as well as their new brother. Odd, why did they not just walk in? I pressed the button to open the door. “Come on in, guys, why the formality?”

“It’s Tommy’s first visit,” Danny said. “He didn’t want to just walk in.”

Danny and George were adamant. I was just as firm.

“No, I will not be Tobor’s first live sexual partner,” I said. “Absolutely not. You two have been letting him link and watch for a long time. It must be one of you.”

“That’s the reason it can’t be,” George protested. “He knows us too well. It would be like… like…”

“Masturbation,” Tobor supplied. “Really, it would.”

“Okay, how about this. Both of you agreed that we should get to know one another as father and son before we started doing sex stuff. Tobor’s been in this body for only a few hours—”

“Daddy,” Tobor interrupted. “Why won’t you call me Tommy?” He was crying.

Danny and George stood on either side of the boy, hugging him and staring daggers at me. I felt not only Tobor’s anguish, but also their anger. I knew they were right to be angry.

“Tommy, please come to me, son,” I said, and held open my arms.

Danny and George pushed affirmation, and the little boy ran to me. I picked him up and hugged him tightly. Tommy wrapped his legs around my waist. We linked, mind-to-mind wide open. It didn’t take long for Tommy and me to find happy tears.

Postscript II
Exo-Planet Miranda

Long ago, I had asked Admiral Davis if he’d ever wondered why Fleet was so big, so powerful, and had so many resources. Putting those resources to work rebuilding the Earth of the Fundamentalists’ Universe pushed that question to the back of my mind. It was many years later that I thought to ask Tommy that question.

Tommy grinned. “I wondered when you would get back to that, Daddy. Back when I was a computer, I dreamed. I knew I couldn’t really be dreaming, so I analyzed what was actually happening. My circuits, especially the tunneling diodes, the ones operating at the quantum level, allowed my thoughts to slip into the interstices of the multiverse. I saw the Reverends’ World. I saw Cory’s Earth, and I knew that someday we’d meet them. I knew then, that not only would the Metas be essential, but so would Fleet.”

“Tommy? What else have you seen?”

Tommy cuddled closer. “You know I can’t tell you, Daddy. There are still decisions you will have to make.”

I caught something as he looked out the window. Below us spun the planet Miranda. That, of course, was our name for it. The inhabitants, the first non-Earth-human race to be discovered, had their own name for it, and tomorrow, when we made first contact, we hoped to learn what it was.

Postscript III
A Ghost Town in Texas

Three worlds vied for the honor; his home world won. Fleetnet in six solar systems; Starfleetnet on five others; and dozens of commercial networks throughout the known universes had set up cameras near an obscure ghost town in Texas.

Hundreds of politicians demanded to be present; none were allowed within 500 miles of the site. There was no one present who was not family.

Fourteen-year-old Benjamin and twelve-year-old Jeffrey stood between their daddies. The boys’ host mommies, Tommy, and Artie flanked George and Danny.

More than a hundred Metas stood in formation behind the family. Teams of Metas were part of the crew of every ship in the Fleets of fifteen universes. They no longer feared for their safety.

Cameron, wearing the Stewart tartan, struck his bagpipes and began an ancient song: “Flowers of the Forest.” With the first note, a spot of light appeared in the west, and began a long arc across the sky. The light disappeared as the last note of the song faded.

Paul Stewart had come home.

As always, please let David know what you think of his story:david.mcleod@castleroland.net

Notes and Disclaimers:

In all realities, “boy” means a young male of the age of consent.

Trademarks, including Glock, iPad, Sig-Sauer, Pez, and any others used herein are the property of their owners in this and all realities.

Dagney Taggart is a character in Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged. I recommend that book most strongly. However, I recommend that it be read with a spirit of questioning.

Quotations from the Bible are from the King James Version (KJV) of Earth Analogues I and III or from the Reverends’ Standard Version (RSV) of Earth Analogue II.

The story that prostitution is the world’s oldest profession and that spying is the world’s second oldest comes from the Jewish Bible in the story of two spies who were sent into Jericho and who found refuge in the home of a prostitute. It’s anecdotal and probably apocryphal (not true), but it’s a good story. (Modern Fundamentalist translations are trying to turn the woman into an “inn keeper.” For people who pop out children like Pez, the fundies are sure hung up on their kids not hearing anything about sex.)

The story of the boy whose penis was destroyed during circumcision and who was reared, for years, as a girl, is true. In our reality, his name was Bruce Reimer. He was one of twin boys whom a doctor tried to circumcise with a cauterizing iron. The doctor burned off one boy’s penis. Responding to pseudo-science offered by an endocrinologist, his parents tried to rear him as a girl. The experiment failed. Both Bruce and his twin ultimately committed suicide. Look for “David Reimer,” a name he later adopted, on Wikipedia and trace some of the links, and then cry for him—and for our sick society.

Bach’s Hertz und Mund and Tat und Leben is perhaps better known as Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring. The most common English words were written by Robert Bridges; an earlier German version of the lyrics was written by Martin Jahn.

Paul said to John Patmos that “the workman is worthy of his hire.” The complete verse (I Timothy 5:18, KJV) reads, “For the scripture saith, Thou shalt not muzzle the ox that treadeth out the corn. And, the labourer is worthy of his reward.” Where the scripture sayeth this is open to question. The first part is from Deuteronomy 25:4. The second part appears to have been made up by the author of I Timothy who was almost certainly not the Apostle Paul. See Bart D. Ehrman’s Forged: Writing in the Name of God, Harper Collins, 2011 (Kindle Edition).

Details about the atomic pile in the Inquisitors’ mountain fortress, and the making of nuclear weapons are redacted—and contain many errors. (Do not try this at home.)

“Can do” is the unofficial motto of the Seabees; the official motto, translated from the Latin, is “we build; we fight.”

The towns and cities, as well as the Arbor Day people mentioned herein are in another reality from those you know, and are not necessarily at all like the ones in your reality. It is intended that this story not represent any person or institution in the reality in which it is published.