Road to Tar'tron

Original artwork by Rounnac Masoudi.
image credits

On this page: Part 2 of "The Zal Intervention".
 
Day 2 in 1895 (back to day 1)
By the time when Zal checked into the Palace Hotel in San Francisco she had already "appropriated" sufficient funds to pay the rent for a week in advance. When Zal handed over a 50 dollar bill, the front desk clerk immediately took it into the back office in order to check if it was counterfeit. "Excuse me one moment, Miss."

Zal looked at the row of ornamental mirrors along the wall behind the reception desk. In the nearest mirror, she could see herself: it seemed odd to be disguised as an Earthling. Zal reached up and felt through her hair, briefly running a finger along the top of her bobbed ear. With her Kac'hin physical features now hidden, she was free to move among the people of Earth.

The clerk returned quickly and checked Zal into the hotel, registering her as "Miss Green". With her nanite-augmented senses, Zal could tell that she was being watched by someone on the other side of the nearest mirror.

The receptionist called forward a porter, handed him a key, and instructed the young man to carry Zal's bag to her suite. Zal had already bent down to pick up the garment bag and objected, "That won't be necessary." She tried to motion the porter away. "I can carry this myself."

The porter took the bag from Zal's hand. "Please, Miss, I insist." Zal did not care to argue so she meekly followed the porter across the hotel lobby. She was alarmed by the elevator that took them up to the top floor of the hotel. The elevator made a series of thumping noises while carrying its passengers and the elevator operator seemed to be listening intently for new creaks and groans that would portend doom. A moment later Zal was alone in her suite, puzzling over the events of the past day during which she had traveled back through time to arrive in Oakland in the year 1895. She had then crossed the Bay to arrive in San Francisco.

Oakland crime scene

Deep in thought, Zal was relentlessly probing into the new memories that she had, courtesy of the infites she had received from her future self. Upon being sent to 1895, Zal had struggled to understand why it was necessary that she be stranded in the past, following mysteriously cryptic mission instructions that directed her to do inexplicable things such as breaking into someone's house and steeling their hidden stash of money.

Most Reality Changes were accomplished quickly, so why must she now live for decades on Earth? Indeed, her Intervention to prevent Jack London from developing an interest in science fiction had been accomplished within just a few minutes of her arrival in 1895.

While it was frustrating to know no details of her mission, the general scope of the mission and the direction of Zal's future life on Earth was clear enough in her mind: she must soon travel to Europe and stay there through the troubled times of the early 20th century. However, what she might accomplish in Europe and how her presence there might benefit the future of Humanity was not apparent to Zal.

Now established in a luxury suite on the top floor of the Palace Hotel, Zal was feeling more at ease; she allowed herself relax a bit. I'm now a Time Technician, on assignment... I need to stop asking 'why?' She decided: I might as well try to enjoy this visit to Earth.... I'm going to be here for a long time... Why not have some fun?

The evening of her first day in America, arriving in a dark and foggy San Francisco, she had stayed at a much cheaper hotel across the street from the noisy Gold and Silver Saloon, two blocks from the ferry terminal, up Sacramento street. On that first day in town, Zal had briefly explored the San Francisco waterfront and she had experienced rain-slicked streets, gangs of rats, bed bugs and a drunken next door neighbor who had sung bawdy sailor songs late into the night. That first night on Earth, being confined inside a tiny, dirty hotel room had been something of a nightmare for Zal. When the sky brightened upon her second day on Earth, Zal had wondered: What have I gotten myself into?

Then, within minutes of stepping outside into the new bright day, she had quickly gravitated towards the tall buildings along Market street and that had seemingly triggered the release of a new cascade of memories from her infites. Suddenly she remembered having stayed at the Palace hotel. Leaving behind the unsavory dinginess of old decaying structures along Sacramento street, Zal found in her infite-generated memories the image of a middle-aged man with graying sideburns. His name, Henry, popped into Zal's mind. She knew that she would meet Henry at the Palace hotel.

The Repair of Time

Mahasvin

Zal had been looking out the window and was lost in thought, diving down deep into her artificial memories of the future, wondering about the identity of the mysterious Henry who darted and tumbled through her memories of the future. Suddenly, Mahasvin teleported into Zal's hotel room. Hearing a sound, Zal turned, saw Mahasvin and a wave a relief surged through Zal's body. I have not been abandoned! Now somewhat limp, Zal sank down into a chair and said, "Welcome to Earth, old friend." Zal told herself: I should have known that Mahasvin would somehow be involved in this journey to the past....

Mahasvin walked to the window and gazed out into the gray afternoon. Mahasvin spoke without turning towards Zal, "I'm glad that you are adapting to local conditions so smoothly." Mahasvin had not bothered to dress like an Earthling and her alien facial features had not been disguised. A sly grin twisted her lips and she said, "Your skills as a thief are very refined."

Zal chuckled. "As they say, like taking candy from a baby." Her nanite prosthetics had made it easy to break, enter, and leave the empty mansion in Oakland with her loot, erasing all signs that she had been there. Then Zal had used some of the stolen money to buy passage on the ferry boat that took her across the Bay to San Francisco.

Mahasvin turned and pulled a small purse full of money out of her pocket. She tossed the purse to Zal. "You are going to have to replace the money that you stole yesterday. That theft, if left uncorrected, will alter the shape of Time, all the way into future millennia."

temporal momentum

Zal shook her head in wonder, opened the purse and flipped through the bundle of paper bills that were inside. How was it possible that her theft would have serious consequences? And if steeling that money would have serious effect on Earth's timeline, then why had she been instructed to steal it? Why hadn't she been given a supply of money before being sent into the past?

From her perspective as a time traveler, the great thing about Earth was its intricate system of replicoids that generated a powerful temporal inertia. It was not easy to change the course of Earth's historical timeline.

Zal had been trained to think of the temporal structure of human civilization as a complex network of high-tension steel cables. Each cable had a thin end that represented a new technological advance. At those narrow ends were vulnerable nodes in the history of Earth where relatively small changes in the life of just one person might trigger the sudden release of vast amounts of temporal energy, initiating a Reality Change that could propagate centuries into the future. The trick was in finding those sensitive nodes, a challenging task that could only be successfully accomplished with the aid of powerful quantum computations.

Trysta Iwedon

Why should the theft of a few hundred dollars from the house of a recently diseased man derail the entire course of human history? Zal told herself: Well, without access to my Reality Viewing equipment, there is no sense worrying about such mysteries.

Mahasvin had no trouble following Zal's thoughts. Zal would be useless as a long-term agent on Earth unless she could monitor the effect that she was having on the future. And after years of planning the future of Earth, Zal would not be comfortable operating on Earth in a state of ignorance about how her actions might be changing the timeline. Mahasvin told Zal, "I've been studying the portable Reality Viewing equipment that R. Gohrlay developed for use by her time travel agents like Trysta." Hidden in among the money that Mahasvin had given to Zal had been some zeptites. They had quickly migrated into Zal's body and were now ready to function as a link into the Sedronic Domain. Mahasvin held out a hand close in front of Zal's face, "Close your eyes and imagine that you are back in your workshop, using your Reality Viewing equipment."

She closed her eyes and suddenly Zal found herself inside a virtual reality environment where she was physically embedded in the middle of a complex on-going differential analysis of the Reality Change that had been caused by her recent act of theft in Oakland. She was at the root of a high-potential part of Reality, a powerful current in Time that was related to the impending development of electronic computer technology in the 20th century.

The Zal Intervention

Mahasvin was there inside the simulated reality with Zal, showing her a thin temporal wire that originated in San Francisco. Mahasvin pointed to a highlighted part of the graphically represented timestream and said, "See here? Your theft leads to a change in the development of slot machines and a change in the invention of a few electromechanical systems that will, in the next century, find their way into the first computer memory systems."

The Reality Viewing equipment that Grean had been trained to use for her work in planning Reality Changes would automatically rule-out possible Changes that required back-tracking and pesky corrections. However, in this case, she had been instructed (by her infites) where to quickly find some cash in Oakland, even though her theft of that money had serious consequences for the course of human civilization. Mahasvin explained, "The need for this little temporal adjustment, your need to return the stolen money, was a planned part of your mission on Earth... training for your new existence on Earth. This little corrective exercise will give you experience using your new Reality Viewing equipment. You will see how it is possible for you to correct any minor temporal imbalances that you create while living on Earth."

Zal quickly determined that the optimal time for her to return the stolen money would come the following day. Favorably impressed by the ease of using this new Reality Viewing system, Zal opened her eyes and said, "Wow... I am now permanently endowed with this built-in Reality Viewing ability?"

Reality Chain

Mahasvin nodded, "For the duration of your visit to Earth you will make use of this ability. All I've done is adjust your zeptite endosymbiont to give you access to a special purpose Reality Viewing system which is located within the Sedronic Domain. As you've just seen, this particular RV system is functionally limited, without any capacity to examine extended Reality Chains. All you will need for your mission is a few tools for basic differential analysis. Use your access to these tools to help you keep the timeline of Earth moving smoothly towards the Final Reality, a temporal trajectory which is already well-planned and which will require no further modifications by you. Your future self has carefully planned out the role that you will play here on Earth making sure that the Final Reality comes into being. "

Zal complained about an aspect of her mission that she had glimpsed while using the virtual reality Viewer, "It is annoying that I was instructed (by my future self!) to steal counterfeit money." She looked at Mahasvin in dismay and asked, "Now I have to go back downstairs and retrieve the money that I just used to pay my rent?"

Mahasvin giggled. "Well, it is not really counterfeit money. That's just the excuse that you will use when you exchange the old money for some of the new cash that I have now supplied you with."

Zal reflected on what she had seen while in the virtual reality system and realized that she had not taken enough time to explore the details of her near future. She briefly reviewed the temporal chart for her future, paying close attention to how she would retrieve the 50 dollar bill that she had given to the front desk clerk. She quickly discovered that she did not actually need to close her eyes in order to use the new Reality Viewer. "Ah, I had missed that fine detail." For a minute Zal more carefully Viewed and explored the details of her immediate future, watching a ghost-like image of her future self acting out future events. "Well, I better go perform this money swap before the wagon from the bank arrives to pick up the money that the hotel collected today."

Mahasvin said, "There will be no wagon. A platoon of guards simply walk across the street from the Wells Fargo building and pick up the money."

Using her Viewer, Zal scanned into that part of the coming day. "I see. Still, they will arrive soon. Do you mind explaining what is so special about that particular 50 dollar bill?"

With an impish grin, Mahasvin replied, "You'll figure that out for yourself later this evening. You can't be allowed to understand everything right this moment. Too much knowledge of your future would trigger temporal paradoxes." Mahasvin then disappeared, teleporting back to Many Sails.

Zal took most of the money out of the purse and hid it in the secret spot (under the bottom drawer of the big oak bureau in her bedroom) where she had previously stashed her stolen money. In with the money she had found a hand-written note with the number 166211 on it. She returned to the reception desk of the hotel, avoiding use of the elevators. Zal did not trust the primitive design of the hotel's elevators, partly because she was thinking about the fact that the city was close to the San Andreas fault and Zal knew that a great earthquake that would hit San Francisco near the turn of the century. With Grean's sensitivity to claustrophobia, it would be most unpleasant to be trapped in a broken elevator. At the front desk she asked to see the hotel's manager.

The manager appeared, introduced himself as Mr. Crandle and then he said, "I hope you have not discovered an inadequacy in our facilities, Miss Green."

Zal knew immediately that this was the Henry of her future memories. She shook her head. "Your facilities are excellent and your staff is efficient and polite. I have no complaints." Zal guessed that the manager was about fifty years old, close to her own age. However, she had lived her life defended by medical nanites and her facial nanites were actively generating Zal's disguise; she could easily be mistaken for a twenty-year-old. "However, I do have a small personal problem that I hope you can help me with."

The manager was examining Miss Green with great care. Earlier, when he had glanced at her through a one-way mirror, he had decided that she was exquisitely pretty in an exotic way. Now he was intrigued by her accent and was wondering where she was from. "I am at your service, madam!"

"I'm afraid I inadvertently involved your hotel in an unsavory affair. I just learned that the money I used to pay my rent is counterfeit. I don't want you passing it on to your bank." Zal opened the purse, pulled out her new money and held it out towards the manager, along with a small piece of paper with some numbers written on it. "Please take this money and retrieve the counterfeit bill from your vault. The serial number of the bad bill is there."

At the Palace Hotel.

The manager counted the new money, five ten dollar bills. He placed the money on his desk, neatly fanned out like a hand of playing cards. He well remembered the earlier transaction and he had personally examined the 50 dollar silver certificate that Miss Green had handed to the front desk clerk at check-in. Crandel asked, "How do you know that the 50 is a counterfeit bill? I examined it quite carefully and noticed nothing unusual, so we eagerly used your funds to pre-pay one week of deluxe accommodations and establish a meal and service account for you here at the hotel with the balance. We are happy to have you in residence, Miss Green!"

Zal managed to force a small tear to her eye. She pulled a soft little cloth from the purse and dabbed her eye. "I do hope there will not be too many questions. I'd hate to involve the police in this matter."

The manager lied, "My dear, the thought of involving police in this matter never crossed my mind. I'm sorry that my rude questioning upset you. Please understand my position! Someone might be tricking you by telling you that your money is no good! I only want to protect you."

Zal tried to look surprised. "Why would someone falsely claim that I was passing counterfeit bills?"

The manager gave a forced chuckle, "There are many scam artists, my dear. In my position, I am always wary." He glanced at the little sheet of paper he had received from Zal. "In this case, I can't help wondering how you happen know the serial number of this particular 50 dollar certificate."

Zal explained, "When I sold my house in Virginia for 2,250 dollars, the bank paid me in large bills. They knew of my plans to travel to the west coast and they warned me about the danger of theft. They provided me with a list of the serial numbers for all of the large denomination bills. Today, shortly after I checked in here, I received a telegram from the bank, notifying me that one of the bills I had received from them had been discovered to be counterfeit."

The manager sighed in relief. All seemed to be explained. "Please wait here for one minute, Miss Green." He went to the vault where the hotel accountant quickly found the 50 dollar certificate, number 166211. Returning to his office where Zal waited, he held up the bill to a bright electric light. "Quite remarkable, Miss Green. I still don't see anything wrong with this bill. It might be best to let the police..." He let that word hang in the air.

Zal sniveled, "Please, let's not. All I need do is mail this bogus bill back to the bank and they will wire me replacement funds."

"Of course, my dear! I apologize for upsetting you. If there is anything I can do to make amends..." Henry felt a strange connection to Miss Green. He was impressed by her mane of red hair and her unconventionally pretty face. He imagined that she might be an actress. He suggested, "Perhaps you would allow me to buy you dinner this evening." He handed the 50 dollar silver certificate back to Zal.

Zal tucked the certificate into her purse and stood up. "That is a kind offer, Mr. Crandel, but I could not presume to impinge any further upon your time. I've already disrupted your day. Surely your wife will object if you do not arrive home for dinner."

The manager laughed, "No such thing, my dear Miss Green. I have never been married. I almost always take my meals here at the hotel. Please do me the honor of eating with me tonight."

Zal batted her eyes at the manager and smiled, "Ah, so you live here in the hotel along with your guests?"

"For many years I lived here, but recently I moved to my own house. I do still dine here regularly, and it would be my pleasure to introduce you to the specialties of the chef."

Zal stepped towards the door and then turned back to face the manager, "In that case, how can I say no?" In her mind, Zal could see an infite-generated memory of having spent a week being romanced by the gallant manager before she took a steamer out of San Francisco bay. Reflecting on that memory, Zal giggled.

Crandel nodded and said magnanimously, "Exactly! You cannot refuse!"

Zal held up her hand, "I will refuse, sir, unless you grant me one concession. Since you will be acting as my guide to the chef's works of art, you must allow me to pay for our meal this evening."

"But Miss Green, you can't be serious! I could never allow-"

Zal turned abruptly and said, "Then the answer is no, Mr. Crandel." And she walked away.

The manager came running after Zal and said, "You drive a hard bargain, my dear. You win. I will reluctantly allow you to pay. Shall we meet at seven?"

Zal stopped walking. "I'm already hungry. Let's dine at six." She leaned close to the manager and kissed his cheek. "Thank you for not calling in the police." She walked out of the hotel and down the street to a dressmaker's shop called Diana Dresses. There, she bought a new dress to wear to dinner.

For years Zal had listened to dramatic stories told by Trysta about her decades of living on Earth. Now, peering into her new memories that showed the path of her future life, Zal felt certain that she would herself have great fun living in disguise as an Earthling for the next fifty years.

That evening, Mr. Crandel was a perfect gentleman until the chef appeared with their dessert and set it aflame at their table. After the chef returned to the kitchen, Zal said, "That was quite a performance. Are you trying to impress me, Mr. Crandel?"

"Yes, of course I am, my dear Miss Green. I want everything to be perfect this evening, including the entertainment." For a minute he described the dance orchestra that was assembling at the far end of the room, near the dance floor. "I suspect that you are a wonderful dancer... am I right, Miss Green?"

Zal winked at the manager and replied, "I know many forms of dance. My favorite one is performed under the soft light of a candle, by two eager lovers dancing between two silky white sheets."

Crandel laughed. "Are you trying to impress me, Miss Green?"

Zal explained, "I'm just trying to have fun, Mr. Crandel. When my parents died, I liquidated their assets and now I'm on a trip around the world, in search of adventure. Of course, when I grow old, if I find a nice place, I might eventually settle down."

"Ah, a world traveler. I must say, you are a real mystery lady."

Zal batted her eyes and spoke in a husky, sultry voice, "Do you find me to be fascinating and mysterious, Mr. Crandel?"

"Yes, I do. And the porter was convinced that your one suitcase was empty when he carried it up to your room today. Hardly what one might expect for a world traveler who just got into town from Virginia."

Zal laughed, "It is a new suitcase that I bought this morning. I plan to have it full of clothing by the time I leave town."

Henry was tempted to ask if Zal had lost her luggage while traveling, but he decided against asking such a delicate question. "I wish you the enjoyment of your shopping project. I sometimes find dealing with tailors to be an annoying task. I value comfort and despise the feeling of being sewn into binding clothing in the name of high fashion."

Zal asked, "Is there a nearby clothing store that you would recommend?"

Crandel had been critically examining Zal's dress. "If I'm not mistaken you have already met Diana Devers, our neighbor from just down the street."

"I did. Do you like this dress?"

Crandel shrugged. "I'm not sure. I think my judgement is being clouded by the lovely nymph who is inside the dress."

Zal giggled. "You are sweet." She looked down at herself. "I also have doubts about this dress. I plan to end up in Europe and I'm looking for a shop that deals in the latest European fashions. Diana seems devoted to fashions of the frontier."

"True. We have our own California fashions and I must say, in that dress you look like a dauntless frontier lady. Are you part Iroquois?"

"Not that I know of, but who knows?" The orchestra started to play and for a moment both Zal and the manager listened to the music.

Crandel leaned closer to Zal and speaking over the music said, "You have an exotic loveliness that reminds me of another lady who claims to have ancestors among the Iroquois. Like her, you seem well spoken and well educated."

"My parents took great pains to make certain that I got a good education. Who knows... after I've seen some of the world I might settle down and become a writer."

"Wonderful. The lady who I just mentioned is a poet. Sometimes she is in town and stays with us a few days. She pretends to be part American Indian. Often she has read a poem to us after dinner, right here in this room."

Obsidia of Tar'tron

Zal recited, "Poetry is the road to my heart, That is where my dreams wend, All roads lead to Tar'tron, And that is where all stars end."

Crandel asked, "Is that your creation?"

"No, that is very old... and well known among the poets where I grew up. So old that the author is lost in the mist of Time."

"You grew up in Virginia?"

"No."

Crandel laughed. "You are mysterious. Don't you want to tell me where you grew up? Usually I can guess, but I can't recognize your accent."

"I have no accent."

"Not a thick one, but it is there." He had been trying to determine if Zal's beautiful red hair was real or a wig. "You don't sound like you are from Virginia."

Zal used her voice nanites to shift to a mid-Atlantic accent. "Are you sure of that, Mr. Crandel? Perhaps I have learned to hide my original accent."

Surprised by her ability to speak with a drawl, he asked, "Were you trained for the theater, Miss Green?"

Zal now shifted to her best Shakespearean English. "In a sense. All the world is a stage and I was trained for this world."

Crandel assumed that Zal did have training and experience as an actress. He mused, "I can almost believe that you are from a far world." He gazed speculatively into her unusually large eyes. "Maybe a red-haired princess from the red planet Mars."

Zal giggled and was tempted to tell Crandel that she had been born on a planet of a distant star system. Rather than try to startle him, she made a simple statement of fact: "I do have a special interest in planetary science."

Crandel asked, "Have you seen the new book about Mars, by Percival Lowell?"

from the Writers Block

Zal wondered how openly she could speak without upsetting the flow of time. From the perspective of her infite-generated memories, which were many decades old, Zal remembered using wild abandon in her flirting with Mr. Crandel, although the details of their conversations had mostly slipped away. She returned her voice to the bland Californian speech pattern and replied, "No, but I've read his book Mars As the Abode of Life."

"Really? I've not seen that one, but our selection of books is probably not as good as what you can get on the East coast. I believe that Mr. Lowell grew up in Massachusetts. Now he is in Arizona for better success with his telescopes." Crandel reached out and placed his hand on top of Zal's. "Do you believe there might be life on Mars?"

Zal replied enigmatically, "Every life is a miracle. Miracles belong to the far past or the far future. The riddle is how to make life last."

Crandel suggested, "I believe you just mangled the words of your namesake, Robert Green Ingersoll. I myself suspect that there could be life on other worlds. What does Mr. Lowell say about this matter in his book?"

as told by Zal

For Mr. Crandel's entertainment, Zal mischievously concocted a fanciful imaginary version of Mars As the Abode of Life that included fragments of every science fiction story about Mars that Zal had ever heard of. Mostly she drew upon stories that had been invented by members of the Writers Block back in the Ekcolir Reality. When she was done weaving her tale, the dazzled Mr. Crandel said, "I will have to find a copy of that book."

Zal said, "I think you will enjoy it."

Crandel gently squeezed Zal's hand. "I like this music. Won't you dance with me, Miss Green?"

Zal rose to her feet, "Very well. Just don't get angry when I step on your toe." Zal activated the ballroom dance algorithm that was stored in her endosymbiont and let it take control of her movements.

After a minute on the dance floor, Crandel pulled Zal close and spoke into her ear. "You are a great dancer, Miss Green."

Zal tried to ignore the stink of Crandel's cologne. "I'm pleased to have won your good opinion, sir." She used her nanites to close off access to her olfactory epithelium. "Earlier today, I was worried that you might turn me over to the police."

"It may yet come to that, on the charge of criminally good seduction. I believe I am becoming infatuated with you, my dear. In the eyes of an old man like me, you are thrilling, like a gold nugget sparkling in a mountain stream."

"You are kind, sir. I'm sure that I do not deserve your gallantry. Do you treat all of your young single female guests this well?"

Crandel laughed. "Only those who throw around 50 dollar bills."

"Even when they are counterfeit 50 dollar bills?"

"I'm certain that you did not tender us a counterfeit. The mystery is why you insist on pretending that you did."

"Maybe it was all just a trick to get your attention." Zal had come to realize that this was the truth.

"Well, if so, you were successful." The song ended and they returned to their table. "Thank you for the dance, Miss Green. Now that we have shared the intimacy of the dance floor, I need to know; what is your first name?"

"You may call me Zal."

"Sal? As in Sally?"

"Zal with a Z. It is a kind of nickname."

"How mysterious. Very well, Zal. And I would be pleased if you now use my first name: Henry." He took hold of Zal's hand and they listened to the music of the next song that the orchestra played.

Zal was having fun and she could see by looking deeper into her infite-generated artificial memories that she would have more than just fun with Henry during the coming week. And why not? Zal thought of the future Summer of Love that San Francisco would become famous for. She told herself: I don't have all summer, but I can grab something... maybe it could flame up into love.

Henry moved his chair beside Zal's and put his arm around her shoulders. She leaned her head against him. Zal realized that this day was a boundary between her past life and a new life. She had so far lived her life according to a plan that had been devised long before she was born. She had trained for her mission to Earth and then, working systematically, she had achieved the goals of that mission. Zal told herself: Well, almost. She still had to make one two more small adjustments to the timeline of Earth and then her work would be done.

Time and Time Again

Making use of her infites, Zal allowed herself to look into the future, to the point in Time when she would return to America from a war-ravaged Europe in the year 1947. At that time, Zal would have to make sure that the people of Earth could become aware of time travel and how it had been used to shape the course of human civilization. But for now, Zal imagined that she was on vacation. She wondered: What role could Henry play in her training and preparation for her impending mission in Europe?

Zal turned her head and found that Henry's eyes were upon her. She smiled and winked at him. He bent closer and brushed his lips against her cheek.

Zal thought of the lonely man who was waiting for her arrival there in the future, in 1947. Another Henry. She also thought of her own long-standing plans for deflecting and delaying thoughts of family and children until her work on Earth was complete. That was still a viable plan for Grean, where she resided in the future. It was different for Zal. She would grow old here, on this planet. I may not get a summer of love, but I can start building up my sum of love right now, here on Earth.

Zal and Henry danced several more times, but mostly they sat together and talked. Zal learned the shape of his life and how he had come to be the manager of the hotel. "I was one of the first students at the University of California Medical School. Of course, it was just the Toland school back then. But then I got a job working here at the hotel and became fascinated by the endless stream of travelers and celebrities. I quit school and worked my way up to become manager of the hotel."

Zal talked for a time about her wish to travel to Europe. When the orchestra was done playing for the night, Henry introduced Zal to the musicians. Then Henry suggested, "In the morning I'll show you where the best dress shops are. Some of the best are now over on Van Neis avenue."

Zal shook her head. "I would be grateful for your help, but not tomorrow. I'm going over to Oakland to visit an old friend."

by ferry to Oakland

"Very well. You will be back here by tomorrow evening?"

"That is my plan."

The tryp'At

"Then I insist that you let me buy you dinner tomorrow. And you can teach me some more of your fancy dance steps."

Zal put her arms around Henry and he kissed her nose. She said, "It is a date, Henry. Thank you for taking care of me. I feel like I am becoming a part of the San Francisco community."

"I'm hoping that you do come to feel at home here in San Fransisco. Maybe I can convince you to forget about your absurd idea of abandoning America and running off to Europe."

"How would you manage that?"

"This weekend I have a day off. Friday evening you should come see my home. I'm one of the first people commuting from San Mateo county via the electric rail line. On Saturday we can go down to Lick Observatory. California is a world leader in astronomy."

"I'll think about it, Henry."

He whispered in Zal's ear, "I'll have silk sheets ready and waiting for you at my home."

Zal laughed and pulled herself away from Henry. "We all have our dreams. Good night, Henry."

Grean the Kac'hin

He insisted on escorting her to the elevator. Zal safely, if nervously reached the top floor of the hotel and her suite of rooms. It had been a long, eventful day and Zal was tired. When she went to get into bed, Zal found that Mahasvin was there, waiting. Mahasvin said, "I thought you two would never stop talking."

Zal searched through her memories, but could not remember this meeting with Mahasvin. She asked, "Why can I only remember some parts of my future?"

Mahasvin explained, "The infites with memories of your future were carefully edited in order to avoid the creation of any Time Paradoxes."

Ayash Shipdesqi

Zal got into bed with Mahasvin. "I have the feeling that you are responsible for sending me here to 1895."

Mahasvin did not deny it. "Well, I was trying to find a way to thank you for your service, and there were a few last minute details here on Earth that needed to be attended to..."

"But why strand me here on Earth for fifty years and force me to live disguised as a human? Surely there were other options."

"You'll enjoy your time on this world, pretending to be a woman. I want to make use of your Kac'hin gene-editing ability to help me introduce a new person into the timeline of Earth history."

Zal giggled. "So that's what is going on. I've been amazed by my feeling of connectedness to Henry. Is he an Interventionist agent?"

Asterothropes: the females
are larger than
the hermaphrodites.

Mahasvin replied, "He is not, but he does carry an interesting combination of Asterothrope-derived genes. You and he have a subtle telepathic connection, which both of you were feeling this evening. I need you to mix some of Henry's genes with your own and build me a new person, a secret agent who I can use in the next century to shape events on Earth."

Zal asked in wonder, "You sent me here so that I would have a baby?"

"Why not? I know you have been intrigued by Trysta's adventures on Earth and her strong Asterothrope drive to have children. As a Kac'hin. you don't share that reproductive compulsion, but you will be a good mother. And I'll get the results that I need."

"You'll use my daughter. In what way?"

"Sorry, but you cannot know the details. Trust me: your daughter will help us shape the future, help you complete your work on Earth."

Interventionist

"Will she be human?"

"In a sense. I need you to craft her genes so that she will function as a tryp'At. Oh, and I should warn you: there will also be a ready source of some Ekcol genes, so you will have all the raw materials for assembling a tryp'At genome."

Somehow Zal had always imagined that when she had children they would be Kac'hin. Zal asked, "Why tryp'At?"

But Mahasvin was gone, teleported back to Many Sails. For a few minutes Zal's thoughts swirled, but she could not find an answer to her question in her infite-generated memories from the future. However, she did find a memory of the method she would use to collect Henry's genes.

Next: Zal in San Mateo county

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The Zal Intervention

Photograph by Gretchen Byers.
(image credits)

When Zeta and I built our retirement home, I imagined a refuge, a quiet place where I could continue my task of investigating the Secret History of Humanity and where I could finish writing about it in my old age. At that time, I only had a weak telepathic connection to Zeta, so I could not gaze deeply into her mind. I knew that Zeta's mission on Earth was to guide me in my work, but I did not know to what extent she had been allowed to view our future and plan accordingly.

When Zeta insisted that we build a large retirement home, I asked why. She had a complicated argument about her childhood and how she had grown up on a world where houses were large. Zeta claimed to feel claustrophobia in a small house. She also argued that it would be easier to sell the house if it was large and comfortable.

One thing I knew about Zeta was that she was in possession of some sophisticated medical nanites. She could pretend to be a sixty-year-old woman, but I knew that she had retained her youth through nanotechnological trickery. Sometimes I wonder if she might be essentially immortal because of her carefully crafted genetic pattern and her sophisticated femtobot endosymbiont.

Yōd

After our new home was built, we moved in with our cats and then almost immediately, Yōd had appeared on our doorstep and moved in with us and it was nice to have plenty of spare room.

When Yōd was forced to depart from Earth, the house had become strangely quiet, but that was only a short lull. My grand-daughter Rylla then appeared out of the blue and took up residence in one of the "spare" bedrooms. I found it odd that Rylla did not want to use the bedroom that had been occupied by Yōd and refused to wear any of Yōd's clothing.

{As I write this, Zeta is certain that Rylla is sensitive to a swarm of nanites that were left behind by Yōd. Although Yōd is one of Zeta's clone sisters, the body that Yōd used while living in this house was the same body that had belonged to Rylla's mother.}

Overseers

Then the day came when Rylla's father and Nora arrived. I was reminded of the day when Azynov had briefly visited and then an Overseer popped in. My quiet retirement world is turned completely up-side-down on days like that. Before I even knew what was happening, Nora, Zeta and Rylla were out of the house, off on a shopping adventure, in search of clothing for the impending wedding of Nora and my son.

After I gave my son a brief tour of the house, we settled in for a chat beside the pool. I sat there marveling at the fact that I was in telepathic contact with both Zeta and, to a lesser extent, Nora. In fact, I was trying to learn from Zeta why Nora and my son had come to America from Australia, but Nora seemed reluctant to explain anything. According to Zeta, Nora seemed to only want to do the normal things that an Earth woman would be expected to do; she seemed not to hear questions about synchronized pregnancies, telepathy and erasing memories... or any of the topics that were increasingly on Rylla's and Zeta's minds. My son had asked me a question and I had not been listening. He said, "What's wrong, dad, you seem distracted."

I was glad to see my son, so I made a serious effort to push Zeta out of my thoughts. "Sorry. I don't deal well with sudden emergencies."

Three is company: Zeta, Rylla
and Nora all 7 months pregnant

He laughed. "Ya, I hear you. I should have let you know as soon as Nora was pregnant, but I did not want to... well, I won't construct a justification. It is all so strange. Somehow, with Nora around, even the strangest things can seem ordinary."

I was worried that Nora was manipulating my son's mind and had taken control of his memories. Of course, I could not just blurt that out. "Nora seems like an amazing person. I'm so glad she was able to help you move on and begin to get over the loss of your wife."

He nodded. "That is a huge relief. I was not well for years, just in pain over the loss of Rylla's mom. Nora is good medicine for me. And Rylla seems very happy being here with you and Z."

I tired to find words to explain the situation. "I think of Zeta and your daughter as the dynamic duo. They are buddies in pregnancy; it is a great adventure for them. And now with Nora thrown in to the equation..." My mind was rather boggled.

My son shook his head in wonder, "An amazing coincidence, really, that they should all get pregnant at the same time. I thought you were past that stage, dad."

source

What could I say? My mind was full of thoughts about the mysteries of mind clones and I was grateful that my son did not know about his former student, Georgy White, being alive and caring for the first of the mind clones at Observer Base. As far as he knew, Georgy had died a horrible death; I tried to imagine what his reaction would be if I casually mentioned that Georgy was alive and in nearly constant telepathic communication with his daughter. I lied, "It is not that hard to have a vasectomy reversed. Surgeons are very skilled."

My son is a trained scientist, a professional skeptic. He has long been embarrassed by my interest in alien visitors to Earth, visitors who have left behind no physical evidence of their presence. Now he suspected that I was indoctrinating his daughter with my strange beliefs. Rather desperate to change the subject away from the matter of how I had implanted an alien-designed mind clone into my wife, I tried to shift our conversation towards my son's life. I'd long imagined that my son was wedded to his work and unable to visit America. Now, suddenly, here he was. I asked, "How did you get away from the lab?"

"After the accident and the investigations into Georgy's death and with Nora and several others leaving the lab, there were only a few people left behind. When I decided to take a sabbatical it was easy enough to move them into the care of other PIs. Five months from now I'll be back in Perth and start building up the personnel for my research lab again."

For a minute we fell silent and watched hummingbirds flit around the yard, chirping at two of the cats who were on patrol. I felt a bit guilty for having let the cats out; Zeta worried that they would be eaten by coyotes. Finally my son asked, "Do you think it is wise to allow Rylla to skip school?"

About a month after arriving in the USA, Rylla passed the GED tests and started taking some online university courses. Gradually, her studies had come to focus on the Secret History of Humanity, a topic that was not part of the curriculum for any university. Rylla and I had gotten into the habit of working together to explore mysteries of human origins and how aliens had shaped the course of human civilization. I suspected that Rylla's baby would completely derail the conventional life course that my son had imagined for his daughter. Pushing all of these thoughts away, I replied, "I'm still discovering all that is to be known about Rylla, but I think you know she is not a bookish nerd like you or I."

My son knew perfectly well what I was trying to say. "Well, sure. She has always lived in the world, not just in her head the way you do." He seemed to hesitate, then continued, "I don't want Rylla to become a problem for you and Zeta."

I chuckled, "Don't worry about that. You know, everything happens for a reason."

"You always say that, dad, but I don't know what it means."

The Time Teller

My point of view is impossible for other people to comprehend. I've learned not to tell people the truth: that my entire life has been guided by my replicoid Irhit, Zeta and her clone sisters and possibly others... nothing bad has ever happened to me (at least, nothing that was not quickly corrected). I was tempted to say: We live in a perfect world. But how could I say that to my son who had lived through being abandoned by his wife, being forced to raise his daughter alone and who had lost a young member of his research lab in a horrible accident? "Rylla came here for a purpose and when she is ready, she will move on. Zeta and I are happy that she is here with us now. Eventually, Rylla might even want to move back home and live with you for a while. More likely she'll be off traveling. She really seemed to enjoy her visit to England." I started showing my son pictures from that European vacation and the following months.

My son asked, "When did you become a photographer?"

I replied, "Most of these pictures were taken by Zeta."

"I see." My son took out his phone and said, "I seldom take pictures of anything except geological features, but I need to show you something." He handed me his phone.

At first I thought he was showing me a picture of Rylla, but he said. "Look at the date on that image. That was 15 years ago, just before Rylla was born."

I asked, "This is your wife, Vendela?" It was quite amazing: Vendela looked identical to Rylla. I blurted out, "Now I understand why Vendela left you. Except..."

"Except what, dad?"

I was thinking about Yōd and her ability to use nanites to alter her appearance. I quickly decided that there was no point for me to even wonder about Vendela, her background, her training and the question of what nanites she might have been equipped with. My son continued, "It is strange. I think I always knew that Rylla looks like her mom, but the reality of it never struck me until today when I saw her pregnant. What's going on, dad?"

What could I say? I knew that six months in the future, my son would again be caught up in his scientific research. I did not want to derail his career. Still, for the first time in his life, my son seemed interested in my work, my investigations of the secret history of Earth. I started talking about everything that had happened to Rylla during the past year. Some of what I had to say was known to my son, but Rylla had not bothered to share everything with her father.

A few hours later we were still catching my son up on the many details of the past half year of Rylla's life, but then I could no longer keep Zeta out of my thoughts. I fell silent, my mind totally occupied with thoughts about Zeta. My son seemed to be contemplating the mysteries of his daughter and we sat in silence. Then my phone rang.

It was Zeta. "Come meet us for dinner in Sedona."

I could see in Zeta's mind the many places where she and Rylla had decided to take Nora, including the plan for dinner at Rylla's favorite restaurant in Sedona. Zeta and I were using the phone call as an act, mostly for the benefit of my son, who knew nothing about telepathy. I asked, "Where do you want to eat?" Zeta told me the name of the restaurant and after some additional small talk I put away my phone. I told my son, "We better hit the road. It is a long drive over to Sedona."

In the car, my son started dozing off. "It has been crazy the past few weeks. I have not been getting enough sleep."

I told him, "This is a good time to catch a nap." I was eager to read Rylla's report on the intervention into Jack London's life in 1895. I put in my ear buds and let Rylla's report play via text-to-speech so I could listen to what she had written while I drove.....

The Zal Intervention

First Contact

When Trysta and Grean were waiting for the end of time travel, they were still making use of the Reality Viewing equipment inside Grean's workshop. Trysta was living near the workshop with Deomede and it is Deomede's account of those end days that eventually found its way into the library of the Writers Block. Gram-pa has previously provided an account of events just prior to the shift in the dimensional structure of the universe (see the Prelude to Trysta and Ekcolir).

According to Deomede, just prior to the Eanru Intervention, Grean was forced to deal with her own last-minute emergency before time travel came to an end. One day, one of the two teleporters in Grean's workshop activated and an elderly Kac'hin materialized. Grean's mind was instantly linked to that of Zal: I am a copy of you, but to avoid confusion, refer to me as Zal.

telepathy

Grean briefly thought about the famous Kac'hin named Wyzalex Torvaya. But the focus of her thoughts was here and now: she ventured into the memories of her copy (Zal) and saw that she herself must make a telportation duplicate of herself. That new individual, (Zal) must then be sent back in time to 1895. Zal would make a few small adjustments to Earth's timeline and eventually arrive back in the workshop, 75 years older than the other copy of Grean. Grean asked Zal, "What does this Intervention accomplish?"

Reality Viewing

Zal activated the Reality Viewer and adjusted the settings. "Look. Here is the comparison between the current Reality and what would have been, had I not gone to 1895." Grean looked at the displayed differentials. "Notice that with this small Reality Change, Rylla is still able to play her role in telling the people of Earth about the Secret History of Humanity. This Reality is better because there is only one minor technical violation of the Trysta-Grean Pact. Nora will remain on Earth, but her memories will have been edited so as to prevent any problems."

Interventionists

Grean nodded. "I see. Without your trip to the past, three Interventionist agents would have been trapped on Earth, leading to degradation of the course of Humanity's future." Grean pulled away from the Viewer and glared at Zal. "You have left us very little time!"

Zal giggled. "We have no time for arguments, as I planned. Make the duplication of yourself and we will teleport out." Zal tossed a vial of infites to Grean. "Then follow these instructions."

Grean stepped into the teleporter for a moment. Zal adjusted the settings on the device and then suddenly there was a copy of Grean across the workshop, inside the time kettle. Zal walked over to the kettle and adjusted the control circuits. Zal told the younger copy of herself, "Good luck." The time machine activated and the copy of Grean was sent back to 1895.

Grean climbed out of the teleportation device and said, "I hope you know what you are doing."

Zal walked past Grean, made a new adjustment to the control settings and stepped back into the teleporter. Grean asked, "Why rush off? I'm learning so much from looking into your memories of the past 75 years. Where are you going?"

Zal shrugged, "I'd rather not say. I don't want you to be influenced by my choice of retirement destinations." There was a tiny "pop" and Zal was gone.

Respecting Zal's wishes, Grean had resisted the temptation to dig down into Zal's mind in search of her teleportation destination. It was frustrating to have a copy of one's self appear and then rush off, but Grean told herself to be philosophical: If I can't trust myself, who can I trust?

Grean opened the bottle of infites and let the nanoscopic memory storage devices settle into her brain. Grean was surprised by what she learned. In order to assist Zal, some of the infites had to be sent back to 1947. And that task had to be completed quickly, before the Huaoshy put an end to time travel. Grean immediately took the infite bottle to the time machine and set the bottle inside the kettle. The controls were set to a particular time and place in 1947 and the bottle disappeared into the past.

Grean saw that she had two more tasks to complete before the end of time travel. She must initiate what Zal's infites referred to as the Eanru Intervention. Also, in just a few seconds there would be another individual arriving in the workstation by teleportation: an Interventionist agent who Zal would be finding at work in 1895. Then, after dealing with that captured Interventionist, just before time travel would end, Grean would finally be free to teleport herself off to the Galactic Core.

1895
Upon arriving in 1895, Grean felt a bit silly. She had not changed her appearance in any way and now she found herself inside a school house. Luckily, the school day had already ended and no students were in the building. She opened the bottle that she had received from Zal and felt a swarm of infites move into her body. Almost instantly she began thinking of herself as "Zal" and she knew what her mission in the past was. Using her facial nanites, Zal adjuster her appearance to become that of a typical woman living in California in the year 1895. Zal heard footsteps echoing down the hallway. A woman had entered the school and was approaching Grean. Zal glanced through the doorway to her left which opened into the school library. Inside the library, a woman was at work, re-shelving books. Zal began walking quickly down the hallway towards the approaching woman, who Zal knew to be her target. The two women stopped walking and stood there in the hallway, about four feet apart. Zal said, "I'm afraid there has been a change of plans."

The Interventionist agent looked closely at Zal, trying to identify her, and also tried to hide a slim red booklet behind herself; rather awkwardly the red book got stuck in the protruding folds of her dress where it flared out around her hips. Only moments before, this hallway had been clear, and was to remain clear until the librarian was done working and would walk through the empty hallway on her way home. Zal tossed the little infite vial to the Interventionist agent who caught the bottle. That activated the pre-set time kettle back in Grean's workshop. The Interventionist disappeared from 1895, having been sent back to Grean's workshop in the future.

Zal turned back towards the library and took only two steps before the librarian emerged into the hallway, closing the library door behind her. The Librarian said, "I thought I heard voices. Who are you and why are you here?"

Zal replied, "I'm new in town. I need to register my children so that they can begin attending school."

"I can't help you. I'm the librarian and I teach reading. You'll have to return in the morning and talk to the headmaster."

They walked down the hallway and the librarian asked, "Where are you from? I can't place your accent."

Zal replied, "I'm from New Zealand."

The librarian said, "By the way, my name is Carol. Carol Hayes. The headmaster should be in about 7:30 in the morning. Nice to have met you, ah, Mrs.-"

"Green. Zoe Green."

Miss Hayes nodded politely, turned and headed off down the street. Zal turned and walked in the opposite direction, using her voice-modification nanites to shift her voice so as to be more like that of the librarian. Zal felt like she was being followed. Rushing to become familiar with the infites that were settling into the structure of her brain, Zal now realized that she was being monitored by a replicoid. This particular replicoid was also a time traveler into the 1800s and had originated in the Ekcolir Reality as an analogue of Jack Vance. Using her sophisticated zeptite endosymbiont, Zal opened up a communications link to the Vance replicoid. Deciding that there was no better way to proceed, Zal said: Hello, Miss Vance, or should I say, Jackie?

After a rather long and agonized pause, the replicoid replied: Who are you? How can you be speaking to me?

in the Buld Reality

Zal turned down a quiet narrow street and kept walking out of town. Sorry to interrupt your entertainment, but I could not allow a copy of "The Chronic Argonauts" to be slipped to Jack London. That was clever idea, but in the Final Reality, London will not be a science fiction story teller.

The replicoid complained: I was curious to discover why London became interested in science fiction... in the previous Reality he did not write science fiction stories.

Zal asked: So you had nothing to do with giving Jack London that book?

Me? Of course not. Who was that woman with the book? And who are you?

Zal laughed. I guess the three of us are the last foot soldiers in the Time War. How long have you been here in 1800s?

The Vance replicoid hesitated once more, not really wanting to explain how and why she had gone back into the 1800s. Finally she gave a minimal answer: Almost a year now. I wanted time to become familiar with California and Oakland in particular, before the events of today.

That reply fit in with what Zal had learned from her new infites. The Vance replicoid was doing useful work, preparing to mentor her analog who would be the Jack Vance of the Final Reality. The Jack Vance who would be born twenty years in the future. Maybe you can help me. I'd like to visit San Francisco. Does this street lead anywhere or should I turn around? Zal knew that she must soon make her way across the Bay to San Francisco, but first, there was a house that she needed to find, here in Oakland. However, she was disoriented and having some trouble matching her current location in the world to her infite-generated memory of the location of the house that she must visit.

Again the Vance replicoid hesitated. I'm not sure I should help you. Who are you? What are you trying to accomplish?

Zal chuckled. You are part of the crew at the Writers Block, aren't you?

The Vance replicoid disconnected from the equipment at Observer Base that allowed for observation of events on Earth. She had never been taught that it was possible for someone on Earth to communicate to an Observer who was inside Observer Base. Here in 1895, there were four other Observers at work, using four of the observation ports in the Fishbowl. Most of the ports were unoccupied. Observer Base was almost deserted now, everyone believing that the Time War was over. And now this! A strange woman on Earth, able to communicate with Observer Base and talking casually about the Time War, as if it was still raging! The Vance replicoid wondered: What is going On?

The Vance replicoid returned to the Writers Block and sent a message through to the future using the interwhen communications terminal. Soon, a connection opened up to the future where the Asimov replicoid was at work. Asimov's replicoid asked, "What's this about an Earthling talking to you, Jackie?"

Jackie explained, "Obviously not a normal Earthling. She has special powers. I watched her make an Interventionist agent disappear!"

Asimov's replicoid whistled, long and low. "Are you sure? That's a neat trick. I think you ran into an Overseer."

"I don't know what she is. She did not seem to care that I was there, watching the Interventionists try to turn Jack London into a science fiction author."

Asimov's replicoid shrugged, "Everyone, Interventionists and Overseers alike agree that science fiction is the best tool for telling the people of Earth about the existence of alien visitors to Earth."

"Well, it is annoying. This lady, Interventionist or Overseer or a Grendel in disguise... she did not want to tell me who she is. I get the feeling she's going to be kicking around California for some time."

Asimov's replicoid asked, "When are you?"

"I'm in 1895."

Twin Paradox

"Well, Jackie, you've got twenty years until your analogue shows up. You have plenty of time to kill. See if you can figure out who this mystery lady is and how she was able to speak to you. I'll investigate from this side, but if we are dealing with the Overseers then I'm not going to make much progress."

Jackie nodded. "And neither will I. I just hope I don't get my Observer's Permit yanked."

"You play it cool; don't go around Observer Base asking questions. I'll investigate matters here via indirect channels and let you know what I find out." Their connection through time was cut. Jackie hurried back to the fishbowl, hopeful that she could find the mystery woman.

Next (Part 2): the story continues in San Francisco, 1895.
Part 3: tryp'haven
Part 4: Escape Artist

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On and On

In this issue:
"Mind Clone Epidemic" by Izhiun

Here in month seven, Zeta and Rylla spend many hours each day outside, swimming in the pool. I'd come to treasure those times as extended periods of quiet when I could work productively inside the house. During the past week that all changed because my telepathic connection to Zeta has been growing significantly stronger with each passing day.

Today I've reached the point where I can follow Zeta's highest-level stream of conscious thoughts even while she and Rylla are outside and not within my range of hearing or in my line of sight.

Bimanoid Interface

I spent most of the afternoon worrying that Zeta and I might face the same danger that arose back when her telepathic link to Yōd became too strong. That was when the Bimanoid Interface was upgraded. As genetically identical clones, their enhanced telepathic connectivity shifted into a positive feedback mode and in order to preserve sanity, Yōd had to depart from Earth. Yōd hid inside the AR Simulator at Observer Base, severing her telepathic connection to Zeta.

Telepathy Time

Asimov Reality Simulator

From where I was, inside the house, I could tell that Zeta and Rylla were discussing the mechanistic physical relationships between telepathy, teleportation and time travel. I've long assumed that time travel became impossible back in the previous millennium, probably in the early 1970s. However, the exact date when the Huaoshy put an end to time travel seems to be top secret.

Dimensions

Maybe the physical laws of the universe that previously allowed for time travel also made possible a type of teleportation. If so, then the change in the dimensional structure of the universe that put an end to time travel could have inactivated certain teleportation devices at the same time. If this speculative link between time travel technology and teleporters is real, then why had Nora recently been surprised to find that her ability to teleport had suddenly been lost, at a time more than 40 years after the end of time travel? A puzzle.

teleportation

I'd clung to some sort of fantasy that there was a mechanistic distinction between short-range teleportation and long-range. Maybe only one of the two types of teleportation relied on the same physical principles that had once made time travel possible. Alternatively, maybe someone at Observer Base had simply turned off the teleportation system that previously had been used to move Nora around. Who knew? Certainly not me. With two pregnant women in the house, I had more important things to worry about.

discovery of antigravity hierions

When I had dinner ready, Zeta was able to recognize that fact in my thoughts. Zeta and Rylla soon came inside for dinner they were bubbling over with excitement. The house filled with the sound of their chatting and laughter. Of course, from the first day of her pregnancy I knew the theory: that Rylla's baby would allow her to link telepathically to Georgy White at Observer Base.

Observer Base

However, I had never actually allowed myself to believe that a system of "mind clones" could actually establish a functional telepathic conduit between Earth and the Hierion Domain. Month by month, while Zeta and Rylla relentlessly expanded and enlarged like two ticking biological clocks, I was selfishly holding on to my resentment over the idea that just because Rylla could gestate a baby she would become the one Earthling able to establish a data conduit linking her into the vast information archives at Observer Base. I was full of envy. I despised myself for holding onto hope that Rylla might give birth to her mind clone and yet still fail to connect telepathically to Georgy.

The house echoed with their happy chatter when they came inside for dinner and my heart expanded. Maybe it is for the best if Rylla is to be the one constantly linked to Observer Base while I have the gift of merging my mind with Zeta. Dripping pool water and sweat, Rylla went waddling past, on her way to shower off the pool chlorine. With her swollen abdomen balanced on top of her long skinny legs and narrow boy-like hips, Rylla now walks through the house like a clumsy tightrope walker who is always in danger of taking a tumble.

With silence returned to the kitchen and Rylla down the other end of the house, Zeta came up behind me while I cooked at the stove and put her arms around me, pressing her bulging belly against me. Zeta told me what I could already see in her mind, "Rylla is now receiving a steady stream of conscious thoughts from Georgy."

I did not bother to speak in reply. Zeta and I could now efficiently exchange our highest order verbal thoughts via telepathy: And I'm now unable to shield my mind from your thoughts. Is this going to become a problem?

Zeta released me from her embrace and got herself a cold drink from the refrigerator. Her reply to my question flowed through my mind and I could see that there were differences between the link that Zeta and I now shared and how it had been when the telepathic connection between Zeta and her clone sister had become dangerous.  I find that if I am talking to Rylla then your thoughts conveniently shift into the background of my consciousness, rather like background music that can be ignored.

the tryp'At

I started putting dinner on the dining room table. "As a tryp'At, I've always had trouble paying attention to the external world. I think my mind was designed to detect and process telepathic signals more efficiently than it absorbs spoken language."

Zeta pulled a thin frock on over her swim suit. The frock almost covered the expanse of her abdomen when she sat down at the table. She was wondering about the mysterious mechanism of technology-assisted telepathy: What is more important? Our genetically-determined brain structures or our nanite endosymbionts?

human endosymbionts

I tried to summarize the results of my efforts to isolate myself from Zeta's thought stream, "I find that if I speak out-loud and look at you then I can push our telepathic link to the back of my mind. Exploiting techniques like that is going to take some serious work and experimentation, but I hope I will be able to get used to our little gift." I bent down and kissed Zeta's swollen belly and then the back of her neck. Physical contact between Zeta and I had become dangerous. Even those two delicate kisses triggered in us a lustful positive feedback that we had to fight against as if it were a wind-whipped wild fire. In our thoughts we told each other that we would consummate our lust and grab our pleasure later that evening after Rylla was asleep.

I walked back to the kitchen for one last item then I sat down across the table from Zeta. Part of my problem is that I find it mesmerizing to have your thoughts flowing through my mind, my love. I don't want to shield myself from your thoughts, even if it means I don't get any work done.

Zeta was hungry and she started eating. I know what you mean, particularly when you start thinking about making love to me. That's very distracting. Zeta and I had lived together (just we two and our herd of cats) in our big echoing retirement house for a long enough time that we had developed a habit of submitting to our romantic desires as soon as they sparked up. Now we were seven months into having Rylla as our house guest and we were tired of having to restrain our displays of affection.

Reality Chain

Somewhat flushed from a quick hot shower, hours of vigorous exercise and too much sun, Rylla joined us at the table, now dressed in a thin silk robe that accented her large round abdomen. The other thing that was accented was the fact of her unusual anatomy. When I had gained the power to look deeply into Zeta's mind, I soon learned that Rylla inherited from her mother a set of Asterothrope gene combinations that cause her to have two sets of breasts. Soon after that revelation, Rylla stopped concealing her extra nipples from me. Now, with her pregnancy hormones at work, Rylla's breasts were starting to enlarge.

Rylla told me, "Georgy has been flooding me with information all afternoon. It is exhausting trying to keep up with all her revelations. She has full access to the archives of the Writers Block and has been learning all about the methods that were used to insert facts about the Hidden History of Humanity into science fiction stories of the Ekcolir Reality."

the Fru'wu

I'd long been aware of the special effort that had been made to use the science fiction literary genre to prepare Humanity for First Contact with the alien Fru'wu in the Ekcolir Reality. Seeking confirmation of a pet theory, I asked, "So, the course of science fiction was not vigorously guided in the Buld Reality?"

For a minute Rylla ate voraciously. Zeta silently replied to my question: Your suppositions are correct. Compared to what happened in the Ekcolir Reality, there were relatively few Interventions into the development of science fiction in the Buld Reality. Some were designed just to remove a few of the most detailed accounts of alien technologies that had crept into the science fiction literature. Too much knowledge about hierions or sedrons could be dangerous.

Ivory

Speaking out loud for Rylla's benefit, I said to Zeta, "Remember, Ivory Fersoni got herself kicked off this planet when she tried to publish a story about her alien-assembled genes."

Zeta shook her head, "I don't think it was the story content that got her into trouble. The problem was, she did not really frame her story as science fiction. That's what violated the terms of the Pact and won her a ticket to Observer Base."

I complained, "She got her ass kicked so hard by the Overseers that she did not land at Observer Base. She bounced and ended up far away, lost among the distant stars."

Nothing irritated Zeta more than my endless infatuation with Ivory. Her eyes flashed at me across the table: Ivory could not control herself. If she had played by the rules, she'd still be with us.

It annoyed me that I could see in Zeta's mind that she was happy knowing Ivory was far away across space. Even now, after we had committed to each other as man and wife for the rest of our lives, Zeta was jealous of Ivory.

Rylla finished chewing and took a long drink of water. Finally she spoke again, "Since you asked, Georgy is now telling me about one particular case..." She lapsed into silence again, gazing off into space.

Zeta told me: Rylla is trying to learn how to process the telepathic stream from Georgy and continue talking at the same time. I suspect she is experiencing the same phenomenon that we are... talking can interfere with her telepathic link to Georgy.

I waited as patiently as I could and tried to force myself to eat. I also tied to stop myself from digging through Zeta's fascinating mind. The danger was that we could rapidly get into positive feedback by mixing together our thoughts and previously inaccessible memories that were waiting there in each others minds.

Jack Vance

Rylla shook her head in wonder. "Amazing. Apparently, there was some manipulation of both Jack Vance and Isaac Asimov in the Buld Reality; some alterations were made to their science fiction story telling. In particular, Vance died early, in some horrible accident, but he was given a life extension."

I nodded, "Yes, I've heard that before. Apparently Vance died in a plane crash in the 1970s, but then Grean the Kac'hin used time travel to prevent Vance from getting on the doomed plane. Rather than die young, Vance was able to live on into his 90s."

Grean

Rylla nodded, "Yes. Vance lived on and on... his gift from Grean was an extra 30 or 40 years."

Over the years of my life, I had developed the idea that Asimov's writing in the Buld Reality had been completely guided by temporal momentum. I was uncomfortable with the idea that his story ideas might have been forced upon him, just as I feared that during my life I had been the puppet of my replicoid, Irhit. I asked Rylla, "Asimov was targeted by Interventionists in the Buld Reality?"

Replicoids

Rylla explained, "The main influence on Asimov was by means of infites, although Grean apparently did meet Asimov on at least one occasion."

"Fascinating!" I was a complete sucker for juicy tidbits about Asimov's links to aliens, be they Interventionists or Overseers. "When was that?"

The End of Eternity

"When he was expanding his first draft of The End of Eternity." Rylla fell silent and ate some more, apparently absorbing and mentally processing the new information that she was then receiving telepathically from Georgy.

Zeta wanted to make plans for the impending births of her baby and Rylla's. For a time we ate and used our telepathic link to discuss plans for how to coordinate the impending births. Their two estimated due dates were only a week apart. I'd never had the nerve to share with Zeta all the details of how she'd become pregnant.

source

At first she had been shocked to find herself pregnant. I'd lied and told her that Izhiun had used nanites to reverse my vasectomy. I'd let Zeta imagine that our developing child had been formed by a natural fertilization event inside her body. Then, about a week previously, when the telepathic link between Zeta and I began to strengthen, I had admitted to her that I'd played an artificial role in the pregnancy and that she was incubating a mind clone, not an ordinary baby.

Zeta had been nervous about the possibility of genetic defects in our child, but now she could probe down into my core memories. I felt a wave of relief sweep through her mind: She is not a normal baby... she was designed to be perfect.

I was not 100% certain about anything. Izhiun implied that our child had been crafted with exceptional care. I hope that means there are no defects, but the Interventionists might have a twisted view of what constitutes a defect and what is a feature. And there is the matter of developmental control nanites. There must be some inside you that are guiding the course of development of our daughter, but we don't have the tools to monitor their activity and check on the quality of their work.

Zeta's joy decreased a little bit while she thought about the importance of developmental control nanites for shaping the anatomical features of a baby who would be half tryp'At. I'm not going to worry about that possibility; there is nothing I can do to control those nanites, anyhow.

Rylla now had a look of startlement about her. She set down her fork and said, "I'm going to have to read The End of Eternity. And I need to write out the steps of this Intervention; it is quite complicated. It started in 1895."

I puzzled over the year 1895. I noted, "Asimov was born in 1920"

Rylla nodded. "I know that, but it all starts with Vance."

I shrugged. "Not much better; he was born in 1916."

Rylla laughed. "I know, I know." For a few seconds, she sat there gazing at her belly and rubbing her hands over it. "You'd never guess what Jack Vance had to do with events in the year 1895. A replicoid of Vance was active on Earth in the 1800s, following the life of Jack London and becoming familiar with California and the culture of the Buld Reality, which was quite different from the Ekcolir Reality."

I objected, "Wait. Following the life of Jack London? There was a telepathic link between London and a Vance replicoid?" I could not imagine how that might be possible.

Zeta reminded me: I was designed to be able to monitor your thoughts. It could have been a similar one-way telepathic link between a replicoid and London.

Rylla continued, "The weird thing is, the mind of the Vance replicoid who was back in 1895 had originated as a female Vance analogue in the Ekcolir Reality."

I'd previously heard that there had been a female analogue of Jack Vance in the Ekcolir Reality, so I was not surprised by that. I'd never imagined that a replicoid might become associated with some other individual. As far as I new, replicoids were designed to be able to link telepathically to only one person. "What benefit could come from having Vance's replicoid follow the life of Jack London?"

Vance twins

"Apparently, in the Ekcolir Reality the female analogue of Vance had been a big fan of Jack London and wanted to learn about London's life and also about life in California leading up to the birth of Jack Vance." Rylla got up from the table, went to the book shelf in the living room and got my copy of The End of Eternity and then went off into the back end of the house.

Zeta chastised me: You and your questions. The poor girl never got a chance to finish eating.

Both Rylla and Zeta had not been gaining the usual amount of weight during their pregnancies and they had been warned to ease back on their exercise routine and eat more. I noticed that Zeta had also stopped eating with her plate still half full. I asked: Would you like some dessert?

I could see in Zeta's mind that the answer was "no", but she said, "Please fix me a smoothie." I could see in Zeta's mind that she did not really blame me for Rylla's eating habits. We both get very hungry, then just as quickly our hunger goes away. I'll force myself to eat some more.

We went to the kitchen and while I prepared the high-calorie concoction she paced and asked: Why should Jack London be targeted by Interventionists?

I suggested: I know this need not be about me, but Jack London may have been the first writer whose name I knew. When I was ten years old I had to read one of his stories and I was disgusted by its artificial construction.

During the pregnancy Zeta had become like a furnace. Now she took off her frock and was only wearing her swim suit. I stopped what I was doing and simply stared at her for a while. You are simply gorgeous, but don't you think you are pushing the youth effect a bit too far? You don't look a day over 30.

Zeta laughed at my concern. Only you and Zeta see me this way. She's grown comfortable with my use of nanites to sculpt my body and shave a couple decades off. I want to be physically fit for the birth, just like Rylla, and not limping around like the 60 year old woman I am.

I reluctantly turned back to my work at the blender. Well, I'm just glad that you still tolerate your 60 year old husband. I don't see how I can possible keep up with a 30 year old wife.

Don't worry. This is partly about my vanity. I enjoy having a strong and young body. Anyhow, you don't look all that old yourself. I suspect that you tryp'At are equipped with your own medical nanites.

I activated the blender and put my arms around Zeta. For a minute we were lost in the sweetness of our kisses. Finally Zeta had the will power to break away and turn off the blender. She poured out two big mugs full of the icy drink and took one to Rylla in her bedroom. A minute later she returned: Rylla is reading that Asimov novel and she downloaded a copy of the original first draft version of the story.

While cleaning up the dinner dishes, Zeta and I discussed the clues in Asimov's fiction about how time travel could be used to create new Realities. Then we settled in for an evening of researching Jack London and his connections to science fiction. After a while Zeta had made a discovery: The big science fiction event for 1895 was that The Time Machine was published that year.

I could not resist thinking about the relevance of The Time Machine to my own past. I spoke out-loud, "I can't really remember for sure, but I think that the film version of The Time Machine may have been my introduction to the idea of time travel."

Zeta nodded: Yes, I know. You did not like that story either.

Zeta has never been very interested in science fiction. She wondered: Did Jack London ever write a time travel story?

I shook my head: Not that I know of. Some people call his story "The Star Rover" a time travel story, but I don't agree with that description.

Zeta suggested: Maybe in a past Reality that was an actual time travel story.

I checked the date of publication of The Star Rover. That story came long after 1895.

Zeta asked, "Did Vance write time travel stories?"

I shrugged. "I have not read his fantasy and mystery stories. I think he may have written about some fantasy characters who had the ability to travel through time."

Zeta had grown bored reading about Jack London. Soon she had me in bed so that she could complete the rest of her exercise program for the day.

The next day was a rare rainy day in the desert. Rylla came out of her room twice to eat, but otherwise was busy reading and writing. At dinner she asked me, "So, you believe that time travel actually works the way Asimov described it?"

"So I've been told." I thought about my dream-like memories of having been in the future. "And I suspect that I was actually taken into the future once. However, most of my memories of that trip into the future were erased, leaving me with little more that a conviction that time travel is possible."

Infites: memory editing by nanites

Zeta suggested, "Is it possible that you could have been tricked? Maybe you were in a virtual reality simulation of the future in the Hierion Domain. Maybe infites provided you with confused and false memories that you have interpreted as being the remnants of a trip through time."

I had to agree that those were possibilities. "Who knows? In any case, I've been led to believe that travel through time is no longer possible."

Rylla said, "Maybe there has been an attempt to make you believe that, but could it be possible that time travel devices are still being used to alter the timeline of events on Earth?"

I sighed. "It is frustrating. I get to hear many stories, but how can I verify them? Rylla and Zeta were both looking out the window at the pool as the rain fell. I asked, "How is your story about 1895 coming along?"

Interventionists

Rylla replied, "That's just the start of the story. The Intervention into Jack London's life significantly altered Reality and had to be corrected by Grean. The interesting part is what came next." Rylla turned her head and looked at me with her big blue eyes. "It is particularly interesting because these alterations in Time are what led to my involvement with you and your dream of telling the world about how aliens have guided the course of human civilization."

Rylla got up from the table and went to stand by the window, watching the rail falling into the pool. It was a cool day and felt like the first day of Fall, even though the calendar still proclaimed that it was Summer. Zeta was also gazing towards the window, but I could tell that she was watching Rylla and wondering how she would handle the last two months of her pregnancy and the birth process. I suggested, "Why don't you two take a soak in the hot tub while I clean up the dishes?"

Without hesitation they undressed and went out back to sit in the hot tub. They did not sit long; soon they were holding onto the edge of the tub and kicking their legs as if swimming. I finished cleaning up the kitchen and took two towels out to them. Zeta said, "Why don't you climb in. There's room for all of us."

I knew that they kept the temperature of the water in the tub set to 75 degrees so that they could exercise in there without over-heating. They were also both planning to give birth in the tub. "No, thank you. I believe a hot tub should be kept at body temperature. Would either of you like some cake and ice cream?"

To humor me they both said yes, but they told me that they would be working out for the next hour. I returned inside and resumed my work. I had spent the day searching the internet for known connections between Jack Vance and Jack London.

Later, when Rylla and Zeta came back indoors (it was closer to two hours than one) they both actually consumed a significant number of calories in the form of carrot cake and blackberry sherbet. Rylla went back to her room to write the rest of story about events in 1895.

Watching Rylla walking away down the hallway towards her bedroom, I had a strange vision in my mind. In my thoughts it was Yōd who was there, still living in the house with Zeta and I as she had for several years.

Zeta could see perfectly well what was in my mind. I also wonder how Yōd is doing. Will she ever emerge from the AR Simulator?

the AR simulator

I was wondering: Which is the best system? Why not just have Yōd here, using her telepathic link to her replicoid? Why is it better to have exiled Yōd to the AR Simulation and brought Rylla here? Why complicate matters with three pregnancies and all this 'mind clone' rigamarole?

Zeta had put on a warm, fuzzy robe after getting out of the tub. Now she sat down beside me and let the robe fall open. I placed my hand on her abdomen and felt a gentle movement of our daughter inside Zeta. Zeta said, "I'm glad things turned out this way. I like having full access to you mind."

I could not stop myself from worrying about our daughter's future. Will she grow up knowing our thoughts?

Zeta replied, "Not according the Rylla. She reports that the thinking at Observer Base is that the zeptite endosymbiont of a mind clone is a telepathy amplifier only. In our case, amplifying the weak telepathic connection that we already shared. For me, I suspect that the nanites you put into me when you impregnated me have been repairing my damaged brain."

Just then, an email popped into my inbox. It was from my son. I told Zeta: He and Nora are coming for a visit. They want to know if it would be most helpful to be here at the expected time of the births or after.

femtobots

Zeta suggested: Maybe they should be here at the due date. I've been wondering what would happen if Rylla and I give birth at the same time. If we did, then the midwife would have her hands full.

I asked: What are the chances of that? And besides, I'll be here.

I could see in Zeta's thoughts that she was comfortable with the idea of Nora being on hand to help out at the births, if needed. She asked me: Have you come to any conclusions about who -and what- Nora is? Replicoid, clone, a femtobot artificial lifeform?

The Trysta-Grean Pact

Of course, I could not be certain. I only had a hunch that Nora was an artificial lifeform, an Interventionist agent who I had first known as Betty. If that was correct, then it was a baffling mystery: how was it possible for Nora to still be on Earth. Under the terms of the Trysta-Grean Pact, only humans were supposed to now be on Earth. We Earthlings were supposed to be free to find our own way into the future with out Interventionist interfering and without any Overseers trying to capture the meddling Interventionists.

Zeta followed all of my thinking about Nora, but she complained, "I can follow your thoughts all the way down to the level of your memories that were constructed by the infites you have received and processed. At that level I get confused."

Thomas

I laughed too loudly and felt the baby react. You get confused because those artificially constructed memories are a jumbled up mess with fragments of information from Thomas, Iziun, Ivory, Nora and Yōd. But I can tell you this: I believe that Nora is trying to be helpful. Still, well-meaning people can stir up trouble. Do you think Rylla wants Nora here when she gives birth?

Zeta replied: I'll ask her, but I know she misses her father. I'm just not certain about Nora.

That night I had a strange dream about Nora. In the dream everything was all mixed up. It started with Rylla and Zeta walking around with their big bellies sticking out, then it was Nora there, the way I had first seen her, coming through the front door, but in my dream she was also pregnant.

Nora

Rylla's story about 1895 was ready for Zeta and I to read the next morning; when I got up I found that she had emailed it to Zeta and I.  And over breakfast Rylla welcomed the idea of a visit by her father. "Nora? I don't mind. She seems to be taking good care of my dad."

After cleaning up the breakfast dishes I sent an email to my son giving the okay for he and Nora to arrange their travel plans so as to arrive in Arizona before the due dates for Rylla and Zeta. I wrote in my email: "Rylla and Zeta could give birth within days of each other. Your help would be appreciated."

I started to read Rylla's account of events in 1895, but I only got about a page into the story before receiving another email from my son. Glancing at the message, I muttered, "I don't believe it."

Zeta was there in my mind: They are already here?

I explained: Apparently they flew into LAX last week and they've rented a cabin up in the hills, about an hour-long drive from here. They are now our neighbors.

When we explained the situation to Rylla, she laughed in relief. "I felt that something was up. My dad has been acting weird. And I've been having dreams about Nora. Very strange."

As soon as Rylla spoke, I remembered that I had also recently had a dream about Nora.

Rylla asked, "Can I borrow the car? I should go see my dad since he is now so close by."

I said, "Relax. Your dad and Nora are on the way for a visit. They expect to arrive here about 10:00 this morning."

Rylla laughed. "Oh, my! Do you have any other surprises for me?"

I shrugged, "I have one more news item to relay to you. Apparently your dad has been struggling to find a way to tell you..."

Rylla impatiently interrupted, "What?"

I explained, "I'm trying to feel surprised, but I'm not really surprised. Your dad and Nora want to get married. Oh, and by the way, you're going to have a little brother."

The Zal Intervention

Rylla jumped to her feet. "A brother?"

Zeta threw her arms around Rylla, "Nora is pregnant, too!"

While Rylla and Zeta were excitedly dancing around the room, I was thinking about the implications of my dream. Somehow my telepathic link to Nora was also beginning to strengthen, just as had happened with the connection between Zeta and I.

... continues in....

Next: The Zal Intervention

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