Leapfrog

Through the Looking-Glass

I've long wondered about the fate of Marta, Ivory's mother. Now with Yōd's infites in my head, I've been recovering some old, suppressed memories and a few of them concern people like Marta who have shaped the course of my life. Ivory, my first collaborator, was always reluctant to tell me anything about Marta, so recovery of memories concerning Marta has never been easy for me. In contrast, Ivory provided me with a detailed story about a clone of Gohrlay who I know as Phenence Chentz. Now the Yōd infites have unlocked a second story about Phenence.

Marta's Finishing School

Zeta has warned me that there could be a type of nanoscopic warfare taking place inside me. There might be fundamental conflicts between the infites that I obtained from Ivory several years ago and those that were recently bequeathed to me by Yōd. Cognitive dissonance created by such a battle of nanites might explain the confusing swirl of memories that I am currently trying to sort through and arrange into a coherent thread. One of the surprises that has bubbled up in my churning memories is the mystery of Bonny, a woman who briefly popped into my life back in 1977.

Zeta and I have continued to argue about the identity of "Bonny" and during the past few days those discussions have frequently prompted me me think of Marta and my sister. Some of my earliest memories are of my sister reading to me. Strangely, those fuzzy memories have always been linked in my mind to my interest in mathematics. Among the memories encoded in the Yōd infites, I found what I assume is an old memory from Zeta which reveals how my sister taught me the meaning of codes and ciphers.

However, I now realize that as a very young child, I could have easily been fooled into thinking that I was being read Lewis Carroll stories by my sister when, in fact, someone else was there, preparing my mind for the idea that important information about actual space aliens could be hidden in science fiction stories.

For the past several years I've been contemplating a set of conceptual puzzles that were stored within the infites that I received from Ivory Fersoni. I suppose those fragmentary and scrambled thought trails predispose me to contemplate the idea that it was Marta who impersonated my sister and taught me about codes and now I have to wonder if "Bonny" was actually Marta in disguise. Maybe there were days in my youth when someone like Marta temporarily took the place of my sister and took that opportunity to alter the course of my life.

in the Hierion Domain

I've long imagined that Marta might still be living somewhere on Earth, but it is more likely that she simply has the ability to move between the Hierion Domain and Earth. Or maybe that should be "had". I believe that non-humans have been "phased out" and are now prevented from interacting with we Earthlings, so there may be no hope of contacting Marta and seeking confirmation of her role as "Bonny".

Today I was discussing with Zeta the idea that we might one day be able to make telepathic contact with people at Observer Base. I suggested that Marta might still be in residence there. Zeta told me, "Yōd never mentioned Marta in her accounts of events at Observer Base during the past few years. However, on several occasions she mentioned that there was a clone of you living at Observer Base."

source

Several years ago, Alpha Gohrlay casually mentioned that I am just one of a group of clones, just as Alpha, Zeta and Yōd are all clones. I told Zeta, "It is easy for me to imagine how it might have been useful to create 'backup copies' of me, but I have a strong aversion to the idea of contacting a copy of myself." I once again tried to stretch out my telepathic tendrils towards Observer Base. I felt no linkage to another mind... nothing. If there mere a copy of my brain there, we should be able to establish a strongly resonating connection via the Bimanoid Interface. "If such a copy of me were still there now, why wouldn't I be able to communicate with him by telepathy? No, I can't buy that."

Zeta nodded, "That particular aversion was carefully constructed and strengthened early in your lifetime. Similarly, I am aware of the fact that there have been Gohrlay clones in every Reality, but I don't like to think about the lives that they led in Deep Time. I've been trained to be forward thinking. Anyhow, there may once have been a clone of you at Observer Base, but he has probably been sent back to the Core."

I asked, "Do you think that more Gohrlay clones might be constructed in the future?"

"Maybe. However, I believe that events on Earth are now tightly constrained by the terms of the Pact, so even if the Huaoshy had reason to make more copies of me, I don't think those copies would make their way to Earth."

"You may have been trained to keep your thoughts centered on the future and completion of your mission on Earth, but I am more focused on the past. It is my job to write about the hidden history of Earth. Ivory shared my obsession with the past."

Zeta always gets annoyed when I start praising Ivory and recounting the important role she has played in my life. Zeta gave a deep sigh and told me, "I don't enjoy thinking about all of the past lives that were lived by my clone sisters, but when I was a child I was given access to a library that described those past lives."

I asked, "All of them?"

Zeta shrugged. "We were told that for a time, soon after the Huaoshy were forced out of this galaxy by R. Gohrlay, there was a gap in the recorded history of events on planets such as Taivasila. There have always been rumors that R. Gohrlay may have 'captured' some Gohrlay clones, but that seems preposterous. At most, some Gohrlay clones might have lived parts of their lives after being cut off from the Huaoshy. However, even if the archived accounts of the past lives of Gohrlay clones are incomplete, those archives are extensive."

I asked, "Are they so extensive that you would not have noticed gaps in the record?" Zeta shrugged. "I suppose you could not possible have read about all of those lives."

Zeta nodded. "Remember, most of my education was accomplished by means of infite-mediated information transfer.

Phenence
I don't hold onto any real hope that I might ever actually meet Phenence, so I am dependent on people such as Ivory and Zeta to provide me with information about her life. Given my scientific training, I am always concerned about the need to verify and confirm stories. I don't trust any account of the past that reaches me from only one source.

In the past few weeks, Zeta and I have been experimenting with our telepathic communications link that is made possible by the Bimanoid Interface. When Zeta completely opens her mind to me, I can "dive in" to her memories and "read out" parts of her infite-encoded memories.

Those infite memory stores are vast and finding a relevant memory is challenging each time that I "dive in". In this case, the information about Phenence that was provided to me a few years ago by Ivory has allowed me to find another story about Phenence inside Zeta's mind. Why a story? This gets complicated, but apparently there have been multiple "generations" of Gohrlay clones and several of them have devoted their lives to creating summary accounts of the lives of all the other Gohrlay Clones. According to Zeta, some of these 'Gohrlay historians' lived in the far future of the Ekcolir Reality.

When I learned about the existence of Roben and Phenence from Ivory, Zeta was watching me and she was motivated to review an archived story about the life of Phenence. When I went prowling through Zeta's memories, I accessed Zeta's memories of her review of that historical account of the life of Phenence. That all makes sense... just as long as you accept that creating dozens of Gohrlay clones has been common practice in every Reality and as long as one is able to deal with the idea of an 'historical account' that was written in the far future and could reach me here in the past by means of infites.

Phenence was the first Gohrlay clone to reach Earth since back in the First Reality. Phenence was born in the Asimov Reality. The copy of Phenence who briefly visited Roben in the Ekcolir Reality was apparently an artificial lifeform, a copy of the original biological Phenence.

___________

The barriers of mistrust and antagonism that had separated R. Gohrlay from the Huaoshy for millions of years began to crumble in the face of the vast power exerted by a single microscopic egg cell. R. Gohrlay was allowed to grow and nurture a clone of Gohrlay that grew into a young woman known as Phenence.

Phenence became obsessed with Earth and her fellow humans. Growing up in the Hierion Domain among positronic robots, Phenence had known love and serenity, but she was driven by her curiosity to seek out contact with her fellow humans. In her seventeenth year, those simmering forces of curiosity had reached the point where R. Gohrlay was forced to assist Phenence in making plans for a visit Earth.

Phenence had long been training for a mission to Earth: she was to provide Trysta Iwedon with an update on her mission parameters. For several years her trainers had routinely told Phenence that it was not until she was 21 that she would travel to Earth. When she turned 16, Phenence began proposing "field trips" to Earth, short visits that would acquaint her with the culture of Earthlings. She'd made her case: "At least allow me the opportunity to see where Trysta lives. I don't want to stick out like a sore thumb when I eventually meet Trysta. I want to blend in with the local residents and not attract attention."

Of course, there were complications and delays. It was not until the following year that arrangements had been made for Phenence to arrive in Bangor, Wales and stay for a month, playing the role of an exchange student visiting from Wellington, New Zealand.

Mrs. Parnell met the train from London and had no trouble recognizing Catherine the second she stepped off the coach. The girl stood there looking around the platform, holding a big, over-stuffed cloth bag. Edith stepped forward and called, "Welcome to Wales, Miss Fenence!"

Catherine turned and recognized Mrs. Parnell from the photograph she had received. She smiled and said, "I'm very happy to finally arrive! Please call me Cathy."

"Very well, Cathy... and I insist that you call me Edith." She took the military style pack from Cathy's hand and asked, "Is this your only bag?"

Cathy replied, "It is. I followed your instructions and traveled light."

"Excellent. Then let's be on our way." Carrying the rather heavy pack in one hand, Edith put her arm around Cathy's slim waiste and guided her off the platform to where she had parked two bicycles, one of which had attached a small two-wheeled cargo trailer. Edith placed the pack into the trailer and the two women peddled off through the city.

Phenence in the
role of Cathy;
Wales, 1936.

After a last push up a steep little hill they reached Edith's house. Around back was a shed where they left the bicycles. Again carrying Cathy's pack, Edith pointed down slope and said, "That brick building is the school. You are welcome to attend classes, but if you want to treat the next month as a vacation then I need not mention the word 'school' again."

They went directly to the second floor of Edith's house and Cathy was introduced to her new wardrobe. Edith said, "If you want anything more frilly and less functional, we can pick it up in town. My biases run towards sporty and comfortable."

Cathy held out some cash and said, "I'm pleased that you went to the trouble of providing me with local clothing, but please allow me to pay for this expense"

Edith shook her head. "You know the rules. You are my guest. I have more money than I know what to do with. I inherited this house and I am well paid as a writer for the Women's Daily. Every year it is my pleasure to host a visiting student on exchange. I only regret that you will be here for a single month." Edith pulled a pair of pants out of a drawer. "You certainly weren't fibbing about your height and the length of your legs. I hope these are long enough for you."

Cathy took the pants from Edith and began changing her clothes. "I'm afraid I've grown two more inches during the past year, but I'm sure these are fine." While she dressed, Cathy felt Edith's eyes upon her. Buttoning up her blouse, Cathy asked, "You live here all by your self?"

"I often travel, so sometimes this place seems little more than another hotel. When I'm away for an extended period of time, often I rent to artists and scholars who want to spend a few months in Wales, so I'm not too attached to this place. It belonged to my uncle and aunt, but they moved to America and so now it is mine. Any ash trays, whisky and tobacco that you see in the house are remnants of the men who I've rented to. Now, I suspect you are hungry... you certainly are skinny enough to look hungry! Let's go to the kitchen and get you a snack."

Cathy found that she was a bit reluctant to eat. She had only been on Earth for a day, having been teleported into London. The smells of Earth were unsettling and in many cases off-putting. She sat in front of a plate of cookies and a big glass of whole milk that had chunks of cream floating on the surface. She asked Edith, "So you never married?"

Edith laughed. "You are quite forward... I approve. I don't like mousy little girls. I grew up sailing and fishing and hunting with my brothers, but they died in the war. I found it a challenge to find other boys who lived up to my fond memories of my brothers. Oh, I've had suitors and lovers, but most men find me arrogant and brash and not prized marriage material. For one thing, I can't cook. Well, more to the point, I'm too antsy and busy to take the time to cook. Here in my old age, I've discovered other interests besides men. I call myself 'Mrs. Parnell' and pretend to be a widow just so as not to offend those folk who expect a woman to be attached to a husband."

Cathy tried soaking one of the stale cookies in the milk. "If you don't mind revealing your secret, how old are you?"

"I'm thirty five."

"That's not old. I'm pleased... when I applied to the student exchange program I had imagined getting a sponsor who might have gray hair and an addiction to knitting."

"Oh, I'm sure that's how I will end up... a lonely old hag, but I'm not there quite yet. Hosting exchange students such as you helps keep me young and gives me ideas for the stories I write."

Cathy was making a mess on the kitchen table with cookie crumbs and split milk, but Edith did not seem to care. With no napkin in sight, Cathy wiped her chin with the back of her hand. "You'll write a story about me?"

"Not about you, but something interesting that you do will inspire me and I'll write about that. When I meet new people I usually find myself searching for shared interests."

Cathy gave up nibbling and set the soggy cookie on the plate. She said, "Thank you for the snack. I just discovered that milk here tastes different than back home."

Edith cleared the table. "It all depends on what the cows eat. My aunt used to keep some goats right out back, here. Have you ever had goat milk?" Edith led the way through the back door and they stood on the back porch. Rolling pastures stretched off into the distance. The ocean sparkled to the west.

Cathy said, "When I learned of your skill at swimming, I decided to investigate and found that swimming is great fun."

"You didn't learn to swim as a child?"

"No, unless you count my first nine months in amniotic fluid."

"No, that is just floating, not swimming. If you like, you can join me on my morning swims, but be warned. You have to get up before dawn and I don't want to hear complaints about cold water." She pointed to the row of outbuildings behind the bike shed. "That's the old goat barn and this used to be a chicken coop, but I rebuilt it into a sauna. Each morning when I get back from my swim I warm myself up in there. Yes, I've learned to pamper myself in my old age."

And so it was. Each day Cathy and Edith were up before dawn to swim, then they relaxed in the sauna until they started to over-heat. Usually they would have brunch at one of the nearby inns and then head out for the day on a hike or they would bike to a scenic destination. Cathy never tried going to the school. She did not really understand the concept of schooling or how children were expected to learn while sitting in box-like rooms.

Edith Parnell

One day they visited the ruins of an ancient church and got back home late. Edith looked through her mail and immediately read a note that had arrived in a small pink envelop. That night, laying in bed, Cathy heard Edith slip out of the house.

Cathy had been waiting for such an opportunity. Her main goal during this visit to Earth had been to try to get a glimpse of Trysta Iwedon. Or, short of that, at least see Trysta's house.  Cathy watched Edith set of through the low light of a crescent moon across the pasture behind the house, moving in the direction of Trysta's house. Cathy followed, carrying a small device in her pocket. It was a device of alien origin, designed to block telepathic communications. The device was absolutely essential for Cathy's mission.

She had been warned: "Trysta can easily detect nearby people using her telepathic powers, so don't try to approach her house unless you are wearing this device. It will shield your thoughts from Trysta, but she will still be able to see you. That might be the most dangerous possibility of all, that she could see you and fail to detect any thoughts in you."

When Cathy reached Trysta's house, there was only some dim candle light in the upstairs bedroom. Before coming to Earth, Cathy had been briefed on Trysta and knew that on this night there were two children in the house, but Trysta's husband was out of town. Edith was one of Trysta's secret lovers. Cathy tried both the front door and the back door, but found them locked. Then a light came from the kitchen. With irrational boldness driven by powerful curiosity, Cathy looked into the kitchen through a small gap in the window shade. Trysta and Edith were there, drinking wine. Cathy was getting dressed, but Trysta was naked. Seeing the two women share a goodbye kiss, Cathy tore herself away from the window and lost herself in shadows of the forest to the side of the house.

A minute later, Edith came out the back door, pausing for one last kiss with Trysta, then she set off back towards home. The door closed and soon the house was dark. Cathy set off, following Edith at a discrete distance, her biggest worry was that she might step on a dry stick and make a noise. It was not long before Edith stopped and looked around. She started walking across the pasture towards the trees where Cathy stood. No more than fifty feet away, Edith stopped again and called out. "Cathy! Show yourself."

Cathy stepped out of the shade and into the dim moonlight. "Here I am." She approached Edith, feeling silly at having been caught spying. For a moment Cathy wondered why she had not been warned to be more careful. Surely R. Gohrlay had looked into the future and seen this unwelcome turn of affairs.

Edith took hold of Cathy's hand and led them across the pasture back towards her home. "I suppose I should have told you that I was going out and invented a reason to leave you home alone."

Cathy shook her head. "That would have made no difference."

Edith laughed. "I see... you are clever and curious... a dangerous combination. You remind me of me!"

"I'm glad you understand the fantastic power of curiosity. The next time I come to Wales I must contact Trysta and provide her with important information. Tonight I simply wanted to see where she lives."

Edith asked, "Did you see more than you expected to see?"

"I had hoped to get a look at Trysta and I got lucky. I don't know who has the more remarkable body, you or Trysta."

"It is Trysta, without any doubt. She's given birth to two babies in recent years but she still has the body of a nubile. And the libido to match. We often keep each other company when her husband is out of town and her kids know me as auntie Edith. Trysta's husband is quite friendly towards me and I suppose he knows that Trysta and I are lovers."

Cathy sighed. "I begin to understand how you survive living alone."

"Well, I do prize solitude; that is when I write. However, I have many friends and lovers. Usually my friends don't follow me for five miles through the night."

"I'm sorry. I could have warned you about my interest in Trysta, but I imagined that I would not get caught sneaking around tonight."

"I saw your tracks in the dew and then I heard you walking. Your big feet and long strides are distinctive. I knew it was you following me even before I saw you step into the moon light."

Cathy admitted, "Before coming to Earth, I did not think to practice walking through forests in the dark."

Edith asked, "Where are you from?"

"That isn't easy to explain. I was born in another physical domain that exists outside of the universe as you know it. Soon I will return to my home. Really, after tonight there is no need for me to stay here any longer. However, I am enjoying my time with you."

Edith said, "I knew there was something unusual about you when I read your essay for the student exchange program. You wrote something about wanting to explore the ancient and modern cultures of Wales."

Cathy laughed. "I had help writing that essay. I needed to attract you attention."

"I'm sure it seemed odd to everyone who read it."

"I had help with that, too. You were the only Earthling who got to read it. You were targetted because it was easy to work you into an intimate relationship with Trysta. You are exactly her type."

For a long while they walked in silence across the wet grass. Finally Edith said, "I suppose the whole course of my life was shaped just to make this night possible, just to provide you with your opportunity to see Trysta. And somehow that amazing idea does not shock me."

Cathy explained, "Right now your mind is being kept relaxed and receptive to new ideas. I'm pleased you are able to recognize how unnatural your life has been."

"I've always known that I lead an unconventional life, and I've long wondered why I am so blessed. I often feel that a guardian angel is watching over me."

"That's not a bad way to describe it. I hope you don't resent having been used in this way."

"No, but I am starting to feel a little fear... I worry that I might have to pay a price for my blessings."

"Yes, you will. That price will be your memories of tonight. I must take those memories from you."

"How?"

"The same way that your fears and resentments are being held in check even now. There are molecular scale devices at work inside your brain, editing your thoughts and emotions. After we get home and I put you to bed, I'll erase your memories. In the morning, I'll simply be Catherine from New Zealand and you won't remember anything about tonight or the fact that I'm a visitor to Earth."

"You know, I should be allowed to remember something. I still have Trysta's note inviting me to visit her, and I should have other memories to go along with that."

"Don't worry; you will remember your time with her this evening, but not this conversation with me." They fell quite and picked up their pace, jogging across the fields.

As they were approaching Edith's house, Edith slowed her pace and she finally spoke again. "Before you take my memories, why don't you let me write for a while. In that way I will later construct memories of this night, built around what I write."

Cathy said, "I can do that, but I'll have to read what you write, just to be sure that you don't reveal anything about my secret mission on Earth."

"Fine. Fine."

They went inside and Edit lit a fire in the big downstairs fireplace. She settled into her chair near the fire and began to write on a pad of paper. Cathy had grown chilled in the cool night air. She took off her wet shoes and went to the sauna and stoked the fire there. When she grew too hot, Cathy went back in the house. The eastern sky was just beginning to brighten. Edith was looking through the pages she had written, trying to make sure that nothing there would need to be redacted by Cathy.

Cathy took the writing pad away from Edith and took her by the hand. They went upstairs and Cathy put Edith to bed. "Now you will sleep." Almost at once Edith lost consciousness. Cathy went to her own room, got into her bed and read what Edith had written.

for the Women's Daily

Manufactured Memory
I often reflect upon our wonderful history of women writing and sharing the worlds of their imaginations through literature. Sometimes I am asked by younger writers about the sources of my own story ideas. I am inspired by the millions of amazing women who carefully and expertly construct their lives out of our world's vast resources of love, laughter and sweet memories.

Recently, I was made to think a little more deeply about my own sweet memories. I was forced to do so by a remarkable young woman who refused to tell me her real name. She was a visitor to our land and she was taking a great deal of delight in hiding her identity behind a false name, so I will refer to her as Kathy le Fay, in honor of her magical ability to shape my thoughts and memories.

Kathy was not a dainty little fairy. She had long, lovely legs and she could swim faster than I can even though she was a true amateur in all sports. I hope to meet Kathy again when she has grown into the full glory of her womanhood. In fact, she promised me that she would be returning to our island nation in a few years, so there is a real and exciting possibility that we will again cross paths.

When I first met her, I quickly realized that Kathy was still a reckless child. I frequently advise young women to take risks, but at the same time it is important to be wise. In the end, all that got wrecked was a night's worth of my memories, so I'm probably the only person who will ever be tempted to call her reckless. You, dear reader, may simply want to thank Kathy for what she did to me.

We all know that the popularity of my writing stems from the nature of my little personal adventures which I enjoy sharing with others through my writing. I've been labeled as shameless and even a 'brazen hussy' and indeed I wear those labels with pride. Kathy caught me out in one of my nocturnal adventures. On that night, I had slipped into the isolated country mansion of one of England's most interesting young bachelors, a famous author who I have promised that I will keep his identity shielded and who I here give the code name 'Prince Don'.

You, my dear reader, know that I am a tireless advocate for a woman's right to have loving and intimate relationships with no greater and no lesser objective than the construction of happy lives and rich, warm memories. I suspect that Kathy would also champion that right, were she not such an innocent and virginal child of just 18 sheltered and blissful years. However, Kathy insisted on altering and editing my memories of the wonderful night of my recent tryst with Prince Don.

Now, dear reader, allow me to warn you against assuming that Kathy was jealous of my relationship with Don. Not so... although Kathy is deeply infatuated with Prince Don, her motives have nothing to do with petty things like jealousy, wealth or revenge. Then what motivates Kathy and why did she insist an trading my real, hard-won memories for some counterfeit manufactured memories? Here we must be creative, because Kathy was intent on achieving a goal. The details of her mission in our land are unknown to me, but it is clear that she wanted to make sure that nobody in this world, particularly Price Don, would ever suspect that a magical entity like Kathy was prowling around in our world.

As a writer, I was forced to pit my own magic against Kathy's. I appealed to her sense of fairness: why should an innocent author (me) be prevented from writing about a magical event (Kathy's appearance in my life)? Kathy has a heart as big as Jupiter, so she relented and allowed me to write this story about the night of my romantic interlude with Don. Of course, Kathy's rules were strict: this story cannot include any details about the real identities of either Kathy or Don. Had I not adhered to this requirement, I would not have retained any record of how Kathy stole my memories of that night.

Although I wrote this account of that night in long-hand, I do wonder about the extent to which what I wrote was forced upon me by Kathy. She had complete control over my thoughts and memories, so she could have made me believe that I wrote this story when, in fact, she could have imprinted it all upon the blank slate of my mind.

I am left to marvel that wizards of this magnitude walk the green hills of our world. Previously, I viewed such feats of magic as the domain of ancient history, lands of myth and legend. Kathy told me that she is from such a distant place where magic is part of everyday life. I am enthralled by the hope that she will one day return here to our mundane world. And so, dear reader, I ask you to be watchful. Tend your garden of friends and lovers with care for you never know when magic will come into your life. For me, because of Kathy's magic I live with the belief that one day it might be possible for little old me to marry a Prince.

Really? I wed Don? I? It seems strange to contemplate. I know that Prince Don is a fun toy, but why would a rambler, a rolling stone like me wish to be tied to a pretty boy who has invited me into his bed a few times? Such is the power of Kathy's magic. Be warned. Such other-worldly magic may next be worked upon you.

___________________________

source

I said to Zeta, "It is hard to believe that such obvious clues to the identity of Trysta Iwedon would have been published in a newspaper with wide circulation."

Zeta laughed. "It was a perfect way to send a message to Trysta. The Asimov Reality was going to be thrown away and replaced by the Ekcolir Reality. Trysta was R. Gohrlay's deep agent on Earth, but there was nothing for Trysta to do in the Asimov Reality. Most of the action within that Reality would take place on far worlds, not on sleepy old Earth. Trysta could relax and enjoy a pleasant life with her children, her husband and her other lovers."

I asked, "Well did she?"

I could sense that Zeta was searching through her vast storehouse of infites. Finally she said, "I wonder if that story, 'Manufactured Memory' was manufactured for you and I."

"What do you mean?"

Zeta explained, "There should be more accounts of the life of Phenence in my memory, but they seem to be either missing or blocked from access. Why should this one story remain unless it carries a message for me?"

Trysta and Grean

"Or for both of us. So... we are told to relax and enjoy our lives?"

"And stop worrying that magical beings will show up and alter our lives."

"Do you believe that? That there will be no more magic in our lives?"

Zeta suggested, "Maybe we have reached the limit. Maybe there is simply no more room in our lives for additional magic."

I muttered, "I still believe that there are artificial lifeforms at Observer Base; copies of humans... copies so perfect that nobody on Earth would be able to recognize them as artificial beings." That creates a gray area for the Trysta-Grean Pact. And Phenence may be one such copy, someone who I might still be able to contact, someone who could become a source of information about the secret history of Humanity.

Next: R. Nyrtia and Rylla

Visit the Gallery of Book and Magazine Covers.

Error Patrol

Thomas and his clone, Parthney

I recently blogged about the possibility that there might be clone "copies" of me. Apparently Gohrlay had gone out of her way to make me contemplate that possibility because I'm not very good at handling surprises when they are sprung on me. Today, the "sprung".

Error Patrol

Clones: Kach and Lycaun

There are some events in life that are recognizable as disasters only in hindsight. Back in the previous millennium, I started posting some book "reviews" on the amazon.com website. They still reside in that part of cyberspace, occasionally attracting the attention of some poor author who is desperate for someone, anyone, to write an intelligent review of their new book.

In the Ekcolir Reality

Asimov sometimes wrote about the pain inflicted on him by well-meaning people who would ask him to review books or otherwise comment on their literary efforts. He would usually just say "No." I've been tempted to delete my old online book "reviews" just to save myself from having to deal with a trickle of such well-meaning folks. I can't imagine the vast torrent of such requests that must have bombarded Asimov.

According to Gohrlay, here is what happened: one of my clones (I'll call him Beta) noticed a book review that I wrote, one that is on the Amazon website. For some reason, that led to an attempt by Beta to contact me. Gohrlay admits that she has always monitored my email accounts and this was not the first time that she intercepted an "undesirable" who had tried to contact me.

I became more than just a little grumpy upon being informed that Gohrlay "manages" my email. I suspect that Gohrlay was slightly embarrassed, so she tried to distract me with an amusing anecdote. She claims that in the Ekcolir Reality she had a similar experience. Remember: in the Ekcolir Reality, time travel was still possible.....

The Hidden Centuries

It was late and there was no power. Roben was home alone: the rest of her family was off on vacation in the tropics. An ice storm had struck and now she was into her second day with no electricity. She had plenty of firewood and no need to do anything but read. She'd had a long, glorious day of reading, just for fun. Roben looked at the digital watch on her wrist: 3:34 PM.

Roben was reading page 247 of The Hidden Centuries when she heard the big knocker on the front door start banging. Roben was tempted to ignore the visitor, but she decided it was worth going to the door. That was her first mistake. However, it might even be the police checking on her, so it made no sense to ignore this unwanted interruption. She looked again at her watch: 3:35.

Roben made her way through the cold house to the front door and she looked out through the big window that hung over the front walkway. The banging had stopped, but the visitor could not have gone far.

There she was, slipping along on the crust of ice that covered the remnants of the most recent snow fall. She'd given up and was heading back towards her car, a red sports model that could be seen though the trees out near the end of the driveway. Roben pulled open the front door and called out, "I'm here."

The stranger turned around and immediately Roben knew that this was trouble. Big trouble. The stranger was not really a stranger. This had happened twice before to Roben: she had been visited by herself, or, more precisely, a version of herself from the future.

This version of Roben waved and again made the perilous journey up the icy front steps to the door. Finally she looked up and said, "I thought you were here. I saw your smoke."

Second mistake: Roben held the door open, "Well, come in."

The visitor took off her parka and slipped out of her boots. Roben was a tiny bit surprised: this visiting version of Roben seemed no older than herself. She took the visitor's coat and tossed it over the back of a chair and promptly made her third mistake. Roben asked, "What is it this time?"

Previously, she had been visited by herself as part of an effort to keep Roben appraised of a critically important event that was about to happen in her life. In neither of those cases had Roben been asked to actually change Time. Rather, she had been given reinforcement to make sure that she would continue down a desirable path into the future and maybe just slightly improve on how a new part of her life would unfold. On both of those previous occasions, her future self had visited for just a short time and then returned to the future. Now, Roben assumed that she was again speaking to herself.

The visitor was looking around, apparently intrigued by the artworks that Roben's mother had deployed as decorations in the entrance hall. She snapped her gaze back to Roben and stammered, "Sorry to drop in like this, but allow me to introduce myself. My name is Phenence Chentz. You don't seem surprised to see me, so I'm guessing that you have previously met one of our clone sisters. Maybe you are mistaking me for her?"

Of course, Roben knew about the possibility of human cloning, but she was in no way expecting a clone to come walking into her life. Here was a type of trouble that she had never imagined. Her voice hollowed out by a sudden sense of doom, Roben replied, "No, I thought you were me."

This reply from Roben vastly amused Phenence and she burst out laughing. "Ya, I often talk to myself, too."

Roben said, "Its you! I've sometimes heard your laugh, but..." So, this was it. She'd been warned by her future self that it was possible to have telepathic contact with other people. Had this meeting been foreseen by her future self or was this an error, a chance encounter that would have to be corrected and prevented?

Phenence nodded, "I think I know what you mean. I've always felt like I've had an imaginary friend, someone I talk to, but someone who is just beyond...."

Roben gestured into the house. "Come this way. Most of the house is cold, but I'm heating one room with a fire."

The two clones made their way back to the heated family room.

Phenence took off her heavy sweater and sat down in a chair near the fire. Roben spent a few minutes tidying up and putting away her school books and notes. She had only made a halfhearted attempt to study during the long weekend. "The power has been out here for almost two days, so I've been camping."

"The main roads were clear for my trip up from Virginia, but the local streets here are still a mess of downed trees."

Roben plopped down on the couch and asked, "How did you find me?"

"I found you online. When I saw your profile picture I tried to contact you by email. I suppose you thought I was a crank."

"No, I never got your email."

"Hmm...you are Roben? Roben Skapp?"

"Yes, that's me."

"Strange. I sent you three emails before I gave up and decided to visit you in person. I was able to trace your rather famous mother to this town. The locals seem proud to have such a famous author in residence."

Roben nodded. "So, they told you where my mother lives."

"And I was lucky enough to find you here. Alone?"

Roben found it impossible to not trust Phenence, but some caution seemed wise. She offered a guarded reply: "They decided to move to a hotel when the power went out."

"Wise. But you prefer 'camping'?"

Roben shrugged. She asked bluntly, "What do you want?"

Phenence seemed to take no offense at Roben's rude and terse language. The girl was obviously under a lot of stress. Phenence explained, "I'm here to satisfy my curiosity. I don't run into clones every day."

"How do you know that we are clones?"

"Well, I suppose we should have our genomes sequenced, just to confirm, but somehow I know. And now, the most surprising part of all this is your reaction. What did you mean when you said that you.... 'I thought you were me'?"

Roben hesitated and mulled over her regret for having spoken so openly. "I'm not sure if I should tell you. I can tell you this: I am surprised to meet you. I'm trying to figure out a reason for you to exist."

Phenence laughed again. "It is an odd sensation to hear you, sounding just like me, but saying the strangest things!"

Roben wondered who would bother to clone her. Why should anyone bother? She suggested a possible alternative to them being artificial clones. "Maybe we are twin sisters."

"I quizzed my mother about that possibility. She seems certain that I'm her only child. I suspect she would have noticed if she'd given birth to twins."

With no attempt to be polite, Roben demanded, "Why are you here?"

"You know something that you are not sharing with me. How very mysterious. My hope was that you would explain everything to me. Now it appears we'll have to work hard, together, in order to get to the bottom of this."

Roben relaxed back into the cushions. Phenence seemed rational and curious, not crazy and dangerous. "Of course, I'm not entirely innocent, like you. I do have secrets, so I'm certain to frustrate you. Still, we do share an interest in the mystery of our apparent biological identity. But are we identical?"

Phenence grimaced and replied. "I have some rather unusual physical features. Do you?" Roben stood up and pulled off her clothing. Phenence did the same and they quickly verified that they shared all of their unusual body structures.

Pulling her clothes back on, Roben commented, "My doctors insist that they've never seen anyone quite like me."

"Yes, doctors have told me that, too." Phenence slowly buttoned up her shirt. "Yet, I've always felt that there was someone else like me in the world. I've had times when I could almost see you."

Roben could sense a kind of telepathic connection to Phenence, a metal link that existed almost entirely in the unconscious. "I know what you mean. We are connected in mysterious ways. In fact, I'm surprised that I was not kept better informed."

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Phenence pleaded, "Why not tell me what you know? What do you gain by keeping me in the dark?"

Just then, both Phenence and Roben noticed a flicker in their peripheral vision. Suddenly, there was a third woman in the room. She spoke with calm authority, "Roben is wise to use caution with her secrets."

Roben immediately suspected that a time traveler had arrived. But if so, why was this visitor to the past not herself? Previously it had been her future self who was sent back in time to prevent a looming problem in the timeline. She asked, "Who are you?"

The woman replied, "You can know me as Grean."

Phenence tried to rise out of her chair, but she crumpled and slumped on the floor. Roben rushed forward and examined the girl's eyes, felt for a pulse. Grean explained, "She's fine. You need not worry. I'll soon remove her from your life."

Roben stood up, turned and glared at Grean. Speaking rather hysterically, Roben asked, "What's going on?"

Grean grinned. "Why ask? There is very little that I can tell you. Try to control your emotions."

Roben tried to think, but her mind was jumbled with possibilities. She sat down on the couch and tried to imagine what Grean would do next. Roben was sure that she did not want to end up like Phenence, struck down and crumpled on the floor like a rag doll.

Grean said approvingly, "Better. We can have a little chat. Perhaps I should have met with you sooner, but everything was progressing smoothly and I felt no need to interfere. Had I not arrived now, you and Phenence would have worked together and ended up proving your genetic identity and... well, I'm ending all that now. You already have everything you need."

Roben massaged her right temple and tried to make sense of what Grean was saying. This was exactly like talking to her future self and trying to make sense of stray words and mysterious hints about future events. "So, you are a time traveler."

"Yes, I was designed to get everything right in the timeline here on ancient Earth. You are one of the things that must turn out right, so it may have been inevitable that I'd have to make at least one walk across the stage of your life."

Roben complained, "So for you this is just a casual stroll through my life? Clean up a stray clone and put 'thing' Roben back in her proper place?"

Grean chuckled. "Oh, I suppose you have cause for some resentment. You never asked to be the fixed point in this Reality. Still, that is a matter for you to take up with R. Gohrlay. Don't worry about poor little Phen; I'll make sure that she has an interesting life in the Core and who knows? It might be useful to have a copy of you in the Galactic Archives."

"I'm worried enough for me and my family. What if they had been here when this happened?"

Grean sadly shook her head. "Well, that was a mess. Hence, the family vacation that will be remembered as a lucky escape from the ice storm. Your parents were easy to move out of the way, but I was surprised to discover that it was important to let Phen meet with you, briefly. Strangely, your memory of that will pay off in the next Reality."

Roben suddenly felt very tired. "Before you shut down my brain and start editing  my memories, tell me one thing. Are there other clones of me here on Earth?"

Grean shrugged, "If there were, I'd have to lie and tell you, 'no'. However, all the others have been removed. I suspect that R. Gohrlay knew that the temporal momentum behind your clones would be useful. Some day I'll get to the heart of her sly tricks. Phen did her duty, so you need not think again about clones... not until the Final Reality." Grean stood up and glanced at Phenence with a purposeful gaze. The unconscious girl briefly shimmered with a kind of golden internal light and then she was gone. Where Phen had previously been, a cloudy mist made of flecks of gold briefly sparkled and then winked out.

Grean looked Roben in the eye and said, "I hope we never meet again. Oh, and don't try to get up. You will now sleep and, well, I've always wanted to drive a fast car."

Roben tipped over and sprawled on the couch. Grean gently put the girl's legs up on the couch and then she tossed more wood on the fire. Grean picked up Phen's sweater and then she walked through the cold house and gathered up Phen's coat and boots. Avoiding the icy driveway, Grean teleported from inside the house into the driver's seat of Phenence's car. The engine roared to life and Grean morphed into the physical form of Roben.

Grean and her clone.

Grean drove off into the late winter afternoon, not bothering to drive slowly on the slick roads. More cleaning remained to be done, but soon enough Phenence would be erased from Earth, even from the memory of the woman who has served as her mother.
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I suppose Gohrlay expects me to feel gratitude: how easy it would be for me to end up like Phenence, extracted from Earth by Grean or maybe some tryp'At Overseer. Poor Phen; her life lived in Deep Time, but only just to provide Gohrlay with a story to tell here in the Final Reality.

Next: Gohrlay in the Asimov Reality

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