THE PENTAGON'S CONCOURSE had high and low ranking military officers and civilian officials conversing between one another that echoed in the large, concentric complex. Ryan, having been in the Pentagon more than he could count, whenever he'd trained for his long-awaited mission in the lower levels, found himself on the Southeast side, concentric ring E, the second floor, exiting the Pentagon Metro Station. This area is mainly where visitors entered the building, as a series of bays and corridors (corridor one and ten on the Southeast side) intersected each of the five concentric rings that made the pentagon-shaped structure.

The two hundred and eight-year-old stripped classicist building seemed like an ancient building like the White House every time Ryan stared from the Northwest side of concentric ring E, overlooking D.C. and its tall skyscrapers across the Potomac River, the stretch that meanders between Arlington and Washington and teems with filth and toxins, and its surface bubbles with thick, white foam. The Pentagon was the headquarters of the Department of Defense where Army, Navy, and Air Force specialists, strategists, military, and government officials met and discussed information classified from the public. Informally known as "Ground Zero," a presumption that the complex would be targeted, along with other government buildings in D.C., in the outbreak of "Total War of Annihilation," a name given for today's advanced wars that could easily lead to humanity's extinction without further details.

If this was Ground Zero, then this place is the most secured facility in the entire world—but also the most dangerous—he surmised.

Ryan neared a Pentagon Force Protection Agency officer in full uniform, standing guard at the metro station entrance, looking bored and careless like his colleagues around him. Ryan flashed his holographic clearance card at the officer, who simply waved him off, giving him access without further questioning.

This place might as well be a perfect target for terrorists, he thought bitterly. It wouldn't be hard to place a pyro-sonic bomb in a complex like this and get away with it!

Then he remembered Yawm ad-Din, "The Day of Judgement." Within a few minutes, fifty metropolitan cities including Cairo, Tehran, Baghdad, Kuwait City, Gaza, Riyadh, Dammam, Dubai, and, of course, Mecca, were completely wiped off the face of the earth simultaneously by limited nuclear attacks. A hundred million died within minutes, and millions more died from the fallout or the subsequent wars that broke out between remaining Middle Eastern countries who speculated each nation conspired with terrorist cells.

Of course, the worst incident in humanity's history occurred nearly ninety years ago. Now the Middle East was a radioactive, godforsaken wasteland of forgotten rich, ancient histories and horrific, nonstop, conflicts. This was all before its well-to-do deposits of crude oil and natural gas production, fossil fuels that once powered the superpowers of the world, now dried up and left in the long annals of history.

Ryan shook the dreadful thought from his mind, chills running down his arms, imagining the Internet pictures of the Middle Eastern cities in ruin with the thought of ghosts of its inhabitants still lingering all around shattered roads and buildings. Even though Ryan wasn't too religious, he wondered what made this direct action justified?

It was probably better not to question it.

On his way through the two-story cafeteria, renovated fifty years ago as part of the Pentagon's second Renovation Program, adding new underground facilities, a new major memorial site, and bypasses and maglev rail lines, until a hand pressed suddenly on his shoulder, directing his full attention to a brunette in a black business suit. When he turned to face her, she offered him a warm smile.

"It has been a long time, Ryan," she said.

"Yeah, I guess it is, Julian," he replied. "Once upon a time your big brother journeyed on a perilous mission to save humanity, and the beautiful maiden in black."

She chuckled. Her brother, four years apart, always read stories to her before going to bed. It illuminated the world for her in her childhood, besides enforcing survival knowledge on how to conserve food and water at school, and holographic billboards that always read: A Family of Two/Overpopulation Equals EXTINCTION!

"Here." She hands him a holographic access card with multi-color patches on the handheld grip. "Each person in the Pentagon receives an access card with different colors, each resembling certain clearance to secured areas. The multi-color allows you to have clear access to every facility in the Pentagon, and nobody will question you about it. Follow me. The conference is about to start."

Without anything else to say, Julian turned and began walking. Ryan, still baffled about the basic idea of the access card he held without firm grip, didn't question his younger sister. She'd been working so vigorously for the Pentagon the last three years, now. Her rank resided with high officials, which, in his opinion, impressed him. He envied her, too; but he was still happy for his sister, serving their country in honor and pride.

What else could make him happier?

****************************************

He found the conference room, smaller than any room he had ever sat in, so chilling. Even with a suit and tie on, the room was freezing. It was nearly a box room with no windows and a single door. The ceiling A/C vent was blowing onto Ryan, as some twigs from his dark brushed-up fade hair danced erratically. He wanted to move, but the Director of National Intelligence and the White House Chief of Staff, who was representing the president, sat on the opposite side of him, staring firmly and unexpressive. Ryan was afraid of the vicious scolding he would receive for disrespectful changing seats the Chief of Staff had assigned for each member in the conference, as the sixty-four-year-old Executive official sat on the far end of the oval polished table.

Sitting on his side, Julian with an envelope full of files ready when needed. Doctor Helienson, the fifty-two-year-old woman in her lab coat and a silky, gray skirt with a holographic projection at the ready. Helienson was the type of woman that wanted work done before she would allow herself or anyone to relax, but her tender warmth within her shinned a totally different character, as Ryan remembered their previous time when he underwent his training. She was also known for her love of high heels. He would never forget those high heels she wore twenty-four/seven for the last few months.

Chief of Staff started the meeting without preamble. 

"This conference will perhaps be the last time we'll every be speaking." His gaze turns to Ryan, who sat without a change of his expression, casual and phlegmatic. "I, and the President, are inestimably grateful for your service to your country, and to all of mankind, Mr. Anderson. I wish the President could be here to say that himself."

Yeah...but I'm sure I'll get all the fame and applause once I get back from my mission, Ryan thought smugly. "But what is my mission, if I may ask...respectfully, Mr. Chief."

It was perhaps a bit early to ask that question.

"Ryan," Helienson spoke, "for years mankind has always looked upon the stars, searching for a new world to claim, as many of Congress' legislators believe colonizing the moon and terraforming Mars will save humanity from extinction. But the truth is, it won't. We were too blind to see the true path to humanity's survival."

"What do you mean?"

"What Doctor Helienson is saying," Julian interrupts, "is that space colonization is not the way to go and certainly not a viable path to ensure mankind's existence. We don't have the material resources or governing stability to do that."

"Without the governments of Earth enforcing iron rule, those colonies would be fighting over raw resources found on each individual planet or moon. In fact, it's our primary objective to keep order in the colonies and prevent each planetary dependency from starting small-scale interstellar conflicts with each other for little rationality," Chief of Staff said, somewhat helping Ryan to comprehend the stressful supervision of space colonies.

"Then what is mankind's 'true path' to survival?" He added Helienson's term into his question; hopefully she would help simplify the Gordin details. So far, he had no precise objective. He only had the chitchat of his sister, a scientist, and the Chief of the White House around him, explaining his mission gradually and mildly like a parent explaining something to a kid.

"Multiverse parallel universe," Doctor Helienson answered. "The ability to travel through matter to infinite number of universes beyond ours."

Ryan had heard about paradoxes from time traveling to dimensional black holes...but this was the paradox of them all. Traveling to parallel universes or worlds? The idea was both absurd and illogical, as it would break several laws of nature and physics, which that would utterly be unfeasible to alternate. Even space colonization and terraforming planets seemed more reasonable than this!

"What?" By the tone of his voice, he was baffled.

"As hard as it seems to be," Director of National Intelligence spoke, "Doctor Helienson has formulated a quantum mechanic that could open up a wormhole through space-time, accessing the most inconceivable journeys where no man has ever encountered in human history."

"Yes; after four years of conducting subatomic experiments, my colleagues and I discovered a fracture in space-time that could, theoretically, open a wormhole to other universes...like a metro traveling through tunnels in order for us to reach its destination."

"But unlike a metro, where the tunnels had a pre-planned layout for their destinations, wormholes are very—I repeat, very—unpredictable. We can get you through the wormhole, but where you go depends, not just the passage through fractured space, but the actions you take while journeying," Julian said stern and firmly. But she was clearly trying to protect her brother from the unknown facts that lied ahead of him.

What's with the riddles?

"Okay...so, basically I'm traveling into a passage through space-time, not knowing where I go, but that I need to be cautious of unforeseen perils ahead of me, to infinite worlds with no physical data. But may I add," nobody objected, "what are the possibilities for physical law?"

"Well, I can't say for sure...a universe may have any number of gravitational strengths, diverse environments, energy may behave differently, or matter here might not be existent in other universes," Helienson replied, clasping her hands together. But before Ryan could speak his opinion, which he had many, the Ph.D. doctor spoke once more in haste. "However, we had a probe sent through the Terminus to determine what point in space the fracture led. We successfully brought it back unharmed. Then, after deducing the possible universe the fracture led, we sent a drone with an extraterrestrial, environmental data-gathering analysis module to the world. The results were—extraordinary. A complete Earth-like world. Terrestrial environment related to ours--well, a few unknown species of planets--fresh and salty water, same atmosphere, abiotic matters remain similar, and unidentifiable living organisms."

Speaking nonstop, the doctor took a deep breath and wheezed. 

Careful, madam, we don't want you to have a respiratory seizure before I go on a possible life-threatening mission, Ryan thought. I can't believe I'm saying this, but you're too important to me.

"Officer Anderson," Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff said, referring to his former position as a CIA operative. During his career, he began overseeing domestic operations and countering espionage, before actually conducting espionage missions and black operations in foreign countries like Russia and the People's Pan-Asian Alliance. In the climax of his career, his most dedicated work was in the Third Somalian Civil War of 2148, officially establishing his reputation amongst the Central Intelligence Agency. "Your record is nothing but with outstanding accomplishments throughout your school years and professional career. From what I hear, this mission requires someone smart, cunning, quick-thinking, and strong for the job."

"We'd planned out your parallel universal journey sequence, even simulated it with state-of-the-art quantum computers made by D-Wave Systems and Microsoft. And the computers generated a ninety-five percent chance of survival," the Chief of Staff said.

"With a five percent chance of death?" he questioned.

Ryan couldn't blame himself for questioning his chances through space-time, not that he had any concerns, the former agent was merely curious. He'd been through many death-related scenarios throughout his career; more then he could count. And Ryan had gained the undoubted knowledge and experience of what death would attempt to take. Since, from firsthand—he witnessed a near-death experience himself.

"All we're asking here, Ryan, is whether, willingly, but not forcefully, you would—"

"I will," he interrupted the doctor. His abrupt answer brought all eyes on him. Ryan could care less. "Yes, I agree on your terms. I agree with the possibilities of discovering a new world and death ahead of me. I agree with being the first human to ever set foot on mankind's milk and honey salvation. And I agree...well, you know what I mean."

As if he made a marvelous breakthrough, the satisfied smiles from some desperate people (of course Ryan knew they were trying to hide their last-gasp expressions with professional appearances) in the room, including Director of National Intelligence and Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. The two officials he least expect to get any sort of smiles from, which made it a little weird for the former CIA agent, as he knew personally that these guys didn't smile to no one in their workforce. Ryan wasn't sure if they even grin or smirked.

But when they left, leaving him, his sister, Helienson and the Chief of Staff together in the small conference room in concentric ring C, the second floor, it suddenly became silent. They had other plans, Ryan understood. The continuing tensions and maintaining peace through US-Euro Satellite Shield orbiting around Earth. Of course, working with European Federation Intelligence and Situation Center wasn't exactly the best cooperation if each side treated each other like neutrals instead of allies. Ryan had his past experiences with Euro agents who spoke nearly fourteen different languages simultaneously.

Doctor Helienson turns to the former agent with a warm yet casual smile.

"Ryan, the possibilities and ETA of rescue and retrieval is truly uncertain. It could be days, weeks, months, or years before an extraction team would be sent through the Terminus. And, if you're not too busy—" that sounded more like 'if you're not in any dangerous situation' to him. "—then I had technicians make this in case of monophobia."

She scooted a bracelet—no, a Cicret Bracelet—toward the former agent with gentle hands with hard-working dedication. It was likely the new generation of Cicret Bracelets, too, finding its wristband with more sleek and protective exterior designs. Out of curiosity, he watched closely as Helienson gently pressed a pencil lead-sized button, the only one on the bracelet. In revelation, a color holographic form of a woman in a modern, sleeveless red dress, black high heels, and long, curvy dark hair appeared. No static, no distortion in digital form, no discoloration. The hologram was stunningly flawless in physical design.

"A human artificial intelligence hologram with several programmed sentiments into silicon data chips and quantum-based mechanics, Pandora," Helienson said.

"Hello, Pandora," Ryan greeted, whether oral communication was in its database.

"Hallo, Rya Park, I am Pandora, your person side by side AI into the parallel world."

Ryan felt a bit uncomfortable by the statical tone and speech of the AI, and the Ph.D. felt the same, while Pandora kept smiling at the two of them without a change in expression.

"We're still working on speech and sentiment tweaks. It's only in its earliest stage."