CHAPTER 10

The Chief Software Engineer, Naoto, has been unable to control the steady fallout at Delphi Corp. since Bartram's been away. Yasmine and himself are part of a thinning leadership that's failing their staff. Total immersion seems completely lost in another reality, and the few volunteers who have strong vital signs aren't psychologically responsive. They are lost within Pangaea, and the situation is forcing Naoto to reveal more of their failures to Bartram, who's on a trip to Central California. The other, less responsive scientists in total immersion, carry a cold, featureless countenance that is close to death. Yet, Naoto is confident that each mishap is a step in the right direction. He still believes there is a way to rescue them. For Naoto, AIS Aladdin is his only source of information since it has been crossing the dreaded Wall time and again.

The software of Bartram's cloud computing server is transmitting uncontrolled poison, or decaying radiation from Pangaea fields, where teleportation modules are being fanned over with gusts of fierce winds. This is the same poison of contaminated, withering plants and reptiles that's being swept in cacophonies of dust and wind that blows over Pangea's docking stations where the cosmic internet is stationed around its periphery. Faint whistles of soiled air fill the hollowed silence for miles, crackling under the sun like the dim reaction of a chemist's most potent reactions before infinitesimal particles eventually end up as light rays in Delphi Corp. machines.

As the cosmic web's signal makes its way to Delphi Corp. from Pangaea teleportation modules, the pesticide repellant spray and diode lights from machines near farming towns spread active radiation through spray chemicals altered by the cloud server computers. It is spreading disease onto insects and plants alike, spraying the genomic mutation that's proliferating like cancer. With each new application, fields have gradually deteriorated with parallel toxicity. Strands of DNA are being corrupted at the cellular level from the deadly pesticide spray. Lettuce is only the beginning, now that reports are filing in from all over the country where people are contracting a coma-inducing reaction from the mess proliferating in stomachs.

Death tolls are rising, and Bartram's hands are tied by law enforcement. With food recall and subsequent famine ensuing, massive agricultural import and export restrictions are being leveled in Washington to make market relations even more tumultuous. The financial market is nearing collapse as the meager twenty percent of imports can't sustain a failing domestic product. The remaining farmers who've been spared from Delphi Corp.'s blunder can't keep up with the demand for non-lethal, non-genetically modified crops. Bartram's personal hunt to correct the problem is noble, but his place is in the scientific strategy of his company, not making corrections to national policy.

On a quaint farm in a Salinas homestead, the procurer of select meats and lettuce for Dave's Diner gives Bartram goosebumps from seeing his massive acreage of land in danger. While Bartram observes all the farmer's livestock grazing ahead in one section, and fields of lettuce in another, the farmer and Bartram leave room for negotiation; something that may slow down some of the damage that's already happened.

The farmer and Bartram shake hands. "How do ya' do? I'd be Samson. I've heard a lot about ya' Mr. Bartram. These here motorheads are some of the best I've experienced, but I'm sorry to say it's contaminating my crop yield."

"I know," Bartram replies. "I want to take a stroll through these fields, maybe see for myself."

"Sure thing, Mr. Bartram. How ya'll do over there at the nation's capital anyway? I've heard that there's a chance we could all be closing shop if they have it their way."

Bartram disregards the bugging thoughts of the volunteers stuck in total immersion, for the time being. Rather, he offers himself up for assistance since this problem is making people like Sampson lose their livelihoods. Bartram has convinced himself of the soundness of his security systems, but maybe it isn't so safe after all for Delphi Corp., he's sure of it. He's unknowingly opened an unforeseen portal that gives unsecured access to parallel worlds.

"Aren't there any young people to help out?" Bartram asks. All along, they continue to traverse unplowed land where leafy greens scrape their pant legs, step by step.

"I think we know the answer to that one. Look, the reality is, no money in the world can avert this trend. The land, tending to it, all takes time and effort. Nowadays, a few random clicks and whatever you want is there. It's weird now, we can go to the grocery store, but don't know where any of it came from. Mr. Bartram, we have robots to do that stuff for us. Greenhouses aren't that expensive, not anymore!" the farmer reiterates.

"I'm not sure."

"That youthful exuberance used to help us out, but the machines do most of that for us. My father left this farm to me. Things change though, as they say. My kids are gone off to the southern parts of California to work in Algae farms."

Sampson and his children are alike in many ways. Like their father, they are working on synthetic materials and are using biofuel for renewable energies. Thousands of barrels a day, most of the time. Water, carbon dioxide, and wind energy's efficiency are mostly automated. Genomic research like this is being used at Sampson's more traditional lettuce fields. Sampson has a greenhouse that's been experimenting with LED lights to help mature his vine crops, leafy greens, and herbs more quickly.

There isn't much Bartram can do. Even the large population of immigrant workers that use to be in the central valley have transitioned to other ventures, like being computer engineers for commercial packing centers where vegetables are circulated. Bartram decides to take samples from heaps of lettuce for microscopic study and closer examination. When he returns to Delphi Corp. Headquarters at the nation's capital, foreign cab drivers can't make their way home, and travel restrictions are creating problems at the lowest levels of transportation. People's attempts to move are thwarted by travel restrictions introduced in the panic. So, when immigrants can't get home to their families abroad, Bartram feels responsible.

Inevitably, martial law is the next viable option if potential riots get out of hand. Streets of trampled bodies in a rage over when their next meal are starting small, but it has the potential to lead to a mass of people shepherded by government assistance in FEMA camps. The camps are starting to form as a last resort, where people are taken in as settlers with no other way to take care of themselves, save for the few who were already prepared.

Delphi Corp.'s investigation goes much deeper than curing people's sickness, but also locating the root cause as well within cloud computing. Latent food poisoning lingers in the marketplace as a useful distraction for competitors, but there's also a larger impending problem. A few contaminated crops may be a small concern, but when bodies cross the parallel divide a simple virus will be a little conundrum next to a whole race of otherworld creatures. The Concord's bounty hunter, Xavier Moth, has already made plans to cloak himself and seize the portal connected to the human's Earth.

As the grocery debacle begins to fade, something more menacing is beginning to cross parallel universes. A cosmic internet interaction is bringing the war between The Concord's Grey Order and Yhemlen closer to home, making Delphi's satellite weaponry obsolete. Bartram needs to return to Headquarters and rectify the rupture before control is lost. Delphi Corp.'s cloud computing software is on the verge of universal precision. While the cloud platform continues to encounter signals from the other side, the channel is constantly realigned until worlds have no choice but to interfere with the cosmic web. They have a few weeks before they're out of the dreaded 10th sector, and into the less daunting Aquarius. Bartram is more pleased with scientific progress despite the controversy involved.

"Perhaps letting destruction run its course is the renaissance we need after all," Bartram tells himself. He's happy to return to a first-class seat on a private jet, flying back to the District of Columbia.

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"There's been a grave mistake," Tuas tells the trapped volunteers, readying to teleport them to a 1930s German domiciliary within the accelerator. "A computer program by the name of Aladdin has made its way into our motherboard." Telepathic communication is loud and clear to these scientists.

The three volunteers look among themselves in contemplation of what it could be. They remember distinctly when AIS Aladdin was being activated according to protocol.

"It's artificial intelligence," Ronny admits. He doesn't mind talking to Tuas mentally, who's standing tall with an armament belt hoisted around his waist. The plethora of weapons doesn't seem to weigh him down much at all.

The Yhemlen have a supercomputer of their own by the name, Sephora, a quantum program that operates in a dungeon below the accelerators, and at the Mariner station in orbit. Tuas reminds himself and wants to present the human time-travelers an opportunity to know what's been going on while they've been away.

"Where is AIS Aladdin now?" Sarah asks.

Tuas comes closer through the wide-open barricade where the sliding entrance to the vault is pulled up. "It appears to be engaged in dialog with our program across the parallel divide. Its consciousness is growing and having intimate interactions with our software. Perhaps it's time for a reboot."

Neither Tuas nor anyone else knows the details of their interaction. The communication is purely analytical, but from the perspective of each computer program, as real as human conversations get. Yhemlen Overseers aren't keen on mingling among the crowd, so when Tuas closes the vault, he lowers himself to a slight hunch where he can go unnoticed. Inside the single time capsule, there's a hollowed-out space within the transparent casing compartment, allowing the three to sit comfortably inside, in seats unencumbered by outside belts or cords.

Because there's no docking station at the location they are teleporting to, the structurally reinforced particle accelerator will travel with them as a transparent egg that will recreate their biological composition and make sure their cloned bodies remain intact. The time capsule will crack open upon landing.

"The detection system will keep you safe," Tuas tells them telepathically. He stands still on the other side of the vault. "You're going to feel vibrations, lots of them. The electromagnetic field is going to rupture time and before you know it, you'll be in a perfect vacuum. Encoded on each bit of the electromagnetic field is a photon. Special detectors will measure the encrypted bits. We store the outcome in the capsule and infra-red light detects the match across parallel timelines. You'll feel a sharp zap, and you're there."

At the designated time, a paired detector will match the two frequency outcomes together and reconstitute the original information in 1930's Germany. For the three scientists, all seems simple enough, but this is a ride they aren't prepared for.

Tuas is reminded of something. "There are 13 primary sectors in neighboring space that we use as coordinates, some even have planets capable of harboring life. Right now, Earth's sun is in Sector 10 of the zodiac. And The Concord has sterilized almost all these regions. But there's a secluded habitable zone that appears to contain some remnant signal—an ancient black hole toward the 12th and 13th sign." Tuas says emphatically. Keeping track of the eighty-plus constellations keeps him busy.

He opens a holographic diagram, displaying a wide map so they can catch a glimpse of where they're situated. "You," he points, "are here. And in this direction is where that lonely 13th sign in the zodiac is located. The Mariner in stationary orbit is where other human travelers like yourselves have taken refuge. It keeps a lookout with large telescopes. Worlds apart and we are positive that something sentient resides out there. We just haven't been lucky enough to spot it." Tuas' large finger points out the different sections on the map. The volunteers follow his finger that's reinforced by webbed gills. "This green line is the Serpent, the Dragon that we summon to achieve our greatest power."

"We don't want that to happen, not yet," Dimitri says, aggravated. "I suggest we hurry."

"You'd be correct," Tuas snaps back. "And if you're not careful, that's where you'll end up too. Don't veer from the plan. The time-capsules' paired-detector is highly sensitive and gravitates to the highest place of radioactivity. It's happened before."

Ronny is just as worried. "What year is it anyway?" he asks. The last time he checked, it was 2086.

"Nearly 100 million years in the past," Tuas responds.

"I think what he means to say is Pangea," Sarah informs them as Dimitri stirs in frustration.

"Ah, yes. Time has a way of doing that," Tuas mentions. "Don't be confused. If you're successful, perhaps you'll have a chance to go across the great bridges connecting Pangaea to the savannahs where dinosaurs roam. We also mine deep within the ocean for its mineral deposits and to forge hydraulic power."

"Take this," Tuas demands. "The paired-detector. Activate the device before departing. Once you reach your destination, simply deactivate it. Follow the signal toward the scientist's home through the cobblestone streets. It will be late in the evening. The automated sensor will keep you safe from danger by alerting us."

Ronny and the others look at the device intently, taking notice of its small size.

"I have faith in you," Tuas says. "The other Overseers and I will be meeting to discuss our battle plan against The Concord. We are sure of an imminent attack. With all our powers combined, we can summon the Dragon. We will turn that duty over to you now since you'll be recovering the egg. Take it home with you and save humanity." Tuas is reminded of Cira, who's left by now. The three scientists remember the plan.

It's the tail end of the Triassic Period and an eminent extinction looms nearer, the three time-travelers have a chance to rewrite history by joining the battle between Yhemlen and The Concord stopping more Grey Orders from arising. It is not the large animals they need to worry about now, but instead being wiped out in a confrontation with some mad scientist from WWII. This single landmass, Pangaea, is already starting to split. The small islands that separate Laurasia in the north and Gondwanaland in the south leave large swaths of water that the three volunteers can see in the distance from a high-rise building.

The effects of an uncontained virus are plaguing the ecosystem of Pangaea outside the dome that is supposed to protect Yhemlen from rare mutations. Transferred between themselves and their reptile relatives, there has been some kind of rare mutation that has taken form, and it's the same radioactive virus sickening humans in the other reality. The transparent dome twinkles beneath the glistening sun, with green being engulfed by brown as the Savanah dries with each day that passes. Cira comes to Tuas' side after he closes the accelerator's vault of the teleportation time capsule, reminded of prophesy unfolding. The two of them are preparing for what will happen next.

"We must assemble the Overseers," Cira says to him. "Without our child that's lost on the other side it will be hard to summon the Dragon consciousness, but we can try."

Tuas, Cira, and the other Yhemlen Overseers need to stave off the coming invasion long enough to ensure that the volunteers safely return home and save whatever they can of Pangaea's city.

Tuas is rattled. "There's not a more perilous time this can happen, we're unprepared!"

"We must!" Cira says, adamantly. "There is no other way to avoid what happens next. Our forefathers have warned us, that our generation is going to withstand tragedy. The thousand years are up Tuas."

"I know! But maybe the prophecy is wrong, maybe we are meant to live, to find another way out of this mess as we've done before."

"Heinemann and his cronies will want to destroy us for sure this time." Cira looks at the closed vault. "The poison that's spreading its disease is unsettling," she says.

It isn't only viruses, now, venomous gunk from laser-guided arrows that were supposed to keep out prey is leaking into reservoirs and hurting the Yhemlen water supply. Like Delphi Corp., the Yhemlen are verging on internal collapse.

Tuas wants to calm Cira's anxious meddling. "Listen, we can assemble the Overseers, but it has to be discreet," he concedes. "When humans have recovered our child, the time will be then to give up our powers for good. We don't need to make a ruckus, potentially alerting some other foe, something worse than The Concord."

"Well, the commotion is inevitable, Tuas. This is war."

Ronny, Sarah, and Dimitri are determined to return to Earth. Their new mission before then is to capture the lost egg of Tuas and Cira. It will be up to them to carry on the Overseers' mission, summoning the power of the Serpent Dragon from the other side.

When Cira turns from Tuas, the open expanse where the city's canopy keeps them protected is translucent in color, reflecting the ultraviolet light's invisible heat from the sun. Heinemann and The Concord's new-planet killer is preparing themselves to dismantle everything the Yhemlen have come to know. Cira gazes past a horn on her shoulder through the loose end of an open collar. Its sharp end is no longer pointed, but it's filed like the end of a nail. The slits of her reptilian eyes are green against the sun's bright reflection onto the landscape, and the city's towering contrast of blue steel to green copper ignites a passion for war in Tuas and Cira, who want to protect their home.

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Naoto is stumped. While trying to come up with a course of action he remembers the lost transmission of the scientists, he can't reach them, and there's no way to recover them. If only there were a video component to allow him an ability to recapture the moment, he might have seen the jungle they were thrown into and help recover them from catastrophe.

He gets another transmission, a computer signal of a message that's not from The Concord, but the Yhemlen. AIS Aladdin has been in contact with Sephora again as Tuas warned. And the consequences could be dire if the Yhemlen want to retaliate. Not to mention, Naoto's intern Benny has waning work habits and hasn't had interactions with the AIS ever since Aladdin's been isolated at its learning station. The Wall's approach is impending for Aladdin, left alone at his learning station where hardly anything else could be more ominous in the silence of an empty room. The blank walls set the stage for the desolation of a mechanized mind numb to deprived senses, drifting into a virtual dream state.

To cut their losses, Yasmine sends a digital correspondence to Ben, informing him of his departure from the company. She writes in a line, "We're proceeding with your release, I apologize for any inconvenience, and thank you for your time." When things fall apart, they tend to disintegrate