Today is an important day in Human history. A day that will be remembered for decades to come, and some will ask why. Most will tell them simply:
We have created a God from a Man.
But I will tell them:
We have drawn the Devil from a Man.
January 24th, 2015
I closed the door of my car, locking it behind me. It was a cold night, here in the Catskills, but all in all it felt like a good night for what we were doing here. I slipped my hands into my jacket pockets, trying to shake off the cold that had settled in with the falling snow.
In front of me, past the rest of the small parking lot, was a gray office building. Two stories tall, about as big as your standard country office space. This was Star Laboratories. Well, Eastern Star Laboratories. Or Dempy Electronics to people from out of town.
I made my way across the asphalt to the building, rushing to warmth. Max was on post tonight, so thankfully I wouldn’t have to pull my card out, and by extension, my hands from their warm pockets. New York winters are rather cold, especially this time of year. But, as expected, this warm comfort came at a price. The price was Max talking. I groaned internally as I approached the booth and the cheery looking guard leaned out the window.
Sorta pudgy, generally smiling, usually with a moustache if he felt like it. Max, the host of my personal hell.
“You’re in late tonight, Rich. Hope you aren’t too late for the hot chocolate in the cafeteria. It’s much better than last year’s!”
He sounded genuinely concerned that I might not get any hot chocolate, which was a little irritating. I shook my head, trying to shake off my memory of the last winter celebration Star Laboratories forced on us. The hot chocolate was always terrible, mainly because of funding. Everything came down to the funding here, not that there was a shortage, but at least there was a local coffee shop most stopped at before coming in.
“Well I certainly wouldn’t want to miss that.” I said with a hint of annoyance. “I would also not like to deviate any further from my schedule. So, if you would be so kind as to unlock the door?” I managed from beneath my scarf.
Max laughed a little and did that little pointing thing, like the one when you’re chastising someone for telling a bad, yet funny, joke.
Sad thing was, I wasn’t very funny.
The door clicked, and I walked inside, giving Max one last nod before getting out of sight, and into the relative warmth of the offices. I headed straight for the elevator that would take me to the main floors of the facility. I did say this was a bit of a secret, black sharpie, red tape kind of place, right? You know, like Area 51 or Black Mesa. Except we were real, smarter, non-government, and successful.
The show floors, those being the ground floor and 2nd floor, were modeled to look like your standard, rather cheap office building. Yellow carpet, bland cream walls and cheap, uncomfortable furniture really sold the crappy office look. The fact that it was in the middle of nowhere was supported by the small town nearby and the cheapness of the property. In truth, the small town was completely owned by Star Labs, I even had my own house there, supplied by Star Labs, of course. Well, half a house, but still.
Yet, to my family, I worked in some dingy little office building, for a less than successful tech company. The wonders of lies and half-truths. Though, I have to say, I’ve earned my place here. Not every person gets to do groundbreaking technical research on what everyone else still considers speculative or theoretical.
Star Laboratories has a motto: “You never know who will build the future.” And I have to say, the people here took that to heart. The fact that I’m barely out of University attests to the fact that these people will hire just about anyone, given the possibility that you’re a prodigy or an expert in a given field. They also have this probability machine that checks people out and tries to guess where they will be going in the future. Like, how your life may be and what you could attribute to society. But it’s rather old now, having been built in the late eighties.
It had said Steven Hawking would amount to little, which made the whole thing sort of worthless as a prophecy machine.
With a ding, the elevator doors opened. I stepped inside the rickety box, also from the eighties probably, punching in my code and glancing at the floor buttons. Of which there are ninety eight listed in the elevator.
Not that we only have ninety-eight basement levels here, that’s a low number compared to how many we actually have. The whole elevator was actually a trap. If you don’t input the right code, followed by the right level selection, then the elevator simulates a journey down for a few minutes or so, then it “breaks” and we have a crew dressed up as firemen “rescue” you from our trap and send you right back out the door, and into local custody. Only one person ever made it through though, some poor pizza kid from the next town over as the result of a prank.
I think he works in the kitchens now, pretty decent considering the fates of those who enter deliberately.
My code, which I won’t be telling you, used all 98 floor buttons. Pretty easy to remember, at least after I drilled it into my head over the course of a very long night. I punched in my 98 floor code and, with a lurch, the old elevator began to move. After only about ten seconds, tops, it stopped, opening up to the top level of the facility: floor 1. It was a small room, and much more modern.
Plush blue carpets and white walls with a long couch along one side surrounded by smaller seats of greater comfort. Landscape and abstract paintings covered the walls like some psychopath was ready to drag red strings across them. On the far side of the room, several clear glass tubes extended up from the floor, small cylinders sat inside, bobbing slightly. Those were the pneumatic lifts to the lower levels. The first floor was a waiting area for guests, and stray pizza men, so it was a bit more comfortable than the labs below.
On the wall opposite the couch was a desk, covered in tacky artwork and nonsense motivational posters, where Max sat, acting like he was reading a newspaper. Always the ever watchful.
You see, Max is one of two AI mainframes we use here, Max takes care of security and staff welfare, while TIM keeps an eye on experiments and records. Sometimes they switch jobs, to keep things fresh for the staff. But Max can be a little… annoying? Yeah that’s the right word. Not the word I want to use, but close enough.
Max was made to interact with us here at the lab, make us feel more comfortable or whatever. So that meant he liked to talk. A lot. Even when you didn’t want him to. Oh, and his name isn’t an acronym, it’s just Max. TIM’s name is an acronym though, and it stands for “Technical Instrument Machine”, real creative, I know. The techies down in level 264 really outdid themselves with him though. The perfect lab assistant. Decades more advanced than Siri or even IBM’s Watson.
Anyway, Max was on guard today and he loves to use the holographic projectors and android units. Makes him something physical, more than just a voice in the intercom.
He’s supposed to just follow a simple set of instructions: scan cards and either accept or decline the owners entry. Max didn’t have to see your card, seeing as he knew everyone by name, face, and your complete genetic makeup, but he always wanted to talk! It’s not like he had to do that or anything, it was just his programming telling him to converse to make people more comfortable. I personally found it to be grating instead of comfortable.
“Hey Rich!” The AI shouted, waving me to the desk. I followed, trying to no meet the android’s eyes. “Heading down to floor 19 or down to Mr. Mount’s offices? Maybe the cafeteria for some hot chocolate?”
It’s like I was just an outlier or something, the only one who didn’t appreciate his overly-happy, overly-talkative personality.
“If you’d like, I could send one of the mobile units down to fetch a cup for you before you begin the experiment!” He smiled like he was offering me a blue ribbon. “Calm the nerves and whatnot.”
“No thanks Max. I’ll be just fine without it. Besides, no liquids” I lied to him, fidgeting with my keycard in my pocket. “I should be going.”
With that I forced a smile in the android’s direction and rushed away from the booth before he could try to get me the hot chocolate again. I don’t even like hot chocolate when it’s made “right”! It just tastes like warm water to me.
I stepped into the lift, the futuristic pod bobbing on the pressurized air just beneath it. The doors closed automatically and, with a quick wave from Max’s security android, I began my descent into the compound.
“Dr. Hane is waiting for you in test chamber 19, Dr. Gregori.” A monotone voice spoke out of the ceiling.
Dr. Gregori is me, by the way. Richard Kingson Gregori. Or, Rich, if you were Max.
That infernal AI would be the death of formality, I’m sure of it. But thankfully, the one talking over the intercom to me was TIM, who was far more bearable.
“Of course, TIM. Do I have any other messages?”
“You have two messages, one from Mr. Mount concerning your personal project, and one from your mother who wants to know if you’ll be home for your sister’s birthday.”
I nodded, pulling an A.S.S. out of the wall of the tube. No, you read that correctly. We normally just call them Assistants, or Assistant Gloves. The acronym stood for Active Service Screen, but I’m pretty sure most of the people down in the 200 levels were just sleep deprived when they name these things.
I will not be calling the Assistant by the terrible acronym again, so don’t try and make me.
The Assistant was a glove that extended down to your elbow, meant to be worn under a lab coat where the circuits would be kept out of harm’s way. The gloves display a series of holographic screens you navigate using your thumb and fingers, so it’s not a touch screen. But then again, it’s not hands free either. Assistants were just convenient. Some administrators on-site took two from the lift so they could get twice the work done, all by flicking your fingers around.
The way their creator, Dr. Maria Stein, described them was “something akin to how a magician works magic, twiddle your fingers and control the screens!” The magic analogy hadn’t won her any points, but the tech was pretty damn refined. Still, she hated it when her gloves were referred to as the Power Glove 2.0. as made by Nintendo. So, she retaliated with the acronym.
Still, I go with sleep deprivation.
I turned my hand palm up, the display appearing in front of me as the elevator slowed to a stop, doors swooshing open to floor 19. Barely looking past the slightly translucent green screens, I stepped out into the hallway, walking the familiar path to my office. The first few floors were dedicated to speculative sciences, just theory work. Those floors also held the administrative personnel, because they couldn’t be bothered to go down to floor 300 when they were asked to do so. But, starting on floor 10, the real work started.
Clean blue walls, chalk colored ceilings, stark white tiled floors, and a checkerboard of various offices, labs, and testing chambers. Truly, where theories were tested. At least, the grounded ones. Stuff like time travel, dimensional gateways, and new musical instruments were on floors 50-199. Levels 200-299 were filled with tech development, testing, and probable mass production. Floor 300 was reserved for the utilization of new technologies and ideas, such as what corporation would be tricked into “discovering” something, or which notableinventor had to be brought into Star Laboratories to keep dangerous tech out of civilian markets.
“Messages, messages…” I muttered to myself, flicking through my Assistant’s screens as I entered my office. Honestly, I never went below floor 150, where the cafeteria was. Smallest floor, but sometimes the best as well.
My office was quaint. To keep us happy, or at least content, we were authorized to make changes to our office space. Dr. Markus Lee’s office looked like something out of gothic horror, Dr. Henry Mosen’s looked like a billion cats had moved in, thanks to all the pictures. My office was simple compared to theirs though. A nice oak desk, comfortable chair, and an old bookshelf covered with dusty books I didn’t really read.
I pulled off my coat and scarf, throwing them onto the back of my chair. Slipping into my white lab coat, specially made to be durable and resistant to damage that could occur in a lab; Acids, cuts, tears, some radiation, high velocity impacts, and even ink stains. Truly very useful, just not machine washable.
I fell into my chair, still scrolling through the database. I didn’t really want to look at the messages, they were awfully pressing considering who sent them, but that just stressed me out. It stressed me out more than the impending test I had volunteered for, all the way across the floor.
I opened my email, considering which to open first, before deciding on my mother’s question, which would be easier to answer. It was short, and to the point, which suited my mother perfectly. TIM had basically read me the message.
Richard,
Will you be at your sister’s birthday on the 30th?
Love,
Mom
Seriously though, my dad had tried to get her to be more relaxed in her ways, but she had refused and held fast. She slowly turned my dad to her ways, but he still spoke more than she ever did.
I typed out a quick confirmation, my fingers swatting the air wildly as I typed. Honestly, if these Assistants ever became mainstream, people would look ridiculous scratching the air above their palm.
Hitting send, I was taken back to my inbox where the message from Mr. Mount waited. I hesitated a moment, knowing it was about my personal project.
Mr. Luthor Mount was my direct superior, I reported to him at every turn in my research, no matter how small. Everyone on floor 19 reported to him, and he, in turn, reported to the director of floors 10-19, and she would report to the director of floors 2-100, then so on and so forth. Unfortunately for us on level 19, Mr. Mount called every project on our floor, “personal projects”. So, I had an idea what this was going to be about.
I hesitated for a moment before opening the email.
Dr. Gregori,
I wanted to thank you on behalf of Star Laboratories for your continued efforts to build the future, for volunteering when no one else could be bothered to. The Moros Project will be another step towards a brighter future for mankind, a step you are personally taking.
Your pet project has gained steady headway this past year, and I wanted to personally congratulate you as you took the first steps towards preservation of the Human race as we venture on towards the stars. Unfortunately, I will not be in attendance for the first trial run, so forgive me. I had urgent matters to attend to with our Sea Star branch, some important discovery they want to announce. Great strides often take place the world over, so I want to wish you luck today as your trials shift into Human tests.
I’m still surprised you volunteered at all, but it was your personal project to begin with, so it is fitting you get to be the first to experience it. Though given that temporal preservation was an idea that hadn’t gained any headway since the ninties, I wouldn’t be surprised if some kinks must be ironed out in the years to come.
Again, I wish you luck. I will see you tomorrow, hopefully with great news that with speed up projects in Star Laboratories across the globe!
Luthor Mount
I let out a breath I’d been holding. Mr. Mount could always be counted upon to subvert expectations. The last email had been an explosive outburst at the thought of a human trial so early in the testing phases. He’d only calmed once we agreed to non-human trials beforehand, which were all complete now.
So, Mr. Mount wouldn’t be at the test. That was a blessing and a curse. It wouldn’t be as stressful, Mr. Mount tended to be a bit overbearing and talkative during tests and trials. Heck, this just meant my team would be able to work without anyone breathing down their backs, that in and of itself was a relief. On the other hand, that meant Director Esther Gin would be in attendance, and she was less than a blessing.
Sure, she would sit silently in the observation booth, waiting out the exhaustive tests to the equipment, then finally the test, which would be a measly 10 minutes long. Her silence meant we wouldn’t know what she’d report to upper management. And, while I was sure we’d be allowed to continue our work, there was always that nagging voice trying to tell me we’d get dismissed, shut down, and placed into different projects.
Sorry Dr. Lintz, I don’t care about making better tasting de-hydrated food. Even if you’re trying to send it through interdimensional space to preserve nutrients.
I looked at the message again before closing my fist, the Assistant glove going into sleep mode. If I sat here any longer, I’d be late for the preliminary analysis of the mainframe we were using, as well as the long checklist we had to go through before we could even test-fire the equipment. Once we tested the hardware, we had to do the same checklist again so we could be sure everything was operating within acceptable parameters.
Then I would step into the chamber.
Shivering slightly at the thought, I stood from my comfy chair and left my office.
Project Moros: my project since I started working at Eastern Star Laboratories. It had taken a bit of work to drag the idea up from the 100’s levels and into the upper levels, but it had been worth the effort. Started in the late 60’s, Project Moros’s parent project, Chronos, was all about time manipulation and how to get the time stream to work in our favor.
Headed by the founder of Star Laboratories, Stanford Mann, Project Chronos was supposed to open the fabric of time to allow instantiations travel between events in the future, and the past. Early tests of the tech leveled some of the Rockies out west, and the project was scrapped, mainly due to the untimely death of Mr. Mann. Later projects like Urðr, Aion, and DeLorean had tried to work the fabric of time in various ways, all failing.
Well aside from Project DeLorean, which saw some slight success in slowing the flow of time. It was from the data they gathered, and the tech they used, that I built my project on top of. Named after Moros, the Greek deity of, essentially, doom. My project wasn’t so much about doom as it was about stopping doom. Stopping a lot of things, really. Like the movement of molecules.
Project Moros has a simple headline for those that are new to the project or were hearing about it in a shareholder’s meeting: Project Moros would stop time. And, if the not-dead test subjects: some mice, fruit, bees, and a bird; were anything to go off of, we had succeeded.
It was the application of this process, temporal preservation, that had the higher-ups excited. Imagine pausing people for their long trip to a distant planet, or placing people into safe suspended animation who were sick or dying thanks to an unknown or uncurable disease. Even past that, important persons could be placed in stasis until they were needed again, or people could simply wait out issues, though I personally didn’t care for that application.
It was going to be revolutionary, and my name won’t even be on the tin.
I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my lab coat, walking quickly through the empty halls. Most everyone was back in town, Donville if you were wondering, asleep, almost asleep, or out for a night on the town. Yet here I was, deep beneath the mountains trying to find the pause button on the remote of the world. Also, yes, the movie Click has been mentioned several times in my lab. It was also banned from serious discussions.
It was well known that whatever you made while under the umbrella of Star Labs would not be credited towards you for at least a decade, then someone would “find” documentation that would credit you with an earlier finding. Still a far way away from real credit, since the initial credit for the breakthrough would go to someone else on earth. Just cover stories to keep Star Labs a secret.
But hey, at least I don’t have to worry about money.
I stepped into the red wing, walking briskly towards the door at the far end. To put it simply, the red wing was where floor 19 did their real work. This was where our test chamber was.
Stepping through the main door, ignoring a comment from Max, I took in the activity of the control room.
Ahead of me was a window peering out into the chamber, and in front of the window, working a series of instruments, were two of my crew: Dr. Maria Hane and Flint Queens. Flint was an intern, but at least he was respectively diligent in his work. Dr. Hane oversaw him, seeing as she had the most experience with the equipment they were using. Dr. Hane had been brought up from the lower levels the year before to lend her experience from Project DeLorean.
A better helper I couldn’t have asked for.
Dr. Hane turned to me, giving a quick hello with her hand, flicking up her Assistant, and turning the display towards me. Ah, they’d begun the checks without me.
“We’ve gone over the power requirements, as well as points 2-17. We’re still checking the main and secondary arrays, although Jeremy said he would be getting to that after pulling up the primary mainframe, if the arrays still weren’t checked.” She intoned, pointing to the various tasks held out towards me.
I slid my hand from my pocket, pulling up my Assistant display and flicking over to the checklist. I read through most of the list, asking for confirmations and readouts. This was only the first run through, though I was happy to see they started without me. Inclement weather really was a bitch this time of year, and I didn’t want to get behind schedule. I flicked to the next page and frowned.
“And how about Dr. Porter? Is he running through the secondary systems diagnostics?” I asked, moving to the larger doctor’s list of procedures. None were checked, but that was only because the old man refused to use Assistants like the rest of us. Instead relying on paper and pen.
It wasn’t a bad thing, not really. It just didn’t work with the rest of us. Seriously, at least use an Ipad.
“I believe he’s in maintenance now, if you want an update on that.” Dr. Hane intoned, while closing her fist and turning off her Assistant.
I nodded, flicking over to Dr. Tenmond’s, or Jeremy’s, checklist, watching as one of the boxes lit up with a checkmark. I wouldn’t need to check on him yet. So, Dr. Porter’s update came first.
“Thank you Dr. Hane, Mr. Queens. Keep me posted if any issues come up.”
Dr. Hane nodded, turning back to the screens displayed on the consoles under the window. I heard Mr. Queens grunt in appreciation as he kept going over the failsafe protocols. I could leave them to this for now.
The door to the left chamber was still opened, all sorts of wires and heavy equipment whirring away behind the soundproofing. Not that said soundproofing was doing anything, what with the door wide open.
I stepped inside the maintenance wing, closing the door behind me. I flicked up my Assistant’s light mode, walking further in. These areas were always brightly lit, but some of the machines cast shadows despite the lighting.
“Dr. Porter? I could use an update if you have any.” I called out through the noise filled room.
Farther ahead, I saw a hand stick out from behind the secondary array. “Right over here, Richard. Just finishing up the secondary array checkup.”
I quickened my step to the far end, watching as Dr. porter stepped out from behind the array, dusting himself as he met me half way.
“I’d say she passes inspection, a definite perfect score as usual.” Dr. Porter was a much jollier man than my other assistants, and sometimes it really wasn’t necessary. It was annoying on most days to be constantly berated by someone who was just so anti-pessimism.
Though, for once in my life, I could use the optimism from the fat, happy Doctor.
“Alright, Good to hear. Your checklist…” I held out my hand for his list, and he gave a quick nod, passing over his notepad. Scribbled across the surface were his tasks, and checkmarks next to them. I pulled up my Assistant display and quickly updated his list on the databanks.
Passing Dr. Porter his notes, I flicked back through the checklist. Only thing left was the dry run, then back through the checklist, then the first test could begin. I took a deep breath in, then out, walking back to the control room with Dr. Porter in tow. I stopped just before the door when Dr. Porter cleared his throat.
“If you need,” He started, “we can perform the dry run ourselves. I’d get that you’re probably rather… stressed about this whole test.” He said, as I turned to him, my brow raised. This seemed to startle the older gentleman, as he immediately began correcting himself, but I raised my hand and managed to silence him.
“Thank you for your concern, Dr. Porter, but I’ll be just fine.” I gave a smile, or at least a grin. “Nothing calms my nerves more than making sure that what I’m nervous about is under my control.”
That seemed to satisfy him, so I turned back to the door and entered the main room. But I’ll be honest, my answer didn’t appease me. I knew my part in this, what I’d be doing as I was… paused. I would be counting, down from 10 while watching a stopwatch. Still, knowing what to do, and doing it are two very different things. I took another breath as I took note of the new presence in the control room.
Dr. Hane, Dr. Tenmond, and Mr. Queens were waiting at the control panel, noting down the final readouts. Dr. Tenmond turned to me with a small nod. “Everything’s ready, Dr. Gregori. Give the say and we’ll prepare for the dry test.”
Mr. Queens moved out of the way as I stepped up to the control panel, looking at the readouts myself. All perfectly acceptable, well within range. Still, we wouldn’t know until we had it running.
I cleared my throat.
“TIM, see that our overhead is noted on our status for the dry run and request permission to commence the dry test.”
“Request acknowledged… permission granted by overhead: Director Esther Gin.”
“All right then.” I said, tapping the control panel’s main screen. “Let’s begin the dry run.”
700 miles off the coast of Perth, Australia
Luthor Mount did not want to be here.
Not that he had a choice in the matter though. As part of the primary board between the various Star Labs he was required to attend tests of this magnitude. Still, he would have rather been around East Star Labs to watch the Moros Project’s first test. It was probably going to be one of the biggest projects under his umbrella for the foreseeable future, and his attendance would have been appreciated, he was sure of it.
At the very least it would be better than standing here.
Luthor smiled anyway, shaking the hand of yet another director of high technology as he entered the main room ahead. That one was from the Empire Star branch, located somewhere in Italy. But he didn’t know where. Honestly, Luthor wasn’t that concerned with what went on in other branches, as long as they didn’t interfere with the branch, he was a part of.
There were a few branches in the US, namely East, Bay, and Arch, as well as a few in Europe, Australia, Asia and Africa. There was only one branch in the entirety of South America, the Amazon Star branch. Luthor shook another director’s hand, apparently from the Dynasty Star branch in China.
Currently, he was in the uppermost section of the Sea Star branch, located near Australia somewhere. Head honchos, respected directors, and gilded scientists from branches the world over were in attendance, suggesting something far larger and grander than anything since the Irribellum Gate in the 60s. And that had been instantaneous transport invented by the previous Head Director, Stanford Mann.
So, whatever this announcement was, it was big.
Luthor shook another hand, belonging to a Ms. Brown from the Jack Star branch. How did she even get invited, Luthor mused. Jack Star was basically the gutter where unused or borderline useless ideas went to die. Still, Luthor greeted her cordially, as was his job here. One of many board members lined up to shake hands of the apparently important members of Star labs.
It was a real up-scale shindig: tuxedos, dresses, crystal champaign, hors d’oeuvres, and even soft classical music drifted in from a live band. Really, just borderline tasteless. On stage a small band played using a set of instruments he’d never seen before. Behind the stage, giving clear view of the adjacent chamber, was a window overlooking an underwater test site, which leaned further on to the scientific purpose of this formal gathering.
So, it was at least nice for the people who didn’t have to stand in line, sitting and snacking, instead of shaking hands with “important” people.
At least, that’s how it was until the line stood straighter as the final guest approached.
Finally, Luthor thought, extending a hand and a much more genuine smile.
“Good to see you Mount, any idea what this is about?”
Shaking Luthor’s hand in a bear grip was the current Head Director, Timothy Berners-Leewere. A bear of a man, standing head and shoulders above most of the crowd. Despite graying hair, his eyes were lit up with calm passion befitting someone far younger than himself. Dr. Berners-Leewere, or Dr. Tim as he preferred, had been chosen directly by Stanford Mann, by name.
Luthor shrugged, trying to match the man’s giant smile. “I was hoping I could ask you, to be honest. You don’t know?”
Dr. Tim released Luthor’s hand, allowing the floor director to flex his fingers. “No, I don’t know.” The Head Director said. “Apparently, it’s something joint between Jack Star and Sea Star, though the specifics are lost on me.” He steered Luthor out of the line of hand-shakers, walking the two of them into the main foyer where the men and women, whose hands Luthor had been shaking, milled about while talking about various projects and snacking on the food provided.
“I gave them an ultimatum.” Dr. Timothy began again, waving to some other faces in the crowd. “Either they hand over all the data they have on this secret project of theirs, or I take it by force and shut one of them down for good.” He shook another attendee’s hand with a smile, despite his current conversation.
Luthor had already taken a drink from a passing waiter, now holding a small glass of red wine. “So, they decided to just give you all the information in person, with every other person of import?” Luthor asked, taking a sip. To this, Dr. Timothy’s smile turned a more genuine, if it were possible.
“They requested it, and they have been talking up this project to me, though I shouldn’t tell you the details until they’ve announced what they wish.” He swiped a mug of what might have been chilled beer from a passing waiter, slamming it down, and handing back the now empty mug to the startled man.
Dr. Timothy waited for the waiter to shuffle off before continuing. “I figure that either this whole ordeal will make them both laughing stocks, get them locked up for the rest of their lives, or will bring both of the branches great prestige and some long-overdue respect.” He shook another hand, exchanging brief pleasantries for a moment.
Dr. Timothy waved them off, with a genuine laugh at a terrible joke, before returning his attention to Luthor. “And hell, there aren’t many events like this within our little confederation of sciences, it might encourage a bit more comradery, no matter the outcome.” Dr. Tim held his poker face for a moment before it collapsed under a deep, but reserved, laugh. Luthor joined him, setting his near-empty glass of wine on an adjacent table.
“I doubt that, Tim.” Luthor managed, choosing a seat at a table nearest to the front of the chamber. “The day Star Labs starts working as one, is the day only one exists!” Dr. Tim pulled out a seat as well, still chuckling, peering out at the various attendees who were also choosing seats. He called over another beer, trying, and failing, to return to his earlier poker face.
They sat there for a moment, quiet laughter drawing attention from only the nearest of tables. Head Director Tim was known as a jovial man, so this wasn’t exactly a surprise. Still, some expected better behavior from the man who, essentially, kept all the branches from fracturing off into smaller enclaves.
“Erhem, yes.” A voice began, amplified through the room. Voices hushed, and the lights dimmed as the band members shuffled off stage, the music stopping abruptly. “I would like to welcome you all to our most momentous announcement.”
A woman stepped out onto the stage, a wide smiling face scanning the crowd. Luthor recognized her as the Lead Director of Sea Star, Dr. Tracy Orens. Some polite applause followed her as she moved towards the center of the stage.
“Now, ladies and gentlemen, I’m not one to sit here and mince words over how great it is to have you all here, and how wonderful it is to have our Head Director, Doctor Timothy Berners-Leewere, in attendance!”
She motioned up to where the Head Director sat, and a light followed her gesture. Dr. Timothy stood politely, smiling and waving to a generous round of applause. The light left him as he returned to his seat, eyes trained on the speaking Sea Star Director.
“No, we are here to show our latest discovery, our latest invention, our latest breakthrough. So, join me in applause as I invite Dr. Denver Clove to the stage!” Dr. Orens initiated the applause as Dr. Clove stepped out onto the stage, moving to stand beside the Lead Director. He raised a hand for silence, before talking.
“Firstly, on behalf of both Jack Star and Sea Star, I thank you for attending this evening.” His voice echoed around the room.
Nobody had been told beforehand that Jack Star was involved, though none would have even thought to anticipate it. Luthor leaned back in his seat, sipping what was left of his wine as Dr. Clove continued. If Dr. Timothy hadn’t mentioned their participation, Luthor might have been surprised.
“What we have been working on for the past several years, admittedly in secret, is hands down one of the most important projects currently being researched on this good Earth. Or, perhaps, the most important.” He paced on the stage, moving between the two sides of the window.
“Sixty five years ago, our organization was founded by Stanford Mann.” A projector lit up the wall above the window, showing a picture of Mr. Mann in the 50’s. Graying hair, but a stern expression set onto a boney frame. Not exactly a stellar example of humanity. “A visionary, Mr. Mann led our research teams forward into the future.” He stopped a moment, glancing up at Dr. Timothy before continuing.
“Mr. Mann led the way towards the discovery of, and wide usage of, transistor computer technology, matter teleportation, mass communication, and space exploration.” With each mention, pictures popped up to the earliest prototypes next to modern consumer models if there were any. “With his visions, his time, and his genius, he pulled people together from all over the world to make these distant dreams a reality.” The picture changed again, this time to a room full of scientists, with Mr. Mann in the center sitting down.
Dr. Clove paused again, due to a small round of applause. He cleared his throat as he continued his thought.
“Of course, these discoveries were made by a man who knew what he wanted, and had cleared his mind of doubt, worry, and distraction to achieve these remarkable feats of technology.” He hesitated a moment as the projector shut down, then continued. “According to his own research, Mr. Mann cleared himself of doubt, worry, distraction and a myriad of other disruptive emotions not just figuratively, but literally.”
Luthor sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Of course, it was this idea again. Around the chamber small conversations had started up, murmurs rippling across the gathered directors and scientists. Dr. Clove and Dr. Orens exchanged looks, maybe rethinking their decision.
Luthor looked over to Dr. Tim, intent on seeing the Head Director’s reaction to what was obviously coming.
Dr. Tim looked calm, almost expectant. Not even the slightest hint of surprise. Luthor stared a moment longer before returning his gaze to the stage.
Could they have done it?
Dr. Clove cleared his throat once again, calling most of the attention back to himself, though some remained focused on their plates and glasses, already finished with what he had to say.
“You may already be writing what I’m about to say as foolish, or downright idiotic, but I implore you to listen as Doctor, and Lead Director of Sea Star, Tracy Orens has.” The two on stage exchanged a brief glance before Dr. Clove turned back to the audience.
“Simply put, Mr. Mann tampered with his very soul.”
Immediately, scientists began standing up, some shouting down at Dr. Clove, some filing silently towards the exit. Others merely sat back, waiting to see the fallout. Dr. Clove shouted for silence, so he could continue, to no avail. He looked back at Dr. Orens, who offered a supportive, but ultimately unhelpful, smile.
More people stood to leave, but still, Luthor watched Dr. Timothy. He could practically see the gears turning in the Head Director’s head, deciding whether or not to act, but even then, how to act in this situation? Dr. Clove was talking about souls!
This had been a matter of debate over the past 30 years since Mr. Mann died in the Rocky Mountain Star facility explosion. His journals, both scientific and personal, had made numerous references to his own soul, wishing he could work it as he once did. Some wrote it off as a passing reference to his old age, maybe even to trying to have a love life, but others took it as proof that the soul could be worked like anything else in the body.
Of course, this meant admitting that something which couldn’t be observed existed without any evidence supporting it. Something that, most researchers and directors decided, was metaphysical. But that didn’t stop the odd project from opening the case up again, like it had apparently had now.
Dr. Clove waited only a few more moments before continuing his speech, though he was largely ignored by the crowd. He stopped, unheard, glaring around at nothing in particular, a scowl on his face. Dr. Orens had stopped smiling, instead standing with her hands behind her back, staring at the floor.
“Can we have silence please.”
Most of the conversations stopped as Dr. Timothy spoke. He had gotten out of his chair, now looking around at the various attendees. “Have a modicum of respect for your fellow scientist. You would be better off hearing out a fool than interrupting a scientist.” With that he returned to his seat, looking down at Dr. Clove and Dr. Orens.
“Please, doctors, continue.”
Dr. Clove nodded in thanks to Dr. Timothy, but his eyes betrayed his notice of the disapproving insult. The head Director gave no reply and instead simply stared up at the man. Waiting.
Dr. Clove cleared his throat, looking at the now attentive crowd.
“Thank you, Head Director. Now, as I was saying; Mr. Mann tampered with his very own soul at some point in his life. Now, we have no way of knowing how he did so, only that he did succeed. So, our first step was to see if there even WAS a soul to tamper with.”
He waved at the window behind him, which lit up the submerged chamber behind it.
“Now, what we found is that there is no way, with current technology, to actually observe the soul through our natural senses. Nor could we find it with even our most sensitive equipment.” He once again motioned to the chamber, where, towards the center, a man swam down. Wearing only a pair of boxers and an oxygen mask leading up to the top of the chamber somewhere. He gave a thumbs up.
Dr. Orens returned the thumbs up, looking up at the attendees. “The man in the test chamber is a volunteer by the name John Lance. He is an upper technician here at Sea Star who worked on the project with Doctor Clove and the rest of Project Man.”
A slight murmur went out at the name of the Project. Luthor had to think a moment before he recognized the code-name. It was a project formerly known as Project Tiamat, which tried to influence human behavior by submersing the body in water, bringing the subject near death, then shocking the living hell out of them. Nothing came of it, aside from a few corpses, so it was scrapped until some scientists at Bay Star tried to use it to prove souls existed, calling it Project Man.
And now, apparently, the project was back up. Luthor shifted in his seat uncomfortably. There was a very good chance that this Dr. Lance would not make it out of that chamber alive. He stole another glance at Dr. Tim, who sill looked largely unshaken, though he did seem thrown off by Dr. Lance in the test chamber. This must have been where they stopped telling him about the project.
“I shouldn’t tell you the details until they’ve announced what they wish.” Dr. Timothy had said, Luthor mused. Looks like they didn’t tell you enough.
“Now.” Dr. Clove picked back up, silencing the audience. “I said we couldn’t see nor measure the soul, however” He motioned back to Dr. Lance in the test chamber. “we can see its effects on a person and the area round it. The procedure is quite simple, really.” Dr. Clove moved to the side of the window, out of the way.
“First, the subject is submerged in salt water, preferable pulled up from lower depths. After some time in the talk, the subject’s oxygen is replaced by fluocarbon to allow for the subject to breath while still being encompassed entirely within liquids.”
Dr. Clove motioned to the window again, two long poles extending towards Dr. Lance in the water. He pulled various smaller wires to himself from the poles, fixing them at various points on his body. Dr. Clove continued talking as he did this.
“Dr. Lance is now placing these wires at various pressure points across his body, similar to some uses of electro therapy. Once firmly in place, we will apply an increasingly strong electric current through the water and the wires. We will steadily increase the wattage until the subject is unconscious. After that, the current is adjusted until the subject’s vitals are stabilized.”
Dr. Lance’s body floated in the water, too far away to see his eyes, but close enough to see the twitching of his arms and legs. Luthor turned his eyes away. While Dr. Clove was clearly in control of the test, Mr. Mount was not a huge fan of live testing.
He instead turned his eyes to his watch, checking the time. Across the globe, Dr. Gregori was testing his own breakthrough, which Luthor would have much preferred to have watched. No messing with the human body in any way proven to be potentially fatal. No man in a fish tank getting electrocuted. He watched the seconds pass on his watch, listening to the low murmurs across the crowd as the test continued.
“Now,” Dr. Clove spoke up, Luthor turning his attention back to the window, despite hesitation. “The final step in this process is the easiest, at least in application. We activate a series of-” He didn’t get to finish his thought as bright white light ripped through the window into the chamber. The audience screamed, people rushing to get out of the room as something clearly began to go wrong.
“Shut it down!” Luthor barely heard of the shouts and footsteps of other people running out of the room, as well as a loud thrumming echoing off the walls of the chamber.
“Shut down the variant emitters! Now!” Someone was shouting. Luthor covered his eyes, the bright light still pouring through despite his efforts to block it out.
A terrible, cackling laugh rippled across the room. The wort part was the pure glee pouring out of the voice. Luthor fell back as the light poured through him, barely having a moment to let out even a whimper before the light was gone. The room was silent, only the distant sound of breaking stone, steel sliding against steel, and splashes of water echoed through the room.
Luthor sat awkwardly on the ground, eyes covered by his hands. Beneath his tuxedo was stone, his eyes closed shut forever in a cover of stone.
Dr. Timothy was standing at his seat, an arm over his eyes, another over his head. Beneath his coat was stone, a scowl of pain etched forever on his face.
Resting at the bottom of the tank that had emitted the terrible light, the gleeful laighter, was Dr. Lance. Wires dug into stone, his face contorted in pain despite the deep sleep he had been in.
Silence reigned in the Sea Star Laboratories as stone stared at what had been done.
Stone eyes were all that was left to watch Humanity crumble.
“Alright, preparation for human trial: 1 of the Moros Project is comnplete.” Dr. Hane spoke over the speakers, reading from my guidelines. “Are you ready, Doctor Gregori?”
Dr. Hane was up in the control booth, next to her stood Director Gin. She said notheing, as expected. But a flicker of excitement slipped through and into her eyes, no doubt at the promise of the experiment. I cleared my mind, flexing my jaw.
“Yes, Doctor Hane. Proceed when ready.”
I shouldn’t be worried, I thought, pulling up my Assistant’s stopwatch feature, setting it for 10 seconds. I shouldn’t be worried, I’ve counted before, and that’s all this was, counting. I held out my hand in front of me, pulling the stopwatch to the main screen.
I heard the primary emitter array spool up, the soft hum whirring above me. I focused on my timer as I flicked it on. The secondary emitters below me began humming as well, sending vibrations up my feet as I began counting, closing my eyes.
10.
The emitter will encase your body in a protective bubble,
9.
This bubble contains the variant emissions,
8.
Which work to-
“Now let’s go, I don’t want anymore fighting.” Cheerilee said as she walked away from the statue of the draconequus. This field trip had been going well up and till the cutie mark crusader, such an adorable name, had gotten into their little fight. Still, wanting to keep the mood as “fun field trip” rather than “stuffy classwork”, so Cheerilee let her students talk amongst themselves for the moment as they walked to the next section of the sculpture garden.
“I guess what they say about Discord was right though,” Cheerilee said to herself, soft enough to not be heard by the chattering foals. “Really brings out the chaos, even if it’s just a sculpture of him.”
Cheerilee stopped in front of another statue, turning to her students as they wandered closer to their teacher.
“Now, this is another interesting statue here in the gardens, what do you notice about this one?” She looked over her shoulder at the statue. It was an odd one for the garden, but the craftsmanship was exquisite to the point where it had to go in the garden, if not a museum.
Snails was the first to speak up this time. “Is it a minotaur?” Beside him Snips spoke up excitedly. “It has fingers! Just like a minotaur!” They grinned at each other, then at Cheerilee, who smiled at their enthusiasm.
“Well, you’re right about the fingers, but look at the head, and the legs.” Cheerilee waved back to the statue, pointing to the head and legs as she spoke. “No horns, and no hooves!”
She smiled to her students, continuing her brief lesson. “This creature also wears clothing, unlike the minotaurs. But that was a good guess!” Cheerilee cleared her throat, turning back towards the statue.
“This statue was made to look like the mythical humans, who harnessed wind, lightning, and sunlight to rule the world!” She chuckled at the her classes nervous looks, aside from the crusaders, who were looking at the ground, or the trees, or the heges. She would have to dedicate a day to reading the Legend of the Humans to the fillies, if only to ease their worries, and maybe spark a little interest.
“Don’t worry, they are just myths after all. Now, on to the next statue!.” Cheerilee sang as she led the fillies off towards the next statue, planning the next few days of her curriculum. She’d have to reschedule the trip to Fluttershy’s cottage, or the visit to the library.
Cheerilee frowned, walking past the next statue. Which pony would handle the disappointment better?
The class followed their teacher away from the human statue, excitedly pointing out the unmentioned statue of a heroic pony.
The Crusaders hoped they wouldn’t have to worry about remembering any of the details of that one. Especially with the new homework dumped on their heads. Still, she had to admit the statues were memorable, even the human one.
That statue was just about 6 feet tall, from its feet to its head. It held it’s arm outstretched, hand open expectantly, its eyes closed. It wore a wide, billowing coat, and under that, a plain, buttoned shirt. Pants leading to small shoes covered its legs and feet, a look mostly unseen in equestria. The whole statue was crafted from a single slab of dark stone before even the time of Celestia, but was found even longer before that by a dragon kingdom in the east.
Some called the statue Concentration and likened it to humanity’s spell weaving ability. Others called it Payment in reference to the human’s legendary capacity for greed. Some simply called it Humanity, but they just too lazy to think of a good name.
Nobody stopped at the statue for long, most found the face unsettling, like it was waiting. Waiting for something to come, to hit it or knock it down. It looked scared, its emotions forever revealed within intricate stonework. Truly a masterpiece.
And yet…
8