Identity

By Jeff Sieniewicz

Frank Dopler at twenty-four was on top of the world. That is until his wife Sarah and their young son Johnathon were ripped suddenly from his life.

Now approaching forty, Frank has managed to rebuild what could only be called a sustainable life, with his good friend Laura the only true bright spot. But with his optimism about life diminished, Frank will soon learn that there is always more to life than there appears.

This lesson oddly will begin when Bruce the Belligerent, the leader of the planet Hiruaha, sends his robotic Etan agents to abduct Frank and bring him back to Hiruaha. Frank is set to stand trial for the theft of their beloved Beacon of Light, the worst crime imaginable to a Hiruahian.

But trying to escape from Hiruaha alive will only be the beginning of Frank's adventure; ultimately he will have to make the biggest decision of his life. A decision that will have become more difficult than he could have ever imagined . . .

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBookIt.com
• Release date: Apr 26, 2016
• ISBN: 9781456606091

Book preview

Adams

Chapter One

Ultimately, the most oppressive element in life for all of us is the inability to control our own path in this world. Throughout each of our lives, external forces that rob us of command over our own destiny frequently shape the way. Often this personal injustice is carried out by events that at the time appear minor, yet subsequently have crucial consequences.

If any of these uncontrollable events in our lives were to take place in a different order, or not at all, each of us would then find ourselves navigating a completely different path than we otherwise do. Sometimes these unintended changes in direction work out for the better, sometimes for the worse, and other times they result in a mix of each. In the case of Frank Dopler, the outcome of his life’s sudden and uncontrollable shift in course would apparently be all for the worse.

At the time, this sudden shift for the worse was in the immediate future for Frank Dopler. At least for this particular Frank Dopler it was, but being completely unaware of these impending changes, he went about his Friday morning groggy due to lack of sleep, yet as always he was filled with an underlying serenity and happiness. Feeling precisely the same as his cosmic twin was while going about his own morning in the same manner. And much like every other morning in recent memory, the happiness of each of these Franks was fueled greatly by having his newly wed wife and young child with him.

Both Friday mornings progressed together perfectly in sync, with pancakes and a running conversation between spouses. Each morning matching the other’s in every step with precisely the same pace, and both Franks were equally happy with their lives as they began their day.

In fact, life for both of these Frank Doplers had been on a constantly ascending plane for quite some time now. Both were frequently discovering newfound heights of success, especially recently, and each doing so at the same stage in their life as the other. This was not surprising since their lives had been duplicates of the other’s from birth, both constantly riding along the identical wave on the surface of existence, all the while clueless someone else was matching them every move of the way in a world eerily similar to their own.

This second Frank Dopler is not better, not worse, but unbelievably a biological facsimile of the original, if not the original himself.

While traversing the same river through life, separated by less than either would have ever believed, they had been carried by the same current around every bend and over every rapid side by cosmic side. So far the journey they had taken together yet separately had been more than just pleasurable, it had been ideal. This Friday, however, as they both went about their most similar of mornings, they were nearing a fork in the river of life. For the very first time, they would part. Our Frank Dopler would go left, the other right, neither having had any say nor awareness that up until now they had a cosmic twin, and neither doing anything now to propel themselves down drastically different paths to their separate and ultimate fates. Yet, that is precisely what would happen.

Each Frank would soon kiss his wife named Sarah goodbye as she left on her hiking trip. The difference being that one Sarah would return in a few days, and the other would not. This divergence would be set in motion merely by a step or two over the course of seconds, yet the result, impossible to anticipate, would be felt forever.

Proving once again how we don’t get to control which way the winds of fate blow us, who or what comes along with us for the ride, or sometimes more importantly, who or what doesn’t.

In this gust of fate providence would apparently go right, making it most regrettable for our Frank Dopler that he was just that. The waters waiting for him to the left beyond the fork in the river would be nothing like those before. They would be rougher, more hazardous, and in places in danger of drying up altogether. Everything for him was about to change, while his counterpart’s journey to the right would certainly continue on as smoothly as ever, undoubtedly moving onward and upward as it had always done. Just as it had once done for our Frank Dopler, all the while implicitly promising to do so forever.

A promise that would soon be broken, as his path was about to contain the sudden death of his newly wed wife Sarah, as well as the loss of their cherished young son Johnathon, leaving Frank a life filled with despair and without purpose.

On the bright side, however, our Frank Dopler need not fret. Not only because doing so would be as useless as it always is, but because in the grand scheme of things it will not be long before he will have the chance to take the place of that second Frank Dopler. The one who went to the right beyond the cosmic split. The more fortunate one.

An opportunity that will be given to our Frank Dopler by none other than a servant of cosmic law enforcement.

Chapter Two

To the left, the course was set early and often, and it took merely one moment and one step to go chillingly wrong.

Just one moment, I’ll be right back, Sarah had called out to her friends and the rest of the group that afternoon, while she took just one apparently innocuous step off the marked path.

Away from the group and unknowingly away from Frank, her son Johnathon, and the life she had quickly grown to know and love. Yet, at the time, who could have blamed her? The view that she had been drawn to was one of the most spectacular she had ever seen. And besides, she would be gone only for one moment, and so she took just one more step toward it.

Then another step, followed by another, with her eyes focusing on the ever so soft yet ever so hard, the ever so warm while ever so cold view. The view of the sharp jagged edges of the nearest mountain jutting up, the sunshine brighter than she could believe reflecting off the snow covered tops causing it to melt and form streams under the snow. Streams that flowed continuously down the mountain until they emerged from the snow above to run down through the greens and browns of the lower slopes. Finally they would deposit their water in the river that lined the ravine between the two mountains. All of it had taken a transfixed Sarah’s breath away.

Sarah had just kept walking that afternoon for only a few minutes before attempting to turn back, without a thought to how she would. But, who could have blamed her at the time?

Regardless of blame, that one step is all it took for Sarah to be gone. Gone for good, except without the good. All in just one moment.

_________

Even years later, the events of those several weeks surrounding the loss of his wife and child stuck with Frank. At times they were confined in specifically haunting memories, at others vaguely in the constant weight pressing down upon him, but always with the lonely feeling in the air that while varied in intensity, never left. Yet there were other times still, when his past would manifest itself in more curious ways.

It was Johnathon. I know it was! Frank exclaimed from the kitchen to Laura, who was long ago out of comforting comments for this particular type of situation.

At this time she had only been reunited with her friend from university for a couple months now, yet she was already finding this reoccurring problem to be a very draining one. For both of them.

When arriving back at Frank’s apartment after their ritual Sunday dinner, Frank was convinced he had seen his long ago lost son getting on a bus.

Frank ran toward him, whoever it was, but the bus just pulled away, leaving Frank to stand helplessly as he watched the bus drive away until ultimately it disappeared. Disappointed, he then just turned and walked sheepishly back up the road and into his apartment. A concerned Laura followed after him.

At first, Laura was unsure if Frank had realized that it was not his son getting on the bus, rather just his past pulling at him as it often did in this tormenting way. She did not ask or offer her opinion on the matter, because she knew Frank would soon realize this pattern repeating. So instead she just consoled her friend the best she knew how.

I mean who could blame Frank for this repetition? He had lost both his wife and son so unexpectedly, and even if a sizeable amount of time had now passed, who was anybody to tell him when the appropriate time to forget them was?

Laura had plenty of sympathy for Frank, many times wishing that his imagination would quit playing such cruel tricks on him. Although, she knew from her own experience just how futile wishing proved itself to be in these situations.

Laura watched as Frank slouched forward resting his elbows on the countertop, his head buried in his hands. The fact that his imagination played this trick much less frequently now was the only good thing she could think about this situation. Yet as she approached Frank, it hardly felt an appropriate remedy to cheer him. She persisted all the same.

Laura slid her hand along his back, and Frank slowly looked up at her.

She gave him her warmest smile. Relax, and I’ll make us some tea.

Chapter Three

Fifteen torturous and tediously long years after Frank Dopler left the blessed side of his envied but unknown twin, it had become his cycle. A mindlessly simple routine to be certain. Yet it’s all that had kept him going for this long, so he wasn’t about to stop now, or most likely ever.

In fact it was primarily this cycle that Frank gave credit to for turning those first years after losing his family from mostly torturous to mostly tedious. Hardly a cause for celebration, yet it was an upgrade born from perseverance. The pain and depression left behind among the shattered remains of his once cherished life did not go on forever. When gradually accepting what happened to him he diminished both. We all learn to accept things in our unique way, and Frank was certainly no different.

Over the last few years his new friendship with Laura had played a significant role in aiding him to take the passing of time from more miserable to more manageable, even progressing it to enjoyable at times. Nevertheless, for Frank living was currently still more often than not an exercise in tediousness rather than passion.

Where once his life had been something to hold sacred and to grasp every opportunity available within with vigor and enthusiasm, it now felt as if it was merely the passing of time. It had for the longest time lacked feeling, and thus meaning for him, but at least he had his treasured routine to get him from day to day, week to week, and so on.

A routine that after the loss of his family and thus his spirit, at a time when he simply could not go on any longer, had allowed him to do just that, to continue.

In general his routine consists of rising and eating breakfast, going to work, from work to home, having dinner, and then reading before bed. Simple, repeated five times consecutively until the weekend arrives and goes, when the cycle can begin. Again.

Through the week Frank would rise to the sound of his alarm at exactly five forty five in the morning and leave for work just as the clock switched to quarter after seven. He would work steadily through his workload until noon, when he would break for exactly one hour to eat a lunch he had brought from home. Directly afterwards he would continue with his work. Staying at the office until exactly quarter after five, regardless of the workload, Frank would then take the same route home regardless of the traffic. The next and penultimate step in his daily cycle would come later when he would read for exactly one hour and a half before going to bed at exactly nine forty five.

The time in between getting home from work and reading he would fill by doing not exactly nothing, but as close to it as one could imagine. Regularly with a beer in his hand and the television on, the only semi-productive thing that could be typically accounted for during these hours was a meal.

The weekend meanwhile consisted of forty-eight hours of free time. Frank knew this and dreaded it as it made a routine extremely more difficult to develop.

Lunch would be had with Laura every Saturday and dinner with her every Sunday evening, with the exception being if she had something arise outside her control. This occurred rarely as she controlled everything she possibly could, and rarely failed.

On the weekends Frank would sleep as much as possible, would walk through the park if the weather was nice, or usually even if it was not. He would spend Saturday night alone, swimming in the local indoor pool just before it closed. At a time when he knew it would be empty.

The intermediate times would be spent reading, or watching television, especially if a baseball game was on. Keeping his one hour and a half before bed reading intact, Frank would go to bed directly after, at exactly eleven-fifteen on Saturday and nine forty five on Sunday.

Frank read mystery novels almost exclusively. They had always been his passion. Once a young and so-called promising writer by the so-called experts, his writing had mostly fallen in this genre due to its nature to inspire him.

While his days of writing were long gone, he still kept this interest of his on life-support through reading, although the passion was now severely limited.

This had become the routine. His routine, and it is the only way he can make it through his life, especially his new life. At least for now which is what he tells himself, a phrase that had been made a common refrain of his for many years now. A belief of hope often exercised in denial yet rarely in reality, that this ongoing and monotonous cycle is only temporary. That in fact something better lies just beyond the horizon for him, where he will finally cut loose the shackles of his present life, and have his real life somehow begin once more.

Frank’s cycle was still intact as he called it yet another night, putting his book away, pulling the faded photo off the nightstand, giving it a long look and then a quick kiss before returning it back to its place and shutting the light off for the night. This is the finishing touch in the daily link of his cycle that was now complete. A cycle that had been intact for nearly a decade, and always with that finishing touch.

Frank took comfort in knowing where he would be and what he would be doing from day to day and night to night. He now had a full measure of this comfort as his head hit the pillow tonight, although it would certainly be replaced with dread if he knew what was to come. Nevertheless, he had no way of knowing that tomorrow on his way home from work he would inadvertently set in motion events that would ultimately bring his cycle to an end. Doing so as soon as that night, while causing him to lose the routine’s sacred finishing touch shortly thereafter. Events that would also make it Frank’s last day of work as Truth’s accountant for some time, possibly ever.

But as far as excuses go for missing work, his would be far better than most. As while arriving to work on time when residing in a different county has some difficulties, Frank would soon learn it truly doesn’t compare with residing in a different galaxy.

Chapter Four

We have all gazed into the night’s sky, allowing ourselves in the privacy of our own mind to fearlessly explore the fantastic possibilities that the universe may hold. Within the infinite unknown, of all that exists beyond what we can fully perceive, or even imagine.

We wonder if what is out there could ever match the magical feeling that we instinctively assign to its mysterious nature. While staring into the abyss we realize that we certainly don’t know all of what’s out there, or maybe even anywhere close, yet still believe we have a good guess, conceptually at least, at what the universe holds.

Nevertheless, to take our current level of understanding from what we do know for certain to areas where we now can only imagine, there needs to be a bridge of knowledge allowing our passage. Considering the vastness of space and the possibilities of all that could exist throughout it, our bridge now is extremely limited. Therefore the odds that we would currently be able to guess accurately that which exists on the far side of the unfinished bridge are extremely low.

As of now, there are many events and entities that mankind is constantly seeking information about to strengthen that bridge of knowledge, boldly attempting to learn what is beyond our limited perception. From black holes to white dwarfs, the number of unusual events and phenomenon that we are aware of is astounding. Yet for much of this space phenomenon, we have little reliable information to go on and are left to hypothesize, theorize, and more than anything, dream.

Pulsars, comets, the big bang, quasars, and most of the contents of galaxies slightly outside our own are just some of the known unknowns: that which we know we don’t know entirely. Then there is the field of the theoretical known, such as wormholes, which we believe to be real, but presently exist only in theory. They still need proof of existence. Finally, there are all the unknown unknowns: that which we do not know enough to even begin to fathom. This is where it stands to reason that even the juiciest of our fantasies would fall astoundingly short of reality.

Building a comprehensive and passable bridge of knowledge in all of these fields surely will take some time. Especially considering the overwhelming size and nature of the universe.

For example, a quasar is an extremely bright object in between far off galaxies. Quasars are about the size of our solar system, but can be about one billion times brighter than the sun. Astronomers feel conclusively that these Quasars are the furthest objects from Earth detected in the universe; some are sixteen billion light years away from us. The light from them that we see today, was in fact given off from them billions of years ago, and thus it is believed quasars can provide information about early stages of the universe. In a way it’s like getting a letter that took billions of years to get to its recipient. The post office would be appalled.

So while what we do know about the universe we live in shouldn’t be discounted, it is fair to say we have only begun understanding all of what it truly holds.

Then there is the human factor.

Human perception is remarkably fallible. Whether it is our relative perception of time, color, shapes, distances, or even normality, we see things not necessarily as they are, but how they are to us. The universe that we interact with is extensively our own, since while the one we see might look one way to us; the one we touch, might feel one way to us; and the one we measure by a standard and move within to produce one result, might react and be judged differently in any other way besides our own.

It’s doubtful we will ever fully compensate for the human factor in universal equations. It is simply too difficult to bypass our own nature. Consequently, this will preserve our unique judgment of the universe for better and for worse. When weighing the benefits against the disadvantages of such preservation, arriving at a concrete conclusion becomes increasingly murky, because after all, perception is complicated.

_________

How far is it? Kilometers? Not just the odd one or two, but billions of them? Maybe even trillions?

Guesses had been being made for as long as there has been someone there to guess. Even, and possibly especially, if whoever was being asked did not want to hear about it.

The question of them all.

Now that people had reason to believe there was actually an answer, interest surrounding the question dramatically grew. But no matter what the answer was, all were in agreement it must be a very, very, very, very long way. A distance great enough to fit the unreal feeling associated with it.

Certainly, in such a mysteriously vague realm as the one in question, this was the one given.

Skepticism and wonder were growing as the word spread that the answer had been found.

Do they really know?

How can they?

Who or what is it?

What do they or it want?

How far exactly is it to them, or it?

How long would it take to drive that far in my BMW?

Those curious would not have to wait much longer. The day of measurement had come. None of the audience could wait any longer, and lucky for them they didn’t have to. Here they were, the great measurers themselves walking in with their answer, the answer, and they were about to release it to the world.

We interrupt your regularly televised programming to bring you this special report was heard as the world held their collective breath, put up their collective feet, and for once gathered their collective attention spans, to watch and listen.

The major networks picked up the announcement in progress, but lucky for them the answer had not been announced yet.

Also we can assure you that only tools of the greatest precision in measurement were used, and resulted in an answer with the highest degree of accuracy. Upon close and thorough inspection of the distance in question, we, the people you appointed to these specific positions for exactly this sort of specific task, have--

Get on with it! someone shouted from the crowd.

The microphone irritated in adjustment.

Shuffling of papers, Okay, where was I? Oh yes, we have concluded with the greatest of conviction that the distance in such overwhelming question, in reality is-- Dr. Klenzington paused and cleared his throat.

The world leaned toward their televisions, and the crowd leaned toward Dr. Klenzington as he continued.

One millimeter.

There was