Science Bible - Resurrection: Science Bible, #3

By Roy Jackaman

(Book 3 of 3) This is a metaphysical sci-fi story.

There is no such thing as well-explained life forms, and then there are facets of evolution, which no one can truly define. 

George, the genius dabbler, feels implicated in religious troubles in the Middle East.  George talks with someone, he meddled with in the past, who hands him an interesting present.

The desert citadel rallies to Mehmed's call for battlefield supremacy.  However, even as Mehmed issues his commands he has to admit there are contradictions between his faith and his actions. 

George has a mission to find someone who he thinks is important, someone who will relieve his guilt about one of his technological actions.  When he finally locates the Mister 'X', he undergoes a compulsion to start owning up; has he been brainwashed?  After all, there is such a thing as mind control, isn't there? 

Brook remains, as ever, vulnerable to strange happenings and the evolution of the human form.  Something happens between her and Raith, which is of lasting significance.

Then there is the question of the Bible, but which one?  Can anyone of them allude to the question of consciousness, and what it really means? 

This book is written in UK English.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Roy Jackaman
• Release date: Jul 21, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386801344

Roy Jackaman

The author has earned degrees in mathematics, has a substantial career as an IT Specialist and is a member of MENSA. He has lived in many parts of the world. The objective of his writing is to tell a story from a technical idea and to present it in a readable form. He enjoys writing about complex fictional issues and abstract notions.  

Book preview

The Professor’s Phone

Professor Drago could be comical, it depended on how you took him.  Most would consider his notions of alien communication into the minds of man as cranky.  However, to him, it was very real and it was possible, scientifically.  Why could it not happen?  Considering things such as black holes in space were beyond human imagination at one stage, then who was to say the things he thought were not possible.  It was not as if he was putting forward a hypothesis on alternate universes.  His ideas paled into insignificance against such illustrious thoughts, and, yes, they were not impossible.  He had convinced himself.  His ideas though were maybe a little too grandiose for the average man.  He was thinking communication from the depths of space while all the time he was sitting in a sitting room in Miami.

The phone that Anthony Drago was using to speak with John was a Dytrax.  It was the sort, which he could have used with a prosthetic brain transplant.  It seemed a little strange that the Professor with all his wild and woolly notions about technology, science and alien forces did not hold with such innovations.  With the use of prosthetics, he could have disposed of the physical phone altogether.  He could have stored information at any time on a memory transplant in the rear of his head while speaking through a device, which connected remotely to it.  The transplant would have been quite unnoticeable.  However, he had chosen not to do this.  Molly had insisted that she would not have implants to bolster her already adequate breasts and he held a similar view regarding prosthetic implants at the back of his brain.  In some ways, in a world where implants were becoming the norm to enhance the capabilities of the human mind, he had taken a pass.  It was like most things with the Professor, he wanted his news items written in a physical newspaper, and he insisted his phone conversations would come via a physical handset.

The Creature’s Horns

It may have been purely in his mind but he imagined the ever-insouciant Joe had panicked.  It was a dilemma with two options, both equally unsavoury.  Shot in the back if he ran or carved up like a Christmas turkey if he stood still. 

Ralton was normally a little more circumspect although in a flash he had considered the same two options as Joe.  However, if he had thought there were only two choices, as Joe did, he would have been petrified.  It didn’t take him long to think of other options, not long at all in fact, partly because he didn’t have much time before something horrible was about to happen.  He shot through the options in his mind for what must have been a split second, but seemed much, much longer.  None of them looked particularly appetizing.  Run, attack, reason, or stand still and wait to die.  They were practically the same as he had originally thought.  Meanwhile, that creature was looking at them with its automatic weapon and a machete at least two feet in length.

With that, very brief moment of contemplation over, Ralton resorted to his original feeling.  That was the feeling of fear because now he was scared.  If he had once thought it, the idea of running was no longer an option.  It was no use running, his legs felt like jelly.  If he had run, he probably would have toppled over.  In the end, it didn’t matter, although they were not to know that.  They both stood still, fixed to the ground, frozen by their fear, not daring to move.

Then their moments of morbid anticipation went by the wayside as the unimaginable happened.  The creature sunk slowly to the ground.  That powerful creature, the 3R, collapsed slowly to the ground, the dirt, the sand, or whatever it was in that godforsaken place. 

Both Ralton and Joe were stunned.  They remained silent as they looked on in amazement.  The circumstances and their fortune had suddenly changed.  The 3R was lying there lifeless, with only the two horns on its head twitching.  While Ralton remained silent, the impulsive Joe quickly recovered.  

What the hell was all that about?  What the...?  Joe said.

The unfinished sentence gave away Joe’s surprise.  Although it didn’t take long before he had recovered.

Big sucker crumbles under the onslaught from two intrepid reporters from The Global Tribune, Joe smiled as he started to conjure up a lead story.

Then he started to regain his former ebullient self.  It was as if nothing had happened as he took pictures of the prostrate monster.

FIVE MINUTES LATER and Ralton had been recapping the situation in his mind.  They had been in their desert location and a six foot six anonymous looking biological construct was about to lob off their arms at best or slice them down the middle at worst.  There was never any mention of what they should be doing in that type of conflict.  They were reporters.  There was an expectancy they should become embroiled in such a situation at some stage.  They just had to know how to avoid the worse outcomes.  Daniel the editor had just warned them in his cavalier way before they set off.

Keep your head down, nose clean.  Keep your powder dry.

Daniel’s used, as often he did, his vacuous words to feign some sort of concern.  Ralton and Joe had for the most part just ignored them.  They didn’t mean much and they certainly wouldn’t help if they were in a dangerous situation.  Dismissing Daniel’s words didn’t seem such a big problem.  For the most part, Ralton and Joe were not prepared to believe that things would get that bad.  However, if things took a turn for the worse then it was implicit in their thoughts that Special Forces would rescue them.  Both of them had that same naïve notion.

The problem was that the situation had escalated so quickly and all ideas about what to do disappeared in a moment of blind panic.  There was also no way that Special Forces were going to zoom in and save their bacon.  In all honesty, there was never going to be an appropriate solution to the problem they had confronted.  However, as it turned out they needn’t have worried.  Fortune had come to their aid.

The 3R, who was now lying flat out on the sand, had definitely been on a mission.  It was driven by some desire, some thought, some impulse.  

Ralton, easily the more cerebral of the two, had said to Joe after the creature was sprawled out on the ground, Something must be driving that thing.  It comes forward then it gets some mixed signals or gets its knickers in a twist, somehow.  Something in its control unit or brain, or whatever it has that controls it, blows a fuse.

Joe just nodded as if in agreement, which left the question unanswered as to what had caused the failure.  The 3R just lay stretched out on the ground like a reclining lion.  It looked grand in its recumbent state; it looked almost peaceful.  However, whether the 3R had looked harmless or not in its present didn’t alter what Joe thought of it.  Joe had temporarily been calm but then he became agitated.  It was predictable that Joe would not be taking the same line as Ralton and impulsive as he was, he suddenly reacted.  Joe, who wasn’t philosophical at the best of times, was hardly likely to waste time given to deep thoughts about what was going on in the 3Rs brain box.  He erupted.  Finally, it occurred to Joe that the creature had posed a very real threat and his anger boiled over.  He had delayed his reaction but then it had percolated to the surface.  You could almost see it in his mind as the thoughts circulated and screwed up his face.  It was all about rage and muddled primitive animal instincts.

Bastard, freaking bastard, Joe shouted.

The creature lay before him motionless, unable to react.

IN THE DESERT, THE 3R had been on the verge of completing something, a mission, or some such thing.  It had to be, if it had no motive it would have been a zombie, something devoid of direction, just wondering aimlessly towards no particular endpoint.  That was not true, the damn thing was not wondering aimlessly at all, it was moving towards Ralton and Joe.  Instinct had guided it.  The creature was definitely motivated to do something and it clearly had a target in mind. 

To Ralton, the analysis was clear.  There was something in the creature’s brain, if it had a brain, driving it.  If not that, there was something else present, acting as a third force pushing it forward like some sophisticated robot.  A third force, a guiding force which humans knew only too well; a force to do something, which they feel compelled to do, either right or wrong or maybe something which was necessary.  Of course, humans had something they called ‘free will’ but how did that stack up in reality?  For the most part, humans had abrogated their responsibilities.  They had used the ill-defined concept of conscience to make their decisions or they had used their religion as their moral guide.  It was easier that way; all that was required was to follow a set of moral rules, regulations, and laws to decide the correct outcome.  For the 3R, it would be far easier if it had simpler thought processes, instinctual ones, but Ralton couldn’t be sure of that. 

Ralton looked at Joe and his manic expression then looked at the calmness of the 3R lying still on the ground.

Ralton looked at Joe, How was this thing driven, what was its direction, what was its motivation?

Ralton stopped himself, he didn’t want to pontificate on whether this creature’s impetus was moral or not.  Joe wouldn’t have even been interested in any case; he wasn’t interested now.  Joe didn’t have a fascination about how this creature was functioning at all.  He didn’t give a damn how the creature was functioning.  Joe did have a more basic question though.

Fuck happened?  Joe was looking at Ralton as he posed the question.

Ralton looked blankly at Joe for a split second.

Joe repeated the question, What happened? 

Joe was not like Ralton he had no such high-flown ideas how the creature thought.  He didn’t care what was circulating in the creature’s mind, he was just pissed that the creature had held the balance of their lives in the palm of its rather massive hands.  

Ralton shrugged his shoulders by way of an answer; then added.

Fuck knows.

After a moment, Ralton resumed.

One minute up, then the next down.  On the ground curled up like a baby.  Completely pacified, subjugated, rendered harmless.

Joe smiled at Ralton’s words and nodded his head as if in agreement with Ralton, it made him look completely compliant, completely calm.   

Then Joe became mad.

Joe would never have admitted it but the gruesome warrior creature had scared him not more than ten minutes before.  To put not too fine a word on it Joe was scared shitless as the creature stood in judgement over him and Ralton.  It had all the power then, all the power to end their lives.  Now the situation had turned, the 3R was comatose, it was lying completely still on the ground.  A few minutes ago, it had the power to end their lives now it was prey to Joe’s fickle anger.  Everything, which Joe had become during his life, had stood in the balance.  It was about to have been taken away, the creature could have ended his life without a second glance. 

A question had been going through his mind and he answered himself as Ralton stood next to him looking on.

Revenge?  Revenge?  You bet, as Joe stood over the tall lifeless body.

Then he prompted Ralton, What the hell is this? 

Ralton shrugged his shoulders.

Joe always had a willingness to get involved in whatever was taking place.  That was a virtue of Joe’s character, which Ralton always looked on favourably.  Joe would always get involved in the messiest and most dangerous of jobs and he always did those things with a relish.  However, the next action came as a little surprise to Ralton.  It was an aspect of Joe’s character, which Ralton had not seen before. 

I think we need a sample, Joe said as he coolly moved over to the now still 3R and removed the long sword from its leg.

Then Joe stood over the tall corpse like a champion, like a gladiator about to claim his spoils of war over his motionless opponent.  It may have been heavy but Joe raised the sword above his head.  Ralton remained an onlooker, a little spellbound not quite sure what Joe was doing.  Ralton continued to remain still not knowing what to expect.  Before Ralton had a chance to intervene, if ever he intended to do so, Joe swung the sword down hard against the creature’s head with pinpoint accuracy.  With the action in mid-flight, with the heavy sword accelerating down to the body’s motionless head, Ralton just stood there looking on in semi-amazement.  Ralton stood there in that split second the sword took to meet its target, expecting to see the head explode into a mess of blood and gore.  Instead, the operation was clinical; it was the very thing where Joe excelled.  It was precise and calculated.  The sword came down and sliced the two horns off from the front of the skull, assuming it was a skull, and they dropped harmlessly from the creature onto the sand below without it stirring, without the slightest movement, while bile oozed from the wound.  The creature surely could only be dead.  Being comatose would surely not have engendered the same totally inert response to the removal of a piece of its body.  Joe had scalped it, just like a savage.  Joe was taking his trophy.  For Joe in his slightly heightened state, it was a sign of victory over his enemy.

But God damn, why had the creature’s horns twitched?  Joe looked a little bewildered.  He was a little unsure what he had just done. 

He had hacked away a piece of living flesh, from a living animal, although Joe still wasn’t quite sure whether the creature was alive or dead.  He hadn’t seen a pulse or anything, which he would normally associate with a live human.  Actually, nothing would have stopped him, in any case.  It was revenge for what amounted a threat to his life.  For a brief moment, Joe had become a barbarian. 

Bastard!  Joe said as he looked at the creature.

Then Joe calmed himself.  He was satisfied he had done the right thing because he would do something with the horns.  He would get them analysed in the lab to determine would the hell this thing was.  Joe would get the thing identified.  It had to have some origins and the analysis would indicate that.

Ralton looked again at Joe and said, Bestial, Joe.

After his moment of anger, Joe looked at Ralton innocently, What do you mean?

Ralton repeated his statement, A little bit bestial, Joe.

Joe had no regrets about what he had just done but Ralton’s remark made him think for a second.  He thought about the act he had just committed.  He had dismissed the idea that he had done anything wrong.  Scalping the creature, as it lay incapacitated didn’t mean a thing, he was only doing to the same thing it would have done to them. 

Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth.  Slicing away at living flesh.  Just like slicing a steak for the barbecue.  Joe may have looked calm but it was clear he was still a little maniac.

He paused then completed his irreverent tribute to the creature lying still on the ground.

Bastard, as a look of grimace formed on Joe’s face