Crossed Circuits: Sci-Fi Short Stories - Volume III

By Gage Axtin

This is not merely a book and a series of science fiction short stories. It’s about sci-fi stories that tell of the impact of technology on the human condition. As with all things, there are consequences of creating, manufacturing, developing, implementing and using technology.
Good things can come from opening new possibilities, but so can bad things. Yet, there is the murky gray in between as well. This is the realm where good and bad mix.
Whatever the outcome, these short stories consider the opportunities and the inherent limitations of technology. Where science and humans fail to co-exist well, you will often find crossed circuits.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Blue M Publishing
• Release date: Apr 19, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463164181

Gage Axtin

Gage Axtin is a pen name used by the author for his science fiction novels and short stories. Mr. Axtin has written many books of various genre.He lives with his family in Chicago.

Book preview

This is not merely a book and a series of science fiction short stories. It’s about sci-fi stories that tell of the impact of technology on the human condition. As with all things, there are consequences of creating, manufacturing, developing, implementing and using technology.

Good things can come from opening new possibilities, but so can bad things. Yet, there is the murky gray in between as well. This is the realm where good and bad mix.

Whatever the outcome, these short stories consider the opportunities and the inherent limitations of technology. Where science and humans fail to co-exist well, you will often find crossed circuits.

*****

Crossed Circuits - III

Time Travel

CH 1

The president sat behind the Resolute Desk, the historic one made from the timbers of the HMS Resolute, a British exploratory ship under the command of John Franklin in 1854. The ship and crew were lost in the Arctic, but it was found by an American, Captain Buddington and later returned to England. Queen Victoria had two desks made from its planks – one of which was gifted to President Rutherford B. Hayes. Many presidents had used the desk as a symbol of strength and solidarity with England and their European allies. However, there was a different kind of resolution sitting before the current president, and this one was extraordinary in the history of the country.

During the short time he’d been president, Maxwell Clement had seen the world come close to a global war. Conflict had arisen between Europe and Russia over gas supplies provided through pipelines from Siberia. Tensions were mounting in the Middle East between the Shia and Sunnis Muslims. The North Koreans were threatening to annihilate South Korea if demands for billions of U.S. dollars in aid were not met. And, finally, northern Africa was ablaze in anarchy – from Morocco to Egypt, a revival of the Arab Spring and the Muslim Brotherhood seizing power. Then, there was the election of a no-name president in America – someone out of the mud pits of politics in Louisiana. It was someone unheard of prior to the campaign, not unlike the election of an unknown governor from Georgia in 1976, Jimmy Carter.

Maxwell Clement rose to power quickly in the state legislature of Louisiana, one of the more corrupt political systems in America. Without casting a single vote his entire time in the state senate, he garnered the favor of a very rich backer – Maurice Schultz. Having emigrated from Germany, Schultz had built an empire by playing the commodities markets and scoring a few, huge hits. That was all it took. Pocketing billions in just a few trades, Schultz was able to create a fortune whose sole purpose was to bankroll activists to do whatever he wanted while they were in office. Maxwell Clements was his crowning success and an achievement of immense importance.

After meeting Schultz at a fundraising event in New Orleans, Clement sealed his Faustian pact by pledging to implement Schultz’s agenda in exchange for hundreds of millions in campaign donations through various backdoor groups and a ready army of volunteers at his disposal.

Once in office, the president moved ahead to implement Schultz’s far-reaching agenda to transform America into something more to his liking. It was to be presented to the populace as the answer in finding utopia for everyone – especially the poor and downtrodden. Clement promised money to the poor, protecting children from harm, guaranteeing the best healthcare for everyone, and guaranteeing every union job regardless of performance or company need. He passed a vastly-higher minimum wage -- $100 per hour -- offered only to those who carried a union card. As a result, Schultz’s wealth and power grew even more.

At the same time, paranoia was setting in. Clement was worried about his next election. He was running out of things to give away to the people, and the economy was collapsing from all his spending. Schultz was pushing him to start a war or, at a minimum, lash out at Europe or China as the cause for America’s misery. However, Clement had resisted.

Running out of goodies to promise the people, Clement began pressuring Congress to pass laws prohibiting people from talking ill of the government. Anyone saying something bad about him or his Administration faced prosecution and imprisonment. He was in the process of trying to blackmail members on the Hill to get even tougher measures passed – including granting him carte-blanche approval to suspend habeas corpus, declare martial law at any time and have people he suspected of wrongdoing arrested and imprisoned. He also wanted the ability to determine their punishment. It was all moving quickly, and the American people were shocked by the speed of what was happening.

But something strange had arisen amid this chaos.

Mr. President, there were multiple witnesses who saw what happened, so I don’t think this is some alchemist trick. It was the secretary of Homeland Security, Ji Woo Han.

I think it’s all a trick, said the president, an alchemist trick. I mean, who just materializes in the middle of Central Park – out of thin air? No one. So, this is some conspiracy -- some plot to destabilize my Administration.

Sir, with all due respect, I don’t think so. We believe that …

Zip it! shouted the president, angrily waving his arm. If you’re going to tell me some cockamamie story about the Messiah’s return or extraterrestrials, then you can leave my office now.

No, sir. We think that …

Just at that time, the president’s phone rang.

Yes? he said, answering.

Sir, the secretary of defense is on the line for you, announced his secretary. He says its urgent.

Marilyn Murphy had been the personal secretary to Maxwell Clement for as long as anyone could remember. Through his term as a mayor of a small town in Louisiana to the state senate, the U.S. Congress, and now the Oval Office, she had been at his side.

President Clement looked at the others in the room.

Meeting’s over, he said, dismissing them abruptly.

As the group disbanded, leaving through a door in the curved wall of the office, the president picked up the red-blinking line.

Yeah, growled Clement, pushing back in his chair and putting his feet up on his desk.

Mr. President, I’ve just received some news that you should hear. But I prefer to deliver it in person in the Oval Office. I request ten minutes of your time, sir.

My schedule is completely packed today, Juan. I can’t just cancel another critical meeting to slip you in. There is a lot we’re dealing with right now. I’ve got election matters that take priority. Is this really that important?

Sir, it is critical.

Thirty minutes later, Secretary Ortega was rushed into the president’s office. Holding a black folder, the secretary unzipped it and pulled out his top-secret laptop. He opened it and logged in, waiting a few seconds before he could access the data he needed. Then, he opened a secure com-line on his monitor.

Here, Mr. President. I have Dr. Ramstadt on the line for us.

The image on the laptop began streaming. Sitting at his desk was the director of the National Aeronautics and Space Agency (NASA), Dr. Vernon Ramstadt.

Vernon, good to see you. What do you have for us? Let’s make it quick. I don’t have much time, said the president curtly.

Mr. President. I’m afraid I have some unsettling news.

Spit it out, Vernon.

Well, we just received data from our Mauna Kea observatory in Hawaii. There is a comet on a trajectory toward Earth that will cause catastrophic destruction.

The president was silent for several moments. This isn’t part of a movie script is it? he asked jokingly. Because this isn’t funny.

No, sir. I’m afraid it’s not. The comet is named 153P/Ikeya–Zhang. It was last seen about 366 years ago, but now its path puts it on a collision course with Earth. It’s roughly 2.3 kilometers in diameter. It was last seen in 2002 but missed Earth by more than 1.6 million kilometers. This time, it will not miss.

Holy shit! said the president. Are you certain?

We have a 99.7 percent probability, sir.

When will it hit?

We estimate it will miss our lunar colony in the Stadius Crater and clear the moon on May 25. But later that day, it will strike Earth.

That’s only, what, sixty days from now?

Yes, sir. It’s actually fifty-seven days. We don’t have much time.

Clement sat motionless and silent.

Sir?

I’m thinking, the president answered. The elections aren’t for another ninety days. If we don’t handle this right, I’ll end up losing the election.

Sir, said Ortega, if we don’t handle this right, there won’t be an election.

Oh, yeah. All right. Well, who else knows about this?

We have not discussed this with or informed any other country, if that’s what you mean.

The Chinese? The Russians?

No sir.

Clement shook his head. Surely, they must know already.

We don’t know sir. If they do, they haven’t contacted us about it.

What is your recommendation, then? Have you advised Secretary Walters at State? What about Simpson at the CIA or Podeski at the FBI?

No, sir. We wanted to inform you first.

You need to tell them right away, said the president.

"We will, sir, as soon as we finish. But sir, you need to understand that we don’t think there is time for a scientific solution to this. However, there may be a military one. We may be able to shoot our kinetic energy ICBMs at it. If we shot twelve of our 50 Megaton KE ICBMs, we might be able to deflect it. But I underscore, might!"

What’s the probability of success? asked Ortega, secretary of state.

We’ve run simulations, and we calculate the odds of all missiles striking the comet at about 23.4 percent. Of those, we must assume that 74.2 percent will detonate. If those go off, we have a 14.3 percent chance of altering the comet’s path enough to miss Earth.

That’s not good enough, said the president

Yes, sir.

Clement shook his head. Are you fucking kidding me? You can’t tell me this is our best shot – with chances of succeeding at less than 15 percent?

Well, sir … said the director with a blank stare.

You’ve got to do better than that.

Sir, we just don’t have the technology to fix this.

What about our allies?

No one has it.

What about the Russians? asked Clement.

No. They have less capability than we do.

The Chinese?

They only have a small advantage in KE missiles and accuracy. But it won’t move the needle much.

But if we all launch something toward it, won’t more be better?

Yes. Absolutely, said the director. But even if all countries with that capability – Russia, China, and the European community – our chances only rise to about 37.4 percent. We don’t see many alternatives.

Clement sat with his hands together and his fingers pressed digit-to-digit. I may have an answer, but I have to get back to you.

You’d better make it fast, Mr. President. If we don’t do something within the next five days, we won’t be able to move the comet at all, even if the entire world fires all of its missiles and they all struck it head-on.

Clement hung up.

Get me Secretary Han. Have him come to my office immediately.

But he was just here, sir. He’s already halfway back to his office by now.

I don’t care, said the president. Get his ass back here.

Indeed, the Secretary of Homeland Security was nearly back to his office, but he turned his chauffeur around and had him drive back to 1666 Pennsylvania Avenue to renew the meeting with the president.

Mr. President, said Han re-entering the Oval Office, what is it that I can do for you?

That incident we were talking about – the one in Central Park. Tell me more, he asked.

*****

CH 2

Secretary Han updated the president on the incident witnessed in Central Park in New York City.

… and there were about five thousand people who saw it, said the secretary. We’ve been trying to control the information, but it’s getting out. The FBI has talked to almost all them by now.

What exactly did they see? asked the president.

Well, the most common version is that there was a huge flash of light in the middle of the park. Everyone we talked to had to shield their eyes from the brightness, and when it faded, there was nothing there.

Nothing where?

In the grassy knoll where they light came down.

That’s unusual, yes, but it could have been a number of things.

Like what? asked the secretary.

I don’t know, but you said it was just a bright light – nothing more than that.

Maybe, sir, but there’s more.

Go on.

A hand full of people said that only yards from where the bright light hit the ground there was a young woman sitting on the ground with her legs crossed, as if she were meditating. She wasn’t there before the bright light, and no one could figure out how she could just appear.

Maybe she sat down while everyone else was looking at the bright light, said the president, becoming annoyed.

Over ten people said they were absolutely sure she wasn’t there before and didn’t come in and sit down. When she opened her eyes, she smiled and looked around the park.

Still doesn’t seem unusual, the president said, skeptically.

That’s when she became frantic. One person said she jumped up from the grass and began screaming like a crazy lady. She threw up her arms and began dancing around, yelling, like her butt was on fire.

Was it?

No, sir. NYPD was called in, and they took her to the station. They couldn’t get her calmed down either, said Han.

And what did this woman say? the president asked.

She kept saying that ‘this couldn’t be happening to her.’ That she thought the whole thing was impossible, and it was some kind of practical joke.

Okay. You’d better tell me something interesting fast or this meeting is over. I have election stuff to work on, and, oh yeah, that comet problem.

Well, she told the cops that she was from the future – the distant future. She said people then had just mastered time travel and were able to go back to whenever time they wanted. I think she said she was from the twenty-ninth century, sir.

She’s just insane, said the president.

That’s what we thought at first. But when they looked at several things she had on her, they found they were made of material we haven’t invented yet. There were chemical compounds we’ve never seen before. Our scientists are baffled, sir.

The Soviets? Chinese? Are they working on things like that? Are they that far ahead of us?

We don’t think so, sir.

You think she’s from the future? Have you talked to her? the president asked.

I’ve talked to her, yes. Do I think she’s from the future? I don’t know, said Han.

Bring her in to see me right away, said the president.

It took only a few hours to get the young woman transported by helicopter from New York City to Washington, and the woman was hurriedly ushered to the White House to meet the president.

What’s going on? asked Schultz, making several calls to the White House.

There’s a woman who may be from the future, said the president.

That’s funny.

No, really. We’re checking things out now. If that’s true, there’s a chance she may be able to help us.

"If that is true, then hell yes she can help us! said Schultz. She’s a goldmine. She can tell us about future geopolitical developments, technology changes, significant historic events that will change our future … all sorts of things. We can cash-in big-time! My billions will be trillions or even quadrillions! We won’t have to put up candidates, we can buy offices. We won’t have to go to war to get resources, we can just buy countries. Just think of it!"

President Clement smiled. He too liked the idea of being rich beyond imagination. He was now worth millions, thanks to Schultz, but billions, trillions or quadrillions?

I like your thinking there, Maurice. That will be included in our questioning of her when she arrives.

When is she coming? asked Schultz.

She should be here within the next hour. Do you want to be patched in?

Absolutely! said Schultz almost in ecstasy.

She should also know who wins this election coming up, said the president. If it’s not me, we might be able to change that if she knows why I lost.

It was two hours later when Ortega returned, this time followed by Director Ramstadt.

Mr. President, we have our agenda of topics to cover. There is much to consider when reviewing what technologies we might be able to use to deflect the comet, said Ortega.

Clement looked at his secretary and scoffed. I don’t care about that anymore, he said. The fact that this lady that appeared in Central Park—this one from the future -- is proof that the comet never hit us. Right?

Ortega looked perplexed. The director also stood without an answer.

I guess that’s possible, sir, said the director. If she’s really from the twenty-ninth century, that would put her eight hundred years into the future. It’s also possible there was a strike, and we rebuilt civilization by that time.

"Bullshit!" said the president. Nothin’ happened, and nothin’ will happen.

Then why are we talking to her? asked Ortega defensively. If you’ve already made up your mind that …

Ortega, if you have something to say, then say it! shouted the president.

Ortega took a breath and backed down.

That’s what I thought, said Clement.

Within a few minutes the door to the Oval Office opened again, and two NYPD officers entered escorting a young woman into the room. Immediately, the president looked at his secretary and director with surprise.

"This is the woman you found in Central Park?" he asked.

Yes, sir, said one of the officers.

Standing in front of them was a woman of not more than twenty. She had purple hair hanging in long braids from the side of her head, but none in the center, as if someone had taken a trimmer and shaved a strip down the middle. The purple locks were a tangled mess on both of her shoulders. Inside her nose was a smooth, white ceramic ring, and her ears were pierced with as many as a dozen small earrings that lined the outside of the cartilage. She wore makeup, but it was a dark, grayish tone that made her eyes and her face look sickly and sad. As to her clothing, it was not what the anyone had envisioned them wearing in the future – certainly not like the Jetsons. Instead, it was a combination of 1960s hippie movement and early twenty-first century Dark Gothic. A dingy, flower-pattern shirt that looked like it hadn’t seen a washing machine in its lifetime and black contrasting pants, tight to the waist and hips but flaring at the knees, made her look strange and gawky.

Hello, said the president, looking over the strange woman. I assume you speak English?

Course, I does, she answered with an accent that was part southern and part Australian.

You say you come from the future. What year is it in your time?

Me from 2872. What is here? she said cryptically.

We’re in the year 2068. So, you’re about eight hundred years ahead of us. I’m sure you know a lot more about science and technology than we do, especially if you’re able to travel through time.

Maybe, the woman said, looking at them cautiously. It hard understand all you say.

That makes sense, said the director. It’s like when we read Chaucer.

Chaucer? Who?

Never mind that, began the president. What I need to know from you is who wins this presidential election. Can you tell me?

The woman gave them a dazed reaction. Election? What is?

The United States of America. We have an election this year in 2068. Can you tell me who wins?

I don’ know, said the woman.

Clement was furious. He threw up his hands. What good is she? he asked.

Maybe if we ask her some other questions, it will ring her memory a bit, said Ortega.

Schultz here, said Maurice streaming in on the holographic line. His image was front and center in the room. I need to know about technologies, countries, leaders, social developments, natural resources, …

"Whoa, whoa," said Ortega, cutting him off. With all due respect sir, we need to start more simply than that. Ortega leaned in and smiled. What is your name? he asked.

The woman returned his grin. I Nasha 294R6, she said.

Glad to meet you, Nasha 294R6. I’m Luis. We’re glad you’re here, although I’m sure you’re a bit uneasy right now.

Nasha nodded and looked furtively among the others in the room.

Were you one of the scientists who created this time machine?

The others in the room laughed, but Ortega was serious.

No, she answered.

But you were part of the experiment?

Yes.

Well, perhaps there is something you might remember from your history – something that happened about this time. You see, there is a comet coming toward Earth as we speak – right now. What we need to know is how we avoided getting hit by it? I’m sure you learned about it in one of your history or science classes or studied the technology at the university.

University?

"Perhaps there was some strange event that occurred – something unexplainable at the time that led to the destruction of the comet. You probably know about the other comets that hit the earth – one about sixty-five million years ago and destroyed the dinosaurs. We want to avoid that this time."

Nasha continued to look at Ortega without emotion or reaction.

Maybe you can give us the technology we need to deflect the comet? said Ortega. It was something that probably advanced man’s technology significantly at this time – at least looking back at it from your perspective. It would be something that you would tell us now that comes from the future – with your technology. It would help us deflect the comet and save the planet. Was there anything like that?

Ortega stopped and waited for his guest to absorb what he was saying. But the young woman continued with a blank stare.

You’re not a scientist, then, the president finally said. But you must have some scientific knowledge if you were chosen to travel back through time to our century.

The woman shrugged.

Okay, so what was your job? asked the president.

Job? Me no job, she answered.

You don’t have a job in the future?

No job. Just watch Kards.

Kards?

Watch Kards.

The president turned to his secretary. What is she talking about?

I have no idea, said the secretary. Let’s have some of our experts interrogate her to get the information we need to divert the comet. I can tell it may take some time to adjust our speech to be able to communicate with her better. She just doesn’t understand what we’re asking her. I’m sure there are a lot of differences in speech and communication.

Fine, said the president. But first, I want to know about the election. Got it?

Yes, Mr. President. We will find that out too.

Good. Then, take her out of here and get the information we need, said the president. Do whatever is necessary to get it. The future of my presidency is at stake.

It took an entire day, and the expert brought in – Dr. Jonathon Milby – didn’t return until the following morning.

Show him in, said Clement, eagerly awaiting his report.

Secretary Ortega arrived with Dr. Milby following close behind, carrying his briefcase. He opened it and pulled out his glass-thin tablet computer.

So, tell me what she knows, said the president, leaning back in his chair. We only have ninety days before the election.

Well, we were only able to find out one thing.

Clement smiled. So, who wins the election and why?

She didn’t know.

Then why are you wasting my time! shouted the president. She’s insane, you know.

Our scientists believe she had things that could be from a civilization eight hundred years from now.

Fine, then what did you find out?

We found out what Kards, means, said the professor.

Great, said Ortega. He then turned to the president who was sitting across from him. You must get the directors of NASA, DARPA and the National Security Council. Oh, and you should probably grab the head of the National Science Foundation. This could be the advanced technology we need to deflect the comet. We can save the earth!

I don’t think that will be necessary, said Dr. Milby.

Why is that? asked Ortega.

Your visitor is indeed from the future, said Milby. We tested her DNA and confirmed she has mutations not currently known on the planet.

Maurice will be glad to hear that, the president answered.

What is the information you have? Ortega pressed. The Kards she spoke about?

It’s a …

Yes. I’m certain it’s the scientific breakthrough we need to bring down that comet, said Ortega, excitedly. If she can just explain the Kards program to our directors, we can start working on our mission to shoot down that comet.

Mr. President – Mr. Secretary, the Kards she speaks of …

Yes?

It’s the Kardashians, sir. She wants to see them. She watches all their shows and their series is still popular eight hundred years from now. Their descendants are still making shows in the twenty-ninth century! Imagine that!

The secretary sat dumbfounded. You’re not serious, he said finally.

Yes, I’m afraid I am, sir.

Clement even shook his head. We’re doomed.

Maybe not, said Dr. Milby. She did tell us something else.

How’s that?

She told me what she remembered from her high school class. She said the comet didn’t hit Earth.

How’s that? Clement asked.

She said they were told that a scientist had made a mistake in his calculation and caused a huge panic on Earth. That was about it. Her teacher had only spent a few minutes on it.

The door to the Oval Office opened again, and one of the NYPD officers stepped inside.

Mr. President.

Yes, what is it?

She’s gone.

Who? Clement asked.

The woman from the future. She … she just evaporated right before our eyes, sir.

She must have gone back to the future, said the president. But I guess it doesn’t matter. Nothing else has changed.

I just received a call from NASA, sir, said Director Ramstadt. They just told me they made a mistake in their calculation. The comet will miss us after all.

Ortega laughed. I’ll be damned, he said. Who would have figured that the Kardashians would end up saving the world.

That’s all great, but I still don’t know anything about the election, said Clement sadly.

*****

Meditation

CH 1

It was a hard journey – more than three weeks crossing oceans, plains, and mountains. But Yan Woo finally came to the mountains in Tibet where he hoped to find a secretive, and some said eccentric, monk who was only known as Father Alagui. He lived near a remote village on the slopes of the southwestern range of the Himalayas called Ghandruk. One of the most isolated villages on Earth, Ghandruk was the home of fewer than a hundred native villagers, and Father Alagui’s monastery was some three kilometers from its center.

Trekking up the steep cliff face, Woo and his team of five kulaks made it to the front doors of the small church with an attached monetary. It was Woo who banged the huge, black ring against the door to let someone know he had arrived. It took almost an hour of repeated knocking, but a monk dressed in a heavy, gray alpaca robe finally answered. He was young – no more than forty – and had a clean-shaven head. In fact, there was no hair on his face. His face was full and round suggesting he was being well fed at the facility. His deep brown eyes and dark complexion suggested he was from that region or perhaps from Mongolia.

Yes? the monk answered strangely in the tongue of Maithili, a dialect used in Nepal.

I am Yan Woo. You should be expecting me. I am here to see Father Alagui.

The monk neither smiled nor grimaced. He only opened the door and motioned for him to enter.

Wait here, said the monk in broken English. I get for you.

The sherpas set their packs down and pulled the two crates from their entanglement of straps. Then, after Woo paid them the remainder of their wages, they vanished quickly out the front door, running as if spooked by an unseen phantom.

Shortly, the monk returned with a man standing next to him who was far older with a long gray beard, tapered to a point. His eyes were dark and encircled with folds of experience and wisdom. He had seen much in his lifetime, and he was at the stage of his life when he only wanted to impart what he could to others who wished to listen and learn.

The old man bowed as he greeted Yan Woo.

I am your humble servant, said Father Alagui, lowering his head and pressing the palms of his hands together.

No, oh wise one, said Woo, respectfully, "I am your servant. You have much wisdom, and I am but a babe in the woods, calling for his mother. You know so much, and I can only hope to absorb a small percentage of your vast knowledge. But I am willing – eager – to learn. Will you be so kind as to teach me? Will you impart to me a small morsel of what you know? I will be eternally grateful."

You cannot be eternally grateful, said the elder monk. You can only be held accountable for your actions while you walk this Earth. None of us knows what lies in our afterlife. It is possible to glimpse it, but we do not know for certain what our fate will be after we shed our flesh and bone and enter the ethereal realm of the beyond.

"Will you be my sensei, then?" asked Yan Woo.

The old man did not answer but turned and walked away. Woo followed instinctively, feeling that his wish had been quietly granted.

For the next three days, Woo sat in his room disappointed. He had not heard or seen the master since he had arrived, and he was beginning to think that he’d been forgotten. Finally, he sought Father Tenzin, who headed the abbey.

Father, said Woo, I came to be schooled by Father Alagui, but I haven’t seen him since I arrived three days ago. He said he would impart some of his wisdom to me, but I’ve learned nothing since I’ve gotten here.

Patience, said Tenzin.

Patience?

Yes, said Tenzin, leaving the room.

Three more days passed, and Woo began to pack his things not wishing to wait any longer. He had not been able to work with Father Alagui and had learned nothing from all the effort he had put into getting to there. His journey had taken him months to plan and raise the money, and days to travel from New York to the hallowed grounds of the monastery.

Where are you going? came a voice from Woo’s open door. Woo was just shutting his baggage and setting it on the floor to be picked up by the sherpas.

Father Alagui? I hoped to work with you, but it appears you are very busy. I’m sorry for interrupting your schedule, said Woo, trying to be deferential.

"I have been