New Frontiers and Other Lands

By Brian Krisis

Come journey into a new reality of wonder and terror, with nine tales both frightening and enlightening, in the vein of The Twilight Zone and Tales from the Darkside!

A man in upstate New York begins receiving nightly visits from an intruder who would belong more at home in Ancient Greece, in "The Diary of Stephen Johnson". In "The Face of God", two researchers attempt to travel into the Great Beyond to see the true Face of God, with horrifying results.

After that, you can take a scenic trip to the town of Kingsburg, which survived the Apocalypse, but since been taken over by a deadly militia under the control of a mysterious despot in "The Monster".

For those looking for something with a more comedic bent, "A Most Unexpected Discovery" will show you a world where two explorers make a bet over the true shape of the Earth and travel into space to settle the argument, with surprising results! And in "Turning The Tables", two criminals escape a million years into the distant future after meat-eating becomes illegal in the United States, only to find that they really should have stayed home instead.

These, and four other stories, are waiting inside, and will stick in your memory long after you've finished reading. Do you dare to travel through a multiverse of possibilities, and witness them for yourself?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brian Krisis
• Release date: Jul 31, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005114077

Brian Krisis

Brian Krisis is an author who hails from Long Island, and is now residing in Queens, NY. Besides writing, he is currently a social worker and budding labor activist. He also has been a UFO investigator, environmental advocate, and once played laser tag with a professional wrestler.New Frontiers and Other Lands is his debut story collection, with more works to follow.

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Brian Krisis

New Frontiers and Other Lands

First published by MNY Publishing 2020

Copyright © 2020 by Brian Krisis

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

MNY Publishing. Queens, New York City, USA.

First edition

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Contents

Introduction

Quarantine

The Diary of Stephen Johnson

The Mysterious Outpost

The Face of God

A Most Unexpected Discovery

The Lure

Turning The Tables

A Series of Strange Items Found In A Local Newspaper

The Monster

More Upcoming Books From Brian Krisis

Introduction

Welcome! So glad you could make it! I know that it’s been rather dismal outside, and this rain doesn’t look like it’s going to let up anytime soon. There were sunny skies predicted for today, but as usual, the weatherman was completely wrong. It reminds me of that old joke, that being a weather forecaster is the one job where you can be wrong every time and never get fired for it.

Still, I’m glad that you made it here to my home. I appreciate you taking the risk to come visit me. I haven’t been outside much recently, but things are supposed to be a bit frightening out there. Sometimes it feels like you’re taking your life in your hands just stepping outside your front door.

So please, come in! Dry yourself off, and hang up that wet raincoat. There’s no reason for you to standing outside in the rain. Come in, let me close the door behind you.

Now then, have a seat and make yourself at home! I’ll make some Earl Gray tea for us both, to calm our nerves. I think we both could use it right now. I already have some water boiled, so it will take only a minute.

What’s that hum that you hear in the other room? Oh, that’s the air conditioner helping to cool this place down. It may be raining outside, but the humidity is still killer outside. It is the middle of the summer, after all.

That’s one thing I never cared for with summer, the blasted humidity. You step outside on some days, and it’s like you’ve transported yourself to the middle of the damned Everglades.

Yes I agree, that armchair recliner in the corner is pretty damned comfortable. It cost quite a bit of money to acquire a few years back, but there is no chair in the entire world better at inducing relaxation. It’s almost supernatural in what it does. If you’ve had a long day, or feel some aches and pains, that chair does a greater service to the human body than any masseuse or trained chiropractor ever could.

If you’re sitting there, then I will sit in the chair opposite from it, next to the cuckoo clock and book shelf. I know that a cuckoo clock is a bit of a kitsch thing, but that is how my taste can be sometimes. There are some things that bring a certain comfort to me, especially in these more isolating and troubled times.

Oh, I just remembered! Do you want to hear something funny about that clock? From the day I bought it, the stupid bird has never come out! I’ve tried everything, but the bird itself seems to be permanently stuck inside the clock. Every time it hits the top of the hour, I only hear a muffled thump, as if the bird is hitting its head on the door. It’s the damnedest thing.

To be honest, I’m actually a bit grateful for it. My other clock (the one there on the table) chimes loud enough as it is. Thank goodness I’m a heavy sleeper at night, or the blasted thing would keep me awake for hours!

Now then, are you comfortable? Are you enjoying your tea?

You know, I am glad to have you here with me. Things have gotten so out of hand outside, it is good to have some company again. That’s why I invited you here, so we can spend some time together. It’s been so long since I last had a good conversation, and I hope you can help me with that. Sometimes I feel as if the art of conversation has become a bit of a lost one these days.

Before I speak any further, let me start our conversation by asking you a question. I should let you know in advance that I do have a reason for this, beyond a bit of idle discussion. I’d like to explore an idea with you, and I hope you will indulge me for a while. If you will but humor me, I promise to share with you some of the stories that I’ve collected over the years. They were given to me by some reliable sources of mine, in exchange for certain…services rendered to them.

I know that is the reason that you have paid me a visit today, after all. You wanted to hear some stories, something out of the ordinary, yes?

I feel that they’re rather good ones, and I hope you will be entertained by them, as I was when I first heard them. So I beg you, please indulge me in my inquiry for just a bit. I know that we are but newly made acquaintances, but I think we should be able to have a good time together, you and I.

Now then, I’ve made you wait long enough. So then, without any further delay, my question to you, dear friend, is this:

Have you ever thought about parallel universes and the multiverse?

I can already see, by your expression, that you are wondering about my question. Why am I inquiring about such an abstract concept, and to open our conversation, no less?

Well, I warned you, didn’t I? I do have a good reason for asking though, beyond any attempt to sound overly intellectual or pompous. This is something that has been on my own mind for quite some time, and I’m curious if it has been the same for you.

Eh, either way, it makes little difference, I suppose. Perhaps you are one of those people who is already familiar with the concept, through scientific magazines, or the popular culture of science fiction and comic books. My, those novel and comic writers sure have taken the concept and run away with it, hmm?

I must admit to enjoying all that material myself. There are those who dismiss it as being pulp trash, or for kids, but I strongly disagree. Storytelling, when done well, is a magical thing in all its forms. The same universal truths can be told and retold in many different ways. Even if something may not be to your particular taste, there is no denying the truths that a well told story can pass on. It can be a serious dramatic piece in the vein of George Bernard Shaw, or something involving super heroes in colorful costumes, but either way, it involves serious ethical dilemmas and moral conflicts, and the consequences of having to live with those decisions.

But I am going off on a tangent, I feel. I had asked you, friend, about the multiverse. Even if you are not familiar with the term itself, the basic idea should be familiar to you.

Perhaps I should explain. Let me elaborate a bit on my own views, so you can better understand where I am coming from.

As I was saying: the multiverse theory suggests that there are things like parallel universes - realities that exist next to our own, but still separate. Each of these universes is created by a different choice. A decision that we have made, on a micro or macro level, results in a different outcome based upon our actions. This, in turn, causes the creation of two different universes, based upon the choices that we made.

For example, two different universes can be made based upon the results of a political election. There would be one in which the first candidate wins, and then another where the other one comes out on top. This depends on the choices that people make, which candidate they support, and which lever they pull in the voting booth.

Then of course, there are the universes created by choices that are so minor as to be virtually insignificant. The choice that you made today to wear a red shirt, instead of a blue one, may have created a brand new universe, based entirely on that one decision.

Popular authors, of course, love to create parallel universes based upon grand, sweeping moments in history, often choosing the same focal points to write about: what if the Nazis had won World War II? What if the Confederacy had won the American Civil War? What if the Soviets had beaten the United States in getting to the Moon first? So on and so forth. There are enough alternate history novels and short stories about just these topics alone to fill up a small bookstore!

Yet as I said, the choices made, and the resulting outcomes, don’t have to be quite so grandiose. Simply the choices that you make every day, in theory, should be enough to help create an infinite number of universes, all contained in the larger multiverse.

So then, what does that mean, my friend? Why explore this topic, and the idea of other realities? Why talk about how you might have created an entire universe today simply by wearing a red shirt instead of a blue one?

It’s quite simple, really. At the risk of sounding a bit crazy, I’m going to put it out there: I find the multiverse concept to be fascinating because it represents the very idea of possibility.

Yes, my friend, possibility! If the multiverse exists, then the possibilities are endless. There could be worlds out there that contain things that we have yet to even imagine. It means that anything, no matter how seemingly impossible, is in fact quite possible! These things can exist, even if only in other realities.

Think about this as well. If there are an infinite number of universes out there, based upon the choices that you, and others like you have made, then isn’t it possible that you could also have an infinite number of counterparts in these universes as well?

I can see that the idea may make you a little uncomfortable, but think about it! For every decision you make, no matter how small, there could be a different version of you that exists as a result. That version of you would be living their own life, dealing with the ramifications of your decision in some other universe.

Yet, even if this is true, this doesn’t mean that your choices are meaningless. Quite the contrary, actually. It means that the choices you make matter even more.

Even if you have an infinite number of counterparts in these universes, your lives are not connected. They will be making their own choices and living their lives, as you are living yours. You are no more connected to them, than they to you. They will be meeting people, doing things, making decisions, whenever and whatever they want, the same as you. Your life is your own, regardless of how many counterparts you may have out there.

Put quite simply, friend: Even if other versions of you exist out there, you are the only one living your own life, in this universe. That’s why it’s up to you to make it a good one. Your choices matter, and impact your life and the lives of those around you. So make the right ones.

Now then! Having said all that, I know I promised to tell you some stories, and I do believe that it has come to that time. I do hope that you will enjoy them. As I said, these stories were passed on to me by sources that should, perhaps, best be left anonymous.

Oh, it’s nothing quite so devious as it might sound. It’s just that well, my….muses, let’s say, live quite far away, and prefer not to be disturbed. They are quite busy individuals, as I’m sure you can imagine.

But they always do bring such interesting tales to tell! They don’t even mind if I pass them on to other people. We’ve developed a bit of an arrangement over the years, a bit of a win-win thing for both sides. Quite kind of them, wouldn’t you say?

What do I give them in return? What are the services I mentioned earlier? Well, that will be my little secret for now. If you’re truly so curious, you can come back and find out another time.

If you enjoy my stories, then I really do hope you will come back again. I quite enjoy the company, and I must admit, I like having a bit of a receptive ear from time to time.

Ah! See? I wasn’t kidding! You heard that soft thump from the cuckoo clock a moment ago, right? That bird is just lucky that it’s completely artificial, or it would be suffering from a nasty concussion by now.

So how about that second cup of tea? I’ll have it for you in a moment. Green tea, or Earl Gray again? Perhaps some herbal detoxing tea might hit the spot instead?

Just think: there could be a version of you out there, in some other universe, that is missing out on this opportunity. They chose to sit home, with the rain coming down outside, and do some boring task, instead of making the trip to have some tea and enjoy the stories that I am about to relate to you in the pages ahead.

Don’t you feel sorry for them?

Queens, New York City

June 11th, 2020

Quarantine

Dr. Robinson made the final incision into the body with his scalpel, and then looked down at the table with a slight grimace.

Sighing, he put the blade down on the table, next to the other surgical instruments. Taking off his mask, he looked over, with weary eyes, at the nurse standing off to one side.

There’s nothing more that can be done here. Please sew the wound up and move the patient into the recovery area for observation, he instructed in a tired voice. He took off his latex gloves, disposing of them into the container near the surgical table.

Yes, Dr. Robinson, the nurse said with a nod, and scampered over to get the surgical thread. He could hear her humming to herself as she followed out his instructions. Some old show tune? It sounded like something from Broadway, though he was having trouble placing it. It had an element of familiarity to it, though, and it made him think of home.

He felt a twinge of homesickness go through him, as he thought of the home that he had left behind. The life that he had left behind, to come out to this god-forsaken place. For not the first time, he second-guessed his decision, wondering if he had made the right choice after all. It was a thought that ran through his mind constantly, sometimes without end.

Dr. Robinson sighed, and moved away from the surgical area, stepping outside. Leaving the dark interior of the medical tent, his eyes squinted in the mid-afternoon sun. He wasn’t used to the brightness after being inside for hours, tending to patients.

Six months ago, he had agreed to take the position as chief medical officer here in the Congo. An epidemic had begun wiping out entire villages in the region, and he had been desperately needed. He had been given a few days to think it over.

It had taken only 48 hours for him to say yes, and then he had been flown immediately out on the first plane to Africa.

His team had worked hard and tirelessly, putting their blood, sweat, and tears into it, to no avail. Despite their best efforts, the epidemic had gotten worse, raging out of control and extinguishing countless lives. They had followed every procedure, everything they knew to contain an epidemic. Yet nothing seemed to be working.

It certainly wasn’t that he was incompetent, or a novice in the medical field. He was a highly skilled M.D., one of the best in the field, and his skills with a scalpel were the stuff of legend. He had excelled with top honors in medical school, and had been the first in his class. He had solved cases that had left other doctors completely baffled. There had been high hopes when he was given the post in this part of Africa, and his superiors had held absolute faith in him.

Even so, despite their belief in his abilities, his skills could only go so far. Faced with such insurmountable odds, there was only so much even he could do. Every day, more and more cases appeared, and the bodies continued to pile up. The mass graves were beginning to run out of room.

He walked back to his residence, his feet feeling like leaden weights. His weariness was beginning to take its toll on him. He opened the front door and trudged inside, sitting down with a heavy thud.

He groaned to himself, and reached for the bottle that was always right within reach. Dr. Robinson took another swig from it, and then, seeing it was nearly empty, threw it across the room with a grunt of anger.

The bottle hit the wall with a thud, surprisingly not shattering. It then rolled under his cot, to vanish with its other companions from days and weeks past.

He rubbed his tired eyes with his fingers, and lay back, lost in thought. Thinking about why, exactly, he had ever agreed to come out to this rotten place. He slipped his shoes off his feet, tossing them onto the floor, and then lay back again, closing his eyes. For not the first time. he tried to wish away his current surroundings with the power of his mind.

He had come out to the Congo under the guise of altruistic intentions. To help the needy, stop the suffering. To be the one to save lives, and bring an end to the epidemic that had devastated an entire region.

But this had only been the rationale he told his peers and the press. It was part of making himself look good, after all. The brave Dr. Stanley Robinson, traveling out to the middle of the goddamned Congo to save African lives from a horrible epidemic!

Yes, this was the reason he had given. But it wasn’t exactly the complete truth, if he was being honest with himself.

Truth be told, he had agreed to take the position only to advance his career, and achieve some fame back home. Sure, he had already achieved a certain level of notoriety for his skills back in New York, but he desired more. He wanted the accolades and the awards. He wanted the recognition from his peers for being a miracle worker, and conquering a terrible disease.

It was a different kind of fame that he was looking for, in that humid, hot green hell of the Congo.

Not solely to be famous as a highly skilled doctor.

No, he wanted recognition that he had defeated the disease, and, in doing so, dealt a defeat to Death Itself.

That thought had filled his mind when his superiors back in New York had first told him of the offer. It had started off small, germinating as a minor idea in his mind. Then it had increased with each passing day, until the concept had come to consume him.

Finally, he had known that he had little choice in the matter. He had signed the agreement, and been on the first plane to Africa only two days later.

And within a week, he had found himself regretting his decision, and wishing he had never even heard of the blasted Congo in all his life.

He groaned again, laying back on his bed, covering his face with his hands. He wished that he was still working at the hospital in New York. He wished that he was still performing miracles in the operating room. His face on the cover of every professional magazine in the medical field. Having easy and reliable access to indoor plumbing and air conditioning. Not having to check his boots for snakes every time he went to put them on. Not wasting his time being out…here.

Not out here in the jungle with these uneducated….people.

Dr. Robinson felt contempt surge through his body as he thought of the natives, and their ignorant ways.

He felt a deep disdain, bordering on condemnation, as he thought of their primitive superstitions. He thought of how they had explained away the epidemic as being the result of witchcraft. They had blamed evil spirits! Evil spirits!

Hell, the fools had never even heard of germ theory, or even knew what a virus was! That was what had enabled the disease to spread so far and so rapidly.

They hadn’t been concerned about practicing the proper medical protocols to limit the spread of the virus. There had been only a handful who had taken the time to learn the information being presented to them.

Instead, they had been more concerned about finding out which of their neighbors were witches, and casting the poor souls out of the village.

That is, if they didn’t simply stone them to death.

He saw the way that people lived here, and judged them for it. The extreme poverty, the poor living conditions. He felt superior to them, and couldn’t understand why they chose to live this way. Why not embrace the modern lifestyle being offered to them? Why cling to such self-destructive ways? It made no sense to him, and he knew that it never would.

Dr. Robinson closed his eyes, knowing that he was on call. He needed to rest, as he could be called back to operate or treat a patient at any time. He hoped for at least a few hours of sleep before the work would have to start all over again. He felt weary thinking about it.

He started to drift off, sleep overtaking him in a drowsy fog. The same thought crossed his mind again, as it had every day since his arrival.

It would be so easy for him to admit defeat. He simply had to ask for a transfer back to New York, and he would leave this nightmarish hellhole behind him for good. It would simply take one word from him, back to his superiors, and he could be on a plane going home by the following day. The jungle would be nothing more than a green outline beneath him, before finally vanishing beneath the cloud cover. It would fade into just another bad memory. One of many for him.

He wished that he had the strength to go through with something like that. But he knew, in his heart, that his ego would never let him. It would never let him admit to failure, to slink home with his tail between his legs. Not while the epidemic continued to rage out of control.

To go home, and throw in the proverbial towel, would be a stain on his career that he could never live down. And to have that happen to him because of the primitives that he was being forced to treat? The thought was intolerable to him.

He could never do that, not in a million years.

His feelings had become clouded the longer that he had been stuck there. Recently, he had began to institute a policy of strict quarantine. Even if his patients were not yet beyond hope, he would direct them to be placed in the quarantine ward, isolated from their families. Hell, even the healthy ones were beginning to be quarantined as well, even if they hadn’t shown a single symptom of the disease. He would simply direct them to be kept at home, under penalty if they came out for any non-essential reason.

He had already started quarantining entire families, keeping them beyond locked doors. It wouldn’t be long before he would give the order to begin quarantining entire villages, letting the disease cut a swath through the local population. It would burn itself out and go back into dormancy.

It might even get to the point that a quarantine of the entire region would become necessary. If that happened, he would be sure to be long gone before then.

It would be just as well, anyway. The constant civil warfare, the strife, the corruption: the entire region had already been sick long before the beginning of the epidemic.

Perhaps quarantine WAS the best solution after all. Contain the people, keep them isolated and under control, so they can’t spread their ways to the rest of the outside world. The idea was slowly digging its way deeper into his mind, like an insidious parasite.

After all, as the doctor himself was so often quick to proclaim, If someone is sick, you don’t pay them a social visit. You quarantine them!

And so, things continued along this way for a while.

That is, until that one fateful night, when the doctor went for a walk, and the UFO landed.

It had been a cool evening, and he had been walking out by himself in a nearby field. He had needed the fresh air. It had been a particularly trying day, and his thoughts were wandering. He had just been casually looking up at the night sky, enjoying the crystal clear view of the stars.

He had to admit, despite hating this place, he had never seen the night sky as clearly as he could see it here. Certainly not back in New York City, for sure. It had been one of the few pleasant things that he had experienced during his time here.

He had been looking up at the sky, when he had observed one star in particular, that shone brighter than the others. It had captivated his attention like no other.

Then, as he continued to watch, it had started to descend.

Dr. Robinson watched in open-mouthed awe as the star came ever closer to his position. Closer and closer, it came.

Finally, the object was hovering near him, and he learned the startling truth: it wasn’t a star, but a spaceship.

A real life spaceship of some kind, right in front of him!

The ship was a medium-sized metallic craft, covered in bright flashing lights. It emitted a low humming sound, that reverberated in the air. It was disc-shaped, with a small antennae on the top, protruding from a dome of some kind. He watched as four large metallic legs descended from the bottom of the craft, preparing it to land.

Dr. Robinson ran and hid in some bushes nearby, watching as the craft landed on the ground with a soft thud. A door slowly opened in its side, with a ramp descending from the craft. A bright light emitted from within, and four strange objects emerged from the open doorway. They floated in the air for a moment, and then slowly descended to hover a few feet above the ground.

He gawked, his mouth hanging open in surprise, as he observed the objects, recognizing intelligence in their movements. He suddenly realized that they were the occupants of the strange craft.

He couldn’t believe it! They were real-life aliens from another world!

They were amorphous in shape, appearing like floating blobs of matter. There were no visible features, no limbs or facial qualities to be seen. The beings were reddish-gray in color, and pulsed with a luminescent inner light. The light seemed to radiate in no discernible pattern. They moved slowly, but purposefully, hovering around the outside of their craft.

They did not seem to have noticed the doctor, who was still observing them from his nearby hiding spot.

He watched as two of them floated near each other, their lights pulsing quicker. There was a high pitched whistling sound that rose and fell in a steady rhythm. It took Dr. Robinson a few seconds before he realized that they were communicating with each other, using some completely new form of language. It seemed to be comprised mainly of