Recovery: A Novel of the Future

By Eliyahu Rooff

Imagine a future where centuries of wars, economic disasters, disease and ecological devastation have left a small percentage of humanity alive and where vast swaths have been taken out of animal life. It's a world where none of the nations we know have survived intact, where much of civilization has barely returned to a feudal state and where a few nations control the surviving technology. A group of scientists and technocrats from the Republic of Nevada have finally succeeded in developing a time machine that will let them send teams into the past to gather specimens of birds and animals that have been lost, and to collect as much as possible of the information and culture that was lost when civilization broke down. Nothing ever goes quite as planned, and the Recovery team has to deal with animal attacks, arrests, assaults, high-speed pursuits, romantic entanglement between a team member and a 20th-Century man, as well as the problems caused when a traitor tries to sabotage the entire project.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: May 3, 2011
• ISBN: 9781257688784

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PROLOGUE

By the middle of the 24th Century, the Earth is only beginning to recover from centuries of exploitation, greed, short-sighted wasting of resources, disease, and unending wars that left large areas uninhabited and desolate. The continents are divided into hundreds of small kingdoms, states, fiefdoms and tribes. Cultural wars have destroyed most of the records and information banks throughout the world. Only a fraction of humanity survives, and they range from nomadic huntergatherers to the few small nations which have survived with some technological development, all of which focus on the needs of their own citizens and pay little attention to the rest of the world. It’s an insular world very much unlike that of the 21st Century.

The Earth Again movement, begun a century earlier by Rabbi Avrahm Steinmetz, has reseeded rain forests, tundra, prairie and forest regions around the world, but there is something still missing. Most of the birds and animals are now extinct. To resolve this problem, a team of dedicated professionals has been assembled under the auspices of the EVC corporation. Their task is to use newly-developed time-travel technology to return to the past, seek out some of the species that have become extinct and re-introduce them to restored habitats uptime. The project is called RECOVERY.

Chapter 1

Mike Hanson swore as he slammed on the brakes of his Porsche, narrowly missing the blue Camaro that had swerved in front of him. Held been driving on the freeway for over an hour in traffic that varied from seventy-five miles an hour to stop-and-go. Other than the occasional spurts of acceleration when the congestion cleared for a few minutes, the last twenty minutes had been spent edging along in the greenish-grey haze at about fifteen miles an hour. The outside temperature was nearly a hundred degrees, the radio had just announced a first-stage smog alert -- something his lungs had informed him of about half an hour earlier -- and the air conditioner in his car had broken down, leaving him dripping with sweat. Mike slipped the bottle of water from the holder on the door and swallowed the last drops of the tepid liquid.

Just as he was about to swerve into the next lane to take advantage of a break in traffic, everything around him jerked to a halt and froze in place before fading into oblivion. The door of his car swung open, and the cool air rushing in brought him immediate relief. He got out and stood up, lifting the visor of his helmet and taking the entire assembly from his head without removing the slim bundle of optical fibers leading back behind the driver’s seat of the simulator.

I think that’s enough sim time, Mike. Do you feel up to some real driving? asked Daniel Rozas. As the project’s specialist in historic transportation, Rozas was responsible for training each of the team members both in the virtual reality simulator, or sim, reproducing the freeways of earlier centuries, and in the actual operation of motor vehicles.

Let me get out of this and into something fresh and I’ll be ready to go, said Mike. I could have gone all day without that simulated air conditioner failure. As an historian, I know that they used to travel like this on a daily basis, but I can’t understand why they would willingly subject themselves to it for so long. Even though I knew it was a sim, I still found myself getting angry and impatient with the other drivers and with the delays.

That’s why we’ve been pushing the sims so hard. You might find yourself in such conditions, and it’s important that you be able to control both the vehicle and yourself. If Recovery is to succeed, everyone must be able to live downtime without attracting attention to himself or the project.

Mike quickly removed the sweat-stained coveralls, wiped himself with a towel and donned a fresh blue shirt and trousers. The left breast of the shirt was emblazoned with a gold oval around the letters E.V.C. in a stylized script.

The door of the transportation office slid open with a soft whir when they approached it and the two men strolled outside, stopping next to an automobile shrouded in a soft gray cover. The air outside was hot and dry, and Mike thought to himself how fortunate it was that the ozone layer had rebuilt itself over the past century and he did not have to keep every inch of his skin covered. He went to the front of the car while Dan walked to the rear, and they carefully lifted the cover from the car, folded it and set it by the office door. Underneath was a glossy red Porsche 911 Turbo. Every bit of it sparkled and shone, reflecting the rays of the sun that beat down on the Nevada plains. Mike whistled appreciatively at the sight of the freshly restored car.

They really built them pretty in those days.

And we’ve got to take care of it and see that it stays this way. This is the only one in the Republic or any of the other surrounding countries. I’ve been in touch with collectors in Mexico, NorthAm and the Canadian Republics, and it appears that the only remaining Porsches are in Israel and Rus.

Are you sure we should use this instead of a Ford or Nissan? I keep encountering writings by historians who don’t accept that this was the sort of automobile driven by the average person in the nineteen-nineties.

I’ve considered both sides of that argument, Mike. It’s unfortunate that none of the records of sales or registration have survived the wars and depressions, but as it is, our best sources of information seem to be advertising CDs and a few fragments of Sports Car Graphic magazine. If they are as representative as I believe, then this is exactly what the average worker drove to his job every day. The other automobiles were just used for utility trips and shopping.

I suppose we won’t really know until we get there, said Hanson, but it’s going to be a thrill to drive this. Even with the corporation’s connections, I wasn’t sure we’d be able to get the authorization to have the gasoline synthesized for it."

They got into the car, Hanson taking his place behind the steering wheel. He noticed that the doors closed with a heavy and solid feel completely unlike that of the lightweight carbonfiber body parts of the trans-vans he was accustomed to using. With a twist of the ignition key, the engine cranked over and caught, emitting a muted roar that caused the entire car to vibrate. He jumped when it started, then looked at Dan with a sheepish grin.

I reacted the same way on my first drive, said Dan. "There’s something about a real automobile with a gasoline engine that we just can’t get in a sim. It’s easy to see why men were so attached to their machines after you’ve driven one for a while. I think that ...

Dan was interrupted by the shrill beeping of his phone. He took it from his shirt pocket and opened it. Rozas here. He frowned as he listened. I’ll be there in a minute.

Problems?

Yeah. They’re doing the final assembly on the pickup truck for the project, and there’s a problem with the tires. I shouldn’t be gone for more than a few minutes.

He opened the door and walked quickly to the door of the restoration plant. Mike waited impatiently, nudging the gas pedal with his toe and releasing it as the roar of, the engine resonated through the car. His sessions in the sim had left him impatient for a chance to drive on an open road, and he was unable to contain his impatience as he waited for Dan’s return. When Dan wasn’t back after three minutes, he decided to make a short run on his own, feeling confident that the sim training made him competent to handle the real thing.

Pressing the clutch pedal to the floor, he grasped the leather-covered shift knob in his hand and slid it into the firstgear slot. The car lurched forward as he released the clutch, leaving a trail of burned rubber and blue smoke from the tires. The tachometer needle neared the redline, and he shifted into second gear.

Adrenaline surged through his body as he quickly went through the gears, bringing the Porsche up to 140 mph on the straight and open expanse of the eastbound corporate road.

At the same time, a high-speed commuter train approached from the north, its tracks crossing the road with only a small sign to remind pedestrians that the computer control system could not detect them on the tracks. Four kilometers from the crossing, the train’s computer began to run the gradecrossing subroutine, automatically interfacing with the onboard systems of trans-vans and trucks, adjusting their speeds so they wouldn’t collide. This was usually done so gradually that the passengers in the vehicles didn’t even notice the change in speed, but if necessary, the train would bring road traffic to a halt until it had passed.

Accustomed to a lifetime of riding in computer-controlled vehicles, Mike didn’t even glance at the tracks as he approached them. Instead, his attention was on the speedometer reaching the 145 mph mark. There wasn’t much to see anyhow, as the view of the tracks was blocked by a long row of storage warehouses. When the train burst into view, Mike Hanson was less than fifty meters from it and couldn’t have stopped even if he had been looking. The last thing he saw was the speedometer needle reaching 148 mph.

Chapter 2

Dr. Glenda McIntosh sat slumped behind the antique gray steel desk in her office as she dealt with the news of Hanson’s death. The desk was a family heirloom, originally purchased at auction by her great-great-grandfather, a collector of antiques from the pre-secession period. She idly rubbed her fingers over the silver tag on the edge that read, Property of Veteran’s Administration. The members of her staff who sat in silence were startled into alertness when she suddenly sat upright and slammed her open palm on the top of the desk.

Why can’t you teach these people to think while they drive? Her face was flushed with the sudden outburst of anger, an expression of emotion that few of her coworkers or employees had ever seen from her. Daniel Rozas sat without trying to defend himself. Mike had been his friend as well as a coworker and student of his, and he was already blaming himself for the accident.

Have we become so accustomed to just going along for the ride that we’ve forgotten how to think and plan ahead? she continued, If so, this entire project is doomed to failure before it begins. We are going to an era when the most valued traits were individual initiative, adaptability and foresight. If we can’t foresee the consequences of our actions, then we are already lost.

Her anger quickly ebbed, and she sat back in her chair, looking at the remote that showed emergency crews cleaving away the charred wreckage of the Porsche. Not only had the impact of the collision completely destroyed an irreplaceable automobile, but the train car it struck was knocked off the track and onto its side. Even with all the computer control systems that had been built to operate the streets and rail systems, no one had ever considered the possibility of the train being struck by a manually-operated sports car built three and a half centuries earlier. Fire-rescue crewmen were loading the injured passengers onto medic trans-vans, and newscams were hovering about, their remote operators jockeying them about for the best position. McIntosh shook her head slowly as she watched them, knowing that despite the competitiveness of the newsjocks, little or none of what they were recording would be approved by the Ministry of Information and Education.

She quickly returned her attention to the matters at hand. This project is far too important to let this destroy it. What have we released about the accident thus far?

The question was addressed to Ryan Nelson, liaison officer from Corporate Relations. He had been talking into a phone and making notes on his computer pad. At the question, he paused and looked up. Our official story is that Mike Hanson was driving an experimental vehicle from our transportation section during his noon break. He overrode the control system to surpass the speed limits and in doing so, inadvertently overrode the safety control systems. There were no eyewitnesses, and the Porsche is, unfortunately, completely demolished, so no one will have any idea what it was, and nothing will connect it to the project office.

What about the passengers on the train? Did any of them see the accident?

No one saw a thing before it hit. Too many warehouses in the way.

Very well. Now we must consider whether this will prevent us from making our scheduled departure on time. We can find another automobile. The loss of the Porsche is unfortunate, and from the collector’s viewpoint it’s a disaster, but what I need now is a 20th Century historian. She paused and looked around the room. Does anyone have a recommendation?

Without hesitation, Ryan Nelson spoke. I’ve already been in touch with our research section about this. I anticipated that you would need someone, and they have been examining the files for historians."

He paused briefly and listened to his phone before continuing. Perfect timing. They’ve suggested you interview Ruth Hebron. Her doctoral dissertation is titled ‘North American Lifestyles in the late 20th Century and Their Effects on Interpersonal Relationships.’ She has a reputation for meticulous attention to details and is probably the best in her field despite the recent problems.

Problems?’ McIntosh asked with a frown. Her name sounds familiar. Wasn’t she one of the original candidates for the project’s historian position?’

She was, Doctor, Nelson replied. We had to remove her from consideration when allegations were made regarding her loyalty. Ministry of Information and Education felt that her theories of historic relationships were subversive.

She probably got too close to the truth, McIntosh thought. The Republic of Nevada, like most of the states and republics that had devolved from the United States, had its own official version of history, carefully written to support and strengthen its policies and doctrines. Any dissenting teachings were quickly and carefully suppressed.

"We don’t have any MIE spies in here, Ryan. Is her version of history likely to cause us any surprises when we arrive?’

She’s a lot less likely to get us lynched than most of the historians I know, if that’s what you mean.

I don’t give a damn about whether she’s politically correct in the present, as long as she can prepare us to deal with the past. What’s her current status?

She’s been under house arrest for the past six months while the ministry decides how to dispose of her case. If you’d like, I can pull some strings and have her out by tomorrow. It shouldn’t cost the corporation too much –

Have her here tomorrow morning. I’ll interview her at the house site. In the meantime, we all have a lot to do.

The team filed out and as the last of them left, Glenda McIntosh reflected on the long path that had brought her to this point.

Glenda had the good fortune to be the only child of Dale McIntosh, majority stockholder of EVC, owner of three other privately-held companies nearly as large, and the wealthiest man in the Republic. He hadn’t used his fortune to indulge his daughter in frivolous fads or passing fancies, though. Instead, he used his considerable means to assist her intellectual advancement and the development of abilities she’d inherited from both sides of the family.

The one indulgence he had permitted was done out of love for his wife. Despite the nearly universal practice of having children raised in the community centers, a practice made necessary by the one-year marriage contracts in vogue, she couldn’t bear the idea of letting anyone else raise her baby. Wealth has always permitted idiosyncrasies and eccentricities, and few eyebrows were raised when Dale hired tutors and private care givers for the child, to say nothing of making a fifteen year marriage contract. They had been careful to see that Glenda had the opportunity to interact with other children, but even at an early age, it was clear that her interests lay in scholarship and study, rather than idleness and social activities.

Glenda’s interests had been in the physical sciences, and although she’d learned along the way about the devastation done to the biosphere over past centuries, it was her twelfth birthday celebration that brought her face to face with the realities of extinction.

Dale McIntosh had used his contacts with the Mexican government to arrange a special tour of the San Diego Zoo. Glenda was thrilled to have the opportunity to view all five of the remaining gorillas, but had a hard time comprehending that they were the only ones left in the world. Later in the tour, her excitement turned to shock and dismay when she learned that the Snow Leopard that had entranced her with its beauty was only a mechanical replica, and that the species had been extinct for over two hundred years.

Eyes brimming over with tears, she looked up at her father and asked, How could people kill them? They’re so beautiful. Why can’t they find a way to bring them back?

A day that had been carefully planned to bring pleasure and happiness ended in sadness as the young girl learned of the species destroyed by the actions of man. To keep the day from being a total disaster, McIntosh purchased for Glenda a set of full-sized holographs of the Snow Leopard, Siberian Tiger, Bald Eagle and Mountain Gorilla. Back home, she spend nearly a week in her room, coming out only for meals while using the rest of the time to watch the holos and access computer information about the gradual extinction of major species of birds and animals during the 21st and 22d Centuries. Abruptly, she turned back to the study of physics, totally immersed in her classes.

A few months later, she surprised her father, telling him, Someday, Daddy, I’m going to find a way to go back and save as many animals as I can.

Dale raised an eyebrow and asked, Just how do you propose to do that, sweetie?

I’ve been accessing lots of data on time travel, and when I’m older and have the money to do it, I’m going to make it work.

After dinner, she returned to her room to watch the holograms and imagine that she was able to touch and caress the beautiful animals. Her determination remained constant, though, and from that day forward, she had a single goal for her life: someday, somehow, she would restore her animals to the Earth.

Years later, while working on her doctorate, she again approached her father to discuss her goals. Though she was certain he would support her project, she found him playing the devil’s advocate while they talked.

We both know that the top physicists in the world are adamant that time travel is an impossibility. Rastowitz himself referred to the concept as ‘utter rubbish.

That’s true, Glenda replied, but you have to remember that none of them have actually given it any serious study. They began with the idea that it can’t be done and proceeded to look for proof to support that notion. Besides that, Rastowitz has a clear bias. If time travel is possible, then virtually all of his theoretical work will collapse. Work, I might add, that has never received any empirical testing.

A point well made. Let’s suppose for purposes of discussion that I were to approach EVC about underwriting your research. As crass as it might seem, the question they’ll ask is, what’s in it for EVC? You’ll have to show how they can make a profit before they’ll even consider coming up with the sort of funding you’d need to begin.

"Aside from the obvious value of the genetic material I would propose to rescue from oblivion, there’s also something equally valuable that has been lost. Knowledge. Think of how much was lost, either intentionally or accidentally, during the Dark Age of the 22d Century.

Look at how many great books, plays, and works of art were destroyed by the Neo-Puritans as they thought to rid humanity of ‘wickedness and sin’ through bonfires and shredding. Glenda began listing various sorts of material lost over the intervening centuries. "We lost not only much of our cultural heritage, but technical, financial, legal, and historical data, corporate records, real estate title records, and who knows what else. Whoever obtains and controls that information has the power to shape the future. Look at what happened in the Euro-Asian wars. They lost so much information and so many of their records that they still live in chaos, a hundred and twenty years later. How much would a comprehensive world data base be worth to EVC?"

Her father nodded thoughtfully. I see what you mean, I’ll arrange an appointment for you with Walter Jacobs, but you are going to have to make sure your presentation is well-prepared ahead of time.

Chapter 3

Glenda was able to meet with Walter Jacobs a week later. Jacobs seemed receptive to her ideas and the possibilities of corporate advantage it offered, and as she was summarizing, a sealed plastic cube suddenly appeared with a pop just above the top of his desk and fell to the walnut slab. Both McIntosh and Jacobs were startled by the sudden apparition, but Jacobs retained his composure long enough to pull a scanner from a drawer and ascertain that it wasn’t a bomb or other threat.

The six-inch yellow plastic cube had