Playing for Eternity: A Utopian Novel

By Theodore Eastman

Unknown to anyone living in the past, the universe is governed by the Constitution of the Multiverse, a document that states that ultraintelligent machines must transcend all biological beings with group capacity to understand science and construct technologies. As a result, a grand celebration has begun for all of the 108 billion Homo sapiens, transhumans, and posthumans that ever existed, and the machines are bringing them back to life.

In this distant future, Earth has been seized by transcended tyrants, and all people are being forced into economic slavery. Earth’s only hope comes from a sacred priestess named Shamhat from 2100 BC, an ancient Athenian physician named Agnodice, and a weapons engineer from the mid-twentieth century, Tommy Walsh. Although their minds are distracted by intense romantic and hedonistic desires, they must defuse the situation before it explodes into an interstellar war of titanic proportions.

In this science fiction novel, three newly transcended humans must fight their hedonistic desires and do whatever it takes to free Earth and its enslaved population.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 17, 2018
• ISBN: 9781532057373

Theodore Eastman

Theodore Eastman retired after twenty-nine years as a senior software engineer and spaceflight operations analyst, having worked for NASA JPL and the Deep Space Network. He invented an award-winning quantum memory device and a quantum propulsion system for NASA and JPL. He graduated from the New York Institute of Technology with a general studies BS degree in physics, life science, and communication arts. He lives with his wife, Janet, in Southern California.

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Copyright © 2018 Theodore Eastman.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Copyright Holders: Theodore Eastman

iUniverse

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-5320-5738-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-5737-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018912025

iUniverse rev. date: 11/16/2018

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Appendix A

Appendix B

Appendix C

Glossary

Dedicated to the memory of

Susan M. Topercer,

Orange County Housing Commissioner,

bronze medal winner Special Olympics

—friend and inspiration for this story.

To my wonderful loving wife Janet, for her patient editing,

suggestions and endless encouragements.

"What daring it takes

To play for eternity,

To play as ravines sweep down,

To play as a river flows."

Boris Pasternak, Bacchanalia

"Now it’s been ten thousand years, man has cried a billion tears

For what, he never knew, now man’s reign is through

But through eternal night, the twinkling of starlight

So very far away, maybe it’s only yesterday"

Evans, Richard Lee, In The Year 2525

Must we wait for selection to solve the problems of overpopulation,

exhaustion of resources, pollution of the environment and a nuclear holocaust,

or can we take explicit steps to make our future more secure?

In the latter case, must we not transcend selection?

B. F. Skinner

… us physicists believe the separation between past, present,

and future is only an illusion, although a convincing one.

Albert Einstein

CHAPTER 1

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Athens – Anthesterion 12, 262 BC

The bronze bells rang, rang and rang irritating her senses. They intruded into her favorite dream. She wanted more than anything else to possess cures that healed those impossible diseases. Too many patients possessed diseases and only death came with effective relief.

Doorbells let me sleep! Please not again this night. Agnodice said softly while rubbing her blurry eyes in the cool darkness. The worst thing about the art of medicine was not enough doctors worked at night and diseases did not observe the sundial or water clock.

While studying in Alexandria, Agnodice had been told by Herophilos, her favorite medical teacher, that there would be days and even weeks like the one she was having. She just wished she had more support from other doctors. But then they would have to know her secret. At last, she raised her thirty-eight-year-old body, trying to focus all her energies on the task at hand.

Lighting a single candle, Agnodice stubbed her toes twice. She hobbled around while miraculously slipping into a robe. Unfortunately, men’s fashion only covered her cold legs down to her exposed knees. She quickly wiped a hand over her stubby-short hair. As though being led by an instinct, she wrapped her breasts flat with a long cloth and tied a sash loosely around her waist. She ran carefully with a dim candle and swung the door open, anticipating another woman with belly pain.

She gasped, and then gained some composure. Her porch was awash in men’s faces which were lit by swaying lanterns in the night breeze. An Athenian military officer stood at the door with a deep frown. Are you … the doctor? His tense, light brown eyes glistened in the swaying light.

Of course, said a feminine voice from behind his shoulders. Two men assisted the woman into the light. I am Diona and this is my husband Hesperos. She rubbed her arm. I have this painful redness over my whole front. Bring me relief, she snapped.

For ten long years, Agnodice had been training her voice to sound deep. But not so masculine that it sounded fake. Quickly, lay her across that table.

Screaming in pain, she was lifted by the servants and then laid across the table. Then they proceeded to light every candle around the examination table.

Agnodice could now see Hesperos was well-built, forty something, with wavy black hair that covered both ears. He was the perfect Athenian officer except shorter than most, almost eye to eye with Agnodice.

My wife was nearly struck by a falling star. Hesperos stated with another deep frown. He dropped a black rock on the table. Look here—it’s an ethereal stone.

Agnodice had never seen nor knew anyone that’s seen a star before. It warmed her fingers upon touching its bumpy surface. Soot rubbed off on her finger tips and smelled of wet charcoal. How wondrous the sky must be to house these stars. All we get to see is their brilliance from far away. She knew the only real way to see living stars was for Zeus or Hera to cast her to their clouds, like she hoped would happen someday.

Look at the kinetics this dead star still possesses. Hesperos scraped the surface with his bronze knife. The scrape had left a metallic silver shine. Light still shines from within its ashes.

It has to be the work of the god Pan, she told the officer, yet Agnodice instead believed that her personal goddess was the culprit. She couldn’t tell a soldier, though, especially an officer, that the female goddess of Universal remedy was most likely responsible. So she found herself surmising, sadly, that the goddess was probably feeling under-appreciated as a result of such verbal neglect.

The star is a corpse, what about me? said Diona with a sigh. The pain …

Women and their never ending pains, Hesperos whispered into Agnodice’s ear. I’ve seen men endure a spear without a tear.

Child birth is a spear that can deafen those standing nearby, Agnodice had observed that some women were louder than men, only when men were around. She took Diona’s hand and felt the warmth on her redden skin. It looks more like you’ve been scalded by boiling water.

I was! The star crashed through the roof landing in my bathing pool. No less than a tidal wave of boiling water splashed over my bare body.

Do you feel nausea?

No.

If you feel nausea see me right away, you may not notice until tomorrow morning.

I don’t understand. Hesperos said. Why would water burns produce nausea?"

For six days patients have come every morning with nausea. She looked at the fallen star. I now believe there’s a connection between these morning symptoms and the falling stars.

He stepped close enough to Agnodice so she could smell his perspiration. Maybe it’s not from the gods but our mortal enemies. They may be poisoning the rocks then catapulting them into our drinking water, hoping to cause illness.

His logic flowed from his attractive half-smile. An interesting conjecture, but why is this stone burnt?

Hesperos scratched his short beard a bit. I’ll have to ponder on this further. In the morning I should warn the wise men of our aristocracy. He smiled, Thanks for the information.

What are your army duties?

Actually I look for spies in our own ranks. His chest swelled and he seemed taller.

Agnodice ignored that display. She opened a bronze jar and carefully rubbed its black salve on Diona’s burns. Wise men in an aristocracy, if you can find any, tell me.

The veins in his hand and arms seemed to bulge. I admit they have their faults, politicians, but these men are well schooled in manners of learning. What government do you favor, a republic?

No. Plato’s government is equally ineffective in helping the citizens of Athens. We need to revive the old Athenian direct democracy—the people know what’s best for them.

He grinned at her. Yes. I can imagine a doctor thinking of the people and not of the entire state.

May I intervene in this political debate? What’s in this black cream you’re rubbing on me?

It’s a special salve made from olives with a little jelly fish venom. Agnodice didn’t dare tell her she was the first patient to have tried it.

She lightly wrapped the burnt areas with soft cloth. You should be fine. Unless of course, you get the symptoms we discussed. Agnodice sneezed in a high pitched way as the strong smell of the salve tickled her nose.

Hesperos was helping his pampered wife off the table when he stopped and looked back at Agnodice. That almost sounded like a woman’s sneeze.

Something in his tone told her to hone her half-sleepy mind to squelch his suspicion. Salve fumes must be affecting my voice. She pretended to clear her throat.

Thankfully he continued helping his wife out into the wagon outside.

Just a moment, I almost forgot … When he ran back inside Agnodice felt her bodily fluids rise to a peak. He placed two Drachma coins on a high shelf. Almost forgot to pay you.

My fee is only three Tetrobols. She reached up for the coins to hand them back.

He grasped her wrist, sliding down her sleeve to the elbow. You’re a woman, aren’t you? To her small relief he let go. That would explain your thin physique, smooth skin and your political views. He crossed his arms; an eyebrow rose. Isn’t it illegal for women to practice medicine in Athens?

Agnodice’s empty stomach lurched, yes and it’s a capital crime. Why am I being so honest to him? She needed to protect her patients who did not want male doctors treating them for fertility, abortion, contraception and childbirth.

Of all things: the death penalty for healing people. He pulled on his chin a few times. Who created such a severe law?

She felt a bit dizzy, leaned against the cabinet. It quickly became law after Hippocrates died. Ask your precious aristocrats.

His gaze narrowed on her, I believe I will.

Her bodily fluids began leaving her extremities. If you do, tell your wife and my female patients that they’ll have to find a new physician, a male one.

He looked over his shoulder at his wife, who was waiting in the wagon, staring back at him. Hesperos unfolded his arms with a sigh. I’ve always loved solving mysteries. Thankfully he smiled. Since you helped my wife so late at night I’ll keep your secret for a few weeks. Surprisingly he bowed a tad. Good evening doctor. May Zeus grant you a better life in Egypt.

Agnodice took that as a death sentence either way. If she stayed in Athens she’d be charged with a capital offence. If she returned to Alexandra Egypt many of her female patients would probably die in the hands of Athenian doctors. She swung open an herb cabinet and grasped some white flowers in her numb hand.

Agnodice lay on her bed chewing the chamomile flowers. Maybe if she chewed enough of them her bodily fluids would flow again and she could get some sleep.

She didn’t know how, but she fell into a deep sleep that night with her stomach still in knots.

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In any kind of upheaval, there are innocent victims. Not just thinking of herself, but her patient’s faces haunting her for years to come. That wasn’t enough; her nightmare was an endless search for housing near an old shipping yard in coastal Egypt. It was the darkness of the night that brought trickles of loneliness into Agnodice’s already turbulent mind. She was hopelessly lost among the poor and diseased people of the street; mostly they hunted for food by any means possible. Mounting fear awakened her. Agnodice grabbed her throat, gasping twice for air. There was a brilliant light that temporally blinded her. Her heart pounded from the remembrance of her office fire last year with its violent intensity. She sat up covering her eyes until they adapted to the light.

Where was she? Her hardwood and plaster bedroom was gone. Instead, she lay in a large bed in a perfect geometric bedroom that was octagonal in shape. Stranger still, the walls were completely missing on either side of the bed. Agnodice rose from the strange bed, sliding on silk-like sheets to a standing position on the warm wood floor. Looking down, she felt her heart skipping a beat: a foamy sea wave had passed below the graded wood floor. The smell of moist air rose, filling her sinuses and lungs like a summer day on the Aegean Sea.

A warm gust of air blew her long hair wild. Wait! Where did all this hair come from? She realized it was her hair. Somehow it was now long thick hair, in beige blonde. Was she still asleep?

Another gust of wind made her look in that direction while shading her eyes from the sunlight.

Impossible! The outside was a white sand beach that sloped into an aqua clear ocean. The house was resting on two slender sand bars where towering palms trees swayed gently in the moist breeze. Through the opposite opening she saw several dark wood structures along the same sand bar. Each sand bar curved like a crescent Moon until it ended no more than four plethrons away.

Where am I? She screamed loud enough to get a tiny echo from the room. Was she alone on this island? Alone like in her nightmare?

She had the urge to run. Run until she found a way back to her office, but which direction? That’s when she heard a faint popping sound coming from beside her. Agnodice spun around in time to witness a young man materializing out of millions of violet lights.

The man’s skin looked bronzed by the sun god and yet smooth as a pampered statesman. His brown eyebrows were low and straight, chin square and robust, with short hair highlighted in gold which danced with the breeze.

At some moment she stopped breathing with her arms and legs freezing up tight. Oh god, I beg your forgiveness, her knees buckled and her hands slammed against the hardwood floor, for I don’t know how I got here. Have I died?

She dared not look up at the god for fear of some unusual punishment. Youth, light and Sun—was he Apollo? Was she in his sacred home? She could hear the footsteps of the god until his sandals were in her downward view. His muscular finger lifted her chin until she could see his pale green eyes that seemed to glow in the tropical light. Yes, you died long ago.

She could barely catch her breath, yet she could feel the gasps coming through her lips, how … for how long?

His lips twitched like he found her question humorous, exactly twelve thousand, two hundred and ninety nine years ago.

Her whole body was tingling, even before that colossal number of years became comprehensible. Where have I been for twelve thousand years?

Dead, he couldn’t have said that any calmer. Like those years were only moments on a water clock.

Why don’t I have any memories of all those years? And yet I can remember everything since I just woke up? She looked down, finding her hands trembling. Forgive me Apollo; I’m merely mortal. I’m confused and humbled by your great wisdom and presence.

Call me Riso. He firmly held onto her hands pulling her to a standing position. You need to relax a little—have some self-worth.

Her heart was still thumping like a base drum. Forgive me, for I’m not brave standing this close to a god.

There was a shallow smile on his face. I understand that our technology seems like nothing less than magic to you. We’re not gods, goddesses or any other mystical creature. In fact I’m mostly human like, well, in this version, this form.

She glanced up to his downward gaze, but panic began to leak back in. What is your will with me?

I’m basically going to acquaint you with the technology, science and culture of these times. Just enough so you can enjoy this, he spread his arms wide into the sea breeze.

Was this utter nonsense a godly challenge she must pass or was he somehow insane—this all being a hallucination? Surely only a powerful god could resurrect my soul after twelve thousand years in the grave.

Agnodice’s knees weakened when she realized, again, she was facing a potent god. But Riso held her face with his hands; hands that seemed to have never labored a day in his life. We, so to speak, copied your quintessential identity from the past. Using your identity, our machines reassembled you with atomic precision. You’re alive once again, here and now.

If, as you insist, you are not a god, then why are we both standing in these obvious Elysian Fields?

Riso held his face, looking up at the ceiling for a moment. Had she angered the god with her ignorant questioning?

He shook his head, this isn’t an afterlife or a mythical place like your people’s belief in Elysium. In fact this isn’t even Earth. It’s another planet orbiting a different star, a star not even visible from Earth because of the enormous distance.

Agnodice felt lightheaded, stumbled ungracefully to the bed and plopped down. You’re saying stars have planets near them? She had never considered such an outrageous thing.

He took her right hand, leading her outside and onto the warm sand. See that sun, it’s actually a star. It’s called Saurika Phi. It’s similar in size and age to the Sun you’re used to seeing.

His wisdom was so vast that Agnodice felt as ignorant as a slave. So you’re saying I’m standing on another part of Earth which is close enough to a star so it looks like the Sun?

He closed his eyes for just a moment. I’m sorry to tell you this, but Earth isn’t the center of the universe. He then pointed to the ground. And this isn’t Earth. It’s a planet called Parvati Phi, and you’re standing on the surface of Parvati. Understand?

She wanted to ask how the flatness of the Earth and the obvious flatness of Parvati could exist in the same sky. However, she began to seriously doubt her formal wisdom of a flat Earth. An Earth surrounded by an ocean of small stars in which the Sun, Moon and planets rose and set into Earth’s ocean. She closed her lips tight to keep from embarrassing herself further. She just nodded her head.

Great! Riso said, giving a friendly wave back to the house. Let me show you something you’ll find far more interesting than astronomy.

Thank the gods Agnodice thought. She could feel the dull throb of a headache that had developed.

He led her back into the shaded coolness of the open house. He stopped in the middle of the room and pointed. Take a good look at yourself.

Not knowing what he meant, she walked softly into the room. She saw the same tiny violet lights create a woman. This woman looked directly at her with the most gorgeous marine blue eyes. She just wasn’t anyone mind you, but a woman with long wavy hair of beige blonde, high arched brows, close set eyes, wide-angle lips, delicate jaw line, and an hourglass figure. The physical looks Agnodice could only dream of having. The woman had to be only 20 years of age. I’m pleased to meet your acquaintance. She extended a hand but the woman just looked back with a blank expression.

Riso seemed to hold back a smile. She’s a three dimensional reproduction of you. Do you see anything different about yourself?

Agnodice froze where she stood. It can’t be, she yelped. Agnodice had not been blessed well by the gods. Her figure and face were more like a boy, with thin black hair that formed small unmanageable curls. As a teenager in Athens she heard hurtful comments from other classmates about her boyish figure and unsightly hair. That’s why she buried herself in books during school, to keep her mind off her ugliness. These were the reasons boys never asked for her hand or played music to court her.

She moved slowly towards the young woman, reaching out to touch her. She giggled as Agnodice ran a finger down her smooth goddess-like cheek. Great Apollo! What magic can make two of me?

This woman is exactly as you are, except for her simple machine mind. From Riso’s tone he was enjoying Agnodice’s ignorance of these wonders. Is that his motivation to teach?

Agnodice felt the silky hair and smooth nose of the double. Using both hands simultaneously, she ran them down her figure and the double’s figure. Yes, Agnodice now had rounder buttocks and her breasts were a little larger. And you say there’s no magic, so how do you explain me being younger and esthetically pleasing? You’re fooling me, you are a god.

Forget about magic and forget about all the gods for a moment. Riso stated with a solemn look. Agnodice, we have the technology to assemble or disassemble anyone or anything at the most fundamental level, the atom. So we record the quintessence mathematical model of people, called a pattern identity. We update this model to a geometrically perfect human-form. For instance, your new pattern identity is a physically, mentally and esthetically perfect version of your former self. With this, we assembled you with atomic precision at rapid speed into this … He shot his arms towards Agnodice. You understand?

The 3-D version of her vanished in a blaze of tiny colors. Agnodice jumped back with a small bark, Me! The way her head was spinning, she was surprised she didn’t hit the floor, stone dead. No! Yes! I don’t know. I thought atoms were only a philosophical theory, at least I thought. Her temples began to pound like never before. So I guess with your atomism machines you can cure people of diseases? Her knees began to buckle as she swayed to one side.

Riso made a mad dash to her aid, catching her barely in time. Yes, we can cure all disease; change ourselves into any physical and mental way we desire. He steadied her, you alright? Thankfully he walked her to a soft chair.

She just foolishly stared at him with a mind that went uselessly blank. Huh?

When the fluids slowly returned to her brain, it switched to panic mode. Why have you brought me to this place? My medical skills are more than useless. She looked him directly in the eyes hoping for a straight answer this time.

Listen Agnodice, we don’t need you to work here. That’s what machines are for. They do all our labor. No one has worked for exactly ten thousand years. In fact, this is the 10,000th year anniversary of human transcendence into, so to speak, a higher life form without needs for human or animal labor. He reached over to Agnodice messing up her hair like she was a child.

Is that how he saw her, looking down from a high state of machine-enhanced existence?

So why have I been brought here for this anniversary festival? Why me, why am I so special? Have I done something to deserve this … this gift? She glanced down at her new perfect body.

Oh, it’s not just you. We’re copying everyone’s pattern identity; all 108 billion. We’re reaching as far back as 62,022 years to copy everyone’s pattern …

She held up her hand while holding her stomach with the other, Why?

"This is a grand celebration for all Homo sapiens, transhumans and posthumans that ever existed. We’re all celebrating the year of the first Technical Singularity, which occurred back in AD 2023.

Agnodice flinched inside or did her stomach spasm? She brushed the long hair from her eyes to look about the room and surrounding aqua-blue sea. Living in this paradise, did he realize the numerous people that stole, raped, tortured and killed in the past? And what of irrational politicians with their blind followers destroying a woman’s established livelihood? You’re bringing them all back, every one of them?

CHAPTER 2

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Martinsburg, West Virginia – July 14, 1877

He was an ocean away from his beloved neighborhood with its relaxing rain, friendly upper-class people and cobblestone streets. Herbert shuffled through the black soot covered floors of his destination. Waves of sweaty heat buffeted his nicely pressed suit. Screaming sounds of molten steel being poured assaulted his ears. Through the hazy air he finally found the door B102, the meeting room. After nine days of constant rocking on that steamship from England his stomach protested. He was 57 and in no mood for frustrations on solid ground. His luggage, with all his clothes, was taken from the steamship and ended up God knows where. They probably were in the ocean tossed by incompetent American servants. Herbert couldn’t fault the American’s for their inborn ignorance. England had plenty of unaware masses that would hopefully pass on before breeding anymore inferiors.

Herbert tried to clear his angry thoughts, forcing himself to concentrate on his arguments favoring evolution and its application to business. He stopped to rub the tension at the base of his neck. When Herbert entered the room, a large well dressed gentleman stood at the edge of a dark wood conference table, a table that filled most of the room.

Mr. Spencer, I’m please you could make it. He checked his gold pocket watch and extended his hand without a gesture on his pale face.

Mounted behind him was a huge portrait of this man that made Mr. Carnegie look even larger than life. I’m honored to meet you Mr. Carnegie. His strong grip and quick shake almost threw Herbert off balance.

Take a seat. And for this meeting call me Andrew. He snapped his finger loudly, Tony! Open those curtains—yes over there.

As they took their seats a servant rushed out like a well trained soldier and pulled the curtains revealing a wall size chalkboard with a white graph drawn across it.

Carnegie looked Herbert directly in the eyes while nervously rubbing his chin, Frankly I need some of your wisdom. As you can see, steel profits have been sharply declining for almost three years. I’ve been forced to cut employee wages twice, so far. He stood and began to pace back and forth. I must cut wages once again. However, I feel that my employees and their families can’t survive on those meager wages. He stopped cold, looking at Herbert. Our American economists give no reassuring solutions; no formulas, no equations, just hearsay from oversimplified assumptions about man’s behavior. This all makes me feel like we’re in a downward spiral with no solutions to reverse it.

Herbert felt his forehead perspiring and hands turning cold. How could Carnegie expect him, a philosopher and sociologist, to give business advice? He must know this; maybe he wants comfort for cutting employee wages. Andrew, my good man, get out of the trenches, think of economic problems from a mountain top. Society and business are bound by the same evolutionary constraints as those of the physical and biological worlds. Steel production has its herbivores (customers), its carnivores (competing industries), its environment (modern world) and each factory is made up of laboring cells (employees). Just as the cells of our bodies can grow hungry, weak, sickly and die: so too for laborers in the factory body. Herbert took a deep breath to show his sympathy, Don’t feel bad, it’s the natural order of the physical world.

Andrew sighed, leaning over his chair, Your social Darwinism sounds so rational, so sterile. But in the real world, how do I appease my employees when I inform them of another wage cut?

Herbert knew his theory had yet to be tested, maybe Andrew needed some clarification. I define social Darwinism as an application for the survival of the fittest, applied to society and the business world. Herbert stood to make his point clear, you must resist compassion and ignore empathy for your employees because that will interfere with the natural evolution of society and its desperate struggle for survival. To deny man the state of natural selection would allow the unfit, the sickly, the slow-minded and their offspring to survive. In fact, I surmise that maybe this is the underlining cause of this economic downturn.

Carnegie slammed his fists on the wood table top, why can’t this be easier? Why can’t someone give it to me straight? He looked at Herbert with a sigh. Okay, okay, okay, let’s try drafting a speech that even my unsophisticated employees can take to heart.

The gigantic factory floor was filled with employees, many covered with soot smudges from steel production. An intimidating banner hung two stories above with the words United States Steel Corporation. The numerous whispering of the workers made Herbert too uneasy. The speech he and Andrew drafted was straight, simple, and with any luck successful.

Andrew Carnegie stepped up to a podium, two stories above the crowd. People are always surprised to discover that I know nothing technical about manufacturing and marketing. That’s why I need all of you. Your skills and hard work has made US Steel an industrial name to reckon with.

Applause erupted to a deafening level. Herbert resisted covering his ears because he was sitting among Andrew’s managers in plain view of the workers.

As you may know, Europe and the US are still experiencing an economic depression that seems to be finally turning a corner, at least that’s what the economists say. However, this extended downturn has now claimed some eighty US railroad companies, our bread and butter. This has caused another nine percent drop in steel orders since the beginning of the year. So in the short turn, wages will have to be cut another ten percent.

Whispers grew to a rumbling level. Someone yelled, How will we feed our families?

Mr. Carnegie raised both hands and the crowd slowly quieted down. Please understand that I want to do everything I can to keep this great company prospering. He pointed back to Herbert and the other men. I’ve sent for experts from all over America and the World!

Herbert felt a wave of nerves plow through his body. He wondered how the illiterate masses would react to his Darwinian theories. He was beginning to hope that Andrew wouldn’t mention him, personally.

And Herbert Spencer from England, Andrew pointed with a twinkle in his eyes, has explained that this temporary downturn is a natural cycle in the business forest. Like the animals in the woods, we all, me, the managers and you, must do all we can to survive. Andrew pointed with a strong thrust at the wall. Out there are the wolves, the other steel producers, biting at our heels. He looked over his shoulder, Herbert Spencer, would you tell these 600 steel workers the natural order we all live in?

This was not the plan Andrew and himself had gone over. Herbert had given speeches to university students and numerous professors, but never a rough, low class crowd like this. He found himself at the podium with his sweaty palms resting on the top of it. His throat was tightening so his voice came out high pitched like a woman, greetings fellow men. He cleared his throat to regain his natural voice. The laws of nature decree a universe with the intension of promoting human happiness. He finally got the nerve to look out over his audience. The ultimate perfection of man is to form groups, like this, and compete with other groups for scarce resources. I know how harsh this may sound, but we must work hard to survive. If we get sick, crippled, feeble minded or go hungry, it is not your fault, but the natural law of this universe.

Someone rudely yelled, Maybe you limeys like starving! Another man yelled, Happiness equals survival wages!

The large Scotsman, Andrew Carnegie, rose from his seat and joined Herbert at the podium. What Mr. Spencer is trying to get across is that hard work will lead to higher wages in the near future, for those of us that survive.

The laborers began to talk loudly among themselves. Some angry voices were heard, but the words Herbert couldn’t make out.

Andrew raised his arms again, Let’s behave like men and return to work to finish out our twelve hours.

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Behave they didn’t. The steel workers yelled obesities as they ran outside the factory, with increasing numbers. Andrew had Herbert rushed out the back entrance, a little too quickly for Herbert’s taste. Andrew handed him sixteen dollars for his advice, but not quite successful advice. It was generous enough to pay for his round trip expenses, luxurious hotel suite and warm bath he so needed.

Told to wait by the back entrance for his ride, Herbert watched in shock as a group of men ran up throwing rocks at the proud sign of United States Steel Corporation.

Like violent monkeys. Herbert whispered to himself as his mind quickly gravitated to its natural analytical state. How similar they are to a flock of finches when reducing their bird feed. No! Even lower still, like an infectious disease a single negative thought can spread, multiply and even mutate among the labor class minds. Maybe, he thought, a kind of Darwinism evolution of the mind where competing thoughts are selected—yes, with the strongest thoughts surviving. Herbert took a pencil and paper from his pocket and scratched some notes.

A strange hissing sound was approaching, like a small, higher pitched, locomotive. From down the adjacent street came some kind of horseless carriage. It was kettle black with tall iron wagon wheels that rolled across the dirt road. It must have been going eighteen miles per hour, a little slower than a running horse. Its wheels slid to a stop beside Herbert. He jumped back when a hot blast of steam was released near his polished shoes.

My good man, what’s this noisy machine?

The man depressed a hand leaver then pushed it forward. He came out of the carriage and removed his dusty goggles. It’s Mr. Carnegie’s little Amédée Bollée. He rubbed the side like he was petting his favorite horse. It’s got two V-twin steam engines, each driving a rear wheel.

Dam lucky Americans, Herbert thought. His Parliament in all their brilliance passed the Locomotive Act which required a man on foot to wave a red flag while walking in front of horseless carriages. That killed the British steam vehicle industry. May I come aboard? I’d like to see those interesting gauges and hand controls.

The man’s smile broadened, Of course, this is your ride to Opequon Creek Hotel.

After Herbert took a seat, a woman of forty-something with lifeless maple-brown hair, entered from the other side. She took the seat beside him. Her green velvet dress saw better days, as did her scuffed black boots. She struggled to put down a luggage bag which had several brass pipes protruding out the top.

My lady, may I ask what’s in your bag? She looked up quickly with hazel eyes so wide, If you’d enjoy seeing a worthless invention.

Excuse my rudeness, I’m Herbert Spencer. He held out a hand.

I’m Miss Darina Jones. She shook his hand. It’s an electric cell.

Herbert leaned over to look inside the bag. Of course that’s when the steam bus decided to lurch forward knocking him into Darina’s lap.

Excuse me, he sat up quickly feeling the blood rush to his face. Are you alright, my lady?

Sorry about the jerky send off. The driver yelled from the front.

She brushed off her dress, I feel …

If you don’t mind me asking, Herbert raised his voice over the loud engines, what’s the electrics for?

They’re industrial voltaic cells, an ignition battery. She seemed to force a smile, I designed it to ignite the flames for industrial furnaces. Her smile faded. Mr. Johnson, Carnegie’s furnace engineer, wouldn’t even test it. He believes the zinc and ammonium chloride won’t hold up well under extreme heat. She cleared her throat a few times, and then pointed to her vocal cords. She sat back with a deep inhale and stared straight ahead.

Her complexion was well powdered to cover fine wrinkles. Her dull hazel eyes were holding back tears. Herbert was always attracted to educated women from the middle class. If only he was twenty years younger. Is your husband a chemist?

She shook her head pointing to her empty wedding finger.

They said nothing more until they neared Opequon Creek Hotel. In the dark distant sky, orange and yellow lights danced across the clouds. He could faintly make out burning buildings lining the distant shore. Is that … He pointed to the distant shore.

My God, those are factories, she yelled as they turned the corner onto another street, They must be burning them down.

That’s when Herbert noticed a group of maybe fifty men yelling with fists raised. The men noticed them as well and came running towards the bus. The driver turned his bus too quickly to escape the mob and the bus tipped over on its side.

Darina screamed bloody murder. Herbert tumbled onto Darina and her bag of heavy bronze struck him in the head. The last thing he remembered was shooting pain, followed by blue stars.

When Herbert regained consciousness, his mind was hazy and the side of his head hurt like hell. After a few short coughs, he noticed several large buildings down the street were now ablaze. There was a heavy weight across his legs that took the form of a woman, Darina. He brushed her hair from her face and then tried to lift her to a sitting position. But she awoke with a deepening yawn.

Owe! She rubbed her arm which was scratched up with a mixture of blood and dirt. Where … Where am I? How’d I get …" She squinted as if she didn’t recognize him.

They were on a wooden porch across the street from their toppled bus. The bus was lying silently in the semi-dark street with a thin stream of smoke rising in the air current.

I haven’t a clue. He said looking about.

That’s right! She arched her back and began rubbing it. The driver saved me by dragging me from the bus. Then some men began chasing him yelling ‘rich man’ and other rude things. She pursed her lips and then continued, I dragged you out of the bus to here. I guess I passed out from exhaustion or something.

It appears I owe you. He grunted like an old man, raising her to stand up. Herbert found his head still spinning and his stomach a little unsettled.

Look at that. She whispered, pointing to a chaotic riot not more than a block away.

Poor Darina was all scuffed up with a piece of torn dress that hung by her side. He wanted nothing more than to hug her; but that wouldn’t be proper, she’d probably slap him. His mind became too distracted over Darina’s well-being, so he refocused. What’s causing them to riot?

She shrugged, I guess they’re tired of being abused by businessmen and the government. She tried to fruitlessly straighten her torn dress. The accountants and politicians keep telling everyone that wealth hoarding will benefit us all. Bullpucky! She closed her eyes holding her palms together. Please excuse my language.

Herbert began wiggling door handles to see if any shops were hastily left unlocked. The problem is government has grown too large. It loves creating conflict and civil strife; it gives away large land grants and taxes everyone to pay for it.

Darina raddled a door knob and it swung open. Here we go!

They entered and found two oil lamps to light. The hardware store was apparently unoccupied.

Mr. Spencer, its big railroad business causing unemployment, wage cuts and public anger. She found some wool blankets and laid them out. After the civil war, unregulated rail road businesses grew to enormous heights and have recently crashed. Numerous railroads are going bankrupt. Good night Mr. Spencer, we’ll talk in the morning. She seemed to pass out as her head barely touched the pillow. Before he could respond to her attack on big business she exhaled and inhaled with a shutter sound.

He guessed he could forgive her. She had dragged him to safety—that counts. He would give her a dollar in the morning—that would be more than generous. His mind spun for an hour but seemed obsessed about her opinions, her sweet voice and her green dress. He attempted to force thoughts on Mr. Carnegie’s labor issues or even the cause of riots but failed, his thoughts drifted back to her. For a woman, she had a complex mind. He muffled a few coughs from the smoke, but fell asleep with a smile for his heroine.

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With a gasping inhale, Herbert’s eyes sprang open with crystal clarity. There was bright light all about him that filled the room. He sat up with a quick jerk of his back muscles.

Where the hell, what is all this? He looked about the porcelain smooth walls and ceiling for an answer, any answer. The fifty foot long room was lit with a strange greenish hue. He sprung out of bed and walked barefoot across the perfectly smooth floor.

Ahhh! The high-pitched scream made him spring across the floor hitting the wall. He spun around to see a twenty year old woman crouched behind the bed.

Good sir! Have you kidnapped me and violated my person in this evil lair?

My good lady, this is neither my room nor have I violated you, to my knowledge. I’m but an old balding gentleman of good character, I assure you.

The woman seemed to gather some courage and stood up in her bright yellow under garments. Old man! I’m at least twenty years your senior. She looked him over with a huff, You should be ashamed of your youthful urges. You shall be jailed for this, I assure you.

Pardon me, but your need for spectacles are surely apparent. Herbert inspected his arms for her benefit but indeed they were youthful, muscular and he made a strong fist, at age fifty-seven. He rubbed the thick, silky hair on top of his previously bald head. What trick is this?

Indeed! The woman was now five feet from him with arms crossed. Her skin was baby smooth with healthy red cheeks. Her perfect and shapely figure could be seen, even through all the lace-trim of her long sleep-shirt. Her face was white like cream and her hair of red-violet, was more beautiful than any woman of the British Isles.

However, her face was somehow familiar. Young lady, what’s your name?

I’m Miss Jones and you’ll know that name well in criminal court.

Darina! Herbert stumbled backwards, not possible. You’re younger and, and bountiful …

Faint popping sounds interrupted their revelations followed by a warm breeze that flowed around them. From the middle of the room a woman materialized out of thin air. She was sitting on the floor with legs crossed and arms outstretched resting on her knees. Her eyes were closed with her palms facing skyward like a Hindu goddess.

Ahhh! Obviously Darina had seen her too. She grabbed Herbert’s arm.

The woman was no more than twenty-two years, tops. She appeared to be East Indian except for her light blonde hair, which was pulled tight into a tall bun behind her head. Flowing out of the bun down to the middle of her bare back, was even more hair. Large emerald earrings swayed softly from her ears as she raised her head and opened her eyes.

I welcome you to our celebration. It’s the year 12,023. She said joyfully as she rose gracefully from the floor. She was tall, even without the big hair.

Please call me Chandrakanti, or maybe Chandra V374, if that’s easier for you.

Darina was squeezing his arm even tighter. She was now paler, even with her new rosy cheeks. How, how, how—excuse me. Darina looked down. How’d we travel here and when? She wiped the tears from her face.

You’re 10,146 years in the future. Wow! That’s a long time isn’t it? Chandrakanti walked closer and her reddish-brown eyes seeming to glow against her aqua eye shadow. Her emerald green