Sentient

By Victor Acquista

A telepathic warrior race, intent on being the supreme sentient race in the galaxy, confronts another highly advanced telepathic civilization, one that lives in a peaceful shared collective consciousness. Following the near-complete genocide of the peaceful civilization, their survival strategy to establish a hidden colony has unintended consequences.

Humanity's fate rests in the hands of misfits and outcasts in this epic tale of defeat and resurgence spanning 168,000 years of struggle…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Podfobler Productions
• Release date: Oct 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201836917

Victor Acquista

Dr. Victor Acquista has become a successful international author and speaker following careers as a primary-care physician and medical executive. He is known for "Writing to Raise Consciousness". He is the creator and narrator/host of a podcast series, Podfobler Productions. His non-fiction and his workshops focus on personal growth and transformation, especially as pertains to health and wellness. His fiction includes social messaging intended to get the reader engaged in thought provoking themes. His novel Serpent Rising won the 2021 International Book Awards competition in the category of New Age Fiction. Dr. Acquista has a longstanding interest in consciousness studies, is a student of Integral Theory, and strives to do his part to make our planet a wee bit better. He lives with his wife in Florida. He is a member of the Authors Guild, Mystery Writers of America, the Florida Writers Association, Writers Co-op, and is a Knight of the Sci-Fi Roundtable. More info at www.victoracquista.com.

Book preview

VICTOR ACQUISTA

Podfobler Productions

Ave Maria, Florida

October 2021 re-issue

Original publication October 2016—Mirror Matter Press

Sentient © 2016 Victor Acquista

This is a work of fiction. The events, characters, and locations are drawn from the author’s imagination. Any similarities to actual events, characters, and locations are coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in whole or in part without the publisher’s written consent, except for the purposes of review.

Cover Art by Scott Carpenter; usage rights licensed per Sinister Grin Press

Book Design by Travis Tarpley

DEDICATION

In memory of Robert Heinlein, the dean of science fiction writers, whose ability to weave social themes into his imaginative tales inspired me in my youth, continuing through to the present.

and

For Ken Wilber, Integral Philosopher, who totally groks, and whose work informs many of the elements represented in this novel.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Writing a book is a significant undertaking. In my case, many people have helped and supported me, as well as prodded me, to write Sentient. First, I would like to thank my wife Regina for her gentle nudging and patient listening as I read chapter installments and obtained her useful feedback. Many friends and family also gave of their time and provided critical review and suggestions along with encouragement. I especially thank my brothers Tom, Tony, and Michael. My sisters, Elisa and Mary, provided very helpful review and critique and endless support throughout the writing process. Friends Charlie and Kirk were also extremely supportive and encouraging. J.J. Amaworo Wilson, gifted author, mentor, and friend, gave his helpful guidance and encouragement. Matt Worthington, and staff at Mirror Matter Press, helped to improve the story to enable me to achieve something I would not have achieved on my own. Without the assistance of these and others, Sentient would still be a story percolating in the recesses of my mind. I also wish to acknowledge staff at the Author’s Guild for their assistance. I am grateful to all who have helped bring concept to reality. I hoist a glass of imaginary scoob to you all.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Dedication

Acknowledgements

The Great Clans of T’rox and Their Colors

Home - Adden

Part One

1 - Earth

2 - Earth

3 - Space, Large Magellanic Cloud

4 - Space, Large Magellanic Cloud

5 - Earth

6 - T'rox

7 - Earth

8 - New Adden

9 - Earth

10 - Earth

11 - New Adden

12 - Earth

13 - T'rox

14 - New Adden

15 - T'rox

16 - Earth

17 - New Adden

18 - T'rox

19 - Earth

20 - T'rox

21 - New Adden

22 - Earth

Part Two

1 - New Adden

2 - T'rox

3 - Earth

4 - New Adden

5 - Earth

6 - T'rox

7 - New Adden

8 - Earth

9 - Earth

10 - T'rox

11 - New Adden

12 - Earth

13 - Earth

14 - New Adden

15 - Earth

16 - Kuiper belt, Outer Solar System

17 - Earth

18 - New Adden

19 - Earth

20 - Earth

21 - Earth

22 - Earth

Epilogue

Glossary

Words of Adden

Words of T’rox

Medical Terminology

About The Author

THE GREAT CLANS OF T’ROX AND THEIR COLORS:

––––––––

Brekaa ‘Lor —Orange

Di Sa Tuu —Green

‘Lecht —Yellow

Si Krrah–Black

Tar Sa Kal —Blue

Tirest —Red

‘Zuchan —Purple

––––––––

HOME

ADDEN

It was, Jarten reflected, primarily a ceremonial position. He sighed. Until recently, his major responsibility had been to preside at celebrations. Nothing in their history, nothing from their past could have prepared them for this onslaught. As a people, their only knowledge of intentional killing came from the primitives on worlds like Celor Six and Tandredge. On those worlds, they used all manner of weapons to fight among themselves. No, he reasoned, it wasn’t a matter of not being prepared; we simply had no notion of what to prepare for. We have done our best.

Chief Minister, he sensed Calisa approaching his chamber, linked to her thoughts, and to her unease. They have penetrated into the sanctuary.

Jarten stood, gazing at the well-manicured gardens, the scholars’ enclave in the distance, the radial meditation paths joining at the central cascading Fountain of the Three Moons. The soft red of midday gently colored Astar’s shrine.

Yes Calisa–I see their progress. Come join me.

The hymmera, so inauspicious yet so sweetly fragrant, gifted their delicate blossoms to the gentle breeze. He watched as they danced and spiraled downward, carpeting the Shrine Archway with their petals and white fragrance. In this final moment of tranquility, he sighed and whispered aloud, At least they will survive.

Death or slavery? He pondered these choices then chastised himself over such a foolish inquiry. All that really mattered was to shield knowledge of the colony. With disciplined effort, he forced himself to bury the memories of their hasty planning into the deepest recess of his mind. Defeat by the Mind Warriors of T’rox was a certainty; yet defeat could not describe such annihilation. If Adden is to survive, it can only be on New Adden. These thoughts became shadows dispelled by light and Jarten awoke from his trance still and resolute.

He glanced at the obelisk on his desk, appreciating the delicate carvings and fluid lines that shaped it to its top, the pointed star of Celos. Emissaries had gifted it to the last Chief Minister, who had left it among the sparse furnishings in the minister’s chambers. Calisa entered; a strange look of fear and sadness colored her features. As Adden crumbled, the look had become all too familiar. They both knew what to expect. Jarten tried to comfort her, Soon Astar shall greet us.

The image erupted in his mind a moment before the T’roxan entered. The warrior stood before him–shorter than most Addenites and physically broader with a prominent forehead, but those were hardly the most striking features. Jarten sensed his mind, its order and discipline were nothing less than astounding–a series of concentric arrays, complex yet simple with a precision that was both alien and beautiful. He tried to probe further but the invader’s mind shield was impenetrable. This one wore a yellow sash, a hand blade dangled from his belt.

You are leader of this world. It was a statement, not a question, telepathically projected into his mind. Yield to Skaa ‘Lecht, soldier to the Supreme Council of T’rox.

I am Jarten, Chief Minister of Adden.

You are defeated!

Skaa ‘Lecht glanced at Calisa and Jarten staggered backward, buffeted by the burst of the alien’s mental force. He tried to link with Calisa but raw fear blocked her mind. Helpless, Jarten watched as blood began to stream from her nose. As she collapsed, he whispered, Astar welcomes you... and prepared his shield.

He would use his most distant memories; they were deepest in his mind, from his before time, during his jerath. It was purely defensive. But this assault upon the Chief Minister’s mind was different, not a wave of mental force so much as a sharp piercing. It was as though pieces of his mind were being searched one by one. He stood frozen, powerless to stop this total violation.

He focused on his mother, remembering how patient and forgiving she had been. Erath will come, my son. How often she had to remind him. He smiled recalling her gentle reassurance and allowed a tendril of thought to touch the warrior’s mind. Through it he felt another world, another civilization whose only intent at this moment was his subjugation. Dimly he became aware of slices of his own mind falling away.

The T’roxan’s eyes bulged slightly with concentration. This one is strong!

When erath finally came, it was his mother’s mind that he first linked to. The first bonding was always the strongest. Jarten recalled the pure joy and wonder of his awakening, as when light first enters darkness. Always when he linked to mother, he felt her strength and protection. Aimlessly floating in this happy memory, no fear blocked his mind and his shield held. As he recalled his mother’s gentle features, her softly knowing brown eyes, he sensed a trickle of blood rolling down his upper lip.

Skaa ‘Lecht smiled broadly, nostrils flaring over clenched teeth. How has this knowledge protected? There will be more to defeat. My rank shall advance!

As the T’roxan’s thoughts penetrated Jarten’s head, very calmly the Chief Minister picked up the obelisk. Shifting his awareness, he noted the blood smell somehow intensified the sweetness of the hymmera. Curious! As a smile began to blossom on the Chief Minister’s face, he stared directly at the warrior, then slid the Star of Celos into his own eye. He blocked the pain as blackness enveloped him.

Skaa ‘Lecht grunted; he had not anticipated this. The Addenite leader had committed jan-fir. Skaa will inform the Council of defeat by jan-fir. Skaa will share new knowledge of an Addenite colony. The Council will augment my honor. Clan ‘Lecht will gain. Viewing the Chief Minister’s body, his nostrils quivered. Not long before Skaa sits on sub-council.

He looked at Jarten with the respect due a worthy opponent. Then, almost as an afterthought, he decided to complete the jan-fir ceremony. Unsheathing his jan, he pressed the blade across his wide forehead and spoke the closing: I honor you as one who fought well. Only the superior prevail. Atten Etten Ayast.

PART ONE

1

EARTH

Professor, did you remember to take your medication? The computer’s voice broke his concentration.

Be quiet Arthur, I’m trying to think.

Professor, you know how sometimes you don’t always remember to do things. The drug is important; it helps. You programed me to remind you.

Consider me reminded, but I’m one step ahead of you. Of course, I took my medicine! Do you realize the damn medicine is making my life crazy? It’s impossible to get anything done! He slammed a fist on the counter.

Arthur processed the action through one of his camera eyes and his AI software. Perhaps you need to take a break. Would you like some chamomile tea?

Hell no; that’s the last thing I want, Arthur. I need to stay sharp, not take a nap.

It’s good you have followed your medication schedule. I’ll remind you again in six hours.

He ignored the computer. Even though Arthur was just following his programming, Jeremy didn’t want to converse with him at the moment. He was trying to concentrate, but the information in the letter accentuated the sheer difficulty in trying to keep his thoughts straight. Six days to do the work of two weeks—can I do it? He was so close, but the week prior to drug holidays was typically his least productive. In that sense, he stood poised on the precipice of crisis. He was so close. He needed to focus.

Arthur, six-day countdown to next drug holiday; start now!

Yes, Professor. Let me remind you of the importance of the next six days. Today, you must speak with Nathan to arrange care for the house during your absence. Do you want me to dial his number?

No, remind me in two hours.

Is there anything you wish to change in the remaining six days or should we adhere to the usual routine?

Yes, Arthur. Make sure I am up by 0500 hours every morning; I have a lot of work to do.

Is there anything else?

No...wait...yes, he had an afterthought: Don’t remind me to shave. Everyone thinks I’m crazy, the least I could do is look it!

The remainder of his mail—bills, unsolicited credit card offers, and the usual dreck lay unopened on the lab countertop. Holding the Institute’s letter far enough away to focus his presbyopic eyes, he scanned the words, but he knew them by heart. Outraged, he let the letter slip and watched as it drifted to the floor, taking space amid other bits of litter.

––––––––

Dear Professor Strickland:

We have made arrangements for your next drug holiday at the Institute for Advanced Psychiatry’s inpatient unit on Monday, July 8th. Please arrive before 10: AM.

As you know, continued participation in this program requires a two-week drug free period. Please make whatever personal arrangements you require in anticipation of this next interval.

It is important that you continue to take all medication until you return. Some participants have found the week prior to drug holiday difficult. If you experience mental hallucinations or delusions, contact me immediately for recommendations.

We look forward to reevaluating your progress.

Cordially,

Rebecca Flores, MD, PhD

Program Director, Coordinator GH7-PZ13/Phase 3 Drug Trial

This couldn’t come at a worse time. Assembling the receiver alone would probably take him a week. Then he had to calibrate it. The scale model had required two weeks to calibrate before the transfer process worked at one hundred percent.

Arthur?

T minus 5 plus 23:18 and counting.

Spare me the countdown. Brew me some black coffee, double strong. And don’t forget to turn the pot off! Can’t do with you causing another fire while I’m off on holiday, he blustered. The caffeine helped him to focus. He drank extra in the days leading up to his drug free stint; otherwise, he suffered with memory difficulties and had a jumble of unwanted thoughts in his head, even worse than usual. Even now, the jumble of thoughts had assembled, waiting to intrude past his wall of defense holding them at bay. Not relying on his own memory, he had since programmed Arthur to take care of certain tasks; he couldn’t count on himself to remember to even shut off the coffee pot. The damage from that fire was something he remembered quite well. It was not an experience he cared to reacquaint himself with.

He groaned as the doorbell chimed. Now what?

Arthur’s front door security camera processed the image. There is someone at the front door; it appears to be Nathan, but it is difficult to say with certainty. Probability is 86%.

Precious time wasting away! He thought as he left the lab into the main living portion of the house. Well if it is Nathan, at least that will save me a phone call later.

Hey Professor. Green spiked hair and some chained leather bracelets provided the focal points of Nathan’s newest look.

Nathan. I was planning to call you later. Nice... eerrh... hair; the spiked look is definitely you. The scientist liked his teenage neighbor and wished more people had Nathan’s carefree non-judgmental attitude. If more people were like Nathan, I’d still have my nice fat grant! Still, the teen’s casual manner was camouflage; he came across as an intellectual lightweight, but the Professor saw through the deception.

Yeah, I know. He stood on the front porch tapping the side of his head with his right index finger. There’s plenty of gray matter underneath this green hair. I figure you’re pretty close to your next...uhh...vacation, he stammered. What you got, about a week?

Close—six days. And yes you certainly have a lot of gray up there which is fortunately well protected by some serious spikes. Jeremy rubbed his own thinning hair with some envy.

Nathan smiled; even though everyone thought the Professor was crazy, Nathan liked his wacky neighbor. He especially appreciated the Prof’s willingness to let him do his own thing. Yo dude, so what it be–the usual lawn care, mail pick up, and security detail?

You are the man, Nathan! All the usual, and then some–I’ll need you tomorrow to rig up some equipment. Will that work for you?

Oh yeah, some serious scientific ex-per-i-men-ta-tion! What time?

Around noon, unless I keep wastin’ my time flappin’ with you. Smiling broadly he added, Do you think you’ll be up by then? As he raised his hand to give Nathan the high-five he confessed, I am pressed with a tough stretch before they lock me away again.

Totally understand. Nathan slapped a high-five and plugged into his iPhone.

What’s playin? The Professor asked before closing the door.

Gooseneck Five, they rock!

Thelma Harris, lead singer, the Professor proclaimed.

She’s so awesome! How did you know that? That was something totally cool about the Prof, he was tuned in to the scene Nathan thought as he strolled back home listening to his favorite rock artist.

Jeremy’s sour mood had evaporated around Nathan’s carefree presence. Hmmm, how did I know that? The Professor mused, Better drink some coffee or I won’t be able to think straight.

Arthur, where’s that coffee? And did you remember to shut the pot off?

2

EARTH

Professor, it is 5: AM and you are beginning Day 5 prior to your next drug holiday. It is of the utmost importance that you take your medication when you first arise.

Have I told you how much I dislike you?

Your dislike is of no concern to me. Allow me to remind you that you should not shave today.

Not surprisingly, Jeremy had forgotten that detail. Okay, I’ll like you a lot more if you make me a big pot of coffee. You know that medicine goes down a lot smoother with a nice cup of joe.

You have no scheduled appointments with anyone named Joe. Do you wish that I schedule one? Should I anticipate a guest?

Forget it. He chuckled as he finished lacing his left shoe. Arthur can be pretty dumb sometimes in spite of all that AI software I’ve installed.

Oh, and Arthur...

Yes, Professor? Please do not remind me to shut off the coffee pot. You know that I never forget.

Hmmm, not so dumb after all!

Jeremy had a lot of work to do. Shortly after 9: AM he had managed to lug outside all the components for his collector. It had to be mounted on the roof, but he would need Nathan’s help for that. In the meantime, he scurried up the ladder and began attaching the mounting brackets. It required several trips up and down the ladder, which, even at 57, he managed easily. Of course his medication had come with a warning that it might cause dizziness and he should avoid heights, as well as a few dozen other warnings just shy of his hair turning purple and his ears shriveling and possibly washing off in the shower. Wouldn’t that be something–bending down to clean the drain and finding a shrunken auricle or two?

He had signed the informed consents in a heartbeat. And, he had promised Dr. Flores that he would abide by all the rules. It isn’t like I planned to jump off the roof or something. Anything beats lockdown in the psycho ward, or worse, spending time at the police station after being picked up for bizarre behavior. And he felt all but fed up with the local newspaper that never seemed to grow weary of printing: PROMINENT SCIENTIST RELEASED ON BAIL...

Ratcheting down on the last couple of bolts, he surveyed his slice of Americana. Basically, his view of the American dream was less than inspiring: rows of monopoly-style houses lay on a grid with sparse landscaping and postage stamp lawns. Is this what people slave for? Somewhere, apparently things had taken a wrong turn for him. He missed the University where he had felt he belonged. But his colleagues wanted nothing more to do with him. Resentment welled up in force. Well, he definitely didn’t fit in here! So, where he wanted to be he wasn’t welcome, and where he was he didn’t want to be. Truth be told, he wasn’t welcome here either. A good old-fashioned dilemma—maybe I should take a flying leap after all. He peered over the edge; it couldn’t be more than twenty-five feet. Not high enough. Damn them. Damn them all...I never chose to be mentally ill! He spoke out loud. Not even Arthur, pretty much his only companion these days, could hear him.

A jumble of thoughts began to intercede–thoughts about the happy time of his youth, thoughts about awards and accolades and the promise of a bright future. Before his schizophrenia, he was accepted as normal. So much had changed since then. Multiple hospitalizations, medications, a dwindling career–dark thoughts began to infiltrate his mind. Standing at rooftop, with an act of will, he managed to stave them off. Now simply wasn’t the time to revisit this wound or to wallow in resentment and self-pity. He looked at his watch. 10:06. Ahh, time for a coffee break. He liked talking aloud to himself, particularly when other people were around. He just said what others were thinking anyhow. That’s hardly mental illness; it’s just not in keeping with proper social etiquette.

Confined to the lab as he had been these last two plus hours, things weren’t going quite so well. The converter components numbered well over a thousand; while he wasn’t starting from scratch, only about 30% of the assembly had already been done. Painstakingly tedious, he could only focus on assembling the small parts for a half-hour at a time. Mini coffee breaks every thirty minutes or so helped to keep him on task. Now it was time for lunch. Well, at least the prototype’s software shouldn’t take long to modify, he thought glancing at the small-scale model now moved to the back part of the lab. Flipping the light switch and the CD player, the lab darkened and Mozart’s String Concerto Number 3 abruptly stopped just as a violin crescendo had finished its ascent. It was well past 1: PM. I wonder where Nathan is.

A sandwich with a Mountain Dew chaser went down quickly. He needed the extra caffeine and hydration, so he slugged down a second can. Sending the can into his recycling bin as though he was making a three-point shot in basketball, the doorbell chimed at a critical moment.

The can hit the rim and landed on the floor as Arthur announced, Nathan is at the front door. Probability is 99%.

Sure enough, Nathan stood on the front porch, rubbing bleary eyes beneath misshapen green spiked hair. It was ten minutes before 2:00.

Nathan. That’s some serious bed head!

Yeah, he flashed a big smile, I kinda overslept. I was trying to get to the next level on Halo 6, so I was up pretty late.

So, you managed to steal the antigravity gun?

Whoa, you been gamin’ behind my back? You should come over; we’ll team up and kick some serious alien butt!

The Professor let this slide. He had never played the game! The GH7-PZ13 was losing effectiveness. Wincing at the realization that other people’s thoughts coming into his consciousness meant there was worse to come, he tried not to think about it. Nate, have you eaten? And do you do the Dew?

I could definitely chow down Prof and would love some re-fresh-ment.

Back in the kitchen, Professor Strickland picked up his missed three-point attempt, prepared another sandwich and, thinking about his antigravity comment, decided to have another dose of caffeine.

Professor, I must remind you that you need to take your next dose of medication.

Perfect Arthur; I’d like to have that with another cup of joe.

I take that to mean you want me to brew some more coffee.

Arthur, you are a quick learner.

Why do you have to take medicine? Nathan chimed in through a mouthful of ham and cheese.

It helps to keep me out of trouble.

What kind of trouble?

Oh, you know, nervous breakdown, total meltdown, going bonkers...that sort of thing.

No really, Nathan swallowed, what’s wrong with you? Why do people say you’re crazy?

Nate, his voice grew low, I have schizophrenia...do you know what that is son?

Nathan brought down his can of soda and parked it next to the lunch plate. He lowered his gaze and nodded his head as awkward silence intruded. I had a best friend in grade school, Frankie... Nathan’s voice was uncharacteristically serious. He had an older sister, and she got schizophrenia.

What happened? The coffee was thankfully ready so Jeremy got up and poured himself a cup.

It was when she was in high school. Everything was great, and like, he was my best friend... but then she began acting weird, saying crazy stuff and things got really messed up. Nathan perked up and got back to his sandwich. People were saying she was doing drugs, but Frankie told me she had gone off the deep end and it was ‘cause she was schizophrenic. Then they gave her some medication and she was totally zoned... he finished his last bite, ...I mean it was like she was a zombie or something. Even Frankie, he just wasn’t the same after that. It messed up his whole family. They moved about a year later.

Well, Jeremy cleared his throat and began sounding very professorial. There is a lot of stigma associated with mental illness. Do you know what that means?

Sure. Nathan tapped his index finger against the side of his head with emphasis. There’s a lot of gray underneath this green. It means a mark, a label, but it’s kind of a bad thing.

Precisely, and it isn’t easy for people or families to have to deal with mental illness. It’s hard when someone doesn’t fit in, when they are not ‘normal’. Trust me, I know from personal experience.

But who gets to say what’s normal and not normal? Lots of people think I’m weird because of the way I look and act sometimes. That’s one of the reasons you’re so cool, because you don’t seem to care; you just accept me the way I am.

Sipping his coffee, the scientist thought for a moment before answering, Society...more or less. He took another sip, They decide what’s normal and abnormal, but it’s a pretty arbitrary judgment. In ancient times, they used to think people with epilepsy were blessed by the gods; that they were some kind of prophets or seers. Then, not too long ago, they thought people with seizures were crazy so they locked them up in prisons or put them away in cozy institutions where most of society didn’t have to think about or deal with them. He put the cup down and leaned forward. That’s kind of the way society likes to deal with people it feels aren’t normal. Leaning back, Now we know epilepsy is due to a neurological disorder and we treat it very effectively with medication. So you see, it’s all rather arbitrary.

Well, that’s crazy!

When I was your age, if I looked like you, they probably would have locked me up then.

Nathan just shook his head from side to side. You know, Professor, this is one seriously messed up world!

And that is one reason why you are so totally awesome my young friend. You have already figured that out and don’t mind spending the afternoon, what’s left of it, helping out the Nutty Professor who lives next door. Now are you ready to get outside and do some serious work?

Yes, sir. Nathan saluted. But wait; what happens if you stop taking your medicine?

Oh, I start hearing voices, thinking all sorts of crazy things, thoughts get all jumbled up in my head, and real trouble with my memory. Nothing very pleasant I assure you.

They had exited the kitchen and were standing outside. Seriously dude, that sounds uncool.

You have no idea. There are limits of acceptability. Weird and eccentric are tolerable but just barely. Once you cross over into crazy, no one wants to have anything to do with you. Sometimes, you don’t even want to deal with yourself. It’s more than unpleasant... He caught himself. No need to unload on the kid. He’s just trying to relate. Give it a rest and get back to work.

Now, you see this dish? Jeremy pointed to a large metallic dish-shaped item on the lawn. We’ve got to get this mounted up on the roof, do some fancy wiring, and connect it with a batch of cables through a conduit in the roof that runs into the lab. Do you think you can handle that?

Whoa, you are going to get some serious satellite TV through this gizmo. What’s it all for anyway? Are you trying to track some extraterrestrial communications or something?

The Professor smiled. Why Nathan, how did you figure it all out? Nathan began tapping the side of his head with his index finger when the Professor interrupted. If we ever get finished, I’ll give you a demonstration. I’ve got a small operational prototype already hooked up.

Awesome!

Four hours, six cups of coffee, several trips to empty their bladders, and one additional dose of medication saw the completion of the wiring. Jeremy planned to stay up late tonight continuing to work on the converter assembly. Back in the lab, some nice soft John Coltrane had replaced Mozart. The sax was by far his favorite evening music. Now, my young friend, I believe I promised you a demonstration. Nathan looked around. All sorts of electric gadgetry, something that appeared to be partially disassembled computer parts, wires, and a strange-looking monitor lay scattered around the room. In the far corner he saw what looked like a glass shower stall. He had never been in the lab before and he now realized it was almost as big as the rest of the house. The whole thing looked like something out of a grade-B sci-fi film.

Nathan whistled. I have now entered the sanctum sanctorum, the gaming megalopolis, command central where you freakin’ aliens are about to get your asses seriously busted!

Ahem, over here. The Professor signaled from the back of the lab.

Eyes wide, What is all this stuff for?

"Better than tell you, I’ll show you. What have