The Last Seeker

By William McIlwain

Imagine yourself as an observer from another planet, sent to Earth to explore, take in the good and the bad and report back. Quincy Jacobs, for that was the name his elders on Anavrin gave him, had that duty.
Setting foot in Panama in 1911, Quincy gets handed the reins from his predecessor, Hans Kuffer, and finds out that a Seeker can see a lot, and leave a lot of baggage.
In book one, Quincy has to deal with the Titanic, and newly formed acquaintances that are to embark on the perilous journey. As a journalist, working freelance at the Times in London, Quincy covers WWI from a different perspective.
France looms large on the horizon, and his encounter with Simone Sonnet and WWI. Simone, whose father's ancestors have accommodated the Seekers on their vineyard in Pau for centuries, does not have a soft spot for them. Her ice-blue eyes are testament to dalliances between Seekers and the ancestors.
Simone and Quincy travel to Paris, staying in the Latin Quarter amongst a myriad of cultures and ideas. Simone falls for a young American poet named Alan Seeger, but the war is not to be to kind to their relationship.
Back in England, Quincy has to confront his original misguided opinion of humanity. The war has shown a dark side to humans that he was not prepared for. Enter Clara Mondale to put a positive spin on the good of humanity and what it has to offer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Mar 19, 2024
• ISBN: 9781779416964

William McIlwain

William was born in Belfast, Northern Ireland, in 1957. His family immigrated to Australia in 1961, and he was public schooled for nine years in Boronia, Victoria. What did Mark Twain say? "Don't let schooling get in the way of your education." William worked at a variety of manuallabouring jobs, in between marrying the love of his life, Karen, and helping to rear two children, Janine and Andrew, now outstanding adults.Reaching a crossroad in their life together, William and Karen decided to sell up, buy a caravan and travel Australia, no strings attached. Working at various jobs like fruit picking, driving a forklift truck in packing sheds and other nomadic ventures lent to William receiving the greatest of all educations: living a life.It was on this adventure that Wiliam wrote The Last Seeker, a perspective of the world through the eyes of a visitor from afar. Williams interest in historical events and people that shaped the world we live in are evident throughout the book.

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The Last Seeker

Copyright © 2024 by William McIlwain

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Tellwell Talent

www.tellwell.ca

ISBN

978-1-77941-695-7 (Hardcover)

978-1-77941-694-0 (Paperback)

978-1-77941-696-4 (eBook)

This book is lovingly dedicated to my wife Karen and our children Janine and Andrew. You cannot write about love unless you have experienced it, and through them, I have.

Table of Contents

IT BEGINS

PANAMA 1911

ON A SLOW BOAT TO ENGLAND

ENGLAND

THE BARON

PAU

PARIS 1913

DEMONS REVISITED

PREPARING FOR WAR

GALLIPOLI AND BEYOND

CLARA MONDALE

REALITY CHECK

CAROLYN FERGUS

CHAPLIN AND MOZART

GOODBYE MRS SHARPLES

ERNST WALCOTT

BACK TO COLON

EARTH REPORT 1

IT BEGINS

"So, young man, you have

decided to do your research term on Earth?" the elder Pandor enquired in a tone that gave me second thoughts about the wisdom of my choice of worlds to study. Elders are selected from the pool of Seekers who have proven themselves to be the best of the best, according to their submitted reports.

I have been studying the reports from other Seekers, I replied, and I can’t come to terms with their analyses of the planet, so I have decided to offer my own observations. Pandor looked at me almost sympathetically, as if knowing that by letting me touch the candle flame, I would get my fingers burned, but it was ultimately the best educator for my naive mind. To me, Pandor was more than just another elder to seek learning from; he seemed to understand my questioning attitude and secretly encouraged it, while the others discouraged such tiresome clarifications of what they surmised was the bleeding obvious. I respected him a lot, but by trying to dissuade me from doing my field research on Earth and its inhabitants, he must have realised he was just whetting my appetite all the more.

Many of the other Seekers you talk about have gone on to become eminent elders on Anavrin, Pandor said defiantly.

I countered, But, as they had been trained, they only reported what they observed. Their reports are ‘cold’ and have no substance to them. I continued, As a Seeker myself, not to question their observations of Earth seems counterproductive, but also, if I may add, a little subservient. Saying what I actually thought was alien to Pandor, and as soon as I did, the look of sympathy that had graced his face a minute ago was replaced by one of mild annoyance.

I can plainly see it’s of no use trying to make you see the folly of your choice, he retorted, so I will brief you on your requirements and responsibilities on this excursion.

The mood between us had turned decidedly icy, and for the love of me, I couldn’t understand the negativity he had surrounding my decision.

Earth, in my observation, had had a bit of a bad rap from the previous Seekers, but I just put that down to their Anavarian holier than thou attitudes to anything other than perfection; I wanted to give a fair and honest account of Earth and its inhabitants, but it’s as if the planet was already condemned as unworthy for Anavarian consideration on the strength of the biased observations of the select few.

Are you listening to me, young man? I was snapped back to the here and now by Pandor’s sharp tongue. You need to know just what you are getting yourself into, so what I am about to tell you is of the utmost importance if this venture is to benefit you and those who read your reports. Pandor opened up an official-looking folder, which he had brought with him. Firstly, you will need to spend one hundred Earth years studying the planet, as one of our years is equivalent to twenty-five of theirs. You will not notice any marked change in your appearance throughout your stay. He continued, As you are expected to coexist with the inhabitants of the Earth, this, therefore, creates your first dilemma; you will find out very quickly that image, amongst the humans, is all-important, vanity is rife amongst them, so any person who doesn’t noticeably age, as you won’t, will generate a bit of curiosity with those close to you. We have tried to overcome this little obstacle by giving our Seekers occupations that keep them isolated from too many close relationships, either working or personal; this has had limited success up until now, due mainly to Seekers attaching themselves to the natives, so to speak.

He continued, I have severe reservations about your demeanour, either professionally or personally, in socially distancing yourself from the people you are bound to strike a relationship with. Without drawing breath or allowing me the courtesy of mounting a defence as to my demeanour, he continued. "You will be taking the place of the current Seeker, who is in a transition stage; this means to all his contacts on Earth, he is dead, or his persona, which he adopted, is. Thus, he has started introducing you to the world in which he has departed; therefore, you will have a prepared manuscript to work from.

You will meet him for a briefing on Earth before he departs, and you will take over your chosen identity when he leaves. You will assume the identity of a freelance journalist by the name of Quincy Jacobs, and by being a freelance journalist, you will have to use pseudonyms as opportunities arise, so to speak.

I was getting itchy feet now; all this cloak-and-dagger stuff was getting the adrenalin pumping, and my excitement must have been noticeable because Pandor’s expression changed from one of stern tutor to paternal apprehension. I know this all seems like a ‘boy’s own’ adventure right now, he said, but the council of elders pondered long and hard over your application to study Earth; they had grave reservations about your maturity to cope with the task at hand, especially at this time in Earth’s development, the planet is going through a transition which will determine its survival for better or worse and it will take deft judgement on your behalf as to making the right decisions when circumstances present themselves.

I don’t quite follow you, I said, my feet not quite as itchy as they had been a minute before.

As you know, Pandor proceeded, we have sent observers to the planets for aeons, not only to learn but also to teach, but Earth has been the one planet that has defied comprehension. You have read the reports; the constant theme is its unwillingness to learn from its past.

What has this to do with my little sortie to the blue planet? I said with almost dread at the answer.

When you reach Earth, Pandor took a breath, you will quickly realise you have the ability to foretell the outcome of major events and decisions; all previous Seekers have had this ability, and you will be no different. They were able to harness this capability and, in some respects, put it to some use, and in your case as a journalist, it will be a huge advantage to you, but you must never use it to change the course of Earth’s natural progression.

I couldn’t comprehend what was being said to me, and I doubted I would until I was confronted with a situation that required a decision one way or the other. I must have looked dumbstruck because Pandor just sighed and said, You are a gifted young man, which is why I recommended to the council that you be allowed to take on this task. I feel it is time we had a different perspective of Earth than we have had until now, especially in the coming age, and you are the person for this time. He then put his hand on my shoulder. This was getting serious, I thought. The best advice I can give you before you leave is don’t get too close to anything or anybody while you are there; you will only leave yourself open to serious conflicts of emotions if you do.

Now, if that wasn’t a Judas kiss, nothing was. Any aspirations of a quick four-year knees up on Earth were well and truly shattered. As Pandor left me with the portfolio and took his leave, I thought of throwing myself at his feet and saying how stupid I was to think I was up to doing this. However, I then realised that the crafty old bugger was using reverse psychology, no doubt; on the one hand, feeding me a doomsday scenario and on the other, sending best wishes from the council for a happy journey. It didn’t pay to ponder too long about what the council thought, so it was best just to tug the forelock and get on with it.

PANAMA 1911

I arrived in a city

called Colon on the north coast of Panama. The temperature is a balmy twenty-eight degrees Celsius, but the humidity makes it feel ten degrees hotter. The rain is coming down in sheets, but I’d say that was a pretty regular occurrence as the dock workers go about their business as if they were born to it, which they most probably were when you think about it. I looked for a little nook to appear unassuming while anxiously awaiting recognition from my contact. Pandor informed me that all I had to do was to be seen at the place where I materialised, and the Seeker would do the rest. Well, here I am, wearing these strange clothes, wringing wet as they may be, that doesn’t detract from what I feel is a total overkill of the covering up of oneself. I see they’ve spared no expense in making you look like a total foreigner. I spun around and must have gasped as he continued almost apologetically, If that expression is anything to go by, then I must look as bad as I feel. The person in front of me was by all accounts a couple of Anavarian years older than me, no more, but he looked as though he had had the life drained out of him.

You must be the new Seeker. Come, let’s get you out of those wet clothes; they, and the attention you’re attracting, must surely be making you feel uncomfortable. We went back to his beach house, which was no more than a shack, but with it being no more than a lazy stroll to the water and with uninterrupted views, it was cheap no matter what he was paying. As I undressed, he handed me a caftan to cover myself, and I immediately felt a sense of freedom, having shed so much weight in fabric, wet fabric at that. Don’t get too comfortable, he said while handing me a drink, you’ll be expected to be seen by the locals dressed as you arrived, a drier version, of course, but the elders are not fools; they have done as much, probably more, research than you have. As I was listening, I tried to analyse the speaker but decided it would be better just to go with the flow, so to speak.

You probably have more questions than I have answers for, he said. I will tell you all I think you need to know for now, and hopefully, I can reduce the number of questions; then, we can both get on with the next phase of our lives.

For the next four hours, he related almost everything that went on in Earth’s 19th century, good, bad, and indifferent. It appeared he had been rehearsing this change over for some time, and he was determined to leave no room for any want for articulation from a fresh-faced upstart like yours truly.

Well, he said with an air of relief, I would say that just about covers everything you could possibly need to know up until the present time.

Not quite, I replied, his sense of relief fast fading. Just what do you happen to call this bloody drink you’ve been giving me?

He gave a half-laugh in acknowledgement as to what I was hinting at. Okay, he said, dropping himself into his huge cane chair, and for the first time since we set eyes on one another, he actually looked relaxed. I must apologise, he said. It seems so long since I’ve had contact with an Anavarian that I’ve fallen into the Earthly habit of assuming. Let’s start from the beginning. My earthly name is Hans Kuffer, and you may as well get used to using identifying tags such as names, nationalities, black, white, old, young, rich, poor, and so forth because, on Earth, you are nobody unless you can be pigeon-holed by everyone you come in contact with. He continued without drawing breath, "The elders, no doubt, informed you of the freelance journalist caper. I have to admit, I’m pretty proud of that one as I thought of it myself. It gives us the freedom to be where we want to be without any embarrassing questions about our intentions, and one flash of your press card and presto! Instant mistrust by all and sundry, but a grudging acceptance all the same.

Being freelance, you can submit your work by post to any willing recipients. As Hans Kuffer sadly passed away about a year ago, I have been using your earthly name in anticipation of your arrival. I must admit Mr. Quincy Jacobs has been doing some sterling work, my friend, a standard you no doubt will be able to maintain. Hans, as he insisted I call him, finally drew breath, allowing me to try and get him to fill some of the gaps he had been creating.

You talk of being a journalist, but tell me: who sends you where you are meant to be? How do you know what to write about when you get there? Who do you talk to? Who don’t you talk to? How am I to survive one hundred years on my own with just your inflated self-assurance that everything will be tickity boo because you’ve seen to it? Yes, I have done the groundwork back on Anavrin, but now that I’m here, I don’t mind telling you I’m apprehensive about my ability to hold up my side of the bargain with the elders.

He must have sensed the subtle but tell-tale hint of hysteria in my reaction to his long and inadequate monologue, for then, the condescending bastard put his arm around my shoulders and said, There now, young QJ.

QJ! Where the bloody hell does this guy get off? First, he gives me a name, to which I have never had any input, and five minutes later, before I have even learnt to spell the damn thing, he bloody shortens it! I can tell you’re a trifle, shall we say, tense about your up-and-coming adventure. Well, he continued, all I can say, and you’ll just have to trust me on this, is that any mishaps or upheavals that may come your way will be of your own making. The elders have sent Seekers to this and other planets to further our advancement and get differing perspectives on the progress or otherwise of Earth and its people for centuries, and the only, shall we say, mishaps have been at the hands of the Seekers themselves. You have been, no doubt, told about your premonition knowledge on earthly matters; well, use this skill wisely because it can be as detrimental to you as it can be beneficial, and I’ll give you some free personal advice: don’t get too close to any Earth dwellers or you’ll find this knowledge will be a burden that is almost too much to bear.

We retired for the night, with his promise to show me around Colon the next day. His earlier warning had left me with the feeling that he was leaving something behind on Earth, far more than just happy memories of the blue planet, but I knew enough to let him deal with his thoughts in his own way; that’s the Anavarian way, which seems so practical on Anavrin but somehow loses some of its practicality here on Earth. As I put my head down, it dawned on me: I still didn’t get the name of that bloody drink.

How did you sleep? he enquired, but having just seen myself in the mirror, I felt the question was superfluous, for, glancing at my face in the mirror, told the whole sorry saga of a night wrestling in a hammock.

I inquired, Is that a form of torture or part of some initiation rite relative to the local native custom?

He chuckled, You’ll get used to it, and once you do, you will never have a better night’s sleep.

I replied, I very much doubt that. I will never master the intricacies of hammock slumber; I spent more time on the floor than in the hammock.

Feeling for what I was sure was multiple fractures, Yes, I heard. You don’t bounce at all, do you? He was positively laughing now, milking the sorry situation for all the comedy he could extract from it. The positive side was that he was showing emotion other than the dour one that had masked his personality since we first met. God! That was only yesterday; it seems an age ago. Come, he said finally. "What you