The Circle
~J.G.~
Nothing is as it seems.
Chapter I
The man entered his two-bedroom house and shut the wooden door.
It had been a long day at the lumber yard, operating a hydraulic loading crane.
Something had been on his mind for a while. He had ruminated over it as he stacked the thirty-foot logs all day.
It was rather ludicrous to worry about such a small inconsistency in the regular flow of every day life, but he could not help musing over it.
Trying to forget his worries, Derek Thompson stretched out on his sofa and fell asleep.
"Hey Derek, how's it going?" Tom Richards, a burly man with a yellow, hardhat, overalls, and a strong body odor, asked.
"Oh, fine, Tom." Derek replied, absently.
"Something eating you up?"
"Yeah. I guess that—well Tom, it's just a thought, but have you ever wondered why there are no men in town who are older than thirty?" Derek asked.
"I don't know. Well, got to go, Derek. My shift is beginning. Talk to you later."
The man left for the large, green factory-like mill.
No one cares. Derek thought. And I am turning thirty tomorrow.
A log was suspended in mid-air. The arm, holding it, was humming with impatience.
The man operating it was staring at the wheat fields a mile away.
Derek snapped out of his reverie and finished the loading, filled out his time card, and entered his brand new, 1983 Ford truck.
Beep, Beep, Beep
Derek awoke in the darkness. He turned off the alarm clock.
"3:32." He murmured. Always, when I want sleep you beep.
He sighed. It was time to get breakfast.
After slipping into his denim jeans, and a blue tee shirt, Derek entered his small, cluttered kitchen.
A thought was hounding him and it began to drive him awake as he was filling the coffee maker. You are no better than a slave. Why do you wake up at 3:30 to go to your routine and boring job only to come home and sleep so you can do the same thing 6 days a week and 365 days a year?
"Good point." Derek muttered aloud, as if he was talking to another person. He stared out the window at his truck. What if I took a day off-just one day?
A smile began to crease his lips.
The farmland, surreal and expansive, passed by the truck windows of the Ford.
Derek listened to a twanging Country station as his truck hummed down the road.
He had always wondered; why was it that life seemed so empty? There was no school in the town of Little Creek—his home town. Farmers said that there were schools in a larger town, twenty miles away, called Medley.
Unconsciously, Derek knew that he wanted to see a child and even more strangely, he wanted to see a woman. He had no memory of ever seeing either.
When Derek was a kid, he was told, by a kind adoptive father, that his real father and mother died.
The man, a farmer, named Joe Carol raised young Derek until he was 18.
Derek, after his 18th birthday, went to the lumber mill seeking a job, and that is where he worked ever since.
Joe lived alone. Derek remembered the man being slightly mysterious and non-talkative. One day Derek, age 10, had found the man by the barn, changing a tractor tire.
"Dad, where is Mom." Derek asked.
The greasy farmer wiped his face with a rag as he replied, "Son, she died a long time ago."
"How?" Derek was inquisitive.
"It's a long story."
"Please."
"How about later?"
"You always say that." Derek moaned.
"Alright." The man sighed. "Your mother was at the doctor's office in Hampton. That's clear across the county. Your father was going to pick her up and he left you sound asleep in your crib." Joe paused. His eyes lowered to the ground. "Your mother had just left the office and was out, waiting in the parking lot. Your dad was in a hurry and he did not see your mom walking towards him."
Joe paused again, wiping sweat off his face.
A tear appeared in Derek's eye. "What happened next?" His voice quivered.
"Your dad—ran over her-didn't see the car coming-crashed." The man's became hoarse. "I'm sorry, Derek."
Weeoh…weeoh…weeoh
Derek snapped out of his ruminations.
A siren blared not far behind. Derek pulled over. Oh great. Now what? What have I done this time?
A door slammed.
Footsteps approached.
"Hi Derek."
It was Officer Harris, one of the toughest police officers in the county. His shock of blond hair was spiked and mostly hidden beneath the police hat.
"I'm sorry to say this; but you're under arrest."
Derek couldn't believe what he was hearing.
His heart beat throbbed in his ears; a palpitation that punctuated every fourth second.
He heard the words, "Please step out of the car", vaguely.
Never before had Derek been under arrest.
Vroom.
Derek slammed the gas petal to the floor.
In seconds the police car was fifty feet behind him.
Not for long.
Weeoow..weeoow…
Red flashing lights came to life.
Derek's heart pounded in his chest. The police car was only yards away.
The farmland was now behind him and the verdant mountains that enveloped the countryside were before him.
This was the farthest he had been away from home.
Suddenly, the truck's front end buckled. The seatbelt tore into his chest.
Derek gasped. His chest felt sore. He peered out the window at the tree-covered mountain in the distance. He could not see any obstruction in the road. What had he crashed into?
"All right. Come out of the truck."
It was Tom Harris.
Derek watched in his rear view mirror as the policeman approached his car.
Making a quick decision to play dead, Derek slumped forward and closed his eyes.
"Oh!" Tom whispered when he had arrived at the driver's right window.
"T, this is Harris." Tom turned his gaze toward the police car. "The product has been apprehended at the discontinuity in sector 8."
Derek frowned in consternation. What is he talking about; a 'Product', a 'Discontinuity'?
"Very well…ok…right…dispose of the body?...ok…yes sir." Tom pressed a small button on his watch, drew his pistol, and turned toward the truck.
Slam.
Derek slammed the door into the policeman. He watched the unconscious form closely until he was satisfied that Tom was truly unconscious.
Now what are you going to do. He thought to himself. You've knocked out a cop and left him on the road.
Derek decided that he would first check out the engine. His jaw dropped.
The whole front end was crushed beyond repair. There was no way it would work. What could have done that? As he walked toward the front of the truck a sudden force struck his body.
It felt like a brick wall.
He was touching empty space. What in the world? Derek couldn't believe what he was witnessing. A solid, invisible wall that felt like concrete was before him.
His finger found a strange groove in the wall: a handle: a door.
Something moved and then a grating sound filled the air as Derek opened the invisible door.
It was impossible. In empty space an aperture appeared. Beyond the invisible door, in empty space, was a room.
Derek for a long time stood staring in bewilderment at the apparition. Finally he took the courage to enter the room.
Chapter II
He must be dreaming…
Light, pure and undistorted, splashed onto a cold silver floor.
Derek had just left his world and entered another. A huge, vaulted, silver-white ceiling, far above him, scintillated in the undistorted, white light that mysteriously came from the walls.
Turning, Derek let out a short gasp. Three other doors, besides the one he had passed through, were located in each of the four walls that enveloped him.
All his life, he had tried to imagine what the future would be like. This room went far beyond his dreams.
He was in a world within his former world. In fact, his former world was a powerful deception.
So enthralled was he that he did not hear it.
The sound repeated and Derek jumped. "Attention, all S-I units, a subject has penetrated the discontinuity in sector 36. Please apprehend it immediately."
The voice boomed in the chamber, divaricating into a cacophony of repetitious sound.
The cold, monotonous, inhuman voice struck him with a feeling he had never experienced-terror.
His heartbeat was throbbing. Where am I?
Derek's head spun. He had to escape. He knew that he was being pursued.
The door opened with a loud moan as Derek passed through it and left the white room behind.
Blackness. Darkness. Coldness. Space. The vast, empty nothingness of space unfolded before Derek. Stars gleamed as stark points of contrast to the eternal void of darkness.
Derek was standing before a huge, extensive, elongated window.
The room was dark and only the fait starlight provided what he needed to navigate.
Suddenly light splashed into the room. A door had opened. Standing in its threshold was a humanoid silhouette with a haze of light bordering its outline.
Time froze.
Finally the figure moved. Oval lights turned on.
Standing before him was a figure, metallic and gleaming in the blue-white light.
Its body was erect and solid and entirely composed of silver metal. In its bald, shiny face were two glowing suns.
"May I ask," Its motionless, rectangular mouth spoke in an emotionless voice, "what you are doing here?"
Derek hesitated. Talking to a thing that was non-human blew his mind a way.
"Where are we?" Derek asked with a slight tremble in his voice, which he fought to control.
"I see that you are a subject. You are not allowed to leave your sector." The robot replied.
"Where are we?" Derek repeated.
"We are in sector 35 in the space station, Unity. I am D-3, a modified-energy-driven, technician android."
Derek was dazed. There was no way he could be living in the future in a space station. This was all a dream. He was born in the 1960's. There was no way…
"What is your name?" The robot asked.
"I am Derek Thompson." He replied. Derek felt that he had to be cordial regardless of its non-human nature.
"I am afraid that you will have to return to your sector."
"Why was I not told about this?"
"The patrons of Unity did not wish for their subjects to have knowledge of any sophisticated technology. Such knowledge would be counterproductive to the operation of Unity's production."
"What production?" Derek was aghast.
"Unity is a space station that produces the wood, food, textiles, and raw ore that is required for the benefit of the Earth."
Derek was silent. He could not believe that his whole life was not spent on Earth.
"This is a dream." Derek suddenly shouted. "Get me out of this ship! I want to see Earth."
The robot was silent.
"There is a way to leave Unity. To do so you would have to enter a transport ship, and once you are on Earth, you will have to escape from the docking yards where the supplies from Unity are dislodged."
"D-3, you have to show me where the transports are." Derek locked his hands on either of the android's shoulders.
"That would be illegal."
"Have you ever wanted to be free?" Derek asked.
"I have never thought about it."
"Would you like to go to the Earth?"
The robot turned to the sound of heavy boots on approaching.
"Come. I don't want to see you die." D-3 grabbed Derek's hand.
They exited the room just as the opposite door opened.
"My master has a 20 kiloton transport ship in the docking yards," D-3 commented after they had entered an elevator, "I can hide you in the pallets."
The elevator door opened to reveal a cavernous room.
100-foot-long pillar-like space ships, of reflective metal, gleamed in the harsh glare of overhead lights.
Enormous derricks groaned as they lifted heavy metal containers, full of grain or ore, from out of the open cargo holds of the silver ships.
Soon Derek and D-3 had entered a side hatch of one of the larger craft.
"Attention, all personnel," The intercom blared, "there is a convict in docking bay 304. Please apprehend him."
"My master won't like this." D-3 whimpered.
They were in the cockpit of the space ship. A large, flat screen facing them, four black seats, and four smaller screens were the only notable objects in the spacious cockpit.
Both the man and the robot took a seat.
"How do we get this thing flying?" Derek urged.
The robot sighed—a mechanism used to display its logical, programmatic assessment of a situation.
"Computer," D-3 turned to the large screen.
Suddenly, the screen turned on and a silvery-blue color appeared.
Derek watched, stupefied as the computer responded in a monotone: "Ready and waiting."
"Activate engines and follow the preset flight itinerary to the dock yard in New Europe."
"Command confirmed."
"How did you do that?" Derek asked.
"Do what?" D-3 said.
"Talk to the computer."
"By the voice identification and recognition program."
"Oh." Derek replied.
Chapter III
A circle of blue, hazy and dim, interrupted the black continuum.
Earth, the planet of man, was now approaching them.
Derek couldn't wait to walk on the true earth and breathe the oxygen of a planet.
Ten days later they arrived at the planet.
Clouds, dense and white, zipped past them as they approached the fertile, verdant earth below.
In the computer screen a network of grey, silver, and white began to enlarge as the transport neared a city.
A lattice of streets, and towering, scintillating pillars, came into view.
"Where are we?" Derek asked the android.
"New York."
Far above the towering edifices, a large shape hovered. It looked like an enormous soap bubble, gleaming in a profusion of color.
"What is that?" Derek asked, amazed.
"That is the docking yard." D-3 replied.
As they approached the shiny, translucent surface, Derek was able to see large apertures—blemishes on an otherwise perfect mirror.
Soon they had passed through it and found themselves in a huge hangar.
At least a thousand ships were parked in rows and columns.
They landed with a soft bump.
The image of the docking yard faded to an image of the word 'ready' set against a blue background.
Just as Derek unfastened his safety harness, the image on the screen changed to a man in front of a blue back drop. He began to speak; "Attention, this is an emergency alert, a subject of the space station Unity has breached secure barriers and has inculcated a service android for his subversive purposes. Derek Thompson, age thirty, is the subject. His IPN is A2305."
D-3 turned to Derek. "We will never have a chance of escaping, unless your IPN is removed.
Derek was in shock. How could this happen to him? He could not get over the first shock that he had not lived in the 20th century.
"What is and IPN?" He asked.
"The IPN is your identification processing number. It is contained on a nano-capsule, imbedded in your skin. I know because it was once my job to imbed the capsules."
"Could you remove it?"
"We need the tools." D-3 replied, simply.
"Computer," D-3 turned to the lifeless, blue screen.
"Yes." The inflectionless voice replied.
"Take us to the med center."
"Command override. Your command is null. You are an international fugitive."
Derek caught D-3's eye.
Both of them rushed to the side hatch. It was locked.
"Does this ship have a manual override?" Derek asked tersely.
"Yes. It is—"
"Initializing levitation procedure. Current destination, incarceration center." The computer spoke as the ship's engines revved to life.
"Where?" Derek asked with beads of sweat trickling down his forehead.
"Under panels." The robot decided that he would try overriding the ship.
In a few seconds he had detached the panels and a dark room appeared below them. D-3 slipped down and sat into a chair before a cockpit that resembled that of a 1980's vintage 747.
The computer screen alive with images of the sparkling city below suddenly went blank.
Derek sighed with relief. His relief was short lived.
"D-3, if we override the ship, how will we fly it?"
"I'll have to fly is from down here." Came the muffled reply.
"But there is no window or screen there." Derek persisted.
"I'll have to fly by the instruments."
When they had landed, Derek helped D-3 out of the lower cockpit.
"D-3," Derek turned to the cold, silver face, "how is it that that bubble-like hangar can float in the air?"
"Via anti-gravity generators."
"I've only really lived in this century a few days." Derek pressed, "So, please speak to me as if I was from the 20th century."
"Sorry. The anti-gravity generators are superconductive electronic—"
"I've only caught a trace of high-school science." Derek interrupted.
"Very well." D-3 began a monologue, "A superconductor is a substance that can transmit electrons with virtually no resistance. A superconductor was used in the late 1990's to levitate an apple. The only verifiable evidence that it levitated was that its weight had decreased by a small amount. Since then, superconductors have been used to generate stronger forces that repel the force of gravity. The force required for such repulsion is equal to mass of the levitating object, times the acceleration of gravity, times the height of the object. When this value has been converted to watts, one may soon see that quite a lot of energy is required. Fusion engines provide this necessary energy."
While the robot was speaking, Derek wondered how much information could be stored in that small robotic brain.
Derek opened the hatch.
Wind whistled around the circular opening.
A pile of rubble loomed in the foreground, surrounded by massive, solid cliffs of vertical stone. Perched on the top of the cliffs and stretching into infinity above, were colossal pillars of vibrant, reflective silver—a stark contrast to the refuse below.
As they passed through an alley a man clothed in a dark, greasy, well worn trench coat, entered the alley on the far side, blocking them off.
"Halt there." A gruff voice came from behind a mantle of long, black hair. "You got an account?"
Derek frowned. There was no way he could get out of this. It was true that he had no bank account. He never thought of it and there was no bank in his home town in the space station.
"Why?" Derek decided to say.
"Look. I aint have no money, so you can give me your access code, and a voice access code." The long-haired man flipped out a white, 1 by 2 inch object.
His other hand held a gun.
"Now say your name, slowly."
"I don't have an account." Derek whimpered as his heart began to palpitate loudly in his ears.
"You can't fool me. I no you aint a Sweat." The man almost spat the last word. "You have the looks of an upstanding citizen. Give me your account."
Slam.
D-3 had struck with his iron-hard fist. The gun flew into the air and the next moment, the robber was unconscious.
"You saved my life." Derek breathed. "Who was that?"
"He was a member of the low life, a Sweat." D-3 replied, stiffly.
"What is a Sweat?"
D-3 seemed to prepare for a speech, but then changed his mind. He replied, simply, "A Sweat is a factory worker. He was demanding your banking account, which could only be accessed by your voice and number. Come. The authorities will be looking for you. We need to get you a disguise and a chip removal."
The complex was an ugly, black, structure composed of thousands of long, vertical, spike-like projections.
Derek and D-3 had not traveled more than twenty feet and a strong, sulfurous odor pierced his nose.
His next sense was the image of black, high, thin pyramids or arrowheads that loomed a few hundred feet above them.
"Where are we?" Derek asked, feeling like an ant on a porcupine's back.
"If I can remember, we are at a fusion engine production plant." D-3 replied. "Come. We should find an elevator to the upper city."
Suddenly a wining sound cut the stillness as an orange booster appeared and a small hovering, bulky transport ship landed. A column of men in dirty, black clothes marched out—dejected and tired. Escorting them, four large, grey robots with solid, angular features, prodded them along.
"What is going on here?" Derek couldn't believe what he saw. He had thought that his life before, was bad.
"Those are some Sweats on their way to the factory. They most likely were caught steeling food from transport ships. This is their punishment."
"Let's follow them." Derek was curious.
"No." D-3 replied, factually, "They are slaves. The factory is very bad place to go. Life expectancy is ten years."
Derek furrowed his eyebrow. "Why would they treat people like that?"
"They are scum, Derek. Nothing more."
"No." Derek shook his head. He began to dislike his new companion. "They are humans. Humans have built robots."
"Yes, and robots have been perfected so that unruly humans can be controlled. Where your life was supposed to take place humans, were police, firefighters, soldiers, and such. Now, humans have allowed robots, with better understanding of rules, more heat resistance, and more endurance and precision, to replace them. Without us, your world would not run, and you humans would not survive."
A doubt began to seep into Derek's brain. What if D-3 was allied with his enemies? It was strange that he would suddenly appear friendly and cooperative. If he truly belonged to someone, he would most likely be designed to serve them. Why would D-3 go out of his way to help Derek and in the process become an international fugitive?
They approached the silver pillars. A stairway led to a granite platform.
D-3 placed his metallic hand on an inset, green sensor. As a silver door slid open, a friendly, computerized, female voice greeted them from a small speaker; "Welcome to the upper-world of the city of New York."
Chapter IV
A large boulevard, bordered on either side by a lush, tropical forest, led the way to a transparent cylindrical shaft. Inside the shaft, a platform covered with people, hovered upward through an opening in the ceiling of the room.
A few dozen people led their dogs through trails that penetrated the verdure.
"This is the lower gardens." D-3 commented as they headed toward the transparent elevator shaft. "We must get to the med center on the 450th floor."
"What!" Derek stifled a cry. He pulled D-3 with him into a dense grove of trees.
Half a minute later two sets of heavy feet clomped by. They were titans, as far as Derek could imagine, formed out of pure granite, and alive with the hunting instinct of a blood hound.
The two robots entered the glass elevator and soon were levitated, by it, to higher levels.
"Hunters." D-3 whispered in a raspy, electronic voice. "They will locate us soon, unless we can have your chip and my tracking signal degaussed.
"If they have a tracking device, why didn't they discover us?" Derek asked.
"They have no access to our tracking codes. They are heading to the tech center in order to get our codes, no doubt. We must get to the med center before they do."
In a few seconds they had arrived at the twenty-foot wide elevator platform. Ten feet above them, the transparent walls, of the elevator shaft, began.
"Level 450." D-3 told the elevator computer.
"Confirm-destination: level 450." The female computer voice asked.
"Level confirmed." D-3 replied.
The platform whirred to life and they were soon watching the indoor forest shrink below and then they passed into the next level.
An eye appeared from around a corner. It gazed intently at the white medical robots as they preformed an intricate surgery on an unconscious patient.
The eye blinked and then disappeared behind the corner.
"It looks like surgeon robots are at work." Derek replied to D-3's question.
"Good. We are at the surgical facilitation room." D-3 replied. "Now we have to find an empty table…"
Derek was unconscious as the strong, gentle, and precise robotic hands lifted an atomic-particle-separator to Derek's upper arm. The device would have appeared to Derek to be a pen. An invisible, 0.00001 millimeter-wide beam of radiant energy shot out of the tip and began dissociating atoms from one another. The incision was so fine that no blood escaped. Next, a fine scalpel lifted the microscopic flap of skin upward as fine tweezers removed a speck no larger than a fraction of a millimeter. In that spec was a nano-chip with six-trillion atomic-size components.
D-3 was seated at a computer, monitoring the robotic, surgical arms.
He placed a gas mask over Derek's face and soon the man awoke.
His brown eyes were watery. They shifted to the robot and gradually took in the surroundings.
"When are you going to start the surgery?" Derek asked.
"I've already finished it." D-3 turned to the door. He was expecting to see med robots come in any time. "Come we need to be leaving. Since we are fugitives, we must find a commuter transport and try to survive in the wilderness."
"What about you're tracking code?"
"I've neutralized it with a degaussing electrode."
D-3 opened the door and peered around the corner. "It's safe. The hunters have most likely not received our tracking codes. Even if they do, they will only find your chip in this room."
The duo merged into a crowd of robots and humans. Derek twitched with a pang of agitation. They were the first he had seen since being in the lower city.
The men wore comfortable, white or blue, long-sleeve shirts and black, shiny pants.
Women were more elegant and were dressed in a variety of colored dresses.
Silver or whitish robots accompanied them as they ambled through a colossus of stores, parks, and restaurants.
The vast room was beautiful and grand, elegantly decorated with soft, glowing lights.
Several transparent elevator shafts, rising through the room, were luminous will green, red, or blue light.
Large theater-like screens displayed commercials. A car, angular and sleek was racing along a road in a beautiful forest. It had not tires or wheels. It just hovered.
Another screen displayed the view of the city. The ocean was rushing by. Rising like might pillars of a Greek temple, a myriad of glistening towers of reflective material stood, imposing.
Up above, enormous bubble-like structures sparkled in a setting sun.
A phrase appeared: New York. The city of light.
Derek was drinking the sights and smells in. The logging town he came from was primitive and harsh compared to the beauty of this upper city.
"Derek! Hunters!" The voice was distant and vague.
Screams filled the air but Derek only heard them surreally in the back of his mind.
Derek did not pay attention. His eyes were focused on one thing. It was an image on one of the screens; a date: January 21, 2104.
It can't be. It's not possible. No.
Wham.
A large object slammed Derek's body. For a split second he saw a large, robotic face with cold, red eye-sensors staring at him. The next moment, he was unconscious.
Light penetrated the darkness, illuminating the dim surroundings.
Derek moaned and sat up.
He was on his bed in his house.
The early morning light illuminated his blue jeans where they hung on a chair.
He blinked. It was all a dream!
Derek dressed and entered his kitchen. He had never been good at keeping his house clean, but the piles of trash and debris on the floor, the muddy footprints, and the liquid on the floor would never be left by him. Or would it?
Derek groaned in frustration. He couldn't remember what his dream was about. It was fading from his memory. There was no way it could have been real.
He was relieved that it was all a dream.
"Breakfast." Derek whispered to himself, "Now, where's my—"
His eyes caught the time from the kitchen clock.
"I'm late!" He dashed to the fridge, grabbed a yogurt container, and exited the house.
There was his blue truck, no dents, no scratches. Truly, it all was a dream.
Derek eased into the cab and buckled in.
It suddenly struck him. His truck was always cluttered with garbage, tools, and such. Now it was perfectly clean.
It wasn't a dream.
For a long time, Derek sat in the truck. There is no way that dream could have been real.
Despite his doubts, Derek knew…. It is real.
The engine revved. In a few minutes, he was out of the town and on his way to the site where his real truck had crashed.
He did not want to live in an artificial world. He wanted to live life.
Something caught his attention.
A concrete barrier intersected the highway.
No one is going to stop me.
His Ford began plowing through the muddy field on the side of the road.
He was back on the highway seconds later.
Derek stopped at the place his truck had crashed.
The wall was as invisible and adamant as ever.
He groped for the door handle. It was locked.
"I see you want to escape." a voice shot through the barren silence.
Derek spun to see Officer Tom Harris, the policeman who had chased him.
"You know," The tall man snorted, "we made a mistake when we left that door unlocked, last time. That will never happen again. In fact you know too much."
"What do you mean?" Derek asked.
"You know about Unity, no doubt. There's something you don't know. You are too old for this…" Tom hesitated as he motioned to the landscape around them.
"...this world. Your time is up, Derek. You have benefited Unity. Now, we have a much better plan for you." Tom said the last sentence with a crisp, insinuating tone.
"What?" Derek murmured.
Tom smiled maliciously. His eyes were gleaming with a diabolic coldness.
Suddenly, two strong, metallic hands clamped onto Derek's arms. Two robots filled his vision, on either side of him.
Tom approached Derek and slowly withdrew a syringe from his pocket.
"This is a little present I was going to give you last time. Now that you will stay, here it is."
As Tom jabbed the thin needle into Derek's arm, the world darkened in Derek's vision, and he became unconscious.
Chapter V
Derek did not remember waking from unconsciousness. His brain carried no memory of anything. Who was he? Where was he born? What were his parent's names? He didn't even remember what his own name was.
No! I must remember. What is my name?
It started with a D. Don. Dylan. Dan. Derk. D-Derek.
He was standing in a white hallway. Lights in the ceiling shone harshly in the claustrophobic area.
Derek had remembered his name. Why is it that I am beginning to forget?
Do I have amnesia? Where am I? What am I doing here?
He noticed the white, soft tunic and pants that he was wearing. The numbers: 2303 were displayed clearly on his right shoulder and chest.
Echoing steps clacked down the white floor.
A robot, followed by a procession of men in white, was approaching.
"You, unit 2303, get in line." The electronic voice commanded.
Other robots prodded him into the line.
They entered a small, circular room. The robot leader said, "Floor 6.", and the dark, floor began to move downward.
There were about thirty men around him who were from thirty to fifty years old, from what he could tell. They were haggard, tired, and emotionless. Bristles and grease covered their faces.
"For those of you who are new," The robot leader spoke, "we are process, assembly units. Our job is to facilitate the construction of computers. If any insubordination occurs, a termination of the insurrect will follow…."
Derek eyed the silver guard-robots with their fearsome, angular guns.
"…work to benefit your masters and you will be rewarded."
The elevator stopped.
The men were led into a huge, cavernous room.
Thousands of workers were stationed at locations along a long, trough.
Electrical components were added to the intricate, compact computers as they moved down the trough, hovering slowly, along.
Soon Derek was shoved into a small section of the trough. A robot demonstrated how to attach a small metal box to a terminal in a computer.
"That's easy." Derek commented once the robot had left.
"Say that when you've done nineteen hours worth of computers."
The voice came from a middle age man, twenty feet away.
"You work 19 hours straight?" Derek asked.
"Yes. We only get supper, breakfast, and short restroom breaks."
"How could you—"
"Survive." The man finished Derek's sentence. "We just have to. If we die, they cremate our bodies."
"Do you know who the owner of this facility is?"
"They call him, the Director. His name—don't ask. We won't live a day if they overhear."
The workday had finished and after eating a tray of bland mush, the men were ushered into their individual sleeping quarters.
Derek sat down onto a stiff mattress on the floor. Opposite him was another mattress.
The man he had worked with that day entered the room and sat on the mattress.
The door locked automatically.
"It seems that fortune has made us share quarters." The older man whispered, thoughtfully.
Now that they were in a quiet, well lit room Derek was able to see the man more clearly. A gray, inch-long beard gave Derek the impression of Santa Claus.
"What is your name?" Derek asked.
"Jayfar."
"I mean what was your first name?"
"Oh. That was a long time ago. I think it was—James: James Conrad."
"I'm Derek Thompson."
"Then your name is Defar."
"Why?"
"The language you learned as a boy was standard American English from the 1,980's AD." Jayfar replied. "I was taught the English of the 1,960's AD. Here, we speak the Standard English of the 2,100's."
"What—" Derek choked. All his life he had been given lies. All his life had been an illusion. "What was my first world for?"
The old man sighed. "You are the product of a conception that occurred in an artificial uterus. You were born in a laboratory in the space station, Unity.
You were part of an experiment. The rest-what the experiment is for and who is the mastermind of it-I don't know. I don't know what my purpose was. But, I do know that, regardless of what man intended me for, I was created for a divine purpose."
"What do you mean?" The words of the old man were strange to Derek.
"I mean that God created me and you—everyone-everything." Jayfar replied.
"Who is God?" Derek had heard the world only as cussword.
"God is the being who has no dimensional limits. Space, time, energy, and matter do no affect, nor do they limit God, since He created them." Jayfar whispered softly. His blue eyes seemed to be gazing past the solid walls of their prison, past the city, past the Earth, and far beyond the universe. His gaze focused on Derek. "God loves you. Since He is perfect, sin, crimes, hate, lust, and others are like rotten meat to Him." Jayfar reached out to Derek and grabbed his hand. "Will you accept God's gift of eternal life-life for eternity in a perfect paradise."
Derek began to see hope. All his life he felt empty, and insignificant. Yet, he was doubtful. Was this just a good dream?
"I-I don't know."
"Think, Derek is there any religion where the supreme deity loves each and every follower?"
"No." Derek had studied religions in high school. The thought that he could remember was that they all seemed hopeless and required a lifetime of service for the followers to enter paradise.
"This is not a religion, Derek. This is a relationship with your Creator." Jafar continued. "Let's say that you were convicted for a crime. The sentence was death. How would you feel if the Judge's son came forward and said that he would take your place?"
Derek turned to the man. He swallowed. "I don't know. It would be…"
"Jesus, God's only son, died in your place, for your sins against God. You don't realize it but every time you tell a small lie, or cheat in some way, you are sinning against God. He condemns sinners as judges condemn criminals. He has provided a way, however, for the sinner to be free from the penalty and what's more, God even gave the criminal the gift of eternal life."
Derek turned to the floor. He was silent. It made sense. But, he couldn't accept it. God doesn't exist, He thought.
Just as Derek was about to finish his 600th computer, a robot approached him.
"Unit 2303, your presence has been requested by the master."
The words of the silver robot struck him like a lightning bolt.
Jayfar had said that few have seen the master. If they did, no one would ever see them again.
The elevator door closed behind the Derek with a metallic clank.
The room he entered was white. Derek couldn't believe how immaculate and empty it was.
The edges where the walls met the floor and ceiling were almost invisible.
A door closed softly behind him and Derek was left alone in the featureless room.
This must be a… dream. Derek thought. His mind was tired of fighting the thought that it could all be real.
"Welcome to my world, Derek."
The words had come so suddenly that Derek could not decipher them.
The ethereal, cold, distant, and echoing voice repeated it's self.
A knife of fear cut into his mind. Something was very evil about the room. He could not see anyone in the room.
"Who are you?" Derek asked after he contained himself.
"I am your master." The un-embodied voice replied.
"If you are, why can't I see you?" Sweat was beginning to pore down Derek's face.
"You are looking at me right now."
The words were another electric shock to Derek.
"What are you?" Derek shouted. "Why was I born in space station Unity? Where did I come from? Tell me; now!" His stress and fear had been increasing ever since he had realized that he was born on a space station.
There was no answer for some time.
"I usually don't tell prisoners this. You are fortunate that I didn't kill you right now. To answer your questions; you were born to a slave. You were sent to a logging facility on the space station Unity as part of our lumber program."
"What did you do with my mother?" Derek interrupted.
"Don't interrupt me." The cold voice rippled through the air. "Your mother was sent to the factories on Earth. By now she is dead."
Derek lowered his head. A tear slid down his cheek.
"You were born inside the slave facility in the lower Earth."
"What's tha—"
"There robots raised you until you were three. You were then sent to Unity where we kept you until your thirtieth birthday. Now you will work in my assembly lines."
"But, what are you?"
"Derek, I love my workers. I have a special plan for each one. Derek, the reason I called you here is that I wish to give you a special offer."
"What?"
"Would you like to be my personal assistant?"
"Wait." Derek remembered what he had been told about the 'master'. "You're going to kill me, aren't you?"
"Why would I do that? I love my workers."
A flash back came to Derek of the grimy men being led away by robots to the dark factory buildings.
"If you love your workers, why is it that many of them live in extreme poverty and squalor? Why do you send them to dark, miserable factories? Why do you force us to work excruciatingly long work shifts?"
"They enjoy it." The voice replied.
"That's not what they've told me."
"Listen, Derek, you will become a great man. You will be second only to me. You will have wealth, technology, and pleasures beyond your imagination, if you will follow me."
"You're lying." Derek hesitated. He had never had much money. To think of all that wealth made him hope it could be true.
"I am not. You have great potential. Will you join me?"
"First. Who are you?" Derek asked.
Suddenly, the white walls turned light blue. A rippling distortion undulated across the screen and then an image appeared.
It was a man wearing a white suit. His hair was neatly combed. A thin smile crossed his white face. He was in his thirties.
On every wall the same image appeared.
"I am Tomas White." The face replied.
"Can I meet you in person?" Derek focused on the eyes. Something was wrong with them. It could have been the way they focused on Derek. It could have been the way they were steady and did not shift around. Derek could not explain it, but he knew that something was inhuman about Tomas White."
"I am sorry, my friend, but you see I do not live here. I live on Solaris. I am a patient man, Derek. You are the man I need for the job. Do you accept my offer?"
Derek stared at the expressionless eyes. "No." He replied.
"Very well. I gave you a good deal. You turned it down every time I offered it. You will work for the rest of your mortal life in the assembly lines. You will get food and clothes and a place to sleep-that is all."
Derek felt cold, strong, robotic hands clamp onto him.
"Wait." Derek exclaimed. "What do you want me to do if I become your personal assistant?"
The face on the screen smiled, softly. "I will tell you all you need to know, but not now. First, you will board a transport and you will go to the Solaris. There, I will explain everything..."
Chapter VI
Derek had passed down an elevator, had been escorted, by androids, to a sleek, silver space ship in a large docking bay, and now he was, aboard it, a million miles from Earth.
"Derek, remember, the master is a very deceptive man. Don't trust him." Jafar had explained with urgency that last night on Earth. "Derek, he is evil. The only way evil can be combated is through the only One who is good; who is sinless: God. Derek, I plead with you, please accept Jesus Christ's gift of eternal life. When you die, without knowing Jesus as your Savior, you will spend all of eternity in the lake of fire…"
Derek closed his eyelids and shook away the memory. Jayfar was old and a little queer.
When Derek opened his eyelids a silver face was staring into his eyes.
"We are now at the Solaris." The robot said.
Derek turned to a large screen in the wall of his metal, bare, cell. Besides the robot, a small restroom, and the screen, there were only cold metal walls.
In the screen an image-transmitted from an optic sensor located on the surface of the space craft-of space appeared.
Vast and cold, a void of blackness—space-enveloped them.
Stars were sharp points of brightness in the crystal-clear, high-definition screen.
To the lower right corner of the screen a silver object began to increase in size.
Soon the form of a circular ring could be clearly distinguished: Solaris.
Derek was led, through a doorway, into a beautiful park. The robot escort left. Once the door had closed, it melted into the background of a vast, verdant, sun-bathed tropical garden.
For all Derek knew, he could really be on a tropical island on Earth.
A warm, dimly orange sun projected dim, blurry shadows, from trees, evenly and widely spaced apart, onto a verdant, green lawn. A small waterfall, seemingly a few hundred feet away, produced effervescence in a pond at its base.
He could never have dreamed of anything so beautiful.
"I see you are enjoying yourself." The voice startled Derek.
Turning, Derek saw the white-suited man, Tomas White.
"You like it don't you?" the Tomas asked.
It was strange to see him in real life and not on a big screen. He was about six feet tall, with a slender build. His blue eyes glimmered in the soft, warm light of the artificial sun.
"Yes. But what do you want with me?" Derek faced the man.
"Derek, you have much to offer us. You are wise and smart, but you are uneducated. I see great potential in you. People like you are scarce. So, I would like to train you to become a pillar."
"What is a pillar?"
"That, my good friend," Tomas replied with a warm smile, "is why I want to educate you. You were raised as if you came from the twentieth century. This is the twenty-second century. The present year is 2106. You were born in 2076. Our technology has increased over the century. In the early part of the twenty-first century nano-technology, as it was then called, was in its infancy. They had simple nano-scale devices such as sweat-resistant corpuscles in socks and experimental computers composed of atoms. We have evolved to the sub-atomic level. The world you see before you is produced by quark-manipulation, suspension fields.
In actuality, you are in a room with an area of 2,500 square feet. If all the energy was shut down, the trees, jungle, sunlight, and water would disappear. You would only see nondescript, grey walls."
Derek shook his head in disbelief. The trees were so real, swaying in a distant breeze. "Then what do you want me to do?"
"Derek, would you want the job that over ten billion people have fought and died for?"
"What?"
Tomas turned his gaze to the Sun. "Would you like to be god?"
The sunlight had seemed to shift to Derek and now clouds appeared in the virtual distance.
"Be god?" Derek asked, incredulously.
"Yes." Tomas whispered. "You would have power to do what you wanted. Many have dreamed it. Now it can become a reality."
Then, Derek remembered Jayfar's warning. What purpose did Tomas White have?
"How could anyone become god?" Derek asked.
"Derek, the god is bound in your soul. You only have to tap into it."
Derek shifted his gaze to the ground. "Could you give me time to think about it?"
"Yes. Of course. But, you must tell me you wish tomorrow or 24 hours from now."
Derek was seated on his bed in the cell. His eyes closed and opened as a conflict occurred in his mind.
You can become god. A voice whispered in his mind.
You will never need anything. You can rule the world.
No. It is a lie. A second voice interrupted. You will become a slave—a slave to them.
When you are go, the first voice continued, you can kill your enemies.
"I would never want to that." Derek interrupted his thoughts.
"What is going on? Why is this happening to me? Why? Why? Who am I? What am I?"
Then, Derek remembered the book Jayfar had given him.
"Derek," Jayfar had said, "here is a book. It is precious. It has existed, virtually, since the world began. Read it."
Derek opened the crinkled leather-bound book to the first chapter and began reading:
"The Book of Genesis; chapter one. In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth."
He stopped reading. Who is God? Maybe it talks about him later on.
Derek opened to the middle of the book.
"Psalm 122, 9. Because of the house of the Lord our God I will seek thy good."
It's very archaic. Thy? Maybe is means 'your'.
He continued in Psalm 123.
"Unto thee lift I up mine eyes, O thou that dwellest in the heavens."
Thee? Mine eyes? Thou? Dwellest? Is it 'Lift I up' or 'I lift up?' So God dwells in the heavens.
"The fool hath said in his heart, 'there is no God.'"
Hath or has?
Derek flipped over a few pages and began reading.
"Behold, God is mighty and despiseth not any; He is mighty in strength and wisdom."
Behold? Maybe behold means 'see'. Derek thought. Despiseth must mean 'despises'. Anyways, God is mighty or powerful with strength and wisdom. He must be pretty strong, whatever he is. After all, he created the heavens- whatever they are- and the Earth. Sounds like poems to me.
Derek flipped over to the back of the book and began reading in the stories of Jesus.
"Jesus healed the sick…gave up the ghost (must mean his life)…died on a cross...is the Son of God…gift of God is eternal life…through Jesus blood…
"Jesus was a real man." Derek exclaimed. "He is God. He must be God."
Derek forgot that he was reading aloud.
"What is going on?"
The voice interrupted Derek's thoughts. A robot had entered the room. "What word did you say?"
"Nothing. I was just reading." Derek replied. His eyes were focused on the strong metallic hands.
"What person were you talking about?"
"Jesus." Derek replied. Sweat began to form on his fingers as he held the leather book.
"That word is not allowed." The robot intoned. "This is a warning. Now, hand over the book."
Derek had not been reading for two hours and already he could not part with the book. What it said sounded at first to be strange and poetic, but soon it began to make sense. Jesus was a man who lived on Earth, but he was more than a man. He was…is God.
"I cannot. What harm can I do reading a book?" Derek asked.
"Hand it over or you will be destroyed."
Derek gave the book to the silver, humanoid machine and it was gone.
He felt an emptiness suddenly enter his heart, like a cold breeze blowing through a thin garment.
Then, Derek knelt on the floor and began to pray.
"God, I know that I have never really known much about you. I guess I just want to ask you to give me the eternal life you promised to those who seek you. I know I have done wrong. Would you just please take that away and give me eternal life…you died for my sins…thanks for it all…"
Derek felt refreshed and vivacious. A great burden had lifted from his soul.
He followed the robot guide as it led him into a long, cavernous room.
The door closed softly behind and Derek was once again alone.
White and immaculate, the room was empty of all furniture or ornament.
By now he would have begun to feel awkward and fearful. That was gone.
Derek decided that he would wait for God to show him what to do. He had prayed again and he knew that God did care for him.
Presently a sound came, but it was not the sound of a sliding door, nor was it the sound of echoing footsteps. A strange vibrant, humming sound drifted into the room. It resembled the low notes of a cello combined with an electronic humming tone similar to that of a radio that is out of tune.
In the back of Derek's mind lurked fear. He had thought that it had been entirely eradicated.
A wall suddenly changed from its white surface to an image of outer space.
The image zoomed in towards a star. Derek squinted at the brightness of the burning sphere as the image further zoomed into a planet orbiting the star.
Blue with a feint haze surrounding it, the planet could be easily recognized—Earth.
Earth. Derek thought. How small it is among the stars.
Something was different about Earth. As the image zoomed into Earth, Derek could only see land, mostly covered in green.
Wasn't Earth supposed to be covered with mostly water? Maybe it isn't Earth.
Just then a voice swept through the room and with it all the walls turned black. Derek was enveloped in darkness.
"Earth, the planet of man was once a paradise." The voice stated in a whisper, nevertheless; loud enough to hear clearly.
Suddenly the darkness was replaced with a vivid, beautiful surrounding. Trees, tall and elegant, raised high into the air.
Broad-leafed planets and other tropical foliage surrounded the trunks.
A warm, golden light filtered through the upper branches.
"Long ago, our great planet was ruined through greed, wars, and indolence."
The surroundings changed to a bleak, dusty, littered alley.
"This was changed when one man decided to make a difference. He founded the New World Society and since its early beginnings the Earth has made great progress toward realizing it's first paradise once more."
A park with trees and a nice, verdant lawn appeared.
The view zoomed out of the park to reveal a vast forest and then it appeared that they had passed through a transparent shield. Spread out before them was a silver, semi-transparent bubble—a hovering paradise.
The white room reappeared and Derek turned to see Tomas White.
"What do you think?" White asked.
Derek faced the well groomed face. He remembered seeing the lower city of New York, the ugly, black factory buildings, and its dark, trash- covered streets.
"What about the lower world? Why is it that you could make such stunning advances in technology and yet people on the surface of the Earth suffer and live in vile conditions?" Derek asked candidly.
Tomas smiled; his face unchanged. "Those people you speak of are merely robots."
"I saw humans with them." Derek said with an edge in his voice. "The robots were leading a group of men."
"They were criminals. They had probably been sentenced to hard labor for stealing." Tomas replied, smoothly.
"That is no way to treat thieves. They should work to earn money to pay back the person they stole from, but they should not be forced to work in horrible conditions." Derek replied.
"How do you know that they do not enjoy their work?" Tomas responded. "Derek," Tomas continued, "If you really wish to, you can free them. In fact, you can do anything, once you join me."
"What do you want of me? Nothing material is free."
"All you have to do is give me your adoration." Tomas smiled. "The rest of my empire is your's to do with as you wish."
Derek thought for a moment. The man seemed genuine, but there was something evil about him. Then, a thought came to him. Derek remembered reading a small passage in his book about a forbidden fruit and a snake. He could not remember the story.
"No." Derek answered. "That is my final answer." The words took only a second to say. It took Derek three hours of preparation.
"What? You do not want the whole word in your hands?"
"The world belongs to God." Derek replied.
At the word God, Tomas's eyes froze in their sockets momentarily. His face returned to its former optimistic and friendly appearance.
"Derek, I am god." Tomas replied.
"No you are not. God is the Creator of the whole universe and everything in it."
"Who told you that?"
Derek turned pale. Dear Jesus, Derek prayed silently, please show me what to say.
"God told me it. I am a Christian. Jesus Christ came into my life."
"Don't say that name again." Tomas raised his voice for the first time. His face was no longer smiling.
"What? Jesus?"
"Silence. You have condemned your self, to slave labor in the factories, by your own confession."
Right after Tomas spoke four doors burst open—one in each wall—and silver robots surrounded Derek. His hands were forced behind his back and ice-cold, tight hand cuffs were locked around his wrists.
Chapter VII
The transport space craft landed with a harsh thump.
A cold band locked Derek's hands together. He exited the dark space ship, down a ramp, into a mud field. He was chained to other prisoners—men covered in soot and dried blood, wearing back jumpsuits.
Dull, metallic robots motivated the men forward with electric shocks that came from rod-like electrodes.
Towering far overhead was a dazzling pillar of mirror-like silver. High above that was a hovering, bubble-like structure.
Immediately before them loomed the vast gateway to a huge, black, edifice. A pyramidal structure with a huge, vertical gap in the center of it, crowned the top of the jagged, multifaceted building.
The pyramid tip was wreathed in grey smoke that fomented from it.
Derek's heart sank into the mud with his boots when he entered a dark, crowded, cold, and cavernous room.
A deep thudding sound, reverberating through his body, seemed to come from the center of the room.
A huge, flat plate of metal slammed into a corresponding plate below it with a booming thud.
The next chunk of iron moved forward to the giant anvil, on a conveyer belt.
The finished piece, a flat sheet of metal went to a ramp where it slid down into a strange device that somehow heated the metal red hot.
Next stage, the glowing-hot sheet went to a device that rolled it into a cylinder.
Derek blinked his eyes. All this time he was being led toward an elevator.
At the head of the column, at the elevator entrance, a team of robots were handing out shovels.
Now, the front column of men entered the rickety, wall-less, vertical transport, and they were conveyed into a dark elevator shaft that led deep into the ground.
Derek, with shovel in hand, watched the black walls pass him as the grimy platform lowered into the ground.
The men emerged from the platform into a tunnel, dimly lit with elongated ceiling lights.
A robot began shouting orders in its cold monotone and the men began filling hovering containers with red-ish, iron ore. Once the first rectangular, container was filled, it levitated up a few feet, exited the tunnel, and passed up a shaft.
Derek groaned after working 5 hours. His arms were beginning to ache.
Once, when he took a little longer than usual, to shovel the ore, a lightning bolt of pain, shout through his nerves.
"Get back to work. This is not a vacation, slave." A guard robot with glowing yellow eyes, holding an electrode pike, said. If hell was on Earth, this was it.
Derek sat up in bed. The pitiful rag of a blanket did not keep out the bitter cold of the sunless, underground sleeping quarters.
All around him men slept on a cold, muddy floor. Their work would begin at 4:00 the next day.
Derek was excruciatingly tired, but he could not fall asleep.
Why would God allow such suffering?
Derek sighed. He knew that God loved him. After all, God sent His only Son to die for Derek's sins and to give Derek eternal life.
When, God. When will you bring an end to this? When? Dear God, please give me the strength to do what I must do tomorrow.
The following week was spent in agony, sweat, and darkness.
Derek was beginning to doubt God.
One night, while Derek tried to go asleep after a prayer, something entered the room.
The darkness rendered visibility impossible.
Something was walking forward.
"What do you want?" Derek suddenly asked.
The foot steps ceased.
"Do you know if a man named Derek is here?" A quiet voice asked.
Fear shot through Derek's spine like an electric current. His heart began to beat faster.
"What do you want?" Derek asked again.
"I want to speak with Derek." A quiet, robotic voice replied.
"What's your name?"
"I am D-3."
Derek's eyes shot fully open. "D-3, is it really you?"
"Yes. I recognize your voice inflection and tone, Derek." D-3 replied. "Come, we must hurry. My owner has bought your freedom."
"What!" Derek whispered hoarsely. He remembered what he had done. Since he was human, he was responsible for taking the space ship of D-3's owner and leaving it behind in New York. Why would the man want to free him now and how could he?
"Yes, Derek," D-3 replied, "I told my owner about you and what you believe in. It is true that the word is out that you told the Master that he was not god. My owner never liked the Master. He wants to meet you personally. He has bought you from the Master. You are free."
Derek was seated at a circular, wooden table in an opulent room.
Derek was led, by D-3, into a small space-transport. A few minutes later they arrived at an enormous, grey space ship. He was led to the room he now occupied.
A shelf, containing books, was directly behind the table and seated opposite him a man with a normal build, sandy brown hair, a navy blue sweater, and a confident grin had just shook hands with Derek and introduced himself as Enten Stockley.
D-3 was standing by a closed, sliding-door.
"Mr. Stockley—"
"Just call me Enten."
"Where are we?"
"This is the space ship Corona." Enten replied, crisply.
"D-3," Enten motioned for the robot to come, "have a seat."
Enten turned to Derek. "D-3 has told me a lot about you and I have read about your capture. You are a brave man, Derek."
Derek lowered his head. "I didn't know what I was doing. You call that brave?"
Enten leaned forward. "Very few would dare to say, to his face, what you said to the Master. I have looked for a man who would be willing to stand against this evil ruler of our planet. We can defeat," Enten glanced at the door, "Tomas White. He has one weakness which is our strength… Before I go on," Enten faced Derek, "I would like to know why you said what you said to Tomas White."
Derek cleared his throat and replied, "I am a Christian. Tomas was saying that he was god. There is only one God."
"I too am a Christian." Enten smiled. "It is so nice to meet a fellow believer. Derek, there is so much we could talk about now, but I want to first tell you about my past. I was born in the lower world—in crime, poverty and drunkenness. One day I found a book in a pile of trash I was scrounging through.
"Once I started reading, I couldn't stop. I became a Christian a few hours later. To make a long story short I worked hard and prayed and eventually I rose to a higher position in my factory. When I got my fortune, I moved to a space colony that was a few thousand miles past the moon. There I bought D-3 and I lived a quiet life among my neighbors. I heard two officials talking once and they mentioned Tomas White and Master in the same sentence.
"I put two and two together and realized that Tomas White was the dictator of Earth. Once, a fancy and expensive space ship landed at our space station. A man, escorted by powerful guard robots exited it.
"That day I heard that ten men were executed for displeasing the Master.
I knew that he must be the reason so much evil and poverty occurred.
I talked to my closest comrades about it. Strangely they were allusive and they changed subjects when I mentioned it. I feared that the whole base was scared of Tomas White. I bought a large space ship and I have lived here ever since."
Derek was horrified that Tomas would kill men just for displeasing him. Tomas had, after all, sentenced Derek to a life of slavery for saying that Tomas was not god.
Derek was ahead of Enten. "So, you have a way we could infiltrate Tomas's base and destroy him?"
"Yes. That was just what I was about to talk about. We must be stealthy. I have procured ten battle robots. Each is exceedingly expensive, however; they are very strong, mobile, dexterous, and long lasting."
Derek watched Enten speak into his wristwatch. "A-1."
A quiet robotic voice came from the watch. "Yes, sir?"
"Come to section B, room 61. Bring all A-units with you." Enten replied.
"Command confirmed, sir."
A few moments later a door next to the book shelf slid open and ten robots entered. A dark, grey metal formed their in-human skin. In each head a silver, translucent, horizontal visor gazed with emotionless curiosity at the stranger seated next to their boss.
Derek's eyes darted fearfully from one to the other. They reminded him of his former captors.
"Are they dangerous?" Derek asked, agitated.
"No. They only obey my orders." Enten reassured. "They are actually the same type of robot that Tomas uses as a standard fighting and security unit. Now, here is my plan for infiltrating Tomas's base—Solaris…"
They were approaching the silver ring, Solaris. Blackness—emptiness-surrounded it and seemed to embrace it like a mother would her baby.
Enten stood near Derek as he watched, through the view screen, the rotating circle.
"Amazing what man can do, isn't it? It's time, Derek. We will board the mini-transport." Enten declared.
"What is your cargo, Corona, auxiliary craft?" A peaceful, female, computer voice asked through the speakers of the mini-transport ship.
"Ten guards and two prisoners." Enten replied.
"Notice; data reported will be cross-examined, Corona. If data is incorrect, occupants will be refused access to space station Solaris. You are free to enter, Corona auxiliary craft." The computer voice added.
"Thank you." Enten gave a short exhalation of relief after he released his hold on the transmit button. "We're in."
An enormous, curved, silver surface gleamed brilliantly in the distant Sun.
Derek squinted. "Do you think our plan will work?"
"It has to." Enten replied, gravely.
"Sir, look." D-3 pointed at the image in the view screen.
A hole in the silver side of the space station was widening like a circular ripple in a pond.
"This must be the door to the hangar." Enten whispered. "Such technology is incredible. I can't see any doors. The metal its self must somehow pull apart to from a hole. It condenses into a circle and sucks matter, in the wall, into the edge of the circle, like a vacuum cleaner!"
"Never mind. Look." D-3 directed Enten's gaze to the spacious hangar that was now enveloping them. Below a huge assortment of space vehicles and robots filled the room. As their transport lowered to the ground, a column of mirror-reflective robots advanced.
"Quick, D-3; the handcuffs." Enten commanded.
Soon they were outside. Enten's A-type, guard robots pretended to roughly shove Derek, Enten, and D-3 forward. All three were handcuffed.
"The Master will be pleased to see that his most wanted prisoners are now in his custody." The leader of the mirror-reflective escort robots said.
They definitely were shiny. Derek could see his reflection crystal clear, yet distorted, in the surface of the enemy robots.
"We were ordered to escort the prisoners to the Master." A-1, Enten's leader robot spoke up in a crisp, military tone.
"There are no orders in the computer." The mirror-robot replied.
"Our commander was unable to send them in time. He had a slight malfunction with his computer." A-1 insisted.
"Very well." The mirror-robot turned and motioned for his subordinates to follow him.
Derek whispered to Enten when they were gone. "That was close."
"Yes."
They were in a cylindrical elevator.
"You are on floor 107. This is the highest floor of Solaris." A computer intoned.
Sss.
The door opened to a spectacular room.
The whiteness of the whole base was dazzling and psychedelic. It was nothing compared to the room now before them.
Every surface of the room seemed to be made of mirrors. Below them 11 robots and 3 men walked, in the ceiling above Derek was staring at his reflection, and in the four walls were four images of the group.
Somehow the mirrors emitted a soft white light that illuminated the whole room.
The door behind them had closed with a soft purr and they were locked in a room of mirrors.
They waited, and waited. Finally something happened.
"Welcome, strangers." A voice rippled through the air. It sounded more like a humming florescent street light than a voice.
"What do you want?" It asked with a subdued whisper, still loud enough to hear.
"I am Enten." Enten spoke up, "I am your prisoner. Now what do you want to do with me?"
"If you were my prisoner, you would not come here. Those hand cuffs don't deceive me." The voice echoed a reply.
Derek paled. Their plan was ruined.
A-1 quickly unlocked the handcuffs at a word from Enten.
"What are you going to do with us?" Derek asked.
The room was silent.
Suddenly a man appeared! He was approaching them.
This can't be happening. Derek thought as his heart began to race.
As the man came closer his features were recognized.
"Tomas White?" the words crawled off Derek's tongue.
"Yes, Derek, it's me."
"How did you appear like that?" Derek whispered as if he would be punished for speaking louder.
"I am a computer program."
Chapter VIII
"Y-you're a program…on a computer?" Enten asked.
"I was created by a man named Xeor. He was once the ruler of a great planet that orbits the side of the Sun opposite Earth. Since it was on the other side of the Sun, Mons was always invisible to radio, infrared, and optical telescopes on Earth. Finally, in the early part of the 20th century Xeor, know as Allen Smith, entered his creation; a space ship that could travel long distances at high speeds."
"He was born on Earth?" Derek asked, astonished.
"That is correct." Thomas replied, slightly annoyed. He continued. "Allen was a genius. No one really knew him well since his father and mother died. Young Allen was raised by a deaf aunt. He had no friends. Being a naturally curious boy, he spent a lot of his time reading. His college work was a breeze. Allen grew up to be the greatest engineer and scientist of all time. Before the first of the Apollo missions, the first space ship was launched in an Arizona desert in 1962. Allen had poisoned his assistants and left the Earth, virtually unknown and nonexistent to mankind. He arrived at Mons and discovered a planet of warring people. He introduced modern technology to the natives of Mons and during his stay on Mons he learned that they had once been a highly technological society. He explained to them how their technologies of the past worked and gave them some of his own. The people of Mons loved him. They appointed him as their leader. While Mons experienced its golden age, Allen changed his name to a Monsian one, Xeor. Xeor means 'from the sky', for truly Allen had come from their sky. He built up a vast, Monsian army and he extended his empire to the planet Mars in preparation for an Earth invasion."
Tomas paced closer to Derek. He beamed with pride as he continued—his voice echoing, sonorously. "Allen, or Xeor, was not stupid. If he invaded Earth, people would be terrified. Chaos would ensue, leading to complete anarchy. He had to manipulate the existing governments and society itself. He knew that to conquer Earth he would have to stealthily invade and permeate its religions, governments, and institutions with his lies and agents. Thus done, he could replace all officials of the Earth with his own. The mind-controlling computer chip came in handy for manipulating his subordinates. Connected, via radio waves, he could control central leaders and they could control subordinates. His plans were tragically ended with the penetration of his space craft by a handful of daring Earth astronauts. He was, subsequently killed. This was a mistake that brought about the downfall of his empire, temporarily. He had been working on a program to take over once he was gone. I am that program. Tomas is an acronym for Thermal Occlusion Mass Association System. White is the opposite of black. White is also the convolution of all visible color. Now that you have your explanation, I will give you a demonstration."
Tomas White disappeared. Suddenly the ten A-type, guard robots of Enten's formed a tight ring around Enten, Derek, and D-3.
"What are you doing, A-1?" Enten exclaimed.
"You are under arrest." All the guard robots said in unison.
"I am your owner. Now let us through." Enten commanded.
"You are under arrest." They repeated.
Suddenly, Enten was seized firmly by a robot. Enten struggled in the robot's firm grip.
Derek was about to aid Enten when two firm hands locked on to his wrists and he was led toward the center of the room.
Suddenly, as if the world had ended with a noiseless explosion, the lights turned off and darkness enclosed them.
"The art of human sacrifice", a booming, echoing voice filled the chamber, "goes back to the race of the Nephilium. In that distant time the gods were worshipped by the death of a human every month. Now, over six-thousand years later, it will be repeated."
Derek watched in horror as a razor blade extended toward him from the fingers of one of the A-robots.
"Marduk, the god of Babylon will be honored tonight." The voice continued.
The blade was only three inches from Derek's neck.
"Hail, Marduk, god of death."
Now the blade was an inch from Derek's skin.
"Let the blood flow."
Slam.
The hand with the razor was blasted away. It bounced of the floor with a ring and stopped.
Blam, Blam, Blam
Derek covered his ears instinctively as robots began toppling in all directions.
Blam Blam
D-3 with a hot gun, extended from his forearm scanned the darkness with his infrared glare.
"All the robots are finished master." He said to Enten.
"How could they have turned on me?" A feeble voice asked, pitifully.
Derek stood. "I can't thank you enough, D-3. I didn't know that you were armed."
"I was a bodyguard Android before Enten bought me." D-3 turned to Enten. "I think I know how we can stop Tomas, since he is a computer program. We must act before it's too late."
"You think you can escape me?" the voice boomed. Light turned on in the mirrors and the room was illuminated to reveal a horde of silver, army robots, guarding the door.
"Do you even know where you are?"
"Let us go. We will do no harm." Derek shouted. "What can we possibly do to you?"
"You have been left to your own devices for too long; all three of you." The voice continued, ignoring Derek. "So you will be reiterated in proper logic."
Something began to vibrate the mirror-floors. With uniform, simultaneous motion, thousands of holes opened in the floor.
Derek, Enten, and D-3 dodged out of the way as holes opened up only inches away.
In one fluid motion thousands of chairs popped up from below.
"This is the room of mental rehabilitation."
Robots clasped the prisoners' hands tightly.
"Now who will be the first to have their brain, reorganized?" The voice asked in an echoing whisper.
Derek's eyes were focused on the head-rest of a chair. A bluish, glowing, concave disk was inset in the fabric of the head-rest. No doubt it was meant for brain-washing.
D-3 turned from Derek to Enten and then to the chair. "I will go."
"What?" Derek exclaimed. "Why are you doing this?"
"To save you," D-3 replied quietly.
Two silver robots forced him roughly into the chair and attached restrainers over his chest, head, and arms. The glowing blue disk was now behind his head.
A high-pitched tone cut through the air as the blue disk brightened up to a brilliant white. Derek noticed something strange about D-3. A red light, he had never seen before, was blinking on the metal chest.
"Run!" D-3 shouted suddenly, catching Derek's attention.
Derek bolted, grabbing Enten just as the light stopped blinking and powerful concussion wave slammed into their bodies. Derek skidded to a stop on his back. He didn't notice the burn marks on his face and the blood trickling from a cut in his arm. He was staring at the burned wreck of a chair that was ripped to shreds. The light was slowly fading in the room. D-3 was gone. The chair was gone. The robots were scattered around, motionless.
Derek limped toward Enten, who was rising to his feet.
"What caused him to explode?" Derek asked.
"All bodyguard robots are equipped with a self-destruct explosive which they use in emergencies to protect their owner." Enten lowered his head. "D-3 saved us from losing all human qualities. We would have been forced to work in the mines without human reason, without the ability to comprehend who we are and what we are. We would only experience pain and a longing for freedom. D-3 was a good robot."
When the two men had exited the elevator, they proceeded cautiously. Hopefully they could escape undetected.
"It's strange. Why do you think the lights are dimming?" Enten wondered.
"They—" Derek's voice faltered.
He froze. A robot was staring at him with its arm extended.
He waited for it to move. It was as motionless as a statue.
"What?" He voiced his thought.
"It seems that its power is gone." Enten turned to Derek. "We're the only moving thing in this ship."
"What about Thomas?" Derek asked.
"He—it is dead." Enten replied, coolly.
On the space station Solaris the empire of Thomas ended along with its robot army.
It was also true that roughly half the population of Earth was mobile while the other half was lifeless.
The robots met their end when D-3 sat in the chair.
Thomas didn't realize that he had made a big mistake. For, when the robotic brain was connected to the computer, in the chair, Thomas ended. The designer of D-3 was a man named Weston Scott. Weston Scott was a slave in a robot production plant. Being crafty and ingenuous, Weston was able to learn computer programming. During his breaks he designed a program that would be able to infiltrate and destroy the computer empire of Tomas, like cancer does to a cell.
When he got the chance, Weston inserted a programming chip, containing the virus, into D-3's brain.
Thus, it came to pass that a month later Derek Thompson was summoned by the twelve pillars. These twelve men were appointed by election to oversee the empire of Thomas. For his bravery and courage to stand against Thomas, Derek was appointed to be their leader.
Derek Thompson explained who and what Tomas White really was to the twelve as well as to the rest of humanity.
The factory workers, miners, those workers of the Unity—Derek's place of birth-, and slaves were instituted to special rehabilitation centers that helped them adjust to the upper city life and jobs.
As for me, Enten Stockley, I was appointed, by a unanimous vote, of the pillars, to be the Director of Robotics. Now, when I have time off from managing robots and people, I spend time with Derek in the Solaris.
63
THE END