June 17, 1871

It feels stupendous to be in California! I can taste the salty air on my lips, and feel its cool taste in my lungs. The skies are cloudless and the winds are soothing. The ocean is everything I hoped it would be: vast, endless, ridged with white-capped waves that broke in thunderous roars. I feel pleasantly feeble; an eager explorer in a new and wondrous arena. Truly, I am thankful to be here. I departed the train with Robert.

"Farewell, my friend," he yelled out. "I wish ya the best o'luck on your adventures and keep writin' in that book! If you ever find your way out in Ohio, just ask and you shall receive!"

He vanished in a sea of people. But in that instance, I saw two men standing beside one another outside. One with his hands behind his back, and the other casually with his hands slacked out of his trouser pockets. I smiled. It was Emmett and the astute chief of security, Amadeus T. Prower.

"The prodigal son returns!" Emmett said, embracing me with all his strength.

The astute Prower welcomed me with a firm handshake. "Welcome to San Francisco," he said with a half smile. "I am sure you have a lot on your mind."

"That would be an understatement, sir."

Prower is a stern man—striking at first. His youthful appearance, wavy yellow hair, and humbling blue eye conceal a rather strict temperament. At least, whilst on duty. Unfortunately, one eye is all he has left. The other is hidden behind a black eye patch. He seems to wear it proudly; revering it as a sign of acceptance and great challenges yet to overcome.

It was not long before a private cab brought us to the new facility, which was not inside a train depot, but rather a vibrant brick cannery. When Emmett opened the doors, I felt like I was back in Washington for the first time, standing in a theater of engines, discombobulated parts, and scrutiny of the highest order. I felt at home. I felt like I belonged here. The laboratory here is larger than our original facility. The building's framework is comprised mainly of steel girders and concrete pillars. Then, in a matter of moments, I was bombarded by an onslaught of eager men waiting to introduce themselves to me.

I recall one saying, "It is without a doubt that the most crowning achievement of my life is to shake hands with the man who first experimented with world-changing technology."

I shook a lot of hands, but among that sea of faces, all the way in the back, I saw Emmett and Amadeus standing beside a door with troubled expressions. Indeed, the warm welcomes and venerating gestures overshadowed the reason for my trip—that Adam was anxiously waiting for me to appear. I could not have known then, or in the wildest deliriums, that our meeting, and the ensuing revelation, would render me mad with sorrow. Poor Adam. Despite his charred exterior and shattered glass monitor, he was still able to convey his words. To see him resurrected from certain death was a captivating moment above all others.

"When Emmett told me, I could hardly believe it. You are alive... against all odds," I said.

"Yes.."

The wave on his monitor wobbled from side to side with brief instances of speckled deformation. His voice paused during these instances.

"But I must tell you something."

"Anything! What is it?" I eagerly asked.

"You remember what I last told you of the Templar Knights?"

"Yes, but I believe you are sadly mistaken. I am no knight, just as my family did not descend from the nobility. My lineage rests only upon the fields we plowed for the king."

"Then how did you trigger the sword's ability?"

"I am unsure."

"Tell me, Charles, have you been experiencing any nightmares? Perhaps even before the explosion?"

"You know why?"

"I do. They are memories of a former life. Let me guess; you saw battlefields, hundreds massacred, both human and inhuman, and a figure with a terrifying roar and green eyes."

"How do you know?"

"Because you are a man of nobility... Sir Charles of Caerleon. Your initial contact with the emerald must have unlocked memories from another lifetime. Tell me, in your dreams, do you receive a sword from a hooded man?"

"Yes..."

"And have you figured out the name that is written along the side of the blade?"

"It is Excalibur... but I dismissed it as mere coincidence. It is simply not possible."

"Is it? The sword was given to King Artorius Castus by the wizard Merlinus in the Fourth Century. It was Artorius who led the Templar Knights—the Knights of Aurora—into battle against Him. If your dreams are correct, then you may be the sword's rightful bearer. The descendant of King Arthur."

"This is nonsense! King Arthur is only a myth."

"What is a myth but a means to rationalize the irrational? The concept of demons is purely mythological, yet, were you not attacked by one in clear sight? Not to mention, you are talking to a machine."

"Our work consists of myths," Emmett furthered.

I looked down at my hands, which were tightly composed. "I am merely the son of a bricklayer. I am neither great nor extraordinary."

"Perhaps greatness is not measured by where we have come from, but by what we have accomplished. For better or worse."

"What, then, is the correlation between the Arthurian legend and our present situation?" Amadeus asked.

"Before I can answer, a test must be administered to determine if Dr. Morgan holds the precise genome of Artorius Castus. You may be a descendant, Sir Charles, but if you had a brother, as I am led to believe, he may have inherited the genome instead of you."

"Genome?" I asked. "What are you talking about?"

"I am unsure myself. My memory was further damaged when I received a bullet in my hea—monitor. However, I am certain that your genetic makeup consists of a dormant mutation. The only way to activate this genome is through this test. I must ask, when you first encountered the monster, did he recognize you?"

"He did. And somehow, I recognized him too."

"Yes. It is because your ancestors are the ones who imprisoned him in the emerald. Do you feel pain and hear voices when you approach him?"

"I do..."

"Call them memories; call them whatever you would like. It is because you both share a psychic connection. The two of you are genetically linked. The ability to control the emerald lies with both your bodies."

Emmett had left us for a brief moment before returning to the room with a wooden box. He carried it with the utmost agency and urgency. He extended it at me, and when I opened it, a flare... no... an explosion of scorching gold radiance flooded my eyes. Inside laid a gold ring. It was the only one that survived the explosion.

"Hold it in your hands, Sir Charles."

I complied, but nothing happened. The shimmering gold ring kept idle in my palm.

"What was supposed to happen?" Amadeus asked.

"Unable to determine. Something, though," Adam said.

"It appears that the prodigal son has not returned," a cool and familiar voice announced from within a shadowy corner of the room.

I could not believe my eyes. The figure that had been there this whole time, who casually emerged from the shadows, was Thomas Stripe. He was alive and quite well.

"I jest, old friend," he said. "It is good to see you."

At first, we shook hands, but we quickly embraced one another with a warm, hearty hug.

"What is our next course of action?" Emmett inquired.

"I assume, Thomas, you have set forth our summit with Maximilian Acorn for to-morrow?" Amadeus asked.

"I have. In the meantime, I suggest we keep things friendly. To-morrow will not be as welcoming as to-day is."

10:46 pm

I will conclude to-days experiences with the most exquisite evening I had at the Prowers. Rosemary indulged us with minced meat loaf, sprouts, homemade bread, and milk. They are the most welcoming hosts, and admittedly, I never felt closer to being considered family than I do here with the Prowers. The questions, however, I was eager to ask Amadeus regarding his experience remained unspoken throughout dinner, for they were far too inappropriate.

"I cannot express how excited it is to finally meet you, Colonel," I said.

"Ah, Mr. Morgan, you may address me here, in the company of my wife, as Amadeus. No need for ranks or formalities," he smiled.

"I shall. You were named after the composer, I assume."

"I was. My family wanted to honor the great composers. Mozart was their favorite, but I always had a soft spot for Vivaldi."

"Yes, but they were also quite passionate in the sciences," Rosemary added. "It is why I found you so dashing!"

"It is true," Amadeus laughed. "My family dabbled in mythological studies, spiritualism, and alchemy. All for discovery, mind you. Some of it rubbed off on me a bit, which is why I assume I am here with Emmett. As a boy, I was ostracized for my interests, but none of that seemed to bother Rosemary," he explained, hugging her.

"And what occupies your days, Mrs. Prower," I asked.

"I am a columnist for the Chronicle," she said.

"Imploring suffrage and workmanship," Amadeus added. "And helping Alicia acquire one of those fancy streetcars as they have across the pond if I am not mistaking."

"Streetcars? Rather enticing."

"I am hoping we can turn our city into a model for commerce and modernization. I would love to see San Francisco be a grand mixing pot for different cultures and experiences. Suffrage is one step; the cable car is another. I wish to see people live in a better world."

"We can only hope," Amadeus concluded.