Chapter 2
He was blinded.
Stepping from a poorly lit open-air plaza into a brightly-lit chamber was shock enough for anyone’s eyes, but his were a bit extra sensitive. Along with the unique ability to detect the faintest difference in wavelength from reflected light came a sensitivity to all light that usually found him in daylight with irises more tightly narrowed than most of the rest of humanity. They also opened much wider in darkness, so the sudden transition had him blinking and covering his eyes with his hands.
He was nonetheless aware he was not alone, so it wasn’t too surprising when a voice spoke warmly to him.
“Welcome to our world. You aren’t in any danger, so take a moment to let your eyes adjust. Could I ask what we should call you?” It was an odd accent he was sure he’d never heard before.
Still rubbing his eyes, he answered, “Chan. It’s short for Chandler.”
“Chan, you can call me Pete.”
Chan took a moment to repeat the name almost in a whisper, trying to duplicate that odd accent.
Pete went on, “I hope you’ll forgive me but we really do need to close the portal through which you came just now. We can easily open it again if you need to go back, but there will be an increase in traffic in the plaza soon and we want to avoid totally random entries.”
Still blinking, Chan turned to look behind him. A man was stroking the air in front of a screen on one side of an arched frame. The frame was the same size and shape as the doorway through which he had strode a moment ago. He thought he caught the change from a view of the dark square into a blank wall that reflected back the same bright light still assaulting his eyes.
In his mind, Chan raced through a mass of connections rising up from a vast collection of fiction he had read. He still clutched a book that would add to that library of mythical futuristic worlds and advanced technology. So while there was some small shock at the idea some of it might actually be real, he had no trouble imagining the concept of teleportation and crossing great distances through some kind of electronic portal. Thus, his mind raced quickly to the next question. “Why did you let me through?”
“Well, Chan, it was the manner in which you found us. Our computers track those who come close to our portals when they are active. People who pass by regularly are basically ignored, but someone who notices anything unusual is himself unusual. When our portal warrants more of your attention, you warrant ours. Your behavior pattern was quite out of the ordinary, though it required some help from our computers to see it. We were alerted when one of our members passed through the other way and decided to see if you exhibited some traits that we consider important in our members here.”
Chan’s ears were adjusting to the faintly different lilt and vowel expression in Pete’s voice. His eyes were also beginning to adjust and looking about wasn’t painful, just somewhat difficult. Pete was a large man wearing what Chan took to be a sort of lab coat, except it didn’t open down the front. Chan explained how he had accidentally caught a glimpse of some framework, then his search for the doorway where his hand brushed the portal. He noted with some small pride how he spotted the discoloration effect.
Pete smiled gently. “Yes. We never anticipated anyone looking up from that low angle below the water line, but we shall have to cover that gap. Our screens do seem to work better than the curtain at matching colors. I’m glad you mentioned that issue, because it proves the wisdom of letting you find us. We could use your help.”
Chan was still blinking, so it fit his puzzled expression. “You mean, like a job?” He looked around but the portal operator had quietly disappeared.
Pete chuckled. “Something like that. You’ve probably guessed you are now quite some distance from your home. Is there anything you really need to go back for?”
It was Chan’s turn to grin. “Nah. My last job never paid enough for more than a few books, and this” – holding up the one in his hand – “was the only one I hadn’t finished. I can live without the rest.”
“Commendable attitude,” Pete nodded. “You seem to possess many of the traits we seek to develop here. I can’t promise you’ll find this any more prosperous than your previous situation, but I can guarantee it’s far more interesting. I can also promise it will be much more dangerous, but we’ll take much better care of your health than the bankrupt rationed medical system you’ve lived with so far. If you give me permission to look you up in the global identity database, I promise to explain everything and answer all your questions. You’ll suffer a little jet lag because you’ve moved a few time zones, but it should only feel like staying up just a bit late. Are you ready?”
If the man was lying, it was already too late, Chan figured. “Not turning back now,” he said with a grin.
“Good. Chan, this place is a laboratory.” Pete gestured to his outfit. “Because of the work we do here, we can’t permit street clothes due to the possibility of contamination. You can keep your clothes with you in a sealed container, but I need for you to change into one of our uniforms, if you would.”
Chan nodded assent and Pete opened a cabinet along one wall and fished around in the contents. He pulled out two folded garments and a pair of slippers. It made Chan think of hospital scrubs but better fitting. He changed quickly. Pete took his clothes and dropped them in a plastic bag from the top shelf of the cabinet. Pushing the bag up to a small device mounted on the inside of the door, the bag collapsed under vacuum and sealed itself. He handed it to Chan with a smile.
Pete gestured to his right, Chan’s left. He then led Chan to a doorway with only a sort of fabric curtain across it, but which managed to hide the faint white noise that dominated the corridor leading straight ahead. Aside from another corridor leading off to his right, Chan saw only a few more curtained doorways and something like a panel set in a frame about the size of a door, but no handle visible. The corridor turned to the right and another right brought them through another curtained doorway into a sort of Spartan but comfortable lounge.
The chairs at the table were hard, but when Pete offered one, Chan found it conformed nicely to his body and was comfortable. “All I can offer right now is water, but it’s cool and clean.” Pete took two shiny silver metallic cylindrical containers from an open shelf just overhead at the far wall. Beneath that stood a small basin and a very simple pipe arching over it from the back. Holding the cylinders under it triggered a valve that dispensed what looked like plain water. Pete allowed Chan to choose one, but drank from his first as he sat down on the side to Chan’s right.
Chan recognized all the protocols of making him feel safe with drinking it. “Where are we?”
Pete smiled, “Deep underground off the Atlantic Coast of South America.” He said it with a bland, matter-of-fact expression.
Just as well, since it really only proved what a pointless question it was. The technology he had seen already would equate roughly to creating a living space almost anywhere they wanted. Chan thought for a second, and decided to set aside the typical questions. “What have I gotten myself into?”
Pete warmed to this question. “We call ourselves The Brotherhood. While the computers need precise terminology to operate, we tend to avoid regimenting and restricting expression. You could probably call things whatever you like, so long as we have some idea what you mean. So Brotherhood seems the most flexible term we could find to describe the nature of our working together. Aside from certain minimum necessities, this whole thing is voluntary every step of the way, like adults in the same family.”
Pete took another sip of the water. “Our funding is private, but we try to make the most of resources. The start up was terribly expensive, but once we got a minimum of technology working, there was simply no good reason to change our learned habits of thrift and self-denial. Energy we can get without significant limits. You’ve already seen the ease of travel. We are constantly looking for new members with special talents that contribute to our overall mission.”
Pet
e leaned forward on his elbows and extended his arms around his drink, then joined his hands, fingers interlaced. He turned his head just a bit to keep his eyes fixed on Chan’s. “There is no simple explanation for what we consider our mission. We have no intention of saving the world. Rather, we’re trying to keep something alive that we believe is essential for the human race for as long as it lasts. It’s not a religion, but more of a philosophy that makes the majority of our members some kind of religious. We aren’t interested in what kind of religion, but the philosophy and the resulting approach to life does make atheism nearly impossible. While we do use a lot of advanced technology, the really important work is in the workings of the human mind. In essence, we hope to offer something that sets people free internally, so that their living context really isn’t all that important.”
Taking a sip, Chan then held the cylinder just a hand’s breadth from his face a moment and let his eyes aimlessly focus on the silvery bottom. He looked up at Pete. “It’s not like technology welding man and machine.” It was a statement, but he raised his eyebrows in question.
“Correct.” Pete had turned his face straight ahead of him but his eyes still gazed at Chan. “We hope to make people more human, but we tend to define that quite differently than the rest of the world. We believe that the highest human potential is buried, hidden away from people, to some degree by evil design. Given the situation and the realistic options for change, we consider it a major accomplishment if we can simply rescue a tiny handful from each generation. We’ve been at this for a very long time. For now, you’ll have to take my word for it: If we try to do too much, it would come apart and all our effort is lost. The mission is far more important than any one person is, and there is absolutely no way we can change very much in this world. At times we’ve had a wider influence. Things are a bit tight currently. We latch onto those who stumble into our work and do the best we can with them.”
Chan set his drink on the table. “What happens when someone changes their mind?”
Pete looked up the ceiling. “We let them go. We’ve had turncoats in the past, which is the whole point with using all the technology. Those who would take action to harm us generally can’t reach us. Additionally, try to imagine telling your local police agency about us and how you discovered us. You’ll be lucky if they don’t lock you in a rubber room.” He glanced at Chan with a half-grin.
Chan nodded. “I suppose there would be some kind of introductory training. What should I expect?”
Pete’s face was expressionless. “We have no curriculum. It’s totally one-on-one with someone who does little else but help people integrate. What you’ll experience varies widely with how you learn and how quickly. It’s more like a partnership and there really isn’t any endpoint. There are people here with some sort of leadership authority, but it’s part of your training to understand how it works. At some point you’ll understand enough to start doing some kind of work and you’ll decide in partnership with others how that all plays out.”
Chan wondered how anything so loose could hold together.
Perhaps Pete could read the expression on his face. He added, “There’s a sense in which our only accomplishment is simply keeping this thing going. We do that by keeping it consistent. For that reason, you’ll get the distinct impression we are seldom in a hurry on anything.”