I spent about two weeks in training with them but could not continue. I soon realised that I did not have the right kind of anger, neither did I agree with their doctrines and attitudes. I could not demean myself by becoming like them. I left and made my way here where I stayed until my anger had subsided and I could trust myself to act in a more sane and rational way.”
After listening to this, the only response I could give was to say, “You could not have found a better place. This is a healing place.” Then I reassured him that his secret was safe with me, and that I considered his reaction to have been perfectly normal and sane in an abnormal and insane environment.
About mid-afternoon we headed back to find our little Suzy still parked where we had left it. It didn’t seem as far going back. This was a day I would remember for the rest of my life. As we walked back I took careful note of the path we followed. I knew that I could find my way back without any trouble. It is certainly a place I will come to again. As we stepped into the vehicle I said to Dharwad, “If ever you hear that I am in trouble or agony of mind, you will know where to find me. I will come here.”
CHAPTER FORTY ONE- REALITY
With the sun low on the horizon, we were still driving in the mountains, when Dharwad said, “Are you hungry?”
I don’t know if it is ladylike to express hunger in his culture but I was going to be honest and told him that I was absolutely famished. We had only had a light picnic lunch and a lot of exercise and stress, both of which always make me hungry.
“In that case we will have dinner here and continue home later. I hate driving into the sun.” I looked at him in surprise. There was nothing here and I knew our knapsacks were empty. Then I saw it; a pretence of a road going off to the left with a sign on the corner showing the universal symbol of a plate with knife and fork.
We wound our way up the valley for a few kilometres while I was wondering how anybody could make a business here. When I saw what was there I knew how it worked. It was a small settlement with cottage style accommodation, a retreat for people who could afford to spend more in their quest to find quietness than I would ever dream of doing.
I told Dharwad that if I had not just come from somewhere far more spectacular I may well think that this was the best place in the world. It reminded me very much of home.
I was sitting at a table waiting. Davo had gone off to order from wherever they served the food. It was so peaceful; we could have been in the middle of nowhere. When he came back we sat and waited, watching the sky give its evening colour show, changing from blue to yellow as a prelude to going through the orange and red colours of sunset. This proved to be no second rate restaurant. Davo assured me that the food would be brought to us.
When it arrived, I almost gasped. I dug Davo in the ribs and exclaimed, “If that’s not a genuine Aussie steak my name is not Maria McKee.” For some reason he thought that was funny. If I wasn’t feeling nostalgic before, I was now. This food could have come straight from home.
It was while we were sitting quietly after having eaten that Davo said the things we both knew had to be said. “Bailey, do you remember that time in the coffee room when you asked me to put my feet under your table?”
I most certainly did. I nodded.
He said, “What caused me a moment of shock was the fact that in my culture those words are commonly used in a marriage proposal or even in the exchange of wedding vows.” He went on to explain that when I had first spoken them he had already begun to think of me as the person he would marry if it were possible.
We shared what had been happening with us but acknowledged that any thought of marriage was impossible. The differences in our faiths would destroy us when we had children to think about.
I could not disagree with anything he said, so I made my little speech, “Thank you for your honesty. Tonight I have returned the favour you did me. You ordered this table and I have put my feet under it with yours. May our families be bound together always. I welcome you into my family my big, strong-man brother.”
I had him back in his place.
CHAPTER FORTY TWO- UNREST IN JERUSALEM
Sometime in the next few days we would embark on the occasion we had all been waiting for. Davo was going to test-drive Ifficus, the quantum computer. This was something that was unique to the Beetle. It was what set us apart from every other research organisation in the world. We would all be there to see if it could successfully interact with the public.
At the Beetle, not all our anxieties related to the success or otherwise of the computer test run. Something else was happening that none of us understood. All around us there was a rising sense of unease, bordering on fear. The media was taking the situation up and turning it into dramatic nonsense, emphasising the fear. There was real danger that, if the current emphasis continued, fear could turn to panic and violence could result, as people took the solution into their own hands. The phenomenon being reported was not isolated to Jerusalem but to a lesser extent it was occurring throughout the world.
What was happening was simple but inexplicable. The vast majority of the population of Jerusalem were beset by unusual dreams during the night and vivid images during the day. Some were having unexpected ideas or even words and phrases coming into their minds as if from an outside source.
The media was making a lot of dramatic statements and suppositions. The latest theory was that the whole phenomenon was due to some new form of terrorist attack from a source as yet unknown, causing the population to become hysterical or psychotic. It was assumed that the source of the infection was somewhere in Jerusalem because it was the epicentre of the phenomenon.
A great deal of fear was being generated but as yet, everything has been kept under control. My biggest concern was that there could be a violent uprising against one of the Ethnic or Religious Groups. It only needed the media or some other group or individual to ‘identify the culprit.’
We, the wise men and girls of the Beetle, have talked a lot about this and shared our own experiences. Miz and I have had many dreams and visions. Davo has had a number of dreams, while Scrivs has had a few. He seemed more disturbed about his experiences than the rest of us. I suspect they offend the controlled mode of his expression of Jewishness.
None of it made sense. It was all inconsistent and contradictory. What we were experiencing in these spontaneous mind picture events ranged from extreme horror and destruction to absolute joy and beauty. We had no answers but could not rule out the psychosis theory. I didn’t believe it to be the answer. I had an advantage over the others, having had all those past travel-time experiences. I should have been able to interpret what was happening. I could not.
After all the talk, nobody had a clue. Dharwad and I have talked for hours without reaching any satisfactory conclusion. We had been spending most of our spare time together. It was the best we could do. We had given up any possibility of marriage. There was no solution to our conflicting faiths.
I believed that we could have a very good marriage. We respected each other’s beliefs. There seemed no reason why we could not be together but as soon as we contemplated children, there was no solution. We would make the best of the three to six months left to us before our work together was completed.
Regarding the rising unrest around us, Davo had come up with an avenue of exploration that could add another brain to the solving of the puzzle of the situation. We would use the test run to talk it over with Ifficus. He has more brain power than all of us.
Davo has adapted the material for the trial run to suit that purpose. He does not know how far this first trial run will take us. He says that there will probably need to be several such trials, depending on how much more education and modification Ifficus needs. I still don’t understand much about that process. It sounds like trying to train a baby to become a rational, functioning adult in the matter of a few weeks. We will meet in Davo’s den in the mo
rning.
CHAPTER FORTY THREE- IFFICUS
Well, this is Davo’s den, the secret place. This is the heart of the Beetle. If all goes well, what happens here could mean wealth and fame for the Beetle and for Davo, whose baby this is. We are sworn to secrecy. There is nothing else quite like Ifficus anywhere in the world. People would give millions to obtain his pedigree. Everybody outside of the organisation only know him as the computer. I have referred to him by name to my parents but they do not know that he is anything out of the ordinary. I think they visualise him as a very ancient computer that is so unreliable that it should have been disposed of years ago, a very iffy cuss altogether.
I will try to lead you through what happens here. The room itself has been transformed since I was here on the day of the party. There is now a large glass cage in the centre of the room. It reaches almost to the ceiling and measures about four metres in width by six metres in length. Davo says that this is the viewing cage, the equivalent of the screen of your standard computer.
He explains that he has programmed everything he knows about us and the current phenomenon into the logic centre of Ifficus. I am not sure that I should have told him so much about myself. He even knows about my dreamtime experiences. He had not laughed when I told him, just been a little puzzled, even as I am.
As Davo flicks the switch, the room is filled with a very soft, low pitched hum, and almost instantly the life- sized figure of a man appears in the viewing cage. He is indistinguishable from a real, live person and speaks in a voice that could have belonged to a real man, if that man had Australian background mixed with something else I cannot identify. This makes more sense as I remember that Ifficus had been made, or should it be born, in both Sydney and Singapore.
What I thought of at the time as ‘The Show,’ began quietly and formally with Ifficus calling a well- known television announcer onto stage with him. The figure of Andrew Cummins, reporter on Middle Eastern Affairs, walked into the viewing box. Ifficus proceeds to ask him every possible question. Cummins replies, as you would expect a media reporter to respond, with well worded statements, being careful to maintain the story line that had been determined by the channel which employs him.
It was at this stage that we began to realize we did not have to stand by and listen. We could do what we always dreamed of doing with a media interview. We could join in.
Scrivs was the first to make an approach. As he began to speak, a perfect image of him walked onto the stage. He said, “Mr. Cummins, you have firmly taken the stand that the most probable answer to the current situation is that some kind of action is being taken by an, as yet unnamed terrorist group, which is driving people to the brink of psychosis as a prelude to taking over the mindset of the world. What evidence do you have for this and, has there in fact, been an increase in admissions to psychiatric wards?”
It immediately became apparent that Cummins was no more knowledgeable than the rest of us. He was just good at doing his job of putting a story together. He did not seem to appreciate being on the wrong end of an interview and began to grow irate. This went on for some time until Cummins stormed off the stage. With his exit, the image of Scrivs faded from view and only the real man was left standing outside the cage.
Then, becoming frustrated by the lack of progress, I decided on a different approach. I looked straight at Ifficus and addressed myself to him, “Ifficus.” It was weird watching myself walk onto the stage while at the same time I remained standing right where I was. “Ifficus, I understand that you have more information about this situation than anyone else in this room.” I saw him draw himself up in a stance that showed a great deal of pride in his ability. “What have you deduced from the information you have been given?” I asked.
“You are right,” he said. “I do know more than anybody else on earth, thanks to your friend, Davo.”
He looked at me so intently that I felt a little afraid. He beckoned to me, inviting me into the cage. I’ll say that again in case you have not understood. He beckoned to me, not to the image that was already in the cage with him but to me, the outside observer. It was then that I made my mistake. I did not wait for his attention to revert to the image. I spoke directly to him while our eyes were locked together.
Immediately I felt a slight shimmering sensation and heard a gasp go up from beside me. I was bodily translocated from outside to inside the cage. I knew what had happened but was powerless to stop it. I knew now how powerful Ifficus was and how complete his knowledge of us was. He not only knew about my dreamtime travels; he also knew by what mechanism they had been achieved. I did not know how it was done and had no way of reversing what was happening. From inside the glass cage that had now become my prison, I looked out, searching in vain for the person I saw in the mirror every morning. I was not there. All I saw were three shocked faces looking in.
I did not know where this was going to end. What I did know was that, for the sake of my friends and perhaps the world at large, I must take what opportunity I had to find the truth. I would not give in to fear. I would remain in control.
I spoke again, “Ifficus, you have knowledge that could, perhaps save us from a great disaster. I believe you know what is happening. Out of the kindness of your heart, tell me what is happening.”
It seems that I had made a mistake. The one thing that Davo had not programmed into him was kindness of heart.
He looked at me with a look that chilled me to the core. It conveyed pure intellect. There was no emotion whatsoever. How could you appeal to someone, or something that had no emotion? When I glanced outside I could see that Davo was in a real panic. He did not know what to do. Later I was to learn that he was afraid to intervene or turn the computer off because he did not know what effect this would have while I was so completely locked into the mind of Ifficus. I knew that Davo loved me and that gave me confidence. I gave him a little ‘thumbs up’ sign and turned my attention back to Ifficus. I did not understand what was happening but knew I must remain in control.
Finally, Ifficus spoke to me again, “Bailey, you are right. I do have the knowledge and can give you information that will save your friends from a great deal of pain, probably death. You must first do what I ask.”
When he said that, it brought a flashback of memory. For a moment I saw a scene in a garden, so beautiful that there was no mistaking it. I saw Eve being told by the serpent to do something that would bring disaster. Immediately, I knew two things. I knew that I must not do what he asked. I also knew that I was not alone. The Presence was with me.
If I was to escape from this situation I would need to keep all my wits about me. I also knew that I must try to get every bit of information from Ifficus that I could. I concentrated on keeping my mind active and alert.
I bowed my head, as if in submission, and asked him what he wanted me to do.
His reply was immediate. “You must stand exactly where you are and look directly into my eyes. You must maintain that position until I give you permission to leave. Respond only to the questions I ask. Do not think independently. That way I can gain access to the information that will set you free. Can you do that?”
I answered his question with a nod. Yes, I could do that. I never said I would.
CHAPTER FORTY FOUR- THE DANCE OF IFFICUS
Meanwhile, outside the viewing box, there was consternation. Scrivs and Miz desperately needed somewhere to express their anger. They could not be angry with Davo. His distress was too obvious. They knew that he had suffered a great loss sometime not too long before he came to work here. If Bales did not get out of this he would be destroyed.
Scrivs asked the obvious question, “Can you switch it off?”
“That was my first thought,” Davo replied, “but I do not know what it would do to Bailey. In a sense she has become part of the computer programme. It may destroy her. I don’t dare try.”
“Smash in the glas
s,” suggested Miz.
“It can’t be done.” Davo was practically sobbing. “This is a prototype in every sense. It is exactly as it will be in a public viewing situation, totally entry proof.” They could see that the walls were entirely seamless.
Davo explained that even to gain access from the top would take hours of work. “It is made that way for security purposes so there will always be time to stop any attempted theft or vandalism,” he said.
He answered the one remaining question in their minds by explaining that there was no danger of her suffocating in the confined space. A constant stream of air from outside was being blown across the top of the cage to provide cooling for the electronics concealed within the structure.
Miz went over to Davo. He was still a very special person to her. “Davo, you can use us in any way you want. Is there anything we can do?”
“Thank you. There is nothing you can do except to be ready to give her any assistance she needs if she comes out. I cannot re-programme while the machine is running, neither can we wait for ever.
Ifficus took her in there. Only he can get her out. I am still hoping that she will find a way of making her presence too uncomfortable for him. I will give her another twenty minutes. If nothing happens by then I will begin to shut the computer down progressively. If I can get the sequence right, I may be able to save her. If you can pray, start doing it now. That is a serious request. It is about the only thing we can do. I do not know enough about what is happening to have the correct sequence for shutdown. What is happening now is well outside the programming I have given him.”
They looked at the clock and, with a shock, realised how little time had actually passed. After all that had happened, the clock showed just ten minutes past ten in the morning. That made zero hour ten thirty; the time to begin the dangerous process of shutdown.