Chapter 3.
It seemed that he was spending most of every waking hour in a fog. On one level he knew that he needed to get on with his life. But on a different level he felt that it just wasn’t important. He had lost the love of his life. What point was there to continue living?
Who could he share his feelings with? Did he even want to? Who would be there for him on those rare occasions when he felt vulnerable and needed a shoulder to cry on or a knowing pat on the back?
He found himself wandering from room to room, gazing blankly at the artefacts of a shattered existence. The coffee mug she had left half empty on the kitchen counter next to the picture of the two of them and her parents. It had been taken on their wedding day; the scent of hair spray and perfume in her bathroom; the towel draped over the shower door; the pile of shoes and stockings which always seemed to accumulated on the floor next to her side of the bed. His heart felt like it was being shredded. But somehow it didn’t seem to matter.
One day he found himself in his office, sitting at the computer, hands poised at the keyboard. Absently he checked his E-mail, staring habitually at the screen. He read the words, then deleted them without really remembering what he had read. the words were gone forever. He didn’t care.
Then somewhere in the depths of his gray funk, a thought slowly materialized. IT’S TIME.
The thought momentarily startled him. For some time now he had known that he couldn’t continue this way. He knew that at some point he’d have to quit feeling sorry for himself and get back to living his life. But he had always managed to push the thought aside and retreat once again into his protective cocoon. There, surrounded by distant and clouded memories, he felt a small measure of comfort.
Sitting there staring absently at the screen saver, he gradually came back to reality. Two words began to form in his mind. IT’S TIME. For some unknown reason these words startled him. IT’S TIME. What did that mean? Why had those two words triggered such a response? He shuddered as a thought came to him.
His stomach knotted as he tapped the space bar to bring the computer screen back up. He pulled up the browser and typed in the two words. When he hit enter, the screen immediately went blank.
To his left he heard the computer stop. Then, as though it had begun a restart, it whirred back to life. Faster than had ever happened before, the screen flashed on. There on the screen staring back at him, was HIM! Breath caught in his throat as he heard and saw himself say:
“Take a deep breath. You are not going crazy. Relax. Calm yourself. This is going to take a while.” His mouth went dry as he watched and listened.
“A sequence of recent events has triggered a subliminal prompt in your brain. That’s why the words IT’S TIME came to mind. I . . . you . . . selected this sequence some time ago. The sequence or the events themselves weren’t really the trigger. Rather, it was your emotional response. What I’m about to tell you will be startling. But you’ll recognize its truthfulness as my explanation progresses. Here comes the hard part.
“You are not who you think you are. Remember how vague and unreal your past life seems to you? That’s because it never really happened. You made it all up so that you’d have an explanation for why you are here . . . there. . . . Whatever! Any way, the point is this. At the time you recorded this message you were approximately 50,000 years old. Still with me? Remember . . . breathe.”
To have been told this by any other means would not have been successful. It all had to do with rhythm. Who would know better than himself how to time his remarks so that they would have the expected impact at just the right moment. More simply, believability.
He was surprised, but not awe-struck. The implications of this discovery were numerous, the most predominant being: Ageing. How would one go about overcoming the physical distress such a long life would endure. He knew the answer to this question would be forthcoming. The image on the screen continued speaking, so he froze the thought and stored it away.
“Yes. We’ll get to the whole pile of implications later on. For now just sit back and enjoy the experience . . . again.”
Aaron sat quietly in front of that screen, listening and watching so intently that he was sure he could feel the heavy veil of depression lift from his shoulders.
Finally! This was something that filled in the blank! The emotional component of his life had recently been on overload. That must have been the trigger! Not the death, but his emotional response to it. Watching another companion age before his eyes was always so difficult, but there were ways of adapting, of gradually getting used to the idea. But an abrupt, unexpected death had a whole new set of issues associated with it, not the least of which was the emotional response.
Emotion had a way of clouding issues from time to time. There was no getting around that. But, after all, it was always about attitude in the long run. It had everything to do with perception, and absolutely nothing to do with logic, at least on the surface. The average person would be so wrapped up in his own life that he really wouldn’t pay close attention to the goings-on of another.
There were, of course, exceptions, such as family or another intimately close person or group. The question remained. How would one cope with the emotional baggage of 50,000 years worth of living?
“No, you are not immortal.” His attention snapped back to the present. “At least your body isn’t. Anyway, that’s another story. So here’s what has happened. Roughly 50,000 years ago you were born to a couple of highly advanced simians. They were without language. I don’t know their names. I’m not sure they even had names. What I do know is that they were ‘seeded’ simians. Your parents.
“Your ancestry goes back to the beginning, when intelligent life first came to this planet.
“I don’t know how long your parents were around before they had you (me). All I know about their history before I came along is what I learned from them. They were my (our) “parents,” but they weren’t our genetic ancestors. This much I do know. Ours was the first generation of humans on this planet.
“Our parents did have the ability to reason (on a rudimentary level). It’s just that they had not evolved sufficiently so that their vocal cords were physically capable of producing actual speech.
Let me explain. Modification, as I call it, isn’t really physical in this context. It is a physical process, but it has to happen as a result of a change in the genetic code . . . not as a result of any surgical procedure.
“As you know, not all gene sequences are activated in the same way. An example is, say, blue eyes verses brown. Or blond hair verses black. It’s all a matter of what proteins are present at a particular time during conception and gestation. Geneticists in your time understand this concept, though on a very elementary level.
“But back to the point. Just prior to the time when your parents “got together” and made you; they were visited (in their sleep) by what we call Seeders. No point in going into much explanation about Seeders now. Just don’t get excited! Think back to your studies in extraterrestrial life. It only takes a small stretch of intellect to understand what I’m telling you. Besides; as your memory continues to come back, this will all fall into place.
“Using a technology we don’t really have a clue about, they “upgraded” your parents so they would be able to conceive and raise a human. This amounted to a genetic modification to their reproductive systems, in addition to an enhancement in their reasoning abilities.
“Earth has been around for millions and millions of years (Duh!! Pardon me for patronizing). During the course of this planet’s evolution a lot of things have happened. None of them is unique. They happen all over the galaxy (and the universe too, for that matter). They may not be unique, but the exact time they will happen is somewhat unpredictable.
“Just a word or two about the Seeder job description. Their primary job is to introduce “intelligence” to worlds that have evolved to a certain level. In order to be effective at this job, they need to m
onitor evolutionary development.
Then, when the time is right, they introduce humans into the ecosystem, by way of the ‘seeding’ process.
“Now, as to why you’re just now finding this out. I think it’s fair to assume that everyone fears death (some more than others for various reasons). Most people would love to live forever . . . at least until they stop to think what living forever would entail.
Imagine the stress of outliving everyone you know. Imagine what it would be like to be able to ‘predict’ with astonishing accuracy the outcome of any particular incident, simply because you’ve been through it many, many, many times before.
Imagine how difficult it would be to see someone you care deeply about heading in a direction that you know would only end in disaster, but being unable to redirect them.
Now, think about not being able to tell anyone about what you know. Talk about stress!
“Well, that’s part of the deal. You’re not allowed to tell anyone. You can’t interfere. Your job is to observe and report . . . ONLY! Maybe a discrete nudge once in a while; but no overt interference in the ‘natural’ course of events.
How you deal with the emotional ramifications is another issue all together, as you’ve found out.
“Fortunately, the Seeders have been there and done that. They’ve provided a mechanism whereby you can opt out . . . at least temporarily. It’s sorta like a sophisticated pressure relief valve or computer virus that only you have control over.
“Whenever you become saturated with too much information and you think you’ll pop if you don’t get some relief, you have an ‘easy button’ you can press. Then all your memories get put away in an encrypted file that only you can access. And in their place is a fabricated history, which you can use to fill in the hole created by the missing file. Only you have the password. But you can’t use it because you don’t remember it. It’s been filed away too.
“Well, it’s not really a password in the strict sense. It’s more like a set of guidelines that have been preprogrammed into you brain. The criteria are somewhat generalized, but the level of intensity in which they occur is actually the trigger.
Apparently you’ve recently tripped your trigger, to use a crude euphemism. Whatever has happened has caused a few inactive circuits in your head to be re-energized. The circumstances were just right. The intensity level was just so. The switch was thrown, and here you are.
“As you read through the following pages, things will become more and more clear. To bombard you with everything all at once would be self-defeating. The idea is to expose you gradually. Otherwise you’ll just pop again. And that’s what we’re trying to avoid, right?
“It’s kinda pointless for me to continue this narrative. You’ll get it all figured out soon enough. Just let me caution you. This information is for your eyes only! Don’t tell anyone anything about this . . . ever! You already understand why. Right?
“The part of your computer that contains this information isn’t really part of your computer. (What, you say?!) Yes, you heard me right. When you type in the key words, there is something that links you to an encrypted database that isn’t part of the computer. (Don’t ask. I don’t know). You can access this information from any computer anywhere in the world. No one else. Just you. (Again, don’t ask.)
“Once you’re in this program everything you type bypasses the computer completely. Whatever you type and whatever comes up on the screen immediately disappears when you walk away. The only way anyone else can see what is happening is if they are standing right next to you or looking over your shoulder when you’re active in the system.
“If anyone but you tries typing anything, the link breaks. If they try copying, the link breaks. Even you can’t copy anything from this program. Pretty high-tech stuff, huh!?
“This message will go away as soon as you exit and will never be brought back. Instead, the next time you type in your access, another screen will pop up with a prompt. You’ll then have full access to the database the Seeders provided. If you’re at the regular browser screen and you type in any other words but yours, the computer will function normally. Man! What a security system!
“OK! You got a handle on all this? Just take your time and absorb as much as you think you can handle in one sitting. Remember . . . you’ve been here before. . . . Bye!”