Steve Alten - Vostok

“I’m sorry, baby, but we need to take you back.”

“Take me back where? To Lake Vostok? You’re nuts!”

“Zach, the space-time portal you accessed allows you to move within the multiverses of your soul’s existence. You can use the portal to access the future. Not only can you learn what disaster awaits us, you can determine the proper course of action that will save our species.”

“And how the hell am I supposed to get back down into that godforsaken lake?”

“The Colonel will explain everything. For now, let’s get you cleaned up and moving about.”

I let out a loud yelp as Susan removed my catheter. She pulled loose the Velcro straps from my ankles and wrists, then removed the EKG tabs from my chest.

“Ow.”

“Sorry. Try to stand.”

I attempted to climb out of the chair, but my legs lacked the strength.

The Colonel summoned his physician, who returned with a wheelchair. “Susan, take him to the dining hall and get him something to eat. The transport leaves tomorrow morning at 0800 hours. I need him fit enough to travel.”

“Twelve hours? I’ll do my best. Zach, let’s see if we can get some solid food into you.”

Susan wheeled me out of the pneumatic door to an antiseptic-white, tiled outer corridor. We passed a dozen similar doors, each chamber’s electronic keypad marked by either a green or flashing red light. I wondered who else they had hooked up to their insidious machines, whose memories they were probing.

At the end of the hall were three elevators. Susan swiped the magnetic strip on her identification card and pressed the UP button. The middle car arrived and she backed me inside.

We were on the twenty-third floor. The thirty-three elevator buttons were arranged in ascending order to reflect the subterranean location of our facility, the top floor listed as G.

She pushed SEVENTEEN. “ Zach, we’re being watched. Don’t react — I know you can hear my thoughts. I want you to tell me you’d prefer to take a hot bath to get your circulation going before you eat something.”

My pulse raced as I heard her words whispered into my consciousness. “Susan, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to take a hot bath to get my circulation going before I eat something.”

“Good idea. I’ll take you to your quarters.” She pushed FIVE.

The elevator passed the seventeenth floor and stopped on the fifth.

The doors opened and Susan wheeled me out to a seemingly endless corridor that felt more like a dormitory than a secured floor. Corkboards spaced at intervals along the walls held flyers advertising the week’s schedule of social events. We passed a dozen rooms, a lounge, and a weight room before we reached Suite 514.

Susan indicated the keypad, and I pressed my thumb to it, unbolting the door.

The room brightened as we entered, revealing a small living room that looked out onto a dazzling view of a Mediterranean beach and an azure sea. The balcony door was open, venting the air-conditioned apartment with warm gusts of briny air. I heard the ocean washing along the shoreline and seagulls cawing — and none of it was real.

Susan shut the door of the video-screen balcony, extinguishing the view.

“Zach, keep all verbal communication to small talk. Once we’re in the bathtub, I’ll answer all of your questions.”

I caught myself nodding. “Uh, nice place.”

“Let’s get you into a hot bath.”

I stood and leaned on her shoulder as she led me into her bedroom.

A queen-size bed faced bay windows that were part of the same holographic system as the balcony. There was a sound system and a flat-screen television. A wall of mirrors concealed a closet.

I stripped out of my surgical greens while Susan ran the bath water. My arms were covered in bruises from multiple I.V.s. My leg muscles had atrophied. Remembering the weight room, I decided a workout would follow my meal, if only to regain some strength to escape.

Susan was naked, waiting for me inside the whirlpool tub. “Come in and lean back against me. I’ll massage your shoulders.”

I climbed in and lay back against her breasts.

She wrapped her muscular quadriceps around my waist, running her hands along my groin.

I grabbed her wrists. “ Hey, knock it off! I want answers, like how we’re able to communicate telepathically.”

“Now, don’t react… I’m a Nordic.”

I tried to sit up, but her legs were far too strong.

“I won’t harm you. I’m here to help you, but you have to trust me. The Colonel lied. He needs you in Vostok to access the alien vessel. Once MJ-12 has access to the portal, they’ll be able to time-jump, altering third-dimension reality. We can’t allow that to happen.”

“What’s this ‘we’ stuff? You don’t need me, Susan, you’re Nordic. Destroy the damn portal and be done with it.”

“We can’t. The magnetic shield is far too strong. Even if we could destroy it, there’s a hierarchy in play. The being that communicated with you exists in the upper dimensions. When it comes to these higher-vibration entities there are no coincidences. The portal is in Lake Vostok because it knew you would be there. It offered you the gift of energy for a reason. If it knows what is to come, then we must trust it.”

“And why should I trust you?”

“Nordics have been mentoring humans for thousands of years. The Mayan teacher, Kukulcan, was a Nordic, as was the Inca leader Viracocha. If Colonel Vacendak knew I was a Nordic, neither one of us would ever see daylight again.”

“Where do Nordics come from? How long have you been on Earth? Were you born here?”

“I’ll tell you everything, but you must remember we’re being watched. Close your eyes.” She kissed the back of my neck while massaging my shoulders. “Life thrives in multiple plains of existence throughout the universe. Imagine each galaxy as a garden, most of its flowers cultivated within its central greenhouse. Star systems like yours, situated along the fringes of the galaxy, must be seeded for life .

“Seeded how?”

“The process begins with water. Billions of years ago Earth was bombarded with asteroids and comets, each impact releasing moisture into the atmosphere along with the chemicals and amino acids necessary to foster single-celled organisms. Life took root almost four billion years ago; however, eons of evolution failed to produce a species worthy of harboring a higher soul .

“Cataclysms are a means of testing the worthiness of a species or merely starting over. The asteroid that wiped out the dinosaurs was intended to end their reign and pave the way for the ascension of mammals, primates, and finally primitive man. When it comes to hominids, Nordics are purebreds: our genome possesses DNA strands designed to adapt to each world’s unique environment. Homo sapiens were selected for an interspecies breeding program designed to accelerate your hybrid faster up the evolutionary ladder.”

“Why?”

“The purpose of existence in the physical dimension is to provide suitable harbors for the soul. Intelligence is a trait that blossoms when fertilized by a higher species. Nordic hybrid development tends to follow similar progressions, spurred by adversity. Nomads forge clans and clans form alliances, usually out of the need for protection. Eventually, these unions expand to tribes, with the manner in which disputes are settled determining the potential reign of each budding group .