John Krygelski - The Aegis Solution

“Vast majority? There are some who can still perform at that level?”

“There are. There are small pockets of primitive tribes who have, within their group, men who possess a throwing ability which far exceeds that of our greatest baseball pitchers today, in terms of speed, accuracy, and distance.”

“I wasn’t aware of that.”

“It’s true. The documentation is plentiful. However, it was rowing which truly captured my attention.”

“Rowing?”

“Yes. During college, I was quite involved in athletics, including the rowing team. A notice was posted on campus, asking for volunteers to replicate an ancient voyage. A professor studying the Athenian culture had obtained, from several sources, adequate plans so that he could replicate a trireme.”

“A trireme?”

“An Athenian warship, thirty-seven meters long, which was propelled by three levels of oarsmen. There are nearly countless descriptions of voyages taken by these vessels, with much detail. A particular voyage the professor wanted to replicate occurred when the Athenians wished to quell a revolt in Mytilene, on the island of Lesbos in the Aegean. At first, the assembly ordered that all Mytilene’s males be put to death. They immediately sent off a trireme to accomplish this. A day later they had second thoughts and ordered another trireme to catch the first before it could arrive and carry out the order. The second ship, with 170 oarsmen, would have made the journey in approximately twenty-four hours.

“So, this professor knew the distance and had constructed an exact replica of a trireme. All he needed were the oarsmen — thus, the posted notice. Many of the members of the rowing team, having recently come off from winning a national championship, were enchanted with the prospect of competing with an ancient record, as were several other athletes. He had no problem filling the roster with a group of young men in amazing physical condition. His plan was to transport the trireme to the Aegean and replicate the exact route, but first he wanted to test it out with his new crew.

“Since the size and configuration of the boat was so different from the sleek and lightweight boats to which we were accustomed in competitions, we spent four months training with the replica of the trireme. The regimen was rigorous and was supervised by a team of three Olympic coaches. During the course of our first trial, we were cohesive as a team and at the peak of our performance. The weather was perfect and the sea was calm, ideal conditions to go against an ancient record.”

“I’m guessing that the record wasn’t beaten.”

A short laugh, not unlike the bark of a dog, burst from Kreitzmann. “Beat the record? Not only could we not beat it, we couldn’t tie it. In fact, we couldn’t even come close.”

“You’re not serious?”

“I am! The best we did was less than half the distance the ancient Athenian ship traveled that day in a twenty-four-hour period.”

“Less than half?”

“Less than half! And according to the descriptions of the event by historians of the day, they did it with one crew of oarsmen. Those descriptions must be true; there was physically not enough room on a trireme to accommodate a second shift of men on board. We had a total of 350 oarsmen, enough for two shifts with a few extras in case of injuries. A modern yacht paced the trireme to transfer the two crews. We rowed in six-hour shifts, with six hours to rest. The ancients did it with one crew and, when they arrived at the destination, the rowing crew had to be in a condition strong enough to then engage in battle.”

“That’s astounding.”

“It’s more than astounding; it’s revelatory. The scientific community began to theorize as to why there would be such a disparity between these men of the past and our best athletes today. The theories have ranged from society coddling us so that we no longer need the same abilities, to actually putting forth the idea that our genetics have changed in a mere few thousand years. Preposterous!

“That event, intended as a pleasant and challenging diversion for me, triggered what would become the focus of the rest of my life. I immediately began researching any and all comparable efforts. Everything I discovered led me to one inescapable conclusion.”

He paused. Uncertain if the pause was for dramatic effect, or if Kreitzmann was waiting for a question, Elias remained silent.

“The eternal question among evolutionary biologists and others is — is it nature or nurture? How much of who and what we are is genetic, and how much is a result of the environment?”

“True. You seem to have opted for nurture.”

“We have certainly placed our emphasis on the environment. Saying that, however, does not paint the entire picture. Genetics would only be genetics. It is the canvas upon which we paint our reality, its borders establishing the outside boundaries of what we can do. But to actualize ourselves, we need more than a blank canvas. We need examples, as Sneezix needed the example of that stray dog, in order to discover an ability he did not know he had. This goes far beyond the simple concept of nurture. I call my field exemplarium behavior modeling.

“Wasn’t the performance of the Athenian oarsman an example?”

“No. Hearing about something…reading about it…any form of learning and awareness other than direct experience does not have the same effect. At least that is my conclusion after twenty-three years of study. It is essential for the behavior, skill, or ability to be directly perceived. Mankind has a nearly boundless ability to deny and rationalize. Remember the repetitive attempts by Sneezix — the painful falls, the bloody paws. Transfer that experience to a man and, if he hadn’t seen the deed with his own eyes, he would give up, deciding that it wasn’t really possible after all.”

“That’s probably true.”

“Not probably true…true. I’ve proved it in my studies.”

“Other than the display of telepathy, what are the applications of your new field?”

“They are almost limitless. Think about it, Patrick. My work has only scratched the surface. There is probably no aspect of what we do, see, hear, smell, or even think that can’t be enhanced by immersion in a new exemplarium.”

Forcing a look of mild skepticism onto his face, Elias spoke thoughtfully. “I admit, I’m impressed by the apparent strides toward telepathy that you’ve made. But I have a concern.”

Visibly suppressing vexation at Elias’ words, the researcher inquired, “What might that be?”

Elias knew he was walking a tightrope. On one hand, he was portraying an ostensibly like-minded scientist who had previously exhibited a dislike or even contempt for humanity. On the other hand, his own urge to shout out his rebuttals to Kreitzmann’s positions was practically overwhelming.

Choosing his words carefully, Elias broached the subject. “Have you considered the possibility that, over the entire continuum of human development on Earth, some of what you are coaxing from your subjects has already been tried and rejected?”

It was obvious, by the evasive darting of his eyes and momentary quizzical expression, that Kreitzmann had not considered this point.

“What do you mean?”

“I haven’t seen nor have we discussed the specifics of your other projects; however, expressly dealing with the one I’ve observed, what if we weren’t meant to have telepathic abilities?”

“Oh, not the old ‘If God meant for us to fly, we’d have wings’ argument.”

“Not exactly, Rudy. What I’m saying is that it is possible that at one time humans, or earlier hominids, did communicate with their minds. If the mechanism is already there, why not?”

“Go on.”