David Simpson - Post-Human Trilogy

Aldous suddenly moved, resting his back against the wall as he stared out at the dim light that pierced the ice-covered window. “Yes. Help,” he said. “That is what I require. I don’t think you’re sub-human. I don’t think that at all.” Aldous turned and regarded the monitor on which Sanha’s point of view continued to be displayed. Colonel Paine had tossed Sanha roughly into the Planck room and was now lighting his cigar as he put the post-human to work.

“It’s them who are sub-human—the Purists. And I’m going to kill them. I’m going to kill every last one of them.”

Craig flew, guided by the A.I., toward the Titanic’s bridge, where the captain and Thomas Andrews, the ship’s builder, had just returned from an examination of the damage below deck. They were met on the bridge by the master-at-arms, First Officer Murdoch, and J. Bruce Ismay, Chairman of the White Star Line that built the Titanic . Ismay was the first to see Craig appearing over the rail of the ship, the green glow of his magnetic aura enraging him and causing his teeth to clench under his waxed mustache. “ Tesla! ” he seethed.

Murdoch pulled out his revolver, only to have the master-at-arms place his hand on Murdoch’s forearm, lowering it. “Don’t bother. I tried that already.”

Craig entered the cabin, still wet, but no longer soaking. The A.I. disengaged the protective cocoon so Craig could speak, but before he could get a word out, Ismay furiously lunged forward, shaking his fingers accusingly in Craig’s face. “You work for Tesla! He sent you here!”

William Stead and his photographer entered the bridge quietly at that moment, unnoticed by anyone in attendance and using the commotion as their camouflage.

“Tesla?” Craig asked the A.I.

“Don’t play coy!” Ismay shouted back in return. He turned to the captain and continued, “This is Tesla’s attempt to get revenge on J.P. for the debacle with that damned tower of his! He’s sent this thug here to sabotage Titanic’s maiden voyage and to make a fool out of J.P.!”

“He’s referring to J.P. Morgan,” the A.I. began explaining to Craig, “arguably the most successful tycoon of the era and majority owner of both White Star and The International Mercantile Marine Company. Nikola Tesla was an inventor who had built the Wardenclyffe Tower, a wireless communications tower capable of sending electrical power without wires. At the time of the Titanic’s sinking, J.P. Morgan and Tesla were in a legal battle over the tower, allegedly surrounding the fact that Morgan, who was the chief financial backer of the tower, hadn’t been aware of the tower’s capability of wireless transmission of power.”

“Explain,” Craig replied.

“I mean you deliberately—” Ismay began, before being cut off by Craig.

“Not you,” Craig said, holding his hand up to shush the man.

Ismay’s eyes narrowed as he confusedly tried to comprehend Craig’s meaning. The master-at-arms attempted to fill in the gaps, pointing to his temple and adding, “He has a difference engine in his noggin’.”

“J.P. Morgan financed the project thinking it would be the beginning of a communications empire,” the A.I. further elaborated, “but Tesla hadn’t informed him that the tower could do much more than just send radio signals. Morgan, who owned General Electric, wanted to continue business as usual with the electrical grid of the era. The Wardenclyffe tower would have destroyed that by providing free wireless power to anyone with an antenna to receive it.”

“Wireless power?” Craig said, astonished. “We don’t even have that technology in the future.”

“Other than in some limited capacities, you’re right,” the A.I. concurred.

“So these guys…they’re holding back technology?” Craig asked.

“In some ways. Although they were interested in progress, it was only progress that directly benefitted them.”

“Luddites,” Craig whispered.

“Your analogy is sound,” the A.I. replied.

“Look,” Craig said, suddenly speaking to the baffled men who stood in a semicircle around him, “I don’t work for Tesla.”

“Bullocks!” Ismay thundered.

“I’ve never met the man. I’m from a parallel universe.”

“Craig, I strongly advise against—” the A.I. began to protest.

Craig ignored him and continued, “In my universe, this ship turned hard to port to try miss the iceberg but the hull on the starboard side came into contact with the ice and was punctured several times, causing the Titanic to begin taking on water. It sank in two hours, killing over 1,500 people in the end.”

“Pure fantasy,” Ismay scoffed. “This ship is unsinkable,” he recited, sounding like an advertisement.

William Stead took that moment to speak up. “ He is flying ,” he pointed out. “That would seem rather fanciful, too, except we’re seeing it with our own eyes.”

“Tesla is capable of trickery like this!” Ismay shouted back. “You’ve seen the displays he puts on for the press! They look exactly like this! Electricity shooting out in all directions!” He turned back to Craig. “Did you think you’d get away with this?”

“The ship sank in two hours, and 1,503 people died,” Craig repeated, speaking directly to the captain. “I caused the ship to ram the iceberg—”

“He admits it!” Ismay shouted, aghast.

“—to save it from having its hull breached.”

“The hull is intact,” Thomas Andrews confirmed. “Amazingly, we’re not taking on water.”

Ismay turned to Craig and stuck his finger in Craig’s face once again. “You and Tesla are lucky for that, sir. You’re very lucky! Otherwise, mass murder would be added to the list of your crimes and you’d be seeing the electric chair in the near future—an invention I believe your employer had some hand in devising.”

“Dude, I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about,” Craig replied, “and I ain’t going to jail anytime soon, so get out of my face.” He then turned to the other men in the room. “I am going to the dining hall though. Man, I could sure use a cookie right now.”

Suddenly, the image of the small group of men began to warp, the figures bending and twisting in front of Craig as though they were reflections in a hall of mirrors.

“Craig,” the A.I.’s voice spoke, though slowly, as though he were playing on a cassette player as the battery ran low, “this is a phenomenon referred to as the ripple. It means someone has manipulated Planck energy and arrived in this universe.”

“So we’ve got company?”

“Indeed. It appears that someone from Universe 1 is in pursuit.”

“Ho-ly hell,” Colonel Paine whispered as he regarded the extent of the damage to the front deck of the Titanic . He stood, legs slightly crouched, rifle at the ready along with Lieutenant Drummey and Sergeant Degrechie, who stood identically postured. “Keep your eyes peeled, boys. This ain’t gonna be easy.”

On the bridge, Craig blinked a few times before he was sure that the ripple had passed. He’d never experienced a phenomenon like it. It was like being in a dream that wasn’t his, as though the universe was sleeping . The rest of the men on the bridge were equally discombobulated.

“We’ve been drugged,” Ismay finally said. “That’s how he’s doing it. He’s not flying. This is a shared hallucination, gentlemen.”

Craig grinned. “This guy just doesn’t give up.”

“Craig, the ripple effect does not reach further than a few dozen meters,” the A.I. warned. “Whoever has just entered this universe must be near.”