The Silent Society Templar

The Silent Society Templar

Damon Gyles and Lassandra Wyrwin stood in awe amidst the overpowering wonder of the temple rising from the rocky cascades in front of them. Many legends and rumors about it have been drifting amidst the galaxy for centuries. To finally see it in person was nothing short of remarkable. Four enormous towers, each one representing a spiral arm of the Milky Way, stood solidly above the rocky terrain of the mesa. Inside of their perimeter was a giant dome which was paneled with intricate glistening fractal patterns, representing the infinite complexity of life in the galaxy. Light from across the visible spectrum bounced in an around these patterns, creating a shining mosaic of cosmic beauty. A lone walkway supported by several pillars spanned the immensely deep canyon which surrounded the temple on all sides.

The temple's construction could be deemed impressive in any technological age. The fact that the Silent Society built it using only manual labor, without the aid machines, was all the more impressive. Damon figured that it must have taken several generations of workers to build the four towers alone. He and Lassandra felt extremely alien as they entered a realm of civilization which predated all known technology. They would have to rely solely on their own intuitive cunning and ingenuity during their appeal for freedom before the High Templar Council. They would be thoroughly searched upon entrance, ensuring that no Galactic Federation technology would make its way into the temple.

Damon unhooked his utility belt and placed it among a small rock formation in front of the walkway. Lassandra did the same.

"Don't say too much," Damon said. "They'll be reading our body language and emotions much more closely than our words. Respect their ways and tread carefully."

"Will do," Lassandra replied. "I read about such places growing up, places in the galaxy that have been completely untouched by time. Never once did I think I'd end up in a place like this, vouching for my own freedom."

"If we come in humbled, showing them proper respect, they should let us go. It makes no sense for them to keep us here," said Damon.

"And yet they carry all authority here," said Lassandra. "This world stays untouched for a reason. We could be among the first Federation citizens to walk this path in centuries."

"Which is why we need to be extra careful."

Their utility packs, containing the last bits of Federation technology, were now behind them. The High Templar Council would judge them strictly on character. Damon and Larissa both hoped that no wrong words would be said by the other. One poorly timed phrase could mean sudden death for both of them.

The Hyperspatial Surgeons

This is an account of Hyperspacial Surgery performed through a link between two Multiverses. It can be generally assumed that the two realms are physically and chronologically independent, although they share some parallels in terms of technological advancement.

The Hyperspatial Surgeons (2016)

Dominn adjusted his approach angle four degrees to the left and entered an algorithm value that he estimated would be sufficient. The goal was to temporarily magnify a small cluster of the patient’s brain cells to the size of a few tangible spheres. After running the capture protocol of his surgical multi tool, he entered the data and ran the magnifier.

“Lucky guess…” Angelina smirked.

The targeted neurons burst out from beyond the barrier of the patient’s skull and into one of the gravity bins inside the Surgery Chamber. They began to rotate with precisely the correct angle and momentum that would be required in order to install the core of the Fractal Enhancement Machine.

“How’s the link going, Jimmy?” Dominn addressed his right-hand man.

“Steady. Got a solid one here. We’re still about a half-deviation above sustainable, and we can make it run a bit past that ‘til we hit critical.”

“Good stuff.”

It was Jimmy’s primary task to maintain contact with the patient at all times. One slight miscalculation or mistaken variable, and the link from the Surgery Chamber back into the year 1979 would break down. This would potentially cause an intense cataclysm and endanger both the team of surgeons and the small sleeping boy that they were operating on. The surgeons had several failure control systems running that would minimize the potential damage caused by a broken link. The boy would not be as fortunate if such an event were to take place. He would be vaporized by the instantaneous flash of super heated matter created by link instability. A sizable portion of the city around him would also be destroyed.

Jimmy knew quite well that thousands of innocent people could be wiped out in the name of Hyperspacial Science. It was still a relatively new field of study in the year 3015, and it relied heavily on the intuition and sheer talent level of its purveyors. Jimmy had nerves of steel and it was unlikely for him to fail tonight. Still, as scientists from ancient times discovered, there are no known certainties in any Universe; only probabilities - which could be altered, managed, and bent… but never completely controlled.

“We’ve got a prime lock. Angelina, run it.”

Angelina made a few swipes at her control station and unleashed the core of the Fractal Enhancement Machine. It was a device that existed and functioned in the areas between and around tangible physical space. It pulsated and bent in and out of existence within the rhythm and framework of tiny wormholes through space time that were present in any given setting.

“It’s a go. Power it down.”

Every fraction-of-a-fraction of a second was extremely critical. The link had to be powered down as soon as reasonably possible.

“Got it.”

Jimmy started running the shut down protocols. Safe link closure was nearly guaranteed once the final few critical breach points were stabilized. The tense air in the room began to soften; the surgery team declared this operation as success.

“What do you think he’s gonna do with this?” Angelina reflected, some time later.

“Looks promising,” Dominn mused. “We ran a self-awareness pattern. The kid’s already got a bright future, but if he becomes even vaguely aware of this particular pattern… look out. He may become one of the first clearly defined examples of exponential mental growth in humans. Unparalleled and consistent learning ability in any given field… art, science, music, mathematics, literature... He’s going to be producing Savant level work while simultaneously learning and building onto his existing core of knowledge. There is no limit.”

“What comes after Savant, Dominn?”

“I have no idea.”

Matthau, Journeyman of the Cosmos

Matthau, Journeyman of the Cosmos (2015)

     I have never been a man of talent. Throughout my youth my greatest efforts in education yielded results that fell just short of average. I would attempt to forcefully scurry up the IQ bell curve; screaming and convulsing, praying to any and all deities, beings, demons, and ghosts. I read incessantly, always trying to force my brain to retain something, anything. As my frustrations became unbearable I required physical release, so I would close my hand into a fist and smash it against my own head multiple times in a row. There was no pattern to these concussive assaults, some would end after a few quick thuds, and others went on indefinitely until I lost consciousness. Each time I woke up reality remained the same disappointing prison. All prayers remained unanswered. All of my effort was in vain. 

     Mathematics absolutely confounded me, and logic caused me pain. Literature made me feel insecure and tense; science left me deaf, dumb, and blind. I always had a general awareness of the wonders of the world and the supremely talented beings that contributed to it, but I never saw myself as more than a numb observer, an idle parasite on the sidelines wallowing in its own filthy shattered dreams of mediocrity.

     I forgot about high school three weeks after I was told that I graduated. Societal demands for a job began to weigh on me and so I began my first search for employment. Daily job applications numbered in the dozens. Over the next eight months I managed to obtain four interview opportunities. All four ended with tears, a violent scream, and a direct sprint out of the facility and back to my dwelling.

     The years rolled hopelessly by me. I was able to secure marginal employment in society’s trenches but it did nothing to fulfill my mental curiosity or boost my feeling of self-worth. On a dark winter morning I then stumbled upon a true epiphany. It went something like this:

     I was suffering from a bout of insomnia when suddenly my brain seemed to vibrate strangely and my right arm began to experience a warm tingling sensation. For no reason at all I opened the word processor on my computer and began to wildly pound the keyboard. After what felt like many hours of mashing keys I gave a quick glance at the text. It appeared to be a jumbled mass of words, random punctuation, and scattered symbols made from alt-codes. Without giving it any more thought I saved the file and moments later emailed it to the administrative offices of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. I then gave in to fatigue and passed out on top of my keyboard, oblivious to the moderate shock this caused to my skull.

    Several weeks later I woke up to the obnoxious ringing of my mobile phone.

    “May I speak to Matthau […inaudible…] please?”
   
    “Yes, I am speaking,” I whimpered nervously, still wiping the drool from my chin.

   
    “Please report to the Rogers Building of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. I’ve no time to elaborate now, but we believe your equation may have discovered the voice of God."

     I arrived in an important looking office about forty-five seconds later, feeling quite unsure of what my method of transportation was or how I ended up in a perfectly tailored suit.

     “Matthau, please sit down. We are now required to give full disclosure on the true nature of your existence. You are a successful test subject of a psychological experiment here at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Contrary to how you may feel or what you may believe, your entire experience in this universe and all memory of it has been a fabrication.”

      
     Shock began to build inside of my chest. It slowly radiated into my extremities as I attempted to maintain calm. The phantom voice continued on.

     “We regret to inform you that due to the nature of the mind alteration technology, the disclosure of its existence to you will lead to its immediate termination. We are very proud of you and we will treat your end-life process with dignity and respect.”

     There was more that was said but I was unable to comprehend it. Suddenly intense vertigo assaulted my senses. My visual field collapsed into fluorescent static. Sharp violent bursts of pain shot through my head and I began to taste blood. I collapsed to the floor, and then began to tremble and weep. Through my blurry tears I saw the most peculiar sight; an alien world was suddenly superimposed onto my field of vision everywhere I looked. It seemed real, yet strangely out of reach. A large clear, yet slightly off-color wall surrounded everything. I began to feel small… very small… unnaturally small… and very, very trapped.

     “You are a rat.”

     The speaker’s final phrase drifted into oblivion, and I with it.