Deep Structure: Part 1
Deep Structure
Chapter 1: White Stallion
Too much rum, too much bourbon, far too much tequila. That's what was going through Mike's system. He just had to hit the local bar one last time before he gets arrested. It's not the best bar in town; their bathroom certainly isn't the cleanest, but cleanliness doesn't really matter when you're praying to the porcelain goddess.
Mike probably should have just walked out into the desert and killed himself. Never had he screwed up this bad. Sure he had done some dumb things in the army and the foreign legion, but no one ever got hurt. Or at least, not to this extent.
He was just tired of it all. Set up here in the desert. It's just not the same.
"I'll never go to the desert again," he burbled into the toilet.
He felt some stern hands seize his ankles. He tried to hold on to the bathroom stall, but it just didn't work out. He didn't care anymore. That's why he had become a security contractor goon in the first place.
Mike had his face ground into the tile like he was the victim of a high school bully while those stern hands read him his rights and put some zip-ties onto his wrists. He didn't even really process what his rights meant. They probably were the same here as they were there. He had immense fun interjecting his own responses to each nation defining statement.
You have the right to remain silent, "fuck you" anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law, "fuck you it was an accident" you have the right to an attorney, "well, he's screwed," if you cannot afford one, one will be appointed for you, "good, because I'm broke," do you understand your rights... I said, do you understand your rights "yes, please don't read that crap again, your like a fucking book on tape."
After being tossed into the back of a police cruiser Mike started to feel himself fade away a bit.
Mike's final thought before he fell asleep was, "Hey... look at that. They have little holes in the bottom for my puke to run out of onto the street. That's... that's just great."
The rest of the night was just a blur for Mike. He was too drunk and too much in shock to really start to mull over what had happened to him. The first memory he had was being on the phone in his cell the next morning.
"Hello?" he asked with a pounding headache.
"Mike Kabos?" asked a female voice.
"Yeah?"
"I'm a representative with Triple Protection, your employer. It's my job to inform you that you will not have access to a Triple Protection lawyer due to the nature of the incident in which you took criminal action."
The lady on the phone sounded as if she was reading lines from a sticky note on her cubical. It all seemed so scripted. It really must be her job to call jail cells in Iraq and break bad news all day for minimum wage.
"Can you tell me anything else? How many of them did I get?"
"I can't really discuss that with you. I can only tell you what's in the newspapers. You got three of the assassins Mike. They didn't get to the CEO of the oil company. But, ten civilians experienced a murder/death/kill. That's not within the acceptable loss chart. A three to ten loss is two kills out outside the acceptable limit. I'm sorry, but you do not have Triple Protection support in the courtroom. Good day."
"Yeah, goodbye."
Mike hung up the phone that had been pushed though his bars and flopped back onto his bunk bed. He was only two kills over.
"Only two people," he thought, "How many rounds does an AK-47 fire in half a second? Is it enough to kill two people? Was I only over by half a second? Is that all it takes to kill people these days, holding down a trigger for half a second? Why do they arm us with machine guns and not expect us to just spray down the whole street when things go wrong?"
His thoughts plagued him with would haves, and should haves, and could haves, for the morning and partway through the afternoon. Every time he would come back to the image of the shooting. So many damn bullets and all of those people in the way, he should have just shot himself right after he counted. Three people with guns, ten without. That's just two too many. And then there was that kid, what a loss. It wasn't until a stocky and sweaty man with glasses was let into his cell that he snapped out of his trance.
"Mike Kabos?" he asked with a surprisingly refreshing voice which lacked an accent.
"Yeah?" responded Mike.
"I'm your attorney Parker Walkley. Do you mind if I discuss your situation with you a bit, something really interesting has come up."
"It's not like I've got something to do Mr. Walkley, and I don't remember getting an attorney," was Mikes gravely answer.
"Well, since you technically killed ten civilians while defending my boss, he has let you borrow me for the time being because he knows that you acted outside of the acceptable loss chart. You know one to two, two to four, three to eight, and so on."
"Yeah, I know the chart."
"Well, he wants this to all end as cheaply and quietly as possible for you, and for him. Security contractors have lost their little minds in the past, so this shouldn't be that big of a deal. However, the best I can get you is life in prison. You are being held under two counts of murder which carries the same penalty here as it does in America. Our justice system was just one of the things we exported to The Protectorate Colony of Iraq. It's like a state now, like Puerto Rico."
"C'mon, I've been living here since it became officially occupied in 2028. I know the deal; I'm going to get a death sentence," said Mike.
His inevitable doom had been on his mind for the whole day. How could he not think about it?
"Well now, it didn't used to be like that, but there you go. I might be able to talk them out of it and into life in prison, but there is another opportunity for you. Have you ever heard of The Montana Institute for Preservative Research?"
"Yeah, it was a big front page story. They were working on... um... suspended animation or something. They froze a monkey and a pig before I left the states five years ago."
"Well, they don't technically freeze them, but... it worked."
"So wait, you're telling me that they froze some animals for five years and then thawed them out and zapped them awake?" asked Mike incredulously.
"Yeah, the pig is just fine. They sold him to a Florida businessman after they observed it. I don't know what happened to the monkey. It's not in the papers yet, but they have State Department funding now."
"How do you know all of this? Why isn't this in the papers?" asked Mike.
"My boss, the CEO you protected, has a significant holding in their stock for Grift. That's what they call their new light weight foam, Grift. I don't know why. Anyway, you can seal just about anything up in Grift and it will be preserved indefinitely. I don't know the science of it, but it's just amazing. Anyway, they told him, to tell me, to tell you, that they want to have an investment in you."
"Oh, an investment in me?" asked Mike, "Are they going to freeze me?"
"Probably, I don't know how long though," admitted Parker.
"What are my options with them, or I mean, with you?"
"If you agree to their offer, you're sprung; out of prison for good and cleared of all charges, but that's only if you agree to the experiment. If not, I work with you and hopefully get you set to stay in a prison that's no where near as nice as this one for the rest of your life."
Parker Walkley was holding his hands out palms up and playing with them like they were a mock scale as a single bead of sweat fell onto his pants. He kept tipping his scale back and forth making different offers.
"C'mon Mike, life in prison, or a life of science? What would it be like to be the first man to put down in Grift for a few years?"
"Put me down," thought Mike, "he makes me sound like I'm a dog. But, that's just what they are going to do with me, put me down. I am going to die or I'm going to agree to some kind of crazy-ass experiment where I might die. I've been living like a dead man anyway, no relatives, no girlfriend, no pets, nothing. Hell, I don't even own a house plant. What is there to lose?"
"Parker, you have a deal. Get my ass out of prison right now. The desert is too hot for me; I want to be frozen," he said.
"Well, they don't freeze you, but yeah, we can go right now; there's a car waiting and everything. I'm glad you have such a definite answer."
"Well yeah, they'll probably freeze me for five years. Then I'll walk out and start all over again. I'll get all kinds of interviews and I'll have enough money to retire for life I bet. Oh, hey, can I put all of my cash and savings into a mutual fund or something while I'm in there?"
"Sure thing, in fact, my boss is willing to sell you some bonds which will triple in value in the next five years. It's a sure thing and they're all sold out, but he'll make you a special offer," said the attorney. It seemed as though some of the perspiration soaking through his shirt wasn't from the weather.
"Thanks Parker," said Mike as he stood up from his bunk, "I was expecting that you would be a putz, but I'd hire you."
"Mike," said Parker as he showed him out of the Iraqi prison, "You can't afford me."
Back in the states again, it felt so good to Mike. He looked out the window of the airplane. It was raining and he watched the drops as they slowly wandered down the glass. He so missed that East Coast rain. He wanted to run out onto the tarmac like a crazy man and let the shower soak him like he used to when he was a boy.
Mike ignored the handcuff on his wrist and let the vivid memory hit him as he closed his eyes. He was twelve again. He rain out into the rain in a bathing suit. He had the crazy idea of taking a shower in the rain. His mom wouldn't have it on the lawn; she was convinced that the chemicals in the soap would ruin the grass. Mike eventually had to have his shower in the gravel driveway.
The small stones hurt his feet, but Mike didn't care. There was no lighting in the storm and he wanted to play. He rubbed the soap over his skinny arms. God... was he really that thin? His parents just couldn't afford what it took to feed all three of them sometimes. What year was that? 2011? It was still during the recession. Good thing there is the concept of reduced school lunches.
He ran back in to his mom who was waiting for him with some towels. She laughed at her silly boy and dried him off. She had been recording the whole thing. After a quick hug, Mike looked down to his feet to see how clean they were.
There was car exhaust blowing in his face and making his eyes tear up as he looked down at the boy on the street. How old was he? He must have only been twelve. Goddamn rifle rounds go right through people. Mike didn't even know the boy was there when he shot at the gunman. The rounds went right through the man and hit the kid behind him.
He bent down to the paling boy and said, "C'mon kid, I'm already at eight. You can't die! You're going to the hospital right now even if I have to fucking pay for it!"
"It's like a bad comedy sketch," thought Mike, "I tried so hard to save him, but I was doomed from the start because I was already one over, I just didn't know it."
Mike picked the scrawny kid off the street and carried him to the hospital just a few blocks away. He was getting blood all over his hands and uniform. He could feel the boy getting colder in his arms. There just wasn't enough time; it all comes down to time.
When he got to the hospital, they tried hard to revive the kid, but there was no chance. He was shot in the lungs and kidneys and Mike knew it. There just wasn't anything to be done.
He rushed out of the hospital and let his bloody AK-47 fall to the street. Screw it. If it rusts up, they can just buy a new one. He had to escape; he was over the limit now. But, he had no where to go. The bar provided just the kind of escape he was looking for.
"Mike, well be in Montana in about seven hours. Non-stop! What do you think of that?" asked Parker.
Mike opened his eyes and turned to his newfound attorney. He pretty much owned Mike. He didn't like that.
"That's awesome Parker. I just love this set up by the way," he said as he jangled his handcuff.
"That's only the cheapest insurance I've ever bought. You weren't going to be doing anything anyway, remember?" reminded Parker.
"Yeah, I remember what I told you. Just get me there so I can get out of this in a hurry."
It was a three hour drive from the airport. The institute had sent out a car to take Mike and Parker, the attorney, to a big, white building in a small Montana town. Mike couldn't even tell what the name of the town was. There were hardly any street signs in the whole place. It was just open. There was the town, there were mountains in the distance, and that was it. Montana. That's all folks.
It's the kind of place that might have a library. In the whole town, a total of twenty people or less lived there. It was hard to tell because all of the buildings were either old houses or trailers; they could be anything.
He eventually was led into the barely marked Montana Institute for Preservative Research. It was nothing more than a big white industrial building that had been converted into a lab. It was the only official looking building in the whole town. Mike was getting a little nervous as to what he had agreed to. It just didn't look legitimate. However, the scientists that were there were thrilled to see him.
"Is this our man? Oh it sure is a pleasure to meet you!" said an excitable man in a lab coat.
"Thanks, I know," said Mike, "This place doesn't look like what I was expecting."
"Don't worry about that right now, all the cool stuff is already at the site," said a voice behind the group.
Mike turned to see a young lady who must have graduated college only a few years ago. It didn't take Mike long to decide that she had a look that most men would classify as "hot librarian".
Parker cleared his throat and said, "Mr. Kabos this is Emily, she is a medical technician so she'll be measuring your life support when you go under."
"Nice to meet you Emily," said Mike, "If I may ask, what is the "cool stuff?"
"That would be the machine we have set up for you," said the man in the lab coat.
Parker stepped in front of Mike and said, "I forgot to introduce you! My fault! Mike this is Dr. Lloyd. He invented Grift and the whole process."
"Alright, Dr. Lloyd, I want you to tell me exactly what is going to happen to me," demanded Mike.
"Well, are you sure? This is sort of a longish explanation," said Dr. Lloyd.
Mike nodded and said, "I want the long explanation."
Dr. Lloyd shrugged and said, "Well, you asked for it. I'll try to simplify it a bit for you. Uh... well... I invented Grift. It's super-lightweight foam; hardly has any mass at all. Once introduced into a container, it will permanently preserve what ever is inside. It has to be lightweight; otherwise it may slowly crush or change the shape of whatever is being preserved. That's pretty much all that I did. I invented the preservative. Some colleges of mine came up with the concept of keeping living things preserved about seven years ago. We have been working on the entire process ever since then."
"I've got it so far. What's are the steps involved and how long will I be preserved?" asked Mike.
"Well, first we feed you some drugs to slow the decay of your cells down to a crawl, then Emily here will hook you up to a machine and render you unconscious. The machine will handle most of your life functions and will be powered by nuclear decay. It will step you down over the course of three days to the point where your heart will beat only forty times a year. That means that you'll only age around half a minute every year."
Mike had to pause a minute. He then realized that two years would feel like that same minute to him. But, there was something else he wanted to know.
"How long will I be preserved doctor?"
"How long do you want to be preserved?" he asked in return, "We already have proof that the process works on people. In all honesty, we are sealing you up as a human time capsule for a publicity stunt."
"Who already did it?" asked Mike.
"Well... me," said Dr. Lloyd sheepishly, "It's how I funded this and built The Castle."
Emily spoke up and added, "The Castle is what we named the area where we moved the equipment that we'll be using for you. It's really something; we've got everything you need in there. By the way, Dr. Lloyd was revived last week. He wanted to be put under for a month and I monitored him while the equipment was still here."
"And it worked perfectly, didn't it Emily?" asked Parker.
"Well, it's really high grade machinery. It's all truly impressive. What the engineers did was essentially build a bunch of machines to function as organs and they designed them to last forever and be literally fail-proof. When the timer hits its mark, the machines slowly revive you. There was a theory about suspended animation being achieved by freezing people in order to mimic hypothermia and keep their cells preserved like a wooly mammoth in a glacier or a microwave burrito in a freezer. Think of the kids who fall through the ice on a lake and get revived twenty minutes later. This is like a warm, and very controlled version of hypothermia, if that makes any sense. Only, we're preserving a live human, not something that's already dead, so the machines are very specialized. There are even a few to prevent atrophy in muscles and the brain," said Emily.
Mike was so busy focusing on Emily, that he actually learned something.
"Yes we had those built after the animal experiments. They came out weak and dumb, so there are now some things to keep the subject sharp and strong. I actually think that I might have gained a little muscle from the one, maybe it works a little too well," joked Dr. Lloyd.
"And all of this is powered by some kind of nuclear reactor?" asked Mike as his attention snapped back to Dr. Lloyd.
"Not a reactor," corrected Dr. Lloyd, "Keep in mind here Mike, everything will be moving very slowly inside The Castle. It will all be like a slowly ticking clock and you will be in what is kind of like a computer's "standby" mode. There just won't be much to power, so it is simply run through nuclear decay."
"And how long will the clock be ticking doctor? That's what I want to know."
"You have to be in The Castle for at least two consecutive life sentences, so about sixty years, but you may choose as long as you wish. That's all part of the agreement that we have with the U.S. government. The half life of the isotope that the U.S. government has so kindly provided us is one hundred thousand years. You really can select whatever you want. It is up to you," informed Dr. Lloyd.
"You see, that's the part that I didn't know about. This is ridiculous," said Mike. His statement broke the calm of the moment. He continued and just let out what was on his mind.
"You're just throwing money away! This company or whatever might not even be here sixty years from now. Hell, you won't be here sixty years from now! You'll be dead by the time I get out of there! You'll all be dead! Anyone who had any involvement in anything happening today will be dead by then! What's the point behind all of this?"
"It's all for the sake of image Michael," said Parker, "If Dr. Lloyd can get someone to agree to be preserved in Grift, the market will be blown wide open. Plus, it's not like we're going to forget about you in there."
"That's right," said Emily, "When we seal The Castle, it will be impossible to open from the outside. It's like a little bomb shelter. Think NORAD, only the size of a trailer. However, we'll still be able to measure your heart rate and assorted things by using a wireless connection. It's only going to last for a few decades though..."
"C'mon Mike," whined Parker, "The economy of the world will double. Like I said, I have stock in Grift, my boss has stock in Grift, you will have stock in Grift, and the United States government has stock in Grift. It's all for the better. By agreeing to be locked up in Dr. Lloyd's meat fridge you will save the world's economy and make us all millionaires," Parker turned to Dr. Lloyd and added, "No offense doctor, but that thing is scary as hell"
The whole idea still bothered Mike, it itched at his brain like nothing else. They were killing him, without killing him. He was going to wake up and the whole world will be changed and everyone he ever met will be dead. It certainly would be preferable to life in a dingy prison, but it just didn't feel right. No matter what span of time that he decided on, he was still going to wake up in a changed world that he can't function in. It's like prison, only in fast forward. Mike decided that if he was going to do it, he may as well make an impression.
While Dr. Lloyd was in the process of saying, "None taken," Mike interrupted him.
"I want you to seal me up for 33,000 years."
Dr. Lloyd's glasses fell down his nose a bit when he leaned his head forward and asked, "Pardon?"
Mike reiterated, "I want to be sealed up for 33,000 years."
Parker the attorney actually managed to sound concerned when he asked, "Care to explain your reasoning behind that?"
"I've been thinking about what you've all been saying," started Mike, "No matter what, the world will be changed when I wake up. It won't be what I'm used to and nearly everything that I remember will be gone. If I'm going to do this, I want to do it big. 33,000 years ago, we were still cavemen more or less. From then up until now, so much has changed. I want to see how it will change. I want to see what people are like in the future and this is my chance. I've always wanted to do something big with my life. Well guess what? I'm going to be the first man to time travel. I'm going to sleep through entire revolutions and entire ages in history. So there... how about that for an answer?"
"Actually..." started Dr. Lloyd, "that's pretty much the coolest damn thing I've ever heard. I'm... actually a little envious of you Mr. Kabos. Not that I'd do it for that long mind you... but I think that it's cooler than going to the moon. We'll have to change a few things for you, but, we can make that happen in the time we have. I can tell you that after a whole month, I felt no ill effects. After 33,000 years... well... that may be something else."
"I fine with that," Mike admitted, "I accept the risk. I was going to be either killed or committed to a life of drudgery in prison. I want to be filed away for a while so that I can start over again."
A few weeks later, it was the big day. The last time Mike had this many people focused on him, he was hosing out a brothel with an Uzi.
There were cameras, and reporters, trucks... The mere fact that there were so many reporters converging on the lonely Montana town was a news story of its own. It was a two-for-one deal for the news networks. Report on the human time capsule, report on the other reporters sleeping in their vans, mash both stories into half and hour, cut.
No one was allowed into The Castle, and few people even knew where it was. It was built into the side of a mountain, which was impossible to separate from any other mountain. It was like a man made cave. There was a long foyer that led into the heart of the mountain. There was concern about Mike being trapped inside due to an avalanche or rock slide, so there was a kind of levee made to protect the entrance.
Inside were the machines that Emily and Dr. Lloyd described. They were all old looking. Some of them were even mechanical. Supposedly this made them more reliable, but Mike was still a little nervous about handing over the control of his heart over to a box full of vacuum tubes.
Mike was hit by the funny thought that he would be spending the next 33,000 years in a tube. The machine that he would be sleeping in lies horizontally, like a bed, and it will be flooded with Grift before Emily and the other medical personnel leave. There were all sorts of connections which Mike was thankful he would be unconscious for when he gets "connected".
As for information to take to the future, Mike had twelve stone tablets. It was uncertain of whether or not people would be able to use DVDs or computer's 33,000 years in the future, so the "highlights" of human history and invention were all carefully written onto twelve granite tablets with lasers. That way, they could be read with something as simple as a magnifying glass.
They also prepared Mike for the worst. It is entirely possible that the future would be less like "Star Trek", and more like "The Planet of the Apes". So, the powers that be preserved a Kris Super V, .45 caliber submachine gun in Grift along with a 9mm Glock as well as copious amounts of ammo for each. Mike could never afford a Kris, so he wasn't sure how well they work, but he could appreciate the fact that they gave him the Glock.
The competition over who got to put what inside was fierce. Of course, it always went to the highest bidder. It was all packed in Grift, and most of it was completely useless to Mike. Mike couldn't believe the amount of crap that was in there for him. He might have fun digging through all of it when, if, he wakes up.
Along with the food, he had essentially the biggest water bottle ever made. One whole section of The Castle consisted of a miniature water tower, full of purified water. The idea being that when Mike wakes up, he could wash the Grift off of his body. After that, he could safely drink it or use it to cook.
With all of the things packaged in Grift that were packed into The Castle, Mike could open a soup kitchen, start a mining operation, fight a small war, and educate an entire town, all while enjoying a clean shave and that fresh, pine needle scent. For the first time, he was set for the future. In fact, he was more than set for the future. He just needed to work up the guts to face it.
He had been learning all about what was in The Castle for him and what to do when he wakes up. They made it simple for him. He just had to remember a little string of words. All he had to remember was, "pull the plugs, take a shower, drink the water, eat a snack" which translates to, "remove anything sticking in your body when you wake up, wash off the Grift, chug some water before you dehydrate, and eat the preserved food."
It was actually easier to get ready to go than he expected. Emily force fed him some horse pills, gave him a shot, and said "good-bye" before he passed out.
Chapter 2: Csodaszarvas
The brain is like a muscle. It needs rest, just like a muscle. In the middle of one of Mike's much needed rest phases from the "mental sharpness machine", he woke up. It was just after an episode of "Bill Nye the Science Guy" and right before a game of Scrabble against the computer. As for how it went... not well.
Pain hit him from every orifice on his body. His ears hurt, his mouth hurt, there were some tubes up his nose, and there several that went places one would not mention in polite conversation.
Mike opened his eyes and finally saw what Grift looked like for the first time. At the moment, he wasn't really interested in how much the preservative foam looks like gray colored soap bubbles, he was mostly focused on all of the tubes going into his body and how much they hurt.
He was running out of breath. There was a tube down his throat that his lungs were feebly sucking on. Before he did anything else, Mike pulled the breathing tube out of his throat and threw open the door that was holding the Grift all in one place. The Grift stayed in place like some kind of foamy Jell-O mold.
He extracted himself from the frothy mess and he could feel all of the other attachments which he neglected to remove pop out of his body as he stood up for the first time in centuries. He made sure to remove the catheter with care however. It was very much like a bad alien abduction.
Remembering the mantra, Mike stumbled to the sponsored water tower as if he was Frankenstein's monster. He was like a drunken Frankenstein. It was the kind of drunk that only the Inuit Indians of Alaska can achieve during the dark winter months. Only instead of wanting to knock out a state trooper's teeth like Chiclets, he just wanted to take a shower.
Mike pulled down the handle on the tower and let the gravity powered steam of water soak him. He flopped onto his back and let the falling droplets transfix him. Being cold on the floor reminded him of getting arrested. In his stupor, Mike was convinced that he could see a twelve year old, poor kid with a funny name showering in the rain. He could only see the kid's bathing suit and his back. The water caused the child to change. It was as though it was raining acid, only instead of burning him, it changed him. It was no longer him in the rain. A hail of gunfire hit the boy.
The bullets tumbled and tore through his body. The lonely man with lines on his face who had fired the gun tried to knock the boy over, but the water had quickly healed the boy's wounds. The metaphorical rainfall was suddenly interrupted by a naked Emily blowing him a kiss across a table over a stack of books. Though she was nude, she still oddly seemed to be dressed like a librarian, a saucy one at that... must be the glasses. She mouthed the words, "drink the water," before the image left.
Mike opened his mouth and obeyed the nude phantom's instructions. He gulped down about as much of the tin flavored water as he could. He was astounded by how wonderful it was to drink it. He imagined it washing out the viscous blood lining his veins.
But, the water was not nearly enough. He needed to eat worse than ever. For the past 33,000 years, he had been slowly force fed a mixture of honey and who knows what else. Mike was so hungry he could eat at a Long John Silver's.
After he drank about as much as he could, Mike stumbled around looking for some food. All of the containers he opened were perfectly preserved. Even though he was struggling to think clearly, Mike managed to avoid the saltiest foods.
A container of dates and an apple was just enough to revive him. With his head back on his shoulders and his strange daydreams gone, Mike sat down and for the first time, he was amazed that the whole process worked. He was alive, and he was in the future.
The concept hit him all at once.
Mike thought, "Are humans even alive? If they are, would I just be a caveman compared to them? Am I going to walk into a world full of tall people with computers in their heads? That seemed to be where things were going when I went in. I'm like a dodo to them."
Mike sighed and decided that he should get dressed in whatever clothes had been provided for him. There was a kind of jumpsuit for him that was in a thin case full of argon gas, just like The Constitution, if it's even still around...
After getting dressed in the stiff clothes, Mike had the thought that perhaps there would be people waiting on him to come out. Like some kind of futuristic paparazzi mob. All of them ready to get his autograph or sign him up for endorsements.
"If that's the case," thought Mike, "then I should at least try to make some kind of impression."
After making sure that his mustache and beard weren't too long, Mike straightened out his clothes and prepared to heave the door open. He was nervous. Not gunfight nervous, stage fright nervous.
He didn't get to see much of the inside of The Castle. And he still couldn't see much of it. Only half of the lights on the ceiling worked, and not much power was being supplied to the rest. Luckily, he was prepared to step out into the still dark foyer of The Castle, not the bright sunshine.
After removing the locks, the perfectly balanced door slid open with an impressively easy swing.
All Mike could see was sunshine at the end of the tunnel. It was very much like a near death experience. There was evidence of some kind of animal having made its home in the tunnel in the past, but that was all. No paparazzi and no bionic basketball players. It was nothing more than a disappointing, man made cave.
The first words Mike said out loud it 33,000 years were, "That was anticlimactic..."
He was at a loss for things to do. Obviously, they did not mark the date on their calendars. Mike slowly walked back into The Castle. Apparently, it was a "Planet of the Apes" kind of future.
He stopped when he saw a granite tablet left on the floor. Mike couldn't read it, so he took it inside to get a better look.
He had to squint a little to see it, but it was a short timeline someone had made for him. Mike took some time to read through it looking for a clue as to why he was so lonely.
2083 - World War III
2115 - World War IV
2119 - World Government Established
2123 - Cold Fusion Power Plants Made Standard
2197 - Electron Computer Connected to Human Brain
2309-2370 Internal Electron Computers Made Standard
2475 - Metric Made Standard
2537 - Harsonik Rebellion
"As far as I know, the Harsonik Rebellion was the end all, and that was only around 500 years after I was preserved," thought Mike, "So that's all I've got as far as world history. The last 32,500 years are a blank. That or they just forgot about me and didn't think to make a new timeline."
He left the tablet next to the others inside. It seemed like a fitting place to leave it. Mike unpacked a pair of binoculars and the Glock which he holstered before heading off to take a look at the world for the first time in centuries. The closer he got to the mouth of the foyer, the more blinding the sun became. Mike was squinting as hard as he could once he reached the front of the foyer and looked through his binoculars for the first time.
The little Montana town was long gone; not a single trace remained of its existence. There was nothing but tall grass and a barely visible herd of bison grazing in the distance. Mike snickered a little at the sight of the bison herd.
"It looks like the wild west," he thought.
He was a little disappointed. There were no excited, jet pack wearing, people from the future to greet him, nor where there monkey men to fight. There was nothing for him. As far as he knew, nothing existed in the world but lonely oceans of grass and a horrendously blinding sun.
Another scan of the horizon revealed a small and lonely looking village. The sight of any kind of civilization made Mike's heart skip a beat. At least it left him with something to do.
After digging up a hiking backpack and filling it with enough food and water to make it to the little village and back, Mike was prepared to set out. Someone had thought ahead and supplied him with a pair of sunglasses to protect his eyes and some heavy sunblock for his skin. It would take him a week or so to get accustomed to the sun again.
As soon as he stepped outside, Mike was overwhelmed with a sense of everlasting freedom. He had freed himself; he had come out of the cave to see how the world really is. Mike was in a state of nature, and he was his own man. Though it was incredibly tempting to break out into a run, Mike paced himself on his way to the little village in the distance.
The little hike was pleasant. There were no snakes along the way or flies buzzing in his face. There were just the bison in the distance and a few birds in the sky. It was still morning, and some dew still hung in the grass which damped Mike's legs a bit. In less than an hour, Mike was close enough to the village to get a really close look at it through the binoculars.
He was a little apprehensive before he held them up to his eyes. There was no movement at all. Every thing was still except for a few pieces of the ruined buildings flapping in the wind.
The village looked like what Mike had always pictured an Indian settlement to look like, but it had its own little differences that made it unlike anything he had seen before. There was a cluster of teepee-looking buildings which had a solid and more prominent looking building in the center. The large building seemed to be made out of some kind of mud brick and it featured a wooden watchtower that stuck out of the roof.
However, it was impossible to tell what the inhabitants of such a village looked like because there weren't any. The village was completely lifeless; there weren't even any stray dogs roaming the dusty streets.
Once Mike arrived in the village, he could see why there was no one living there. They had been wiped out. All of the teepees had been busted into and wrecked. Even the furniture wasn't spared. Such a sight made Mike nervous and caused him to pull out his handgun.
The main building interested him the most. It seemed to be where the villagers had made their last stand. Mike could see a few primitive looking clubs on the packed dirt floor. They where made out of bone, undoubtedly from the bison, and a well polished rock bound to the top with dried sinew. Oddly enough, the only knives that littered the floor seemed to be strictly for cooking or just general cutting, none of them were big enough to use as weapons.
Aside from the clubs that littered the floor, there were the remnants of benches and chairs. However, all of them had been crushed. The only other debris that could be recognizable as a piece of furniture was a wooden podium at the end of the meeting hall. It seemed like the building was indeed used as a central gathering place for the village.
What disturbed Mike the most was the fact that there were no bodies. There was a pile of bones in the corner of the building, but they had been pulverized to the point where they were unrecognizable as anything. It was as if all of the villagers had been massacred, and then carefully carted off.
Mike was incredibly worried about what could do such a thing. A few tracks where spared from the wind inside the building, so he could at least try and make some kind of sense out of what had occurred.
There were some footprints that weren't human. They had five toes and where the same size, but humans do not have claws. Also, the patterns on the bottom of the feet were not the same as a human foot, but they were still eerily similar. There were a few variations, some with claws and some without, but they were all the same general shape.
The other tracks where obviously not even close to being human. They were made by some kind of three-toed creature that must have some kind of spines that stick into the ground to give it traction. They also did not have any kind of recognizable heel.
Mike was thoroughly disturbed by the second kind of prints that he found. Nothing anywhere in the world, at least the world he knew, even came close to those prints. Although he's no biologist, Mike did know that 33,000 years was not nearly enough time for an entirely new species to evolve. The tracks almost seemed alien in that regard.
With nothing else to do, Mike decided that it was time to climb the ladder that led up to the watchtower. There was a little hatch in the roof of the building that led to it.
Mike found the ladder to be a little rickety. He was thankful that he hadn't inherited the gut that his father sported; as such a ladder would not support him if he was even twenty pounds heavier.
Once in the watchtower, Mike got a look at the warning system they had set up. It was a metal hubcap, surprisingly, and it was probably the only piece of metal in the whole town. It had been flattened into a kind of small gong that would be sounded with a rock.
From the watchtower, he could also see that the villagers had cleared out some land to plant crops. There were still a few dry stalks of corn clinging to the dusty plots. The light wind caused them to quietly rattle while the grass slowly undulated in time to the gusts.
Far off in the distance, Mike could see another town. It was about three-times the distance from The Castle to the ruined village. It could only just barely be seen on the horizon. That would be his next stop for sure.
An hour or so later, Mike couldn't tell as he had no concept of time, he was back in The Castle and digging through all of the preserved nonsense deciding what to bring. The entire time, he was praying that the little village in the distance wouldn't be wiped out like the last one.
Since he now knew that there was still some kind of struggle still going on in the world, Mike unpacked all of the ammo for both of his weapons and filled the bottom of his backpack with it. Then he filled the rest with a week's worth of food and water.
There were also some mining charges that had been packed away. Mike packed all of them. He wasn't thinking about digging for diamonds or gold, he was thinking about using them as booby traps. There were all small, but probably very powerful, and they all could be easily armed, stuck to a wall, and then safely blown up from far away with the simple detonator that had been packed with them.
Though he was tempted to take them, the stone tablets weighed far too much to be practical. If there were people in the village who where interested in reading them, they could walk back and get them within a day.
With everything in hand, Mike was ready to head out for a second time. The hike from The Castle, to the ruined village, and then to the new one in the distance, would take him until the late afternoon. So after eating some more preserved fruit, brushing his teeth, and drinking from the water tower, Mike set out again.
The sun was close to setting by the time Mike was close enough to the village to use his binoculars and see details. He hunkered down in the grass to avoid being spotted, as he was sure that the inhabitants would be very well aware of their surroundings.
The village was set up just like the last one. It had the teepee-like buildings surrounding a central meeting hall made out of adobe. The only difference was that the watchtower was separate, and far taller, than the last.
From the distance that Mike was at, he could tell that the village was populated. He was overjoyed when he saw the first sign of movement. He was too far away to get a real good look at the busy villagers, but the one in the watchtower provided a stationary one to look at.
The watchman seemed to be covered from head to toe in animal pelts since there was no sign of his skin on him anywhere. He seemed to be holding one of the clubs that Mike had seen earlier to hit his gong with. Unlike the ruined village, this watchtower's gong was well polished.
Mike was excited that there was civilization. Though they probably wouldn't speak English, or a form of English he could understand well, the village could be his home away from home. Eventually the villagers could accept him, and learn to live with him. Mike wanted to make a good first impression, so he put the submachine gun, the Kris, in his backpack. But, not wanting to walk out there naked, Mike slid the holstered Glock to the small of his back, so it would be out of sight.
Mike's heart was pounding. He was so nervous, but he was certain that he would be safe. It was like the time he had to introduce a play when he was still in elementary school. Though he was shaking, he was sure that everything would turn out just fine.
Mike's recollection of elementary school was shattered by someone yelling, "GUTA!!" and hammering on a flattened hubcap.
Villagers rushed at him with alarming intensity. They were all armed with the bone clubs and they sprinted directly at him with frightening speed. They were faster than anyone Mike had ever seen. Within a few moments, he got his first look at the villagers.
They were snarling at him.
Not a human snarl. It was an animal kind of snarl. The sound made Mike's heart stop. He took a step back and considered running, but he knew that they would be upon him within an instant.
The villagers stopped about twenty feet away from Mike. He couldn't tell if they were horrifying, or cuddly. The villagers looked equally confused. They were now close enough that Mike could see that they weren't wearing animal furs. Such a thing would be redundant since they already had animal fur.
They were animals, but they were people at the same time. They were built the same way with the same body structure, but they had some huge differences. Fur, tails, and animal ears were the main ones. The villagers just stood there and held their clubs laxly in their hands... paws... whatever.
One of them stepped forward and said, "Hey."
Mike wasn't sure if he actually said "hey" or was just making some kind of woofing sound.
"Hey... hey guy. What are you guy?" he asked.
Mike was dazzled for a few seconds, not only did they speak his language; they were even able to speak it with their long muzzles and tongues. He had to think up a response quick or else they might just think he's some kind of dumb animal and club him to death anyway.
"Um... uh... my name is Mike," he said quickly.
The dog-like creature in front of him turned to his comrades and said "Hey, look at this guy, he talks and stuff."
A more cat looking villager put his club away in his belt and responded with, "Oh, wow... this guy is really cool."
"Hey... hey Mike," said a dog villager with long ears which stuck straight up, "where did you come from guy?"
Mike thought about how to phrase his response. He decided that honesty is probably still the best policy.
"I'm from the past," he said, "33,000 years in the past."
The villager who first approached him stepped even closer to Mike. Though Mike was still wearing his sunglasses, he could tell that he had pretty vibrant fur. He also wore a kind of belt, just like all of the others. He slid his club in his belt and Mike could tell that the villagers wore nothing more than a simple leather belt with a loose pair of shorts for the sake of modesty.
The villager walked even closer to Mike until he was peering into his sunglasses as if they were little windows in his head. He took some quick sniffs of Mike's face and reported his findings to the others without turning around.
"This guy is really nervous, and he smells like cherries," he said.
All of the villagers surrounded Mike and while one of them happily exclaimed, "OH! Cherries! I haven't had cherries for years! Hey, Mike, guy, where did you get your cherries?"
"Oh... that's my suntan lotion," explained Mike, "it smells like cherries, and I have to put it on my skin or else the sun would burn me. But, I think I know where I can get some cherries."
Mike finally decided to take of his sunglasses for a few seconds to get a look at the animal people in color. The sunlight was dimming, so it wasn't too hard on his eyes.
All of the villagers had different colors of fur to go with their different looks. The cat like villager had leopard fur with spots; the dog like villagers had the fur of wild animals, or different shades of unusual colors, such as blue or very faint pink.
"Hey, guy. You're not a Guta, and you are not a Harsonik, so, I guess you can come into our place," said the one with tall ears.
"I'd love to come into your village and take a look around," said Mike, "The one back near the mountains was destroyed."
"Yeah, Guta did that. They were really nice. We traded with them all the time. They had good stuff," said one of the villagers.
On his arrival in the village, everyone stopped what they were doing at stared at him quietly. Mike put his sunglasses back on to make himself feel less like there where a hundred predator eyeballs boring into his skull.
A young villager with a ridiculously fluffy fox tail walked up to Mike and turned to say, "Hey mom. This guy is weird."
Mike was glad he had his sunglasses on, because they disguised his shock that the boy's mother wasn't wearing anything other than the belt and loincloth. In fact, none of the women wore any sort of bra or anything. Somehow, they didn't seem half-naked to Mike. They looked normal; he was the one who was half-naked.
An old canine villager with long whiskers hobbled up the street towards Mike. He imagined the dried out joints of the potentially arthritic creature. He finally arrived and tentatively said, "You... are a human..."
"Yes," answered Mike.
The old villager looked him up and down before he said, "Humans... are dead, but, you are still a human, and you're not dead. Where you made?"
"What do you mean by that?" asked Mike.
"Well, long ago, all of us, everyone in the world, used to be born. My ancestors where made, but they started to be born just like normal. But, the humans didn't stop making themselves. Then humans couldn't be born anymore, they were only made. Were you born, or where you made?" asked the old man.
"This Mike guy says that he's from the past. He says he's 33,000 years old," answered the cat villager that was excited about cherries.
"So...," started the old man, who Mike could tell was the village's leader, "You were born, but you where hidden away for all of this time? Is that what you are saying Mike?"
"That's right," said Mike, "33,000 years ago, I was sealed up in one of the mountains and preserved, so that I could come out later and... uh... chill."
"Well, there are tales of humans from the past being found, but those are stories from long ago. They sleep underground, or in mountains, and when they wake up, they bring good fortune to everyone they meet. They aren't the humans who were the makers though, they are from long before the makers, and thus, they are elder, wise, and good. Mike, humans from the past have two names, usually they even have three. What are your names?"
"Michael Kabos," said Mike, "My first name is Mike, short for Michael, and my last name is Kabos."
Mike had tears in his eyes. For the first time since he was a little kid, he was surrounded by people who cared about him. The people were actually interested in what is like, and where he his going. He was a human being again, not just a shell that protects the rich by gunning down criminals, or terrorists, or little children. They had no idea about him, they didn't know about what he had done. He really could start over again and make a good name for himself.
"So, Mike, guy, you are good luck?" asked one of the canine villagers, "I wonder what good luck you will bring? I'm glad that you are not one of the maker humans, though they made us, they burned the world. They are fools, but you are smart."
"That's right," said a teenage fox looking boy, "the maker humans are stupid, there are some of them still sealed up somewhere in the world. The ones we find are usually makers. They have weird names and they are all really smart. They are smart like gods. They are so smart that they were able to make us, but they are weak, so we kill them to keep them from burning the world again, and so we can take their stuff. I've heard they are easy to kill as long as they aren't in one of their war machines."
"That's right," said a man who appeared to be the teen's father, "Their war machines are powerful, we have a few of our own, but they are old machines. The Harsonik machines, they are very strong."
A chubby fox woman changed the subject by saying, "Oh, but Mike guy. He's a good guy. He's not one of those Harsonik guys. Mike seems really nice! I bet he's good at killing Guta!"
"Yeah Mike Kabos guy!" cheered a little girl, "You must be a good Guta killing guy! You could kill Ordog without a big machine!"
Mike was impressed at how orderly all of the villagers where being. Though they all found him fascinating, they managed to keep themselves in line and spoke one at a time. They were very kind and he loved how they say "guy" all the time.
From what Mike heard at the short little meeting, he was able to piece together a few things.
"There are still humans in the world. They sleep in their own "castles" I guess. The Harsonik Rebellion, must have been some kind of take over by... something, someone, somewhere. They somehow where able to "make" these wonderful animal people, so they are called "makers". And I guess that they also "made" themselves, whatever that means. However, they must have nuked everything, which is why they are hated," thought Mike.
Mike remembered the slab he found outside the door of The Castle. Maybe there were other clues on it. Perhaps the date when the first "electron computer" was connected to the human brain had some significance.
But, there would be time to backtrack later. Currently attention was being lavished on him by cuddly animal folks.
"Mike, do you have any guns? Guns are really good for killing Guta. If you have a gun, you could kill Ordog," suggested a muscular wolf villager.
"I have two guns," proclaimed Mike proudly while he held two fingers up, "I have a pistol and a machine gun."
"Wow! A machine gun!" exclaimed the cat villager who didn't seem to be focused on cherries so much anymore, "The only machine guns are on war machines and floaties! That's really cool guy Mike!"
"Just so I'm clear on this," started Mike, "what are Guta? Do they have three toes?"
"Yeah, that is a Guta," said that powerful wolf villager. Mike thought that he must be their best warrior. He had a wicked looking, solid steel sledge hammer in his belt and his pants were somehow still staying up. His strange levitating pants and steel weapon led Mike to believe that he must their main Guta killing... guy. He was a man of few words, and what he said usually concerned killing the beasts.
"Guta," started an intelligent looking canine villager with dark brown fur and long whiskers just like the old man, "are big bugs. They live in hives, like termite mounds. I haven't been inside of one, and I don't intend to be any time soon. However, I know that they are full of fleas, lice, and flies. There is a main Guta hive not far from here where Ordog lives. All we know about Ordog is that he, or she, is a very large and powerful Guta which spawns the lesser ones which raid villages from time to time. They rush in and beat everyone to death, then they haul them off back to their hive for food. They don't raid villages often though; they mostly go after the woolies."
"You mean bison?" asked Mike.
"Woolies," corrected the smart villager.
"Branson," scolded the elder, he was referring to the smart one "You talked too much and prevented any of us from adding to what we know about Guta by explaining nearly everything there is to know about them. For that, I am deducting a Christmas present."
Branson looked at the ground and whined, "Awwrrr..."
"Mike, you should stay in here tonight. Even though the Guta are most active during the day, it still might be dangerous," suggested the village leader.
"I'll absolutely spend the night!" said Mike with much cheering afterward.
Mike was fed very well with lean bison meat and corn. It was a great dinner, and it tasted nothing like weird preservative foam. Taste aside, the villagers made for good company. So many offers to let him sleep in their homes came from the villagers that Mike had to sleep in the meeting hall to avoid any bad blood.
It seemed that as soon as he closed his eyes, Mike was awake and it was morning. He hauled himself up off the little cot that was made for him in the meeting hall and decided to climb the watchtower to see what it was all about.
The excitable cat villager was keeping watch and he was just about to go off duty. By talking to him, Mike learned that his name is Kilroy and that the feline villagers worked the tower at night since they had better hearing, and the canine villagers held the tower by day because the wind allowed them to pick up the scents of anyone approaching.
Kilroy explained how the world "basically works, guy".
There are hundreds of villages just like the ones Mike has seen so far. They are scattered around three major cities. At the age of sixteen, everyone born in the city travels to work the farms in the villages which support them and feed them for a year. Most people return to the city, but many choose to stay in their village. In exchange for food, the cities supply the villagers with tools, develop any technology they can, and protect them with "floaties" and war machines.
"So, wait..." said Mike, "If this Ordog thing is such a problem, why don't the cities just use their machines to destroy him?"
"They've tried that guy!" explained Kilroy, "But there are only so many war machines and millions of Guta. Ordog has all of his little Guta clog them up!"
"What about the floaties?" asked Mike, "I've heard they have machine guns."
"Floaties don't even dent Sárkány guy! Floatie pilots will go and shoot it up, but then the Guta have it repaired in only a few days! That Sárkány place can't be shooted enough to blow it up guy!" lectured Kilroy.
"What is Sárkány?" asked Mike.
"Okay, guy, look, Sárkány is the really big hive where Ordog lives. It's three times bigger than all the others. The war machines we have are very precious and the things they use up aren't easy to make or find guy. They have to keep the Harsonik away from the cities, so they have no time to blow up Sárkány," explained Kilroy.
"And what are Harsonik? They are the "makers", but are they humans just like me?" asked Mike.
"Yes. No. Well... look, guy, Mike, guy, you can visit a museum in North, that's the nearest city guy, and learn all about it. I have to go to bed. Okay?" tiredly said Kilroy. He said the sentence in a normal tone of voice, which seemed to mean he was slowing down.
"That's fair enough," said Mike, "Thanks for answering my questions Kilroy."
"Sure guy."
So, guys, this story will have a Part 2 for certain, and possibly a Part 3 and 4. It will be ridiculously long and might take me a while to update as I don't foresee having a horrendous amount of free time in the future. No one can read something like this on a computer for hours, and I sure as heck can't type and proofread something like this for hours. There's no yiff and I don't think there's even going to be any kissing, so that might be part of it. But, there will be much bug smashing and words ending with "ie". You can also expect to be introduced to more... guys.