Algorithm has been published as a novel of two Books: The Medallion and The Makers. The first book, The Medallion, is presented herein for your reading pleasure.
Enjoy!
Abu Abdullah Muhammad ibn Musa Al-Khwarizmi (750-850 CE) was a Persian scholar in the House of Wisdom, Baghdad. He was an extraordinary scientist, astronomer and mathematician, who introduced the concept of decimals and is considered the Father of Algebra. The European Latin translation of his name evolved into the term, "algorithm," which in modern day parlance is equivalent to a computer program—a set of instructions carried out by a machine for a definite purpose.
Prologue
Independence Park, Newark, NJ August, 1979
"I'm ready when you are."
Adam's grip tightened about the partially unraveled friction tape wound about the handle of his Louisville slugger. Tossing back a shock of dirty blond hair, he sucked in his breath and eased his thirteen-year old body back in eager expectation.
"Here it comes ya lil' squirt," bellowed the pitcher as he wound up.
The ball flew down the middle, and when Adam struck it, he heard the crack echo off the dense wall of chestnut trees surrounding the field. The ball scaled the foliage, and for a moment looked like it would continue on into legend. However, the laws of physics, in particular those describing the unyielding effects of gravity, took over.
Elation shifted to terror as cars trundled through the landing zone. To Adam's relief, a distant 'thunk' announced the ball's contact with the street, however the respite was short-lived, for the next sound was that of glass breaking. All on the field scattered in every direction but toward the ball's unfortunate crash site.
The pitcher ran to Adam, yanked the bat out of his hands, and slowed long enough to ask, "Wattaya standin' there for?" before taking off toward the nearest park entrance.
Adam jogged to a side entrance where he slowed to a walk.
I just bought that ball.
He kept to the sidewalk skirting the ballpark, all the while casting surreptitious glances at each three-story apartment building across the street. When he reached the house next to his own, he crossed over. To the left of the wooden stairs leading to the first floor entrance something grabbed his attention. It was the basement window, or where the window should have been. A few daggers of glass remained in the opening, framing the darkness within like the gaping mouth of a sharp-toothed ogre. Adam moved past the gruesome specter, trying to remain casual. Maybe the break went unnoticed.
Like his own house, access to the basement took the form of an inside entry next to the backdoor. He reached it in seconds, pulled at the handle. It creaked open to reveal a wooden staircase. He inched his way down, careful to step to the side of each tread to avoid the squeal of loose boards.
When he reached the bottom, he peered down the length of the basement toward the front of the house. The darkness felt grim and the cold air licked at the back of his neck. The light from the stairs faded as Adam crept forward, groping for a switch or a dangling chain. Bumping into musty carton boxes and storage crates, he crept farther into the gloom. He paused when he heard footsteps above, muffled conversation, or the sound of water gurgling through pipes. When his outstretched hands touched a metal post, he craned his head to the side and focused on the dim outline of the broken window. Hazy light streamed in from above and outlined a darkly smeared coal bin. As he neared the coal bin and he needed to look no further. The ball sat atop a mound of dusty anthracite.
He scaled the blackened wooden planks and landed softly at the base of the coal pile. He clambered up, slipping and kicking up sulfurous dust, blackening hands and knees as he scrambled to the top. He lunged for the ball, grasped it with one hand, and glided down the rocky heap in deep satisfaction. Dust settled around and on him, fading in and out of the light. Adam found his other hand clutching a few nuggets. He was about to toss them back into the heap when a sparkle of reflected light caught his eye. He opened his fingers, releasing one lump at a time, until all that remained was a fist-sized chunk. Even in the muted light he saw the oddly-shaped golden glimmer. He rotated his upturned palm, bringing it closer. There was something metallic in the coal.
The sound of footfalls on the staircase broke his reverie. There he was, reclining in a dusty coal bin at the far end of an unlit, unfamiliar and cavernous cellar—ball in one hand and a mystery lump of coal in the other. The shadowy figure reaching the foot of the stairs was about to discover an intruder. Tucking away the coal in his dungarees pocket, he rolled off the brimstone mound, careful to avoid dislodging a 'here-I-am' mini-avalanche. He slipped over the side of the bin and felt for some potential cover. The lights came on just as he squeezed between a stack of cartons and the cellar damp wall. Shuffling feet with loose slippers slapped their way toward him. Adam fought down a strong urge to jump up and run.
I bet my ass is hanging out for all to see.
The shuffling and slapping drew to a stop.
That's it, he's got me.
"What's this?"
I'm dead.
Adam recognized the voice of his neighbor, Mr. Kurtinaitis—a gravelly, ancient and grinding timbre, which even with such a short phrase, retained its distinct Lithuanian origins. Every neighborhood had its curmudgeon, some old geezer that never got along with anyone younger than thirty, the community warlock whispered about by the children unfortunate enough to have encountered him. Mr. Kurtinaitis had the required indeterminate advanced age, the bent-over posture, gnarly limbs, the grizzled, unkempt look, an obscure foreign accent and gruff demeanor required for a fully-fledged wizard of the dark world. Adam imagined him staring at the broken window of his beloved, dreary cellar domain. A deeply furrowed brow framed the evil eye searching him out, maybe already locked in on his exposed posterior. He was about to stand and beg for mercy, when after a few more shuffling sounds, Mr. Kurtinaitis muttered, "Damned kids."
More silence.
He's seen me for sure. He's probably sneaking up on me now.
Instead of getting hoisted by the scruff of his neck, Adam heard a deep and profound sigh of disgust, a kind of snort a dragon might issue, and the shuffling headed away to the back stairs.
The Dark Lord proceeded to shut off the lights and uttered several nasty sounding phrases in the Lord's native tongue. Adam heard him ascend the stairs, grumbling at each step, and slam a door. A full five minutes of complete silence went by before he drew up enough courage to step out from behind the boxes. He tip-toed through the same door, all the while certain that Mr. Kurtinaitis was actually hiding just out of sight at the entrance.
He slinked outside, holding his breath lest it give away his position. After reaching the security of his own backyard next door, he parked himself on the wooden stairs and waited for his adrenaline levels to subside along with the thumping in his chest. When he resumed normal breathing, he placed the ball in the recess of his backdoor entry, and with a satisfied exhale, reached into his pocket.
As he held the lump of coal to the waning afternoon sunlight, he beheld an odd metallic gleam, appearing as a golden slash in the side of the black rock.
Maybe it's gold!
Eager to crack it open, he struck the coal against the slate walk at the base of the stairs a few times, which only resulted in leaving black scars along the slate's surface. He was about to try and crush the lump beneath his feet when he heard his parents parking their car in front of the house. He put the coal back into his pocket and entered through the backdoor to greet his mom who was carrying groceries.
"Hey, mom. Need some help?"
"Dad'll need a hand. There's more in the car. How on Earth did you get so filthy?"
"Aw, nothin'... I just fell."
Her head bent downward, giving her the glaring look with which he was all too familiar.
"Help your dad with the bags from the car, get those clothes off, and take a bath. You do remember we have an appointment to see Dr. Wujciak this afternoon? Hurry up, you have fifteen minutes."
He had forgotten about the physical.
Damn.
Summer was nearly over and St. Harold's Preparatory School required a physical for all new students. Adam was thrilled about the prospect of starting a new phase of his life. As he thought about the doctor's office and his mystery rock, an idea emerged which got him even more excited.
***
Adam sat in Dr. Wujciak's crowded waiting room with his mother at his side. After he read and re-read the same worn out, three month old issue of Life magazine, Adam's name was called. He leaped up to follow the nurse, giving his mom a quick wave. He was finally old enough to be on his own.
After the usual weight, height and blood pressure routine, the nurse left him in a small inner office to await the good doctor's arrival. Adam wandered over to the corner of the office and stared at a dusty old instrument that he knew from previous discussions with Dr. Wujciak was a fluoroscope.
An x-ray machine.
It looked like a washboard with some dials and switches at its base. He was staring at it when the doctor came in.
Dr. Wujciak went through his standard prodding and jabbing routine, interrupting with an occasional request to say, "aah" or to breathe deeply as he moved an icy cold stethoscope along his bare back. In the end, Adam received the usual congratulations for being so healthy and growing so quickly. Dr. Wujciak was about to escort him out to the reception area, when Adam stopped, pointed and asked, "Is that thing back there still working?"
"You mean Old Flora? We don't use it anymore, Adam, because it generates too high a level of x-ray radiation to be safe."
"Oh, it's not for me. I was wondering if it, Old Flora, still works, 'cause I have something that I was hoping you could check out."
Adam took out a little ball of tissue paper, unrolled it, and handed him the chunk of coal. Dr. Wujciak flipped it over several times and stopped when his eyes caught the metallic gleam, a sparkling golden band.
"Aha ... So you want to see what's in this coal? Why don't you just break it open?"
"I plan to do that, but maybe it's something that might break. It's gotta be really old, being in coal. Do you think that Old Flora can see inside it?" he asked with a broad grin.
Dr. Wujciak looked as intrigued as Adam. "I haven't fired up Old Flora for years, but there should be no problem spending an extra minute or two in trying her out. Besides, it is a very curious piece of coal."
He rolled the stately antique out of the corner, plugged in the frayed wiring and dimmed the lights in the office. "I've been thinking about donating it to a museum."
He riffled through one of his desk drawers, and handed a pair of red-lensed spectacles to Adam, while donning a pair himself.
"We'll need the glasses to see the image."
A faint buzzing sound preceded an eerie glow from the washboard. Dr. Wujciak made a few more adjustments to the machine and asked, "So where did you find it?"
"In the park."
Dr. Wujciak pulled his red spectacles down to the tip of his nose, propped up the lump of coal on a stand behind the washboard and said, "Come over to this side, Adam, so that we both might see what's inside."
"By the way, why do you call this thing Old Flora?"
"Just a nickname. I've had this baby around for most of my professional career. They used to be very popular back in the forties and fifties." His head lolled to one side as he added, "She's kind of like an old friend."
Adam wriggled closer and Dr. Wujciak covered them both with a heavy lead-lined blanket and turned off the room lights. The spectacles gave the washboard glow an eerie look, as if they had just opened a crimson window to another world. The two were drawn in as they became mesmerized by the bright, translucent outline of the stone. The doctor twiddled with several dials and a second image appeared within the glimmering shell, denser and even darker than the rock. The encased object appeared rounded and smooth. Dr. Wujciak reached behind the board, rotated the coal and the two investigators both uttered a whispered 'wow!' almost in unison as they made out what looked like a coin or medallion having a hole in its center. Their noses were nearly touching the screen when a blinding flash of light filled the office, followed by the unmistakable stench of burned rubber. Dr. Wujciak reached up and switched on the lights. "I'm afraid that may be it for Old Flora. I think her power supply just blew."
Just when things were getting really interesting.
"That's quite an interesting find, Adam."
Dr. Wujciak returned the enigmatic object to Adam. "What are you planning to do with it?"
"I don't know."
I'm going to crack that sucker open. That's what I'm planning to do with it.
"The object inside might be valuable. It could have historic importance. Perhaps you may consider having a scientist look at it. I know someone in the geology department at Rutgers that I could contact if you like."
"Thanks for the offer, but I think I want to wait on that. So ... could we keep it a secret, sort of between you and me?"
"That's okay, Adam, just let me know when you're ready and I'll arrange for you to visit the university."
Dr. Wujciak patted Adam's back. "Now, put your shirt back on. You're in tip-top shape. Good luck this coming year at St. Harold's. And, just remember to let me know if you need any help with your discovery."
Ben Wujciak and Adam shared a love of science fiction and both were avowed Trekkies. As the doctor was leaving the examination room, Adam threw him the splayed finger Vulcan hand greeting. The tricky salutation was returned with a wink.
***
The next morning Adam woke alone. Both parents were at work and the opportunity for discovery had finally arrived. Still in his pajamas, he grabbed the lump of coal and flew downstairs to his father's cellar workshop. Adam grabbed a screwdriver from a pegboard, holding both it and the coal in one hand, and wedged it against the bench top. The other hand reached for a hammer.
He tapped the coal. He cleaved off chip after chip until at last, the coal split and a golden medallion rolled out onto the bench. Adam closed his fingers around the half-dollar-sized mystery. It had a peculiar golden sheen, changing in intensity with every movement, however slight. There were several odd symbol-like indentations running along the edge, and it had a perfectly round quarter-inch hole in its center. There would be no way he could keep the object if he made it public.
This treasure is mine and I'm going to keep it.
He never did keep his promise to get back to Dr. Wujciak, nor did he ever tell anyone else about it for the next twenty years.
***
Traveling at nearly the speed of light, a slate gray cylinder traced a path along the inside of the Milky Way's Orion Arm a dozen light-years from Earth's solar system. Its exterior, covered by numerous gashes and impact craters, spoke of a journey of an extensive length of time. The rounded ends provided no distinction between forward or aft sections. Buried within its body a complex array of machines sat in silence with the exception of one. A muffled hum from its bowels was followed by the appearance of an amber light embedded in an instrument panel. Several exterior conical shapes emerged from the body of the cylinder. They glowed briefly and altered the cylinder's trajectory, after which they returned to their original, cloaked poses within the otherwise unremarkable exterior. The amber light faded into darkness.