When thrust unexpectedly into an unknown situation it is best to minimize activity that might draw unwanted attention. Stay motionless if possible, Michael reminded himself. Put your senses to work in sorting out the confusion, immediate action is only required once a threat is determined. Don't overreact, blend in.
People were speaking in muffled tones near him. They were below, in a room underneath where he was laying. No one was speaking on the roof and, since there had been no reaction to his presence, he must not be within anyone's field of vision, or he was an accepted part of this new environment or he was alone. Risk in moving was therefore minimal.
Slowly raising his head to look around he found the last assumption to be correct. The roof was rectangular with a surface area measuring about twenty-five meters by fifteen meters, covered in a thin layer of dusty powder. Other than a small wooden crate and a bundle of short poles stacked at the opposite end, the roof was bare. A low ridge designed with a repeating half moon pattern ran all around the perimeter, except for an opening at the right rear corner, probably used to access stairs or some other way to get on and off the roof.
Using his hands to shield his eyes Michael saw that the sun shone brightly at an angle indicating it was the late afternoon. Feeling the bird droppings on his forehead he wiped them away before quietly rolling onto his stomach, lest those in the building should hear. He still wore the beige nightgown he had put on before crawling into bed. Seeing there were no footprints or other disturbances in the dust around him, Michael knew he had neither been carried nor flown to wherever he now was. The only disturbance of the dust had been made by that of his own body; as if having just appeared in place from out of the ether. Satisfied the situation posed no immediate threat, he became concerned with finding out where he was geographically and, more importantly, in time. Using elbows and toes he edged forwards toward the perimeter ridge at what he believed to be the front of the building.
Slowly raising his head Michael peered between the humps of the half moons. He was two stories above street level in an ancient middle-eastern city; its placement in history determined by both the technological lack and the garments worn by those that were seen. People moved about in loose fitting robes, many wearing cloth headdress, most with sandals on their feet. A few deeply tanned men attended to thirsty camels tied with ropes to palm trees near a well, a battered wooden bucket being lowered and raised to meet the animals' needs. A lone man dressed and armored in the attire of a soldier from ancient Rome stood close by. Knowing the probable futility in trying to contact Gabe he nevertheless did so, only to be mildly disappointed when communication wasn't established.
Using the precedent of his previous recent experience Michael guessed that he would be here for a while, probably until he witnessed an event of some significance. Then again, given that he was wandering in ignorance with respect to everything going on, it would be foolish to assume anything. Once again the need to find food, water and secure shelter were priorities.
Obtaining food shouldn't be a problem given the urban environment he was in, providing he did not attract attention by moving about during the day. The nightgown he wore might pass for native garb if just barely but his light skin, hair color and hair style were too obviously out of place. He would need to restrict his movements to after the sun went down. Water could be drawn quietly from the well but a sealed container would be required in order to transport and keep it for drinking during the daylight hours. Shelter was problematic; where do you hide in an unfamiliar town inhabited by thousands when you stand out like a ...a Caucasian in a nightgown in the middle-east. Staying put seemed like the best option, especially when no others presented themselves. It did not appear anyone had been on the roof for quite sometime and perhaps his placement there wasn't wholly coincidental. It would serve as home base for the time being.
Upon retiring the night before he had placed the gun aside, and though disappointed it did not surprise him it had not 'transferred' with him. Other than the nightgown only the scanner, which he was holding onto while sleeping, had been delivered to the rooftop with him.
The conversation carried on in the room below, the speakers oblivious to Michael's presence, their words indiscernible. The people moved about while talking, doing so for fifteen minutes or more. During that time Michael watched the activities on the dusty street in front of the building; children running about playing, women with bundles varying in shapes and sizes, a group of men in the distance, some standing while others sat on a wooden bench, all talking and laughing; the Roman soldier close at hand, sullen looking and ignored.
Not wanting to risk being seen, Michael did not raise himself high enough to peer over the low ridge to see what might be directly below his position. Despite this limitation, he could make out the farthest end of a court yard immediately adjacent to the front of the building. It was neatly laid out with flat stones, small bushes setting it apart from the street. A number of stone benches, some with carved decorations on their bases, were placed around the border leaving the middle area unobstructed. Six large stone vases stood together discreetly out of the way in a corner under a large shade tree.
The voices within the building gradually moved towards what must have been a window opening directly under his position. Michael clearly heard and, surprisingly, understood the words though they were not spoken in English. They spoke of a wedding planned for the next day and the necessary arrangements to be made. Detailed concerns about decorations,food delivery and preparation, the quantity and quality of wine needed, guest placement, and other incidentals were all discussed in a language he could not recall ever having heard; but somehow he understood every word said.
Setting aside his surprise at being able to comprehend an unfamiliar tongue, Michael realized it was probably best he not remain on the roof should some of the next days' celebrants wander up and discover him. In only a few more hours it would be night and then he would slip away in search of a more isolated location.
Still he did not want to go too far from this arrival point, in the event to do so might frustrate his anticipated return to the German village. It hadn't mattered last time even though he had been careful to mark the spot where he 'arrived', and he doubted it would matter this time. Even so, if there were a reason for his being here, if Nathaniel was involved and wanted him to see something, there might be significance to this particular location. Best not to go too far away. Besides, a wedding meant abundant and readily accessible food, should an opportunity present itself to procure some.
Working the scanner, he discovered an ample variety of food items already in the building as well as water in the stone vases sitting in the courtyard. Fortune smiled on him. He would not have to risk the noisy task of drawing water from the well. Though three of the vases were shown to be dry, two were partially full and one was filled to the brim. When it became dark he would 'borrow' a container from somewhere and fill it for his own use.
The more he thought about it the more he realized the rooftop might actually be the best place to stay, at least in the short term. If only a shade from the sun could be rigged, and if he could devise a way to ensure no one ventured onto the roof, it would serve quite well. The building was taller than its neighbors and, as long as he stayed close to the decorative ridge, he would not be seen by anyone on the roof of a higher building farther off. The previous adventure had lasted less than twenty-four hours, so why not try to stay in place for at least that long? Once the sun set he would test that option's viability.
While waiting, his thoughts drifted to considering what spectacle might present itself to him in such a mundane looking place. There were no mountains or distant murmuring sounds, no mystical clouds powerfully flashing and rumbling, no golden calves or angry men with stone tablets. There were just backwards people going about their lives' ordinariness without any consideration for a much larger universe.
Then again, it might be that any purpose in being here would have nothing to do with Earth shattering events. Maybe Nate, or the Aliens — perhaps they were one and the same — were just toying with him. Possibly there was an unknown someone, or something — and Nathaniel as well — all acting together.
No, this is all wrong Michael realized, as he reigned in his thoughts. Nathaniel scanned as a human; he hadn't said or done anything threatening. Michael was even actually beginning to like the mysterious fellow. But if he were human he would have to be gotten rid of before the Aliens arrived. To do otherwise might give rise to unthinkable consequences. Supposition and conjecture were all he had so far as Nate mattered. Nothing to be done anyway. So long as they remained separated by thousands of years, it would be better to concentrate on the present problems rather than to worry over contingencies beyond his ability to affect.
The setting sun gave rise to an almost moonless night and an uncommon show of stars. He could move around with the aid of the scanner, while the darkness masked his very 'un-native' appearance. Ideal conditions for a stranger bent upon sneaking about.
With great care Michael had positioned himself near the opening in the ridge before the building's residents settled in for the night. The less activity while they slept, the less chance of being discovered. After allowing enough time to lapse for everyone to enter into slumber, and hearing nothing on the adjacent street, Michael peered around the opening. As he had thought, steps lead from the roof to the ground. Taking care in standing up, and thankful to have the silence bare feet afford, Michael took three steps downward before he stopped. He now knew why he had not been disturbed during his few hours on the roof.
The bottom half of the steps, from the ground to the top of the first floor, were missing. Age and wear had caused the lower portion of the stairs to collapse, and a pile of rectangular stones, as well as tools used for cutting and shaping them, lay on the ground next to the wall awaiting the return of workers to complete repairs. It was a three meter drop from the last step — not a concern for someone as fit as him, at least when jumping down, but a concern for when he wanted to return to his rooftop hiding place while carrying water and, hopefully, food.
There being no one about, a fact confirmed by the scanner, he sat on the steps assessing the situation. This did not take long, for lying horizontally against the stairway's half built side was a ladder. Unlike before, when he ate rats, carried a small quantity of water, and exerted incredible physical effort to access shelter, providence seemed to be smiling on him. Clutching the scanner tightly lest it drop and become damaged, he lept from the step, bending his knees and springing forward slightly upon landing. No one had heard him jump. Quickly checking the ladder, it proved to be in good condition and of adequate height. He took hold and placed it against the unfinished steps, ready for him to climb upon his return.
The whereabouts of food and water were known; a device with which to carry each was not. In the darkness the nightgown would pass for native dress if not looked at too closely and, after patting some dry dirt onto his hands and face to tone down the whiteness, he was ready to begin his search.
A small clay jug was soon located outside a small dwelling less than thirty meters away. Water could now be obtained. To carry food a basket, or perhaps a piece of cloth folded over and tied together would suffice; both being more difficult to manufacture and therefore undoubtedly more highly prized, requiring a greater effort to locate.
Taking the scanner, he began to search for a house having as few people as possible or inhabitants who were in the deepest stages of sleep. Walking along he held the scanner out in front knowing it could never be explained to the locals if seen. Michael was grateful when a couple of minutes later he located a house with only three people inside, all so soundly into their rest that the wailing of a bagpipe wouldn't have disturbed them.
Placing the pilfered jug on the ground, he was about to climb through an open window when two men came around a corner a few houses away. Talking in animated whispers they were headed towards him. Concealing the scanner by putting his hands behind his back Michael walked in the direction of the men, adding a nonchalant unsteadiness to suggest an over indulgence in the fruit of the vine. As they drew closer he began to pick up tidbits from their conversation; still not fathoming how he understood what was said.
As best as he could determine, the men were making comparisons between 'Boaz's sister' and 'Simeon's donkey', followed by quiet laughs understandable in any language. As they passed, the men nodded at Michael and said hello. Michael immediately returned the greeting adding a confidently slurred 'nice night' to it. To his shock the words came out in english, untranslated.
The surprised men obviously did not speak english and, judging by their startled expressions, had never heard it spoken before. After a momentary pause the men must have concluded that Michael was slurring drunken gibberish at them, since they continued to walk away while occasionally looking back and talking in low rapid voices. Michael quickly reached the corner from which the men had first appeared. He promptly turned out of sight. Leaning against the wall in a narrow alley, he waited until the voices and footsteps of the men faded into the night.
Michael returned to the open window and climbed inside the house. Soon locating a towel-sized cloth he exited, leaving the sleeping residents undisturbed. Retrieving the jug before walking away, he began to scan for some easily accessible food.
Within half an hour he had surreptitiously removed a quantity of dates, figs and hard flat bread from two houses. A purloined leather strip secured the food inside the folded cloth. Concerned about inadvertently drawing attention to himself, he resisted the urge to explore further, and instead decided to head back to the building from where he started the night's foray. Once there, the stolen jug would be filled with water from one of the large stone vases standing in the courtyard.
It was a warm night with stars dominating the sky in a way they could not if viewed from an ambient light enriched modern city. The Milky Way was an argent bridge across the heavens, connecting the horizons. Planets circled many stars within that bridge; planets which the descendants of these ancient people would someday call home. Michael couldn't help but think that around one star orbited the home world of an alien race who, many years in the future, would pose a threat to Earth. Were they even now — at this period in human history — watching? Were they, at this period in time, aware we existed? So much was unknown and needed to be understood. Nothing made sense. There was no purpose to it all. What did they — these 'Aliens' — know that we didn't? Michael resolved to avoid death until at least the time the truth should be revealed to him.
The clay jug was filled from the stone vase containing the most water without there being a noticeable diminution of its contents. Now prepared to remain hidden for a number of days if necessary, he returned to the side of the building and climbed the ladder to reach the undamaged portion of stairway. Pushing the ladder away, it fell with little noise landing near where it had been found, close enough so no one would question its changed location in the morning.
The scanner's chronometer confirmed that the night was only half spent, allowing him more than enough time to construct a sun shade. Moving quietly, while watching the scanner for any sign of activity from inside the building, he untied the bundle of poles laying near the stairway entrance.
Two poles, and the cloth used to carry the food, were fashioned into a lean-to against the ridge at the building's front. He would be able to shelter under the low slung structure, avoiding the sun's rays — and bird droppings — while still able to observe activities in the courtyard below. Satisfied with the night's work, Michael crawled into position under the canopy and soon fell asleep.
He slept peacefully, without distress, regretting its shortness as day's light began to filter into his consciousness. Numerous voices were speaking to him, the words being distinct but the sentences meaningless. No, that was wrong ...there wasn't anyone speaking to him, the voices were talking to and over each other. Michael's eyes popped open, staring into the cloth only a few centimeters from his nose. He did not move, listening intently.
Many people were talking. Some excitedly giving orders and providing instructions, others in conversation about generalities and life's inanities. Introductions being made and hearty greetings exchanged. He heard heavy items being moved, preparation being made for something; a wedding he recalled hearing people talk about soon after his arrival the previous afternoon. There was to be a wedding celebration. There would be too many people moving about this day to risk peering over the ridge, someone would be sure to see him. He would have to do any observing by using the scanner's scientific settings — spectral images only, no clear pictures — it promised to be a long, hot, boring day.
Listening to snatches of conversation that drifted up to him, Michael was able to learn he was in a village named Cana and guests were arriving from as far away as Jerusalem, confirming he was again in the Middle-Eastern sector. Later, while listening to some men in the second floor room beneath him discuss the bad attitudes and bodily hygiene of Roman soldiers, he dragged enough information from what was said to place the time period somewhere in the first century.
He recalled nothing significant occurring in this particular village during that time. There was the historical figure named Jesus then living, a person who gave rise to the once popular religion known as Christianity. 'Yeshua,' the people in this area called him. Though his religion once dominated the planet he had always been a minor figure in Islam, a bane to Judaism. Three major religions somehow connected to this one person and, arising from such a horrid little part of the home world, throughout history causing so much torment to its citizens.
The religion of 'Yeshua' had usually managed to keep down the other religions associated with the man, though in the earlier part of the last millennium it was a near run thing. All three of those religions were now only practiced in secret by the weak and disaffected. Could 'Yeshua' be the reason he was here, or was there something else? Suddenly the day offered the possibility that it might not be boring after all.
A quarter of the night's foraging was consumed by mid-day. Thankfully, not much water was required when laying motionless and more than two thirds of it remained. The supplies were adequate for both this day and the next should something prevent him from leaving the rooftop hideaway that night. Hopefully, he would soon return to his own time and such considerations would not be necessary. Contrary to his other hope, nothing important was happening below and nothing in any conversation proved interesting. The improvised sun shade worked well and he had even dozed off for a short spell, but only for a minute or two, surprising himself with his own calmness. Deep inside he knew there was nothing to worry about, and he was glad to be feeling that way even though he did not know where the peacefulness was coming from. The situation he was in certainly wasn't one that argued for peace of mind.
The day progressed through the wedding ceremony. Judging from what Michael heard, it was a joyous occasion as such events are meant to be. Shortly after the ceremony was complete the feasting and drinking began. Conversations became louder, increasingly mingled, and non sensible. Wine in large quantities had been made available, with the revelers taking full advantage of it.
The scanner showed over two hundred people in and about the building's premises. The Romans were often spoken of but mostly only by allusion and, even then, with an appreciable lowering of the voice. Other popular topics ranged from the livestock market, to the weather and to other people — especially those who had not been invited to the festivities. Technologies may change but people never do, Michael thought to himself as he listened in.
Late in the afternoon, at a time when his interest in eavesdropping had greatly waned, he noted the conversation to be lessening in volume and joviality. Congenial talk continued to flow without pause, but the previous exuberance was missing from it. Perhaps it was a cultural idiosyncrasy — people quieting themselves as they prepared to leave a gathering and begin the journey home — Michael surmised just before he found out the real reason for the lull.
"They have no wine", he heard a woman say in conversation with someone near the window directly below him. Her voice conveyed respect and it was evident she spoke to someone she considered to be important.
Millennia of socializing and nothing had changed; absent liquid encouragement people were less outgoing. The wine had run out, and peoples' emotions were again being restrained. Michael continued to listen as the person to whom the woman was speaking answered her. The response seemed to indicate a lack of appreciation for what she said.
"Woman, what does that have to do with us? My hour has not yet come," a man said sharply, but without a cutting intent. An odd reaction to what she had said, Michael thought. Nothing more of their exchange was heard while Michael waited expectantly for the woman to defend herself, or at least express her opinion that she need not be spoken to in such a manner. There was a pause during which the sound of several people drawing closer could be heard, possibly summoned by a hand gesture. After a short interval the woman spoke again.
"Whatever he says to you, do it."
Everyone promptly moved away from the window, the discussion at an end, as mingled background conversation — an indiscernible noise — again carried him into boredom. Closing his eyes, Michael rolled on his side to have a nap, readying himself for a possible reconnoiter that night. No one had approached the disassembled stairway leading to the roof throughout the day, and he was now satisfied that no one would. Convinced that being found out was unlikely, he reasoned having a good rest was the best course to take.
Dry heat can induce a wonderful peaceful dreaminess in a very short time. Michael was starting the journey into white slumber just as numerous sandal shod feet below him began smacking the courtyard stones. Indistinct instructions were being given, followed quickly by heavy objects being dragged about, sounding like stone against stone. Fully awake Michael lay where he was. He listened, not letting curiosity convince him to look. The scraping sounds stopped, to be replaced by more running about. Then the sloshing of water was heard as it was brought from the well and poured out. Someone spoke, giving instructions, "Right to the brim. He wants them full; all the water pots."
The activity soon stopped and, hearing nothing further, Michael once again lost interest. Resuming his rest, he made up his mind to explore the area that night, circumstances permitting, and to do so with a clear unwearied mind. The subdued party goers were no distraction as he again let the heat take him from wakefulness to unconsciousness.
Drifting in a very pleasant place — wondering at first if a drug had been administered because it felt so good — then in a doze, remembering where he was and knowing no drugs to be involved, he noticed sounds under him again increasing in volume. The shuttle's engines were operating in a manner he had never heard before and everyone on board the craft were laughing for no reason. There was a fog between him and them, but the fog became a wall and the wall began to gently wave in a light breeze. Soon he was on his back, eyes open, staring into the sun shade over his head.
Once again fully awake, he was aware that sounds of merrymaking had revived. The speech was too loud and overblown, with laughter arising from comments containing little, if any, humor. Everyone was in a good mood and enjoying themselves even more than before. Seeing that sleep was not to come easily, Michael gave up on trying.
After a little while, the partying noise ended abruptly. Someone was calling for everyone's attention, their voice booming through the silence, "I congratulate the bridegroom, our host, on the fine bride he has been blessed with this day. He is indeed a man upon whom God smiles. He is a man who not only receives, but knows how to share life's good fortunes; surprising those he favors ...his honored guests. Every man serves the good wine first, and when the people have drunk freely, then he serves the poorer wine; but you have kept the good wine until now."
With that, there was a loud cheer, with feet stamping in appreciation, drowning out anything else that might have been said. The crowd's gratitude slowly died away to be replaced by boisterous sounds of people again in a celebratory mood. Michael, sensing the party was not going to end anytime soon, in boredom placed the scanner on his chest and began to toy with it. At various times he watched as the lines displayed rose and fell measuring decibels; numbers and symbols for chemical elements in the air scrolled across the screen; and readouts on the health of various body parts and fluids came and went — elevated blood sugar but otherwise exceptionally well maintained for a person his age.
Eventually tiring of this motionless activity he turned the scanner off, rubbed his eyes and closed them. Lying peacefully under the shading cloth he listened as the sounds of the party slowly diminished, growing quieter and falling far into the background, until they were no longer heard. Unlike before, when the wine ran out, the sounds didn't just lessen, they disappeared. Everything became silent.
Suddenly, as if the shade cloth had been whipped away, the semi-darkness it provided was replaced with a redness prying at his eyes through closed eyelids. Thinking he might again be dreaming, he lay still to see where his imagination might take him. When nothing more happened, he opened his eyes to find the cloth sun shade gone, replaced by the cream colored ceiling of the bedroom he had gone to sleep in the night before. Or had it been the night before, he wondered for no real reason while still in a confused state of mind. The flat dusty rooftop was gone and he was in the same bed, covered by the same blankets, as if having never left it.
His first thoughts turned to Nathaniel and how he might try to explain away this second 'event'. No matter what explanations Nathaniel might attempt, this time they would be useless. This time there was irrefutable proof. The dust covered nightgown would establish the time displacement as well as the location. Once analyzed, the dust would show that it did not come from the Franco-German sector, and atomic dating would reveal an approximate time thousands of years in the past. He had Nate this time.
Throwing the blankets off, Michael looked disappointingly down the length of his body. The scanner rested on his chest where he had put it minutes earlier — rather than in his hand where it had been put when he fell asleep following the feast with Nathaniel — but now it lay upon a freshly laundered nightgown covering him. The proof he needed was the dust, and the dust was gone. How could it have happened, he had been covered in the stuff. Rushing to the bathroom he looked in the mirror to see his hair slightly messed, but without any sweat or dirt in it, and a face looking like it had been washed only hours ago. His appearance was one of a very civilized early morning riser and not that of a person who had lain on a dusty rooftop in scorching heat.
Bacon sizzled and eggs spat in a frying pan downstairs, their aroma wafting up to him mixed with the fragrance of strong coffee, a distinctive smell indicating it was freshly ground and brewed. Michael's olfactory senses pounced on the presentation, his stomach reacting with motion and sound, but he wasn't in a hurry. He knew Nathaniel would be there
in the kitchen waiting for him; he could hear utensils being used. He also knew that Nathaniel was going to listen intently, look compassionately at him, offer understanding, and respond obscurely with hidden and double meanings. He also knew that time was without a master and hard choices might soon have to be made.
Making as little noise as possible, Michael contacted Gabe to make sure the planet was operating as it should and to ensure they were still in contact. The computer advised him there were only some minor issues not requiring his attention. Gabe then verified, when questioned in the circuitous manner Michael deemed necessary, he had spent the entire night in the room and that less than eight hours passed between his "turning in" and "rising to greet the day," the A.I. sounding proud in its use of idioms. Comforted in knowing all was right with the world, though still unsure about Gabe's own reliability, Michael showered and put on the new uniform from the day before.
Finally venturing downstairs, Michael was greeted by Nathaniel with a cheerful, "Good morning, sleep well?" as he entered the kitchen. The older man, resplendent in his gold breasted uniform, was in the act of placing two overburdened plates on the table. Two cups of coffee, a thin stream of steam waving upwards from each, already sat waiting next to the place mats. Nathaniel continued talking before Michael had a chance to respond, "Have a seat. Thought we'd eat in here rather than the dining-room, less formal,friendlier. That okay with you?" The tone was tender but with a hard authority; an 'iron fist in a velvet glove' side to Nathaniel's personality.
Nate was someone used to a command structure, Michael thought to himself. He knew the importance of giving orders in a way suited to the individual being addressed; orders given so you would want to follow them. Only those able to be under authority themselves would be able to ask of others in such a way. He had met very few people who truly understood this, most choosing to overrate aggressiveness and bellicosity, they being insecure and unsure when commanding. Unlike those individuals, Nathaniel knew what he was doing.
"I'm fine, slept well. Thanks for asking. Yourself?" was Michael's cordial response to the first question asked. His action in sitting down, answered the second question.
"Never been better, everything is as it should be," Nathaniel replied as he took a seat. "Sunny side up and crisp," he pointed first to the eggs and then the bacon, "just as you like them."
"And how do you know that?"
"I could say 'a lucky guess', but that would be an 'untruth'. I know a lot about you. You have always interested me Michael."
"Always?" Michael responded.
"Always," Nathaniel said, cutting his strips of bacon in half before bringing them to his a mouth. A flicking motion made with his knife indicated that Michael should start eating as well.
"Why?"
"Because you are my responsibility."
"Your responsibility? I don't recall anyone informing me of this. May I ask who gave you this responsibility?" Michael spoke as if the answer held no real importance to him, just two friends discussing business of a trivial nature. Meanwhile, he beat down a rising anticipation that questions were finally going to be answered.
"Someone to whom all things belong."
Michael's heart fell, but only a little. He had anticipated cryptic responses from Nathaniel and therefore couldn't be too disappointed in receiving one.
"I am not aware of any individual who owns everything, unless you are referring to the unified government when you say 'someone'. Only they would be brash enough to claim everything," Michael smiled, remembering the mildly jingoistic publicity used to encourage exploration and colonial emigration from Earth. "We are masters of the universe. Take hold of our destiny," he repeated the latest popular slogan used in advertisements.
Nathaniel only looked at him while slowly shaking his head in a negative response, a mouthful of food preventing an immediate verbal one. Taking the opportunity offered by his companion's inability to reply, Michael continued on.
"So I'm your responsibility but the government didn't assign the task to you. Your claim is therefore without validity, and I would suggest you shirk this self imposed duty and leave before the Aliens arrive." Michael still suspected a weakness in Nathaniel's mental state though believing him to be perfectly sane nonetheless. There was much more going on than he could presently understand, and putting it down to a psychosis on Nathaniel's part offered too simplistic an explanation.
"Michael, your intelligence cannot be questioned yet you limit your ability to understand with an unwillingness to accept the universe, and what lies apart from it, as being more than your own knowledge and beliefs. Your thinking is temporal and prejudiced against reality," Nathaniel said, having finally swallowed his food.
Michael pretended to concentrate on the plate in front of him, trying not to show disappointment in once again failing to receive direct answers to his questions. Sipping at the coffee, a little too hot for his liking, he considered what had just been said. Was he limiting himself, being 'prejudiced against reality' in Nathaniel's words, by only accepting what was known or what could be proven scientifically? The Aliens had existed prior to humanity knowing of them — before they had made known their existence to humans in such a shocking way — and yet we had already concluded we were alone in the universe. Despite what we had chosen to believe, our reality was not their reality.
"Nate, not only am I willing to understand, I want to understand and, given our increasingly perilous situation, I have to understand."
"That is so true Michael. We are in agreement. You have to," Nathaniel stated casually, with a barely noticeable emphasis on 'have', as he spread marmalade on a piece of toast.
"I don't get the feeling you fully appreciate the serious concerns I have. In only ..." Michael stopped, uncertain what day it actually was, "What day is it Nate?"
"Why, it's Friday the 23rd of December. Odd you should ask," Nathaniel answered with what Michael was convinced was a feigned uncertainty as to why he would be confused about the date.
"December 23rd," Michael repeated, doubting Nathaniel really found his confusion 'odd' in the least. He had lived more than two full days in different time periods while less than eighteen hours elapsed in his own; extra days he suspected Nathaniel was perfectly aware of. "In two days the Aliens ...you remember ...unknown origin, unknown technology, and most disturbing, unknown intent, will be here ..."
"I know, I know Michael ...we've discussed this all before," Nathaniel interrupted, swooshing the concern away with a waving motion of the partly eaten piece of toast he held in his hand, leaving the impression that Michael need not talk about it further. Michael ignored the implicit request.
"We know they can destroy planets without leaving any trace as to how ..." Michael tested his coffee again, now closer to the temperature he liked, "... you have noticed the absence of Mercury and Venus ..." his tone was sharper and holding more disrespect than he had intended. Regretting this momentary lapse, he finished with an apologetic tone, "...and they made it quite clear only one human was to be here. Only one; you make two. There is no way we can know what might happen should you remain on Earth and are detected by them. You have to leave; and the sooner the better for your own safety and the safety of everything else."
A commotion outside the kitchen window temporarily diverted the attention of the two men. A couple of small birds flapped the tips of their wings against the glass, loudly chirping at each other before coming to rest on the sill. Disturbing the loose snow and flinging it in all directions, they finally reached agreement on where each would sit.
Michael and Nathaniel watched as the tiny creatures cuddled together next to the pane, enjoying the warmth coming from inside the house. The sun shone through the window showing the sky to be an undisturbed blue, promising a good day ahead. The slight tension in the room abated somewhat with the distraction, aided by the knowledge that 'all the cards were on the table' and Michael's position with respect to Nathaniel's departure was unmistakably clear.
"Michael, there is nothing to concern you with regards to my presence on Earth. I have assured you, and I will continue to assure you if need be, that I will not be here when the 'visitors' arrive."
The subtle inflection on the word 'visitors' did not go unnoticed and it disturbed Michael. It was said as if being part of an inside joke he was not privy to. Then again, perhaps Nathaniel was simply intending to cast an aspersion on the compelled nature of the Aliens coming to Earth. He could not be sure.
While Michael pondered, Nathaniel completed what he had to say, "You have warned that killing me is an option you have available should I prove intransigent. Ease your mind, such thinking is a waste of time. Before I leave you will either understand, or you will be able to understand should you desire to do so. If you even then lack understanding it will be because you did not want to see what is so clearly presented to you. You are a free agent, able to acknowledge the truth or reject the truth. You can know as you are known if you should choose to do so. It is a matter of choice and it will be free for you to make one way or the other."
"Alright Nate, I choose to understand right now this very second."
"You are not ready to make that choice now. You still don't grasp what I have been saying to you ..." there was a pause, Nathaniel's eyes unflinchingly focused on Michael's, "... nor what you have been shown. Soon you will make a choice and you will know why you made it. More coffee?"
Having grown used to Nathaniel's way of speaking, Michael did not miss a beat, "Yes please. And pass the cream as well. Thank you."
Filling both their cups with the hot black liquid, Nathaniel politely inquired for the second time that morning about how well his guest had slept.
"You have already asked me that. Remember, I told you I had slept well. I suspect you know I was lying, and I suspect you also know why I did not sleep well. However, we both know you won't admit to having any knowledge of either, and you won't give anything away in answering which might implicate you with respect to my most recent experience. So let us just play the game of me relating what happened and you listening intently as if not having a clue about what comes next in my story. We can then have a lively discussion wherein I try to figure out what is going on and how you are involved, and you respond by attempting not to give anything away."
Nathaniel gave a hearty laugh and said nothing. After a few moments passed, he glanced at Michael and asked him to proceed with the story telling as he had just said. He promised he would not 'play the game' but take in everything with an appreciation for Michael's belief in their reality.
And so Michael began, telling of how he had gone to bed in the room upstairs only to be awakened by a bird emptying its bowels. Finding himself to be on a rooftop in an ancient village he proceeded to bide his time by constructing a sun shade, stealing food and eavesdropping on wedding guests, until such time as he was again returned to his bed in the room upstairs.
In telling the story he was careful to include as much detail about things seen and heard as he could remember. He did not know what small detail might be the particular piece of information required to make Nathaniel reveal something he might otherwise keep hidden. Before he finished with all he needed to say, breakfast was long since over and they were each drinking their fifth cup of coffee. The accounting complete, Michael waited for his one person audience to deny any knowledge or involvement in the matter, while commenting on the very interesting 'dream'. Nathaniel did neither.
"Boaz's sister and Simeon's donkey you said. Quite the comparison; people can be so cruel when talking about others," was all Nathaniel said.
Michael kept waiting for the expected denial, but Nathaniel only turned in his chair to look out the window and drink from his cup. While seeming to ignore Michael he watched the tiny birds nestled in one corner, each seeking warmth and security from the other.
"Nothing else to say Nate? No hints to me about my having simply been dreaming?" Michael asked when it became apparent nothing more would be forthcoming. "It wasn't a dream. I was there. I went back in time and saw and heard everything I have told you about. Just because I can't prove it does not mean it wasn't real."
To his surprise Nathaniel did not disagree, "Time is a fascinating idea. An interesting and elusive construct measured by human instruments in accordance with human perceptions. Most people cannot conceive of time having either a beginning or an ending; to them it is eternal — has always existed and always will exist. However, those who think this way fail to see the logical inconsistency they have accepted. They believe that because it is easy to conceive time as never ending, it is equally effortless to conceive time as never beginning. Not accepting time as having a beginning would mean you have to transverse an infinite past in order to arrive at the present. This is logically impossible. Go back in time as far as your mind will allow; now go back one more day from that point. You see, if you do go back that 'one day' further, then you never initially went back in time as far as possible. No matter how far back you go, you can always go back one more day. If time did not have a beginning, then when did we — and by that I mean everything known and unknown — start the journey through time in order to arrive at where we are now? Consider it Michael ...keep going back one day before the other, down time's bottomless well; if the progression is infinitely endless backwards, how was it ever possible for us to arrive at the 'here and now'?"
"This is mildly interesting to think about Nate, but where are you going with it?" Michael asked.
"Oh nowhere in particular, call it a mental exercise. Let us see where it might lead though, shall we?"
Michael agreed, nevertheless remaining determined to hold the conversation on course and have the answers provided to what concerned him. Nathaniel expressed his appreciation for Michael's indulgence and then continued along with the train of thought.
"If time began, then it presupposes something bringing it into being — perhaps an intelligence of some sort capable of operating outside of our physical reality. Time, like the universe it is part of, didn't just happen, popping out of nothingness. In a universe concerned only with physical matter you cannot simply spontaneously create something from nothing, as if by magic. People don't want to accept this. They prefer that the existence of physical reality — that is to say the first tiny bit of physical 'matter' — never 'began', because then they do not have to accept the possibility of a non physical creative intelligence having caused 'matter' to begin. In assuming 'matter' has always existed in one form or another, humans don't have to accept that humanity might only be penultimate, with something in the universe being greater than them. But think Michael; if something never began, then it doesn't exist and, if it doesn't exist, then how do you explain it even 'being'. Everything had to have a beginning Michael; except of course, the initial cause of the beginning."
"That is nonsense Nate. I dare say it is religious nonsense. If everything must have a beginning — a first cause — then whatever was responsible for that 'first cause' must also have had a beginning. It is an endless loop in thinking. You cannot argue for one without accepting the other."
"Well Michael, you miss the point. Time is a part of physical reality; time has direct effects on the reality perceived by humans. Suppose time itself had a beginning; time may have been created by something which transcends it, and therefore is not subject to it. Only when you are subject to the operational limitations of time, do you need a point of 'beginning'. If time does not exist for you then, and only then, you neither have to begin nor do you have to end."
Nathaniel stood up and started clearing the dirty dishes from the table. Michael also stood and began to assist him without being asked to do so.
They continued to talk as they finished the task, leaving only two mugs and the near empty coffee pot in place. The older man carried the conversation he had begun, "Assume time exists as something different from what humans think it is. Perhaps time isn't linear; events do not flow in a neat chronological order. Our physical senses limit our awareness of time's true nature when we see it so 'straight line' and, though creating for us an easily understandable concept within which it functions, we are unfortunately deprived of knowing its true operation. Instead of a line, think of time as a sphere with the events of history unfolding on its surface. Again a conceptual inaccuracy I am sure, but one offering a more complete picture of time's nature. What has happened in the past, what is happening now, and what will happen in the future, are all concurrent events on the sphere's surface; but, dependent on where you look on that surface, you can witness each event separately."
Pausing briefly to allow what he said to sink in, Nathaniel pretended to smooth out some non-existent wrinkles in the table cloth. He then adjusted his coffee cup, bringing it nearer to himself for no apparent reason, before continuing.
"This non linear model shows the same yesterday, today and forever all at once; and this is how a being transcendent to our physical universe might view time. If you were positioned outside the sphere, you would be able to witness any event on the sphere's surface as it unfolded. Look in another area and see something else taking place; go back to the first thing you observed and the event is again happening as it did before. Now suppose I am God, omnipotent and able to see the sphere from every perspective simultaneously. As God, at the instance I make my observation I will see everything that has happened, is happening, and will happen."
Nathaniel again stopped talking. He looked at Michael as if anticipating a rebuttal of what he said. The younger man did not respond other than to drain the rest of the coffee in his cup and then place it down. Taking the silver coffee pot from the center of the table, he refilled his cup and added some cream. Stirring the liquid slowly, he looked up and said, "Please continue."
"Taking the universe as a whole, humans saw the Earth as an average, unassuming, water covered rock, orbiting a hum drum star in an ordinary 'seen-one-seen-them-all' galaxy. For centuries people stared into the night sky imagining the gods lived somewhere in the inky darkness above them. As knowledge grew and intelligence increased, the gods were cast down from their perch in space, and replaced with 'aliens'. Since life flourished on Earth — a very unexceptional planet, most believed — then creatures of all kinds must undoubtedly exist on other such planets orbiting the trillions upon trillions of stars in the universe; beings much like humans, if not exactly like humans, waiting to embrace, and be embraced by their brethren from Earth. But as humanity stretched forth into the cosmos, becoming more aware of the universe in which they lived, they were struck with a paralyzing reality. Humans were alone."
Michael blinked as an involuntary frown crossed his brow. Nathaniel went on.
"This should not have come as a surprise given what is in reality Earth's uniqueness. Located in a spiral galaxy that is in the top two percent of the most massive and luminous galaxies, allowing for an abundance of heavy elements needed to create planets; placed on the fringe of one of those spiral arms, away from destructive super novae and other harmful natural galactic activity; possessing the rare combination of both water and an atmosphere; placed exactly the correct distance from the right type of star — I'm talking inches either way and, guess what — no life. The amazing thing is not that humans are alone in the universe, but that it took so long for them to accept the evidence of this fact. Relying on science to lead them to other life forms, humans felt empty when science finally confirmed there were none to be found. There was no one to share the universe with; no purpose to being in it, other than an endless reaching out into a cosmic emptiness."
Just then the tiny birds nestled outside on the window sill fluttered their wings and, bouncing off each other, flew away. Nathaniel paused, seeking what might have disturbed them. Seeing nothing, he took a few seconds to silently reflect on what he had said. Michael sat in quiet contemplation, waiting for Nathaniel to continue on. After a moment of silence passed between them, Nathaniel spoke again.
"Suppose you attempted to explain to a less advanced civilization — a civilization without the scientific understanding of the past two thousand years — the intricacies of the sub-atomic world...," he stopped, a sly smile beginning, "...you attempted to explain such a thing to someone living in Cana of Galilee about two thousand years ago ...," the smile turned to a grin, "... they would think you mad, or worse, possessed by an evil spirit. This is where humanity is today; engaged in an unending quest to unlock universal truths; a quest to find out if anything exists beyond physical reality, while at the same time humans are denying, are failing to accept, larger insights that would reveal those very truths."
"What are truths?" Michael interrupted.
"Truths are the only reality Michael. Truths are what we see once the scales are removed from the eyes; the ultimate reality that is left once bias, preconceptions, false understandings and prideful points of view are removed. It is the clarity achieved once the surface is cleaned and you no longer choose to see through a glass darkly."
"But who determines truth?"
"No one determines truth; it just is. It isn't altered by what you think or choose to believe. Truth is not about you; it isn't even about everything in the universe. What I'm telling you is meant to assist you. Just as that person in ancient Cana wouldn't be able to understand your perfectly accurate explanation of the subatomic world, so the human race has not been able to understand the perfectly accurate explanations of the reality present in the structure of the universe. The very rocks have cried out for humanity to grab hold of truth. Sages, scientist, prophets and innumerable others have worked for thousands of years encouraging an understanding. Those who have been sent to explain, and those who've tried to accept, have been ridiculed, attacked, condemned and worse. Beaten, tortured, imprisoned, killed, cast out from society, ignored, scorned and otherwise crucified. Sad to think that all they wanted to do was to advance others to a more perfect knowledge."
"Nate you're a likable fellow and I trust the sincerity in what you are telling me: and to you it probably makes sense. But I find most of what you say to be spoken in riddles. You are human and yet you speak as though you are not part of humanity. We can only believe what can be established by scientific investigation and testing. To think otherwise is foolish."
Nathaniel pushed his chair away from the table, extending his legs and crossing them at the ankles. Putting arms behind his head he stretched, making himself comfortable. As if reasoning with a child he said, "You say the celebration in Cana began to quiet down late in the afternoon. Why do you think that happened?"
"I'm not sure. I overheard a woman mention that they had run out of wine. Good wine, and plenty of it, always serves to make people more sociable. Take it away, the party dies. They quieted down when the wine ran out."
"More sociable and louder," Nathaniel added, "You did say it got louder, more celebratory later on, after there was some activity in the courtyard; after a speech about the good wine being presented once the lesser quality wine was gone."
"That's right." Michael answered.
"And what exactly was it that happened in the courtyard; do you remember? I believe you mentioned it before."
"Six large stone vases, water pots, were filled from a nearby well."
"You studied the religious writings made throughout history haven't you Michael? Received a special government dispensation allowing you to do it," Nathaniel stated, rather than questioned, "So the good wine was served sometime soon after the stone vases were filled to the brim with water ...," the words slipping away from him in a way suggesting Michael should remember how the written story ended.
Michael knew the story, the one contained in Christian writings; one he supposed was little more than a fairy tale about the works of a good man. How water became something other than water. Finishing the remnants of his now cold coffee he didn't reply.