The Cupel Recruits (12 page)

“Are you trying to say we can time travel by cutting a corner of the curve or something?” Kyle asked.

“No. A universe is finite in space and time and time travel is impossible within it. For you, Einstein proved that. I’m merely stating that your perception will vary due to the perceived expansion and contraction of the universe.”

“Perceived expansion and contraction? So, now you’re saying it doesn’t really expand and contract, we just think it does?” Gabriel asked.

“Hypothetically, Gabriel, for now. Let us suppose that man is walking North to South Pole on a sphere, but he’s doing it on a surface that’s expanding as he walks, I think the prevailing scientific example is a balloon. Like an ant walking the side of a balloon as it blows up, he’d begin thinking he was not very far from his destination, yet surprise would ensue when suddenly it was getting very late and he still had not arrived. The poor little ant man would be wondering what on earth is going on! Now let’s say, he’s not walking the edge of the balloon, but a slice out of it, like a cross section that’s like walking on a piece of fabric. Since he’s walking a straight line either way, in 2-dimensional fashion, he wouldn’t know the difference because flat seems flat to him. Is everyone following to this point?”

Ruth paused and looked around the class. All were nodding, some more clearly and in some she perceived hesitancy, so she decided to expand her example.

“Now, let’s say the size of the universe is not the entire sphere, but just that cross-section, so if he is in the cross-section in a slice that’s near the North Pole, it will be a smaller circle than if he were in a cross-section that was cut at the equator. If we don’t view this from down in the muck of it, but instead detract ourselves from the man and look at the cross-sections, it appears to be expanding and contracting because the fabric sheet, your plane of universe, starts out at a single point at the North pole, then expands to its largest diameter at the center of the sphere, then contracts progressively again down to a single point at the South pole location. Then it all repeats until you are back at the North Pole again. You seem like you are getting somewhere, but you are really just moving in circles!!”

Ruth paused and poured herself a tall glass of cold water from a nearby pitcher. As if on cue, many members of the class recalled their own thirst and took drinks from their own water bottles. Stone retrieved some additional bottles from a nearby refrigerator and passed them out to the class. Ruth was providing the class digestion time and she did not want to be the next one to speak. George was the first to break the silence. He adjusted his vest, pulling it down flat across his stomach and smoothing his hand over the buttons as if trying to recall a long-forgotten memory, “That’s why when people talk about the universe ending when it contracts down to a single point, it really can’t, any more than one could fall off the edge of the earth by standing at the South Pole. It’s just where he is standing at that moment, temporary, not the full reality.”

“So you’re really saying time is circular?” Gabriel stared intently at Ruth, fully comprehending where she had led them.

“Yes. The Alpha and the Omega. A point at the beginning and at the end. They are one and the same,” Ruth confirmed.

“So the future is the past and the past is the future?” Julia asked skeptically.

“Basically,” Ruth confirmed, “but there is some additional complexity. Think of many of your religious texts-they frequently alternate between present and future tense in the original versions, converted to present tense only in the translations.”

“So we’re not talking Groundhog’s Day here?” Kyle asked.

“I’m sorry, Kyle?” the wise elder asked.

“You know, the same events over and over again?” Ruth chuckled.

“Oh. No, Kyle. It’s more like each time you complete a cycle back to your starting point, you are “promoted” for lack of a better English word, to a new concentric circle of fabric, keeping our same visual analogy. It exists beyond the perimeter of the old one.”

“So you’re stomping all over the people that are in the one smaller than yours, the one you just came out of?” Kyle asked. Ruth laughed even louder this time.

“Not stomping on them! You’re in the same space as them and, as such, you perceive their boundaries, but since you exist in boundaries that are broader than theirs, a wider concentric circle so to speak, they can’t perceive your boundaries, because they can only see to the edge of their own.”

“So when you loop around and you’re all back at that one point at the ‘North Pole’ place, which it sounds like is very full, how do you know which ring to get on, so you’re on the right circle? I mean, what if you picked the wrong one?” Kyle asked, fascinated with the teenage curiosity allowed to him.

“Do you have to tell your cells how to divide? Or to tell your body how to age?” Ruth responded rhetorically, “Your path is programmed into your very DNA, just as those characteristics are. The dark matter in your DNA, that large percentage for which no one seems to know the purpose, is actually the programming for your soul. It is embedded and has a soul map to follow, to know how to proceed, build and advance your being, just the way your cells have the double helix structure as their map for physical development.”

“The maps we followed in the woods? You’re saying those were actual instructions for our souls?” Jack Reedson was taken aback by the notion.

“Yes. And what beautiful souls they are.”

Lela moved through the camp at a quickened pace. If she could get through the required tasks for the day, she hoped to get back to the cavern and explore a bit more. She longed to test some basic mineral properties with the volume of the mineral there, as opposed to using a tiny sample in a lab. It had been a full week since setting up camp and each day she hoped to return, but the project requirements were extensive and the needs of the team great.

Today alone Lela had to meet with the volunteer team captains on the anti-malarial and HIV education plans, hold a two hour conference call with Pfister and the corporate sponsors for their first weekly update, meet with the survey team, check on the progress of the recording of the local resources, and tour some potential additional sponsors around the camp.

The chief volunteer project lead was Tina Vail, the Medical Director, who had worked with non-profit organizations for years. On a project this small, each person had to wear many hats. Her talents would have drawn a large salary from the private sector, but she chose instead to live off of rice and vegetables the majority of her life and contribute her talents to the advancement of causes she deemed worthwhile.

“Hi, Tina!” Lela greeted her enthusiastically. She had developed a quick respect for the woman over the last week and was amazed by what Tina could accomplish in the span of a single day. Clearly, she had successfully managed troop movements for a number of initiatives. In the volunteer tent, the volunteers, mostly young adults in their late teens and early twenties, bustled around Tina packing supplies in boxes including water test kits, medication, books, and clothing.

“Hi. We’re going to load up the truck and head out to the Gumubades Village in just a bit. Care to come? They’ve set up the clinic already and have almost all the materials to start on the school,” Tina informed Lela. Her small frame and short, light brown hair were set off with long khaki shorts, hiking boots and a beige linen blouse, already quite dirty though it was not yet nine in the morning. She wiped her hands on her shorts and mud smudged across them as well.

“I wish I could,” Lela conveyed truthfully, “but I’m stuck here today doing more administrative tasks.”

“Fun! At least you have that Brett Davies to keep an eye on you. What a sweetheart.” Lela laughed to herself at the idea of someone perceiving Brett as a sweetheart. He was many things, but she didn’t think the “sweetheart type” was one of them. Two volunteers, a boy and a girl in their early twenties, walked up to Tina and waited for an opportunity to ask a question. Both had dark brown hair and eyes and deep tans obviously achieved through months of field work. Their affable manner and hardworking approach endeared them to Lela immediately and she had a strong impression of them as trustworthy. If she needed volunteers to assist on her expeditions, she’d surely request the pair, she thought to herself.

“Lela, I’d like to introduce you to Brian and Rachel, a brother-sister team from Florida who are twice as productive as most volunteers at their stage, I think because they’re used to the heat!”

“Nice to meet you,” Rachel said, with a quiet nod from her older brother. Lela immediately thought of Gabriel. Had they ever been that young? Seven years ago for her, it may as well have been seven decades ago for how it felt to Lela. In fact, the single last week at the camp had already felt like a month, since they had accomplished so much already.

“You as well. Well, I can clearly see you have questions for Tina, and I’m expected by the survey team. Please excuse me,” Lela waved goodbye. “I hope we can work together soon,” she added, and Rachel smiled.

Lela walked across the camp, between the tents, dodging chickens along the way. They ran around the camp freely and often got underfoot as a result. She passed the food service tent and saw Brett Davies eating breakfast alone. A large smile emerged from his face and he waved, motioning her over. Lela glanced at her watch, observing she had a few minutes before she was due at the survey tent.

“Just having breakfast now? Must be nice to sleep late,” Lela teased.

“Yes, I’m just a real slacker,” Brett responded, but he had dark circles under his eyes and didn’t look like he had slept in at all.

“Prowling around till all hours?” Lela guessed.

“No way! I’m afraid of the animals.” Brett deflected, “Are you hungry?”

“I ate already. Some of us work for a living.” She laughed over her shoulder as she walked out.

“Maybe dinner then!” he shouted after her.

The survey tent was by far the neatest in the camp. Every item was stored in a waterproof container, clearly labeled and color coded. The containers were so numerous that the tent itself felt like a tiny castle of colored plastic. The master assignment whiteboard held a grid of black tape and names assigned to every task while the survey locations appeared in precise, capital letters written in black marker. The king of this castle and its architect was Mako Yoshikew, a clean-shaven, perfectly manicured geologist with perfect posture and a perfect eye for rock formations regardless of the surrounding terrain. He was well-traveled, well-spoken and meticulous about his work. Mako’s Lancelot appeared in the form of Lance Lawrence, a laid-back Texan whose lack of structure annoyed Mako, but whose skills otherwise made up for it.

“Hey, Mako.” Lela stood at the doorway to the tent until instructed to enter.

“Please, enter, Miss Aquila,” Mako advised.

“Mornin’ Miss Lela,” Lance echoed with a single wave of his hand.

“Good morning,” Lela observed the assignment board in detail, extrapolating from it much of the information she would need for her weekly briefing with Pfister and the sponsors. Sneaking a peek at the map with zones cordoned off in red marker, Lela made specific note of the zone containing the cliff face near the river. She recalled carefully recovering the entrance with vegetation as she left, but the clearing of the entire cliff face leading up to it would likely be noticed anyway by anyone with an ounce of skill. Unless they sent interns, it would surely be discovered.

“Why is Zone 6 blank for an assignment?” she asked

“We are short-staffed and it’s the easiest, so I was hoping someone would volunteer for a double load,” Mako shrugged his shoulders and looked with consternation at the board. “It is not looking promising, though, considering the width of the survey areas.” Lela immediately saw an opportunity to buy some more time before the inevitable sharing of her cavern.

“Tell you what,” she began,” I’m no geologist, but I had some other resource mapping to do over in Zone 8 anyway. How about I do the preliminary review for Zone 8 and you could put the Zone 8 team on Zone 6?” Mako looked skeptical.

“Hmmm, that’s an awful lot of work for just one person. I don’t think you could manage it,” he replied.

“I can take two interns with me. That’s three people, and with me coordinating, I’ll make sure the reports are accurate. Since it’s just the preliminary review, we can just note the items for the second team to then focus on. The area would still have a high-skill team looking at it before we’re through,” she argued convincingly.

“Two interns? Well, that would alleviate our short-handedness problem. If you could certify the results yourself, then I agree it is a viable solution.” Lela smiled. Lance looked at her sideways, but said nothing. Mako delivered to Lela his very detailed weekly briefing in a glossy, bound folder. He had inserted charts and graphs showing the trends for week one. “These aren’t very impressive now, but as we accumulate more data, the week-over-week trends should really stand out in this format.”

“They’re great, Mako, thank you.” She glanced at her watch and rushed off. Mako quickly became engrossed under the microscope and Lance rushed ahead of her to withdraw the curtain to the tent, sweeping his arm out beside himself in a grand gesture. Lela laughed and bid farewell.

“Later. I’ll be eager to hear your findings by the river over in the East 40,” he said with a wink and was gone in a flash behind the tent flap. Lela’s smile vanished from her face and she stood seriously for a moment contemplating whether Lance might already know she had a significant finding in Zone 8.

“Suspect, maybe. Know, no” she concluded, talking to herself again in the middle of the jungle. She moved through the remainder of her rounds, gathering the status of the other resources found, the general welfare of all team members. The medical officer advised there were two sick already, but they had both been in Mexico prior and appeared to be suffering from digestive symptoms, so they would simply be monitored. Lela returned to her own tent and assembled the materials just in time for the conference call with Pfister, another side effect of the week one start-up timeline. Lela preferred to have updates ready well in advance, and would be requiring updates by end of day the day prior in the future, but many of the team leaders were also scrambling to get their tent posts up and running and Lela did not want to further stress them with an aggressive deadline.

The conference call began smoothly enough, with routine updates, but for the agenda item covering the sharing of found resources, the sponsors became much more animated, demanding to know which zones had the greatest potential.

“How soon can you relay a full assessment of the natural resources?” Richard Currier asked in a sharp tone. He was the VP in charge of this project for one of their largest sponsors, Fabricorp Hulix, a technology start-up who had not disintegrated with the depression they called a recession.

“Mr. Currier, as explained in the initial overview, a full assessment will not be available for several weeks. However, we do expect to have some preliminary findings available for presentation three weeks from today,” she reported.

“Several weeks!” he blew up. “In our world, things move in minutes, not hours, or days, and certainly not weeks!”

“I understand the need for information, but the project team does need adequate time to do the job justice,” Lela maintained in a very even and pleasant tone.

“If you cut quality to 80%, how much faster can you deliver? We have products to get in the pipeline.”

“80% quality?” she began.

“80/20 rule! My God, hasn’t anyone there been to business school?” His impatience began to rattle Lela at this point. She was not really to 100% performance yet, and after seeming much better since being in Africa, she felt the thinness of her emotional state in the face of Currier. As if sensing this, Pfister jumped in to assist.

“Mr. Currier, I do recognize you have a corporate agenda, but this is primarily a humanitarian and scientific expedition. Much of our team is comprised of volunteers. Perhaps in the next few weeks we could focus with our respective marketing departments here on the mainland to be sure to maximize the public relations value of your sponsorship.”

“Damn straight we will, and if there aren’t enough boots on the ground with the volunteers, we’ll start shipping over our own people. We need results and I can’t hold up a multi-million dollar project launch while they’re down there singing kumbaya around the campfire.”

Lela had regained her composure and continued her attempts to win Currier over, “I assure you, Mr. Currier, completing our tasks on schedule is our number one priority. If you’ll examine the zip file I sent via email, the document is marked “timeline” and you’ll see we are running on schedule.”

“Who set this timeline? I’ve launched entire companies faster than this,” he asked rhetorically.

Somehow, Lela and Pfister made it through the remainder of the conference call. In the end, her notepad was covered in notes of takeaways, interim deliverables, additional updates needed, and notes to herself regarding improving the format of her presentation materials to anticipate the level of scrutiny that would clearly be forthcoming. Mako Yoshikew’s charts would certainly add value, she thought gratefully. The dark-haired beauty would not be looking forward to these weekly update calls. Not even able to look at the materials any more today, she cast them aside in disgust and sat back in her chair, feeling her body relax for the first time in the last two hours. The constant tension had given her a back and neck ache and she stood up and stretched.

On top of the filing cabinet, she noticed her personal file box and recalled the blue and yellow folder she had brought from home within its borders. Already emotionally raw, she felt a lump in her throat upon seeing Gabriel’s chicken scratch on the page. On the plane trip, she had tried to consolidate her thoughts into an outline format she could follow, and she used colored, self-adhesive tabs to mark key pages in his composition book. As he had mentioned to her the night before his and their parent’s death, Gabriel had noticed some interesting properties to the DL mineral. He had made a partial list of his ideas, and only because Lela was so familiar with his way of thinking was she able to follow his train of thought. These notes would have been useless to anyone but her or Gabriel. ‘Or maybe Dad’ she thought to herself. She noticed CAF for the second time scrawled in the margin. She had registered it mentally the first time she saw it on the plane, but she failed to write any notes on it because she had not noticed the repetition. She flipped through, looking for any more appearances. ‘CAF?’ she thought. California? The Central Analytical Facility at University of Alabama? Compressed Air Foam? Crunched Article File? The possibilities flooded her brain like a waterfall.

“Probably cafeteria,” she said aloud, mocking her brother jokingly as she continued to flip through the pages. When Gabriel was a teenager, Lela frequently joked that he had a one-track mind-not for sex, like most teenage boys, but for food. On one car trip to go surfing, they’d had to stop five times for food to appease Gabriel’s stomach, and that was after he’d polished off everything in the cooler. He did grow seven inches that year, she recalled fondly. Finally, on the third from the last page, she saw a slightly modified version: “CaF?”