The Omega Project (45 page)
“Blood pressure’s stabilizing,” Jason reported. “Let’s wrap him in a blanket and get him up to sick bay for an IV and a complete physical.”
Reaching out, I grabbed the cryogenist by the wrist. “Asshole,” I rasped. “What the hell happened to your emergency flush?”
“Sorry, dude. Commander Read found out I had set the system and deleted the program. There was nothing I could do.”
“How … long?”
Andria smoothed wet strands of hair from my eyes. “Thirty days, six hours, and change. Ike, when I heard what Kevin did to you, I resigned.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.”
“No … I mean you didn’t have to do that because you and me—we’re through. So please … go to Europa or the moon or Sioux City, Iowa … I don’t give a rat’s ass. Oh, and if you ever eat calamari again, I’m going to back over your Porsche with my pickup.”
Lara snickered.
Jason whispered, “Ouch.”
Andria stared at me, the hurt in her eyes tearing me apart. And then she left.
* * *
Two IVs, a shower, and a bowl of soup later and I was almost beginning to feel human again.
“So, the dreamer awakens.” Dharma entered my room, sitting on the edge of my bed. “How are you?”
“Still wondering if this is real.”
“Omega dreams often take several days to wear off.”
“What about love?” I took her hand in mine. “I fell in love with you in my dream. I’m not sure I want to lose that feeling.”
For the next hour I told her everything, sparing no detail.
When I was finished, she leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. “Your dream carries a theme of forgiveness. Just as the cephaloped forgave their oppressors, so too must you forgive yours if you are ever to find happiness. That includes the people who murdered your family, the enemies of your previous lives … and one more person—the keeper of your heart.”
Ah … karma.
42
All happiness comes from the desire for others to be happy. All misery comes from the desire for oneself to be happy.
—S
HANTIDEVA
It took me a full day to recover from my thirty-day slumber, during which time I was relieved to learn that Asteroid 1997 XF11 missed Earth by 22,700 miles, Lara’s pet squids were doing well, and that ABE, though stuck in hibernation mode from the cryogenic cold, would eventually thaw out and recover.
Andria and I had a long talk. Since then, she’s yet to leave my side.
The next day, at precisely noon, GOLEM fired
Oceanus
’s rocket engines, the inferno coming from its four upper exhausts turning the refrozen ice shelf to slush. Forty minutes later we were back on the surface, surrounded by a convoy of trucks and all-weather terrain vehicles.
My uncle greeted us as we stepped off the habitat gangway arm in arm, my exhausted mind basking in the reassurance of subfreezing temperatures beneath a cobalt-blue sky. “So, Robbie, I hear you decided to take a thirty-day siesta after all.”
“Don’t even go there. What happened with the lunar investigation?”
“Preliminary reports indicate your computer was right, the helium-3 isn’t active enough to generate a stable fusion reaction. Looks like it’s on to Europa, although the crew’s dropping like flies. First GOLEM determined Kevin Read was unfit for command, then the computer replaced every male crewman except Jason Sloan, then the Buddhist woman resigned. What the hell happened since we last saw one another?”
“Not much. Just an Ice Age, four-hundred-foot tidal waves, telepathic octopi that climb trees, cloned women who wanted to seduce me, and some nasty blue crabs.”
“The women had crabs?”
“No, no … giant crabs. Never mind.”
Andie kissed my cheek. “Tell him the news.”
“We’re getting married.”
“Mazel tov,” my uncle said, “but I pretty much assumed that when the two of you got engaged last year.”
Andria slapped me playfully upside the head. “Not that news, the other news.”
“Oh, right. I’m going to Europa.”
Uncle David’s eyes widened. “That must have been some dream.”
“It wasn’t the dream, it’s that I love Andria and I want us to be together.”
“For the record, General, I offered to resign. But your nephew insisted.”
“Without Andie, I would never have survived the Great Die-Off. But having survived, the one thing I forgot is that life’s too short … that each day is a gift. I’ve been too wrapped up in my work, and it’s not fair to ask Andie to give up her dream. The way I figure it, I’ve witnessed the near end of humanity twice. This time around, I want to help secure our species’ future the right way.”
Andria kissed me, her lips cold. “We struck a deal with GOLEM. The computer agreed to push back the launch date to train the replacement crew long enough for us to take a month-long honeymoon.”
Uncle David smiled. “Good for you. Tell you what—as a wedding gift I’ll arrange round-trip air travel to anywhere you want to go. I just came back from Australia and it was beautiful.”
“No more beaches for a while,” I said, embracing my uncle. Andria hugged him, and then I led her to an awaiting helicopter, the two of us huddling against a sudden blast of katabatic wind.
EPILOGUE
A brahmin once asked The Blessed One:
“Are you a God?”
“No, brahmin,” said The Blessed One.
“Are you a saint?”
“No, brahmin,” said The Blessed One.
“Are you a magician?”
“No, brahmin,” said The Blessed One.
“What are you then?”
“I am awake.”
—Buddhist
saying
DECEMBER 7, 2028
ZHEJIANG PROVINCE, EASTERN CHINA
Located in a narrow forested valley in Hangzhou, the Lingyin Temple, known as the Temple of the Soul’s Retreat, remains one of the largest and most visited Buddhist temples in China. Built in 328
A.D.
by the Indian Monk Huili, the compound’s main buildings are immense double-eaved structures with halls as high as sixty feet—a necessity when accommodating statues of Buddha that stand forty feet tall.
After nearly a month in China with my wife (I never get tired of saying that), I find I have settled into an Eastern biorhythm that has all but vanquished the internal strife that fueled decades of anger. Without the aid of ABE, Andie claims I have become human again. She has a point. Humanity has become so reliant on technology, we rarely raise our heads from texting to see the lotus blossoms. Having learned the usual tourist rhetoric of Chinese, I have enjoyed a newfound sense of accomplishment that was lacking with the “instant access” I had become so used to with my bio-chip.
The Lingyin Temple will be our last stop before returning to Hong Kong for the flight back to Cape Canaveral. Andria and I walk hand in hand through a vast outdoor courtyard, past shops and offices to Mahavira Hall. Within this chamber stands a massive image of Shakyamuni, founder of Buddhism. Painted in hues of gold, the sixty-two-foot figure is seated on a bed of lotus flowers, the entire creation carved from wood.
Andie excuses herself to use the restroom. Moving to a guardrail, I place my right heel on the four-foot-high section of steel, using the beam to stretch out my sore hamstring. Even after four weeks, all this walking …
“Oh, God—”
Doubling over in agony, I clench my teeth, gasping for air! My heart is racing. Sweat breaks out across my body, drenching my shirt.
SYSTEM ONLINE. INCREASING ADRENALINE.
The statue of Shakyamuni is staring at me, laughing silently at the foolish Westerner—a man who has sacrificed a lifetime of bliss for a principle governed by ego.
Sound crackles in my ear. I groan, fighting the sensation, fighting to remain here …
HEART RATE STABILIZING. INCREASING CORTISOL.
Nausea invades my senses, poisoning my efforts at salvation with its acidic breath.
OPEN YOUR EYES, ROBERT EISENBRAUN.
No!
OPEN … YOUR … EYES.
* * *
The chamber is dark, laced with streaks of neon-blue fluid. The sensory pod glows violet red beneath muscles long paralyzed with anesthetic.
A buoy of thought—happiness, vanquished by a simple command, can be restored by another—go back to sleep.
“You are destiny’s castaway, Robert, a man who has witnessed the darkest days of existence. Now you live again, but only to change history.”
I glance over at Dharma, her nude form stretched out on a sensory table, her features obscured behind her life-support modems. Unconscious and dreaming, yet unaware—a captive Buddhist princess, denied any chance of achieving real Nirvana.
“Seek justice or seek happiness. You cannot have them both.”
Dharma or Andria?
Consciousness or an endless dream?
My anger swells at the injustice of our predicament, resuscitating the Hungry Ghost. I yearn for a lifetime of happiness with Andria, but Andria is dead, her soul has moved on.
Held in stasis, trapped in immortality, neither Dharma’s soul, nor mine can ever be free.
I rise from the sensory table, tearing the electrodes from my flesh.
ABE … can you get us back to the lunar portal that brought us here?
YES.
Then engage Superman protocol. We’re getting the hell out of here.
A student once approached a sage who was well versed in the spiritual doctrines and mystical arts. He asked the master to teach him all the sublime secrets of life—to explain all the magnificent mysteries of the cosmos that are hidden in all the holy books. And he asked if all this could be done in the time that a person can remain balanced on one leg. The great sage carefully considered this request. He smiled and replied:
“Love thy neighbor as thyself. All the rest is commentary.”
—K
ABBALIST
Y
EHUDA
B
ERG
NOVELS BY STEVE ALTEN
MEG
The Trench
Domain
*
Goliath
*
Resurrection
*
MEG: Primal Waters
*
The Loch
*
The Shell Game
MEG: Hell’s Aquarium
*
Grim Reaper
*
Phobos
*
The Omega Project
*
*
Published by Tom Doherty Associates
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A native of Philadelphia,
New York Times
and international bestselling author Steve Alten earned his bachelor’s degree from Penn State University, his master’s from the University of Delaware, and his doctorate from Temple University. He is the author of the MEG series, Domain series,
Goliath, The Loch, Grim Reaper: End of Days,
and
The Shell Game.
Steve Alten is also the founder and director of Adopt-An-Author, a free nationwide teen reading program that is used in thousands of secondary-school classrooms across the country to excite reluctant readers about reading. For more information, go to
www.AdoptAnAuthor.com
and
www.SteveAlten.com
.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THE OMEGA PROJECT
Copyright © 2013 by Alten Entertainment of Boca Raton, Inc.
Interior illustrations by William McDonald / AlienUFOart copyright © 2013 by Alten Entertainment of Boca Raton, Inc.
All rights reserved.
Cover photographs by Ken Gerhardt and Bill Hatcher / Getty Images
Edited by James Frenkel
A Forge Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
Forge
®
is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Alten, Steve.
The Omega Project / Steve Alten.—First edition.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-0-7653-3632-3 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-4668-2783-7 (e-book)
I. Title.
PS3551.L764O44 2013
813'.54—dc23
2013006416
e-ISBN 9781466827837
First Edition: August 2013
