Porter's Offer: Prologue 4

Professor Embry was now an hour away from his temporary motel home. What had been a radio station of obscure country music was now a quiet bed of static. His thoughts were non-linear and quietly intense in a way that only days of steady stress can produce. He had always considered himself to be a fairly advanced student of balancing body, mind, and spirit. The events of the last months had now convinced him that he was a novice regarding the construction and maintenance of serenity, at best. It’s easy to feel centered when nothing is pushing you off of your perch, he now realized.

Nevertheless, the professor was well practiced in the internal exercises of focus, even if those muscles had yet been small. As the overwhelming distress of life on the run had tested his mettle Embry had been relying on all he knew of resolve, discipline, and faith that there is some order to existence. And for some reason, he never doubted that there would be a light at the end of this tunnel. An escape of some kind, no matter how improbable or unexpected.

And the professor was right.

_________________________________________________________________________

Just prior to his impromptu journey, Embry had been contacted by the academic dean at his university with a request for an introduction. Normally ignored by both the dean and colleagues alike, Embry was curious, but nonetheless declined. He was involved in a much more interesting pursuit since pursuing the strange events now surrounding his day to day research. Initially he ignored the emails, then he began getting messages from students. Men had arrived at their lab, unsolicited, requesting to do preventive maintenance on the equipment. The lab was closed for a day and when the students returned all of the machines had been upgraded to much more expensive counterparts. Furthermore, word was going around that the professor would be replaced in the coming weeks. The connection between his recent discovery and these events became harder to ignore.

In the parking lot of a grocery store, on a saturday morning, Professor Embry was engaged by an unpleasantly official looking man with a proposition. The man would show no badge or identification, but called himself Agent Porter. He further intimated that it was he who had been seeking out a conversation with Embry. His friendly, unassuming tone was in stark contrast to an imposing build and stiff posture. The professor knew that he would no longer be able to avoid this interaction. He decided to feign ignorance and put an end to what seemed to be an unavoidable situation. The man ushered him to a waiting car and drove him to an extravagant hotel which appeared vacant. Porter walked him to an empty bar and they sat. Heavy curtains obscured most of the seating area giving a muffled tone to their words and a flatly quiet ambiance. Oddly, Dr Embry had noticed music when they first entered the hotel but it had faded quickly as they walked.

Initially the discussion had been one of an offer, quite financially lucrative, to join an environmental research team somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. Talk of climate change and pollution that could have been lifted from a 2016 high school physical science textbook seemed to be a thin veil over a different situation. In any case Embry knew he was not well qualified for such a position. Something else was afoot, but the professor played along hoping to evade further questions.

“Mr Porter, I’m flattered that your group would ask me to join in such a worthy endeavor, but I am woefully underqualified. I can give you the names of a dozen former students who would love the opportunity. But I am quite happy in my low effort position.” said Embry at the end of the pitch.

“Professor, we are quite prepared to meet any price you may have. Even a short contract of 3-6 months will be appreciated. Your position here will be maintained.” replied the agent.

“Again, thank you, but no thank you”

Porter gave a conspiratorial smile.

“Alright, alright, Dr Embry. You are clearly as intuitive as your files have indicated. Not unexpected among those with our… talents. What we are offering is a position in a laboratory beyond any you might even imagine. We have discovered something quite important, historically important, actually, and according to our gravitational sensors you have also been on a parallel path of knowledge. You do not have what you need to get to the bottom of these phenomena and I know that you would very much like to. We, however, have not only been able to study and reproduce these readings but also utilize them in some crude very interesting ways. You may have noticed an unusual ambiance in this room. Light and sound not quite operating in the way to which you are accustomed. Wouldn't you like to know why? And how?”

“No I would not, Agent Porter. Good day.”

Embry added an air of finality and began to push his chair back. Agent Porter’s hand shot forward and grasped his wrist tightly. He attempted to wrench away from the larger man’s grip, but to no avail. In his peripheral vision the professor saw two figures in suits step from the shadows. Porter gave a nearly imperceptible wave of his free hand and the men shrank back to their positions. Embry’s chest was tight, heart racing.

“What is this?” asked Embry flatly. No need for charades now.

“Dr Embry, we know what you have, even if you do not. We have backups of all the tests, security video, even data from sensors you didn’t know existed. You have stumbled upon a technology that my associates have been seeking to perfect for many, many years. More than that, and quite annoyingly, you have done it in your piss poor home with the tools of an air conditioning repairman. Dr Embry, you are part of my team whether you like it or not. You have 24 hours to get your affairs in order. You may not be coming back.”

Porter loosened his grip and the menace in his eyes disappeared. He took a sip from his drink, calmly pulled a phone from a breast pocket and began to attend to it. Embry was struck by the flash of aggression and immediate return to baseline. Instinctively he sat and waited like a scolded child. After a moment Porter spoke, his eyes not moving from the phone.

“Perhaps a bit of a history lesson is in order here. Some you may know, some you likely do not. I don’t care which is which so you needn’t interrupt.”

Agent Porter leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. His affect showed emotion for the first time, a bit of contented pride. He began…

“I have spent my whole life, more or less, commuting back and forth from a research station off the coast of western South America. Celadon Station. It takes its name from the peculiar light teal shade light teal of the water that bursts in contrast to the deep indigo of the Pacific Ocean. That bloom of striking, pale green is caused by an energetic anomaly. An anomaly that is not unique on earth, or maybe in the universe, but is orders of magnitude larger and more stable than any other yet discovered. It contains the largest concentration of an eccentric particle that we call P85.

“What have you been calling it?’ asked Porter in a now softer tone, turning his eyes to Professor Embry.

Embry’s curiosity was now outweighing his caution.

“When did they build this.. Celadon Station?” he asked.

“To answer that we will have to review some history, and some things may make sense to you which haven’t until today.”

Porter uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, elbows on the table. He started to speak as if beginning the recitation of a poem.

“After the calamitous events of World War II and the hurricane of scientific pursuit which led to the nuclear bomb, there was less financial impetus to pursue atomic study. Physics was no longer patriotism, or at least not as clearly. In Western Europe a consortium was formed and headed by Niels Bohr. Eventually it moved from Copenhagen to near Geneva and came to be called CERN, a name which persists today. You see, Dr. Embry, nearly everything they teach about physics in academia reaches a point where it falls short of true explanation. Quantum entanglement, String Theory, these are names given to that fuzzy area of the unexplained. The people on the cutting edge of these pursuits are not anyone you have ever heard of, or ever will. They are given some pieces of the puzzle which aren’t quite ready for the public. Or, rather, the public isn’t ready for those pieces. Your expression tells me that you think this is a dubious claim, or perhaps a little unethical. Perhaps so, but it would seem that not knowing has no bearing on the average human’s everyday life. I would imagine after some of the things you’ve seen, and will see, you will come to understand.”

“For decades these trusted few labored in anonymity with the tools they had at their disposal. They generated data and pushed processing to its limits. Nearly all of the personal computing industry has actually been underpinned by the tools they created to chase the work. Digital storage? Theirs. These patents funded more expensive and expansive efforts. By 1989 they announced completion of the Large Electron Positron collider in Geneva. Nearly 30 kilometers in circumference and 100 meters below the ground they were able to generate particles, for milliseconds at least, that to our existing knowledge had never existed in the natural world. Particles that not only behaved strangely, but also strangely affected anything and anyone around them. I specifically said it was announced in 1989 because it had been in operation for several years. They revealed it mainly so they could demolish it and build the Large Hadron Collider in the same tunnel, a tool which could refine and focus their pursuits. And this wasn’t the only site where particles were being created and studied. There were also sites all over the world where the particles were now being found. Having discovered them they were now able to build powerful sensors and scour the earth for more. Not just geographic sites, either. They hid their pursuit in plain sight. The Hubble telescope was brought online in 1990, as was The Human Genome Project. Not to mention, in 1989 the CERN designers invented the world wide web so they could begin sharing the data quickly from these multiple sites. It’s true - you can look it up. They opened it to the public in 1991. If their financial resources weren’t already more than enough… well by then they were limitless.

“The collider was built in a very specific place. In the mid 80s, when the particle rainbow was being mapped, the Agency had no detection methods for any natural accumulation. They had pursued methods from the natural world, and also some practices most decidedly unnatural. I’m sure you’ve heard rumblings about government programs dabbling in the occult, telepathy, MKUltra. A man called Jack Parsons worked for the Jet Propulsion Laboratory and perfected solid rocket fuel while buddying up with Aleister Crowley and practicing Thelema’s “magick.” And of course the United States started using psychics in 1978. There’s a George Clooney movie about it. Various names like ‘Gondola Wish’, ‘Grill Flame’, ‘Sun Streak’, although it was ultimately christened ‘Stargate Project'. There’s just something about hiding in plain sight, almost like it’s a game or a rule or something. Anyway, the list goes on and on. We’re not exactly sure how they first discovered some of these sites but we do know there was remote-viewing in some cases. They accidentally located The Titanic in 1985. And many people believe that Russia was doing work in this area in 1986 at Chernobyl, but that’s mainly based on the fact that once they saw the west had cracked the code the USSR dissolved in 1991 and by 1995 they were on the team. You may remember the space shuttle docking with the MIR space station that year. That collaboration led to advances in AI and Deep Blue beating Gary Kasparov at chess in 1996. And it led to me. My father was a former Soviet and my mother was a British physicist. They met on Celadon.

“Which leads me back, finally, to your question. When was Celadon Station built? Well, as I said the agency was using a team of remote-viewing psychics in the mid 80s, when they found The Titanic. No less than 12 sites were identified by that team and each one was surveyed by instrument laden vessels disguised as container ships. Two met with disaster as the sites were too unstable. Several others were much too weak. On top of that, some areas seemed to move or go through a bloom and decay cycle. We currently have stations at six locations, four of which are under the ocean. One is at CERN, and one is at Area 51, although both of those sites were known to show consistent anomalies long before we knew why.

“Celadon Station sits above the largest and most stable aggregation of particles on Earth. Hubble has located countless larger areas in various regions of deep space and more than one in our own galaxy, but Celadon Station is the one we can get to. In 1988 it was a small structure, no more than an oil rig, with a permanent staff of 22 souls. This is where my parents met. By the time I was born in 1996, Celadon was a veritable flotilla, nearly a square kilometer of interconnected decks and buildings. There were around 100 permanent staff and another 100 rotating in and out. Of course, in my lifetime the ratio of permanent to rotating staff has steeply shifted. Now there are 250 permanent residents and only a few dozen who may come and go. Even those are mostly VIPs. Some of the permanent residents were recruits, just like yourself, Dr Embry. Selected and sought out. You are a very important person. Perhaps even the most important of all.”

Porter’s monologue seemed to have reached its conclusion, and he was now looking at the professor as if he had just made an airtight pitch that no one in their right mind could turn down. In the end, that confident expression is what turned Embry’s mind back to a firm refusal to engage with whatever Porter and his people were working on. There was, of course, his profound hunger for knowledge and further revelation as to the nature of this dreamlike particle and its source. But Dr. Embry sensed a less pure motivation from Porter. A desire for power and secrecy which is, historically, a terrible combination.

“That is really very interesting Mr. Porter. Amazing stuff. Well, if you will give me a few days to prepare my affairs and think this over I think we can come to a satisfactory agreement as to my contractual demands, which will be substantial. Thank you so much for considering me” stated Embry with a confident finality. His general confidence in the goodness of people had long since been shaken, but he couldn’t help relying on conversational niceties that he used to believe made a difference.

Agent Porter paused, nearly convinced that Dr Embry was truly naive enough to think he still had a way out of this situation. He had studied the professor’s file and knew that he was a formidable intellect. No, Embry was stalling. Buying time so he could make a decision. He decided to play along.

“Certainly, Professor. We are, however, on a rather tight schedule. I’ll have my men take you home to pack some bags. Take the night. We will leave in the morning and you can give Celadon Station a good once-over for, let’s say, a week. I have no doubt you’ll find it to your liking. And of course you can get back stateside periodically”, countered Porter.

Embry was certain if he went to Celadon he would not be coming back. That was clear.

“Sure, that sounds fine. I have to admit I’m eager to see what facilities such an organization may be hiding”, Embry lied with a smile. A casual observer would have never noticed the chess match these men were playing.

Embry stood and, after a friendly handshake, was ushered outside and into a black sedan. Two men of stout build got into the front seat while he sat in the back. He scanned the vehicle and the men, trying to find any identifiable trait or mark that he could research on returning home. Nothing. His easy resistance to intellectual authority had given him strength before, but he could tell that his escorts fought battles differently. He felt a bead of sweat roll down his side underneath his shirt. His muscles were tense. Fortunately, Embry’s lifetime of meditation and mental training had given him an astounding amount of control over his body. He spent several moments taking deeper and deeper breaths, mantra prayers repeating in his head. His heart rate slowed, tension released from his face. He began to think of his best next move.

Based on Porter's comments the professor knew that his device had initially drawn their attention. He also believed that they did indeed have at least some access to something similar, and may have a better idea of what it was. He was curious about their findings in spite of himself. Still, Embry had a feeling that while he was up against something big, it was surely not infallible. After all, it had taken them a few days to zero in and approach him. He assumed they knew where he lived, so why had they not engaged him there? Perhaps to avoid a scene. Or perhaps they weren’t exactly sure what he had and what he was capable of.

Embry had a decision to make. He sensed that he would not be out of these men’s sight until he was safely back in the possession of Agent Porter. He couldn’t fight. He thought if given a chance he could outrun them, and he had a feeling they weren’t authorized to use any lethal force, although he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t uniquely irreplaceable, as Porter had mentioned a team. The professor calculated his odds of escape and felt they were dropping every moment. Another deep breath.

He tried to channel his best Woody Harrelson.

He assumed they would not speak, but he nonetheless had to try.

“So do you guys do this kind of thing often?”

No response.

“I’m only asking because I suspect we’ll be spending a lot of time together. This is our first date. Like, is this your line of work? The escorting? Do you go to school for that? Were you two the best at standing and not talking so you got the big job? Or, wait.. maybe you two were the worst so you only get teacher-level escorts. The slower guys get the nerds like me. Maybe the goon class president is on wrestler duty, huh?”

Still, nothing. Perhaps a small flinch by the driver. Embry again noticed the flat sounds of his voice in the car. Even the road noise was almost nonexistent. It was off-putting, but he persisted.

“No need to respond, fellas. They probably don’t allow you to speak much anyway, I suppose. I doubt communication was in the Job Requirements section of your handbook.”

Embry saw the driver cut his eyes to the mirror. Excellent. He looked out the window and continued…

“How did it read? ‘Wanted: mid to low IQ sweaty man. Must look plain in a fitted suit. Subservient personality a must. Beta preferred. Critical thinkers need not apply. Will be exuding microphallus energy on a day to day basis.’ Something like that?”

The passenger shifted in his seat. Now for the cherry on top.

“All this time you thought you were hired for your strength and professionalism, you were actually hired because you can take verbal abuse without standing up for yourself. I suspect this is a trait you get from your mothers.”

The driver looked at his partner, who returned the glance. The passenger turned to Professor Embry.

“My mother was a saint.” said the man.

Embry felt a chill across his spine. The man’s voice was distorted. Low and wavering like a tape recorder with low batteries. He had produced a small device and pointed it towards Dr Embry. For a moment the professor thought it was his own Equation box, but it was smaller, black and appeared to be automated. Suddenly he felt as if a weight was on his chest, tightening his breathing. The professor could see that the passenger, now facing him, had suddenly acquired a visage of uneven features and waxy skin. His appearance was made more grotesque by the intense sneer now twisting his expression as he pushed the device closer to Embry. A humid, smothering sensation now covered him like a heavy blanket and he could feel the car’s suspension settle just as he was about to pass out. He saw and even seemed to feel a bright flash of light, losing consciousness.

Embry came to and tried to take in his surroundings. The car was upside down and he was lying on the roof, which was now the floor. The driver was still strapped into the seatbelt and hanging awkwardly. The passenger was nowhere to be found. He scrambled through the bent window frame and surveyed his surroundings in the fading daylight. He recognized that he was no more than a few miles from his home. One chance. Leaving the highway he cut through a field, adrenaline feeding his pace, all the while hearing the man’s distorted voice and thinking about shapes, and gravity, and light.

Three hours later, after setting his home on fire, Professor Givens Embry dropped off a package with a fake return address at the post office, shipped by ground. He then climbed into an old Ford pickup truck for which he had traded his lovely Prius at a small suburban used car lot. He calmly packed his pipe in a meditative, almost ritual procedure that he had performed thousands of times. The new sum total of his earthly belongings was in a backpack on the seat beside him. His emotions were as exhausted as his options, but his mind was comforted in curiosity, as always. He was wondering if the raven he saw in his mirror was the same one that had been loitering around his home ever since the day of the discovery. He was pleased to see it heading west, as was he.