The Rebirth
John’s home, a small, unpretentious townhouse nestled in a quiet suburb of Las Vegas, reflected his very essence: unassuming, yet with a profound connection to the vast, silent power of the Red Rock Mountains, which loomed majestically just beyond his back door.
I really don’t have time for this, Jim Sullivan. The thought, sharp and impatient, cut through the residual haze of the impossible day. How did he get his information? A sudden, almost dizzying rush of excitement surged through me. It wasn’t that the last twelve hours hadn’t been exhilarating—exciting wasn’t even close; there wasn’t a human word vast enough to encompass the sheer, mind-bending experience—but this new wave of euphoria, this potent surge of insight, was now utterly overwhelming.
Alright, John, I commanded myself, a silent anchor in the swirling chaos of my thoughts. Let’s get all of this under control. I’m not ready for this to come out yet. What can I do to slow this reporter guy down? My mind instinctively sought guidance. I think I need Adju.
John flicked a subtle button on his amorganon, the bracelet a cool weight against his wrist. Instantly, the oppressive density of physical form evaporated, and he was in stasis—a state of pure energy. Oh my, he thought, the clarity of the transition still breathtaking, I’ll never get used to this! My mind is so much clearer and focused in this stasis state. Yet, even with this heightened awareness, he still needed guidance.
“Adju, are you there?” John thought, projecting the question into the silent expanse of OrTerra.
Suddenly, Adju coalesced before him, his ancient form shimmering, benevolent. “I am here, John. How can I assist you?”
“I need to access this… this ‘time machine thing’ from OrTerra?” John phrased his thought, a slight hesitation on the colloquialism.
“Very well, Ascendant,” Adju replied, his tone smooth, patient. “You can activate ‘this time machine thing’—it is called Cordis—using your amorganon.”
“Now, that’s cool,” John thought, a genuine grin spreading across his face, a feeling rather than a physical expression. “And how would I do that?”
“What you would call a circle inside a circle,” Adju prompted, guiding John’s awareness to a specific symbol on the bracelet.
I see it! John’s mind exclaimed.
He pressed the button, and the very same control panel, the anaphero, that had appeared within the vast interior of OrTerra, now shimmered into existence before him, suspended in the space of his thought. John instinctively began to maneuver a non-existent joystick, his human reflexes kicking in, when Adju’s voice, a gentle current in his mind, interrupted: “John, it may be easier for you if you simply think about what you want. The anaphero can respond much quicker by using your thoughts.”
John concentrated, picturing Jim Sullivan: reporter for the Las Vegas Desert, and his immediate location. In an instant, the world shifted, and there they were, suspended unseen, within the very intimate confines of Jim Sullivan’s bedroom. Jim lay in his bed, a prone, slumbering form. Wow, John thought, a sudden wave of discomfort washing over him, I better be careful with this. I feel like a ‘Peeping Tom’ watching a man I barely know sleeping in his own bedroom.
“Back up now, fast motion,” John commanded mentally, a sudden urgency to escape the private moment. The scene reversed around them, figures moving backward through time, receding into the recent past. “Faster!” he urged, and the rewind accelerated, rushing them back through the events of the day, past Jim’s drive home, until they were back within the vibrant, tech-laden space of Philip’s apartment. “Stop!”
John was now observing Jim and Philip, suspended in that unforgettable moment where the room was utterly engulfed by the holographic recording of the abduction. So this is how they got the copy of the email we sent, John realized, the pieces clicking into place. Is there anything I can do about that, Adju? I mean that email attachment of the abduction?
“What would you like to do about it, John?” Adju’s voice was calm, utterly neutral.
“Well,” John thought, a flicker of mischievous determination igniting within him, “I’d like to delete it. Or erase it. Make it vanish.”
“Simply ask OrTerra for a list of all recordings,” Adju instructed.
Produce a list of all copies of recordings made from Cordis in the last 24 hours. As the thought formed, a translucent box shimmered into existence, containing eight distinct icons. Each one displayed a miniature, perfect image of Kerry Albertson and Andrew Slogan, accompanied by a small description of the traumatic event.
“Delete copies!” John commanded, a triumphant surge of power. Sure enough, the box of icons vanished, the records dissipating into nothingness. I think I’m getting the hang of this, he thought, a sense of satisfaction settling over him. Now, the recordings that were emailed, what happens to them?
“The recordings no longer exist,” Adju replied, his voice resonating with finality.
“Boy, they’ll have a hard time explaining them now,” John muttered, a wry, internal chuckle escaping him. Well, I’ve defused part of the problem. Now it’s just their word against mine, and no one would believe such a story without at least some hard evidence. Jim Sullivan might be a great reporter, but he has nothing to back it up now.
“Adju,” John’s thoughts turned to another pressing question, the physical reality of his transformed state. “What happens to my body while I am in stasis?”
“You ask questions, John, that cannot be explained easily,” Adju replied, his tone patient, yet hinting at depths of knowledge John could barely fathom.
“Just give me a simple answer, Adju,” John urged, a hint of impatience in his thought.
“Your state of stasis is really a process called Ortasis,” Adju explained, the ancient name resonating with profound significance. “It converts the molecules in your body to what you would call energy. The process re-conditions all the cells in your body and at the same time keeps your body from aging.”
“You mean I won’t age while in stasis?” John asked, a new, astonishing implication dawning on him.
“Yes, that is correct.”
“And what do you mean by ‘re-condition’?”
“It will cure all ailments and correct any physical impairment in the body.”
“You mean any disease?”
“Yes!”
“And, by ‘physical impairment,’ do you mean a broken arm?”
“Yes!”
“Damaged eye?”
“Yes!”
“Missing limb?”
“Yes!”
John’s mind reeled, stretching to grasp the incredible truth. “You mean to tell me, just by entering stasis, a blind person can see, and someone with no legs has legs again?”
“Yes, John,” Adju affirmed, his voice serene. “Stasis examines the cells in your body, removes the damaged cells, and replaces any lost cells. You may not have taken the time to notice, but your physical body has undergone substantial changes since your first experience with stasis.”
“Additionally,” Adju continued, his explanation flowing seamlessly, “the amorganon records the structure of your physical body each time you experience stasis. You can choose to leave stasis with previous versions of your physical form at any time.” He paused, allowing the weight of that truth to settle. “The amorganon can also relocate your energy to any position within reach of OrTerra’s range.”
“I’m flippin’ out here!” John thought, the sheer, audacious power of it all almost too much to bear.
“Take me to my Dad’s house, please!”