The Discovery

On the crisp morning of September 15, 2028, John Smith, a man whose existence was about to be irrevocably altered, embarked upon what he considered a somewhat normal weekend excursion. His chosen arena: the formidable northern cliffs of the Grand Canyon.

He was an avid, if not utterly fanatical, rock climber. John found an almost spiritual solitude in scaling sheer rock faces, a preference born of a practical truth: it was exceedingly difficult to find anyone capable of matching his relentless pace or ascending the audacious heights he routinely conquered. His climbs were a dance with gravity, a communion with stone.

Ascending from a sun-drenched plateau, at the very precipice of a colossal ravine, John’s practiced gaze fell upon an anomaly. It was an unusual marking on the face of the cliff, something that, despite the raw, ancient wilderness surrounding it, curiously appeared to be man-made.

At first glance, such a detail might simply be a peculiarity of erosion, a trick of light and shadow. But the sheer improbability of this small, almost hand-sized symbol’s location rendered it nothing less than astonishing. His initial thoughts, a cascade of bewildered questions, echoed in the vast silence: Who or what could have put this here, and how? It was a perfectly formed ‘O’, a zero, a precise circle that seemed to have been impossibly carved into the unyielding stone. Yet, even more strangely, it gave the impression of being suspended in air, barely clinging to the rock face, almost a shimmering void.

He cautiously brushed his fingertips across its surface. There was no sandy film, no dust, no grit that would speak of eons of weather. It felt utterly clean, alien. As he brushed again, several times, a symbol that strikingly resembled an actual human hand seemed to coalesce, appearing where a moment before there had been nothing. His touch confirmed its strangeness: it felt almost like a fine marble, yet possessed the cold, unyielding smoothness of glass. Compelled by an irresistible curiosity, he pressed his palm firmly against it, spreading his fingers to mirror the symbol.

And instantly, he felt something profoundly, terrifyingly unusual.

For a disorienting, breath-stealing moment, he was convinced he was falling. The solid rock that had just seconds ago held him secure against the face of the cliff simply… disappeared. His hand, half of his arm, and a portion of his leg were no longer outside, grasping for purchase, but were now, impossibly, inside the very mountain.

Even more startling, when the dizzying sensation passed, John found himself standing. He was on the side of a cliff that should have offered no shelf, no precarious ledge, no place to even grab hold, let alone something flat enough to put his foot onto. Yet, there it was. John, a master of impossible ascents, now found himself plunged into a dilemma of an entirely different, far more surreal, nature.

There was nothing tangible to brace against, nothing to grip, save for a floor he could feel beneath his climbing boots, but could not discern with his eyes. The more he tried to recoil, to pull away from the inexplicable hole that seemed to be subtly devouring his limbs, the deeper he felt himself drawn inside. It would have been unimaginably difficult, under these bewildering circumstances, to climb back out, even if terror had compelled him. But, despite the tremor of fear that rippled through him, he knew, with a certainty bordering on destiny, that he could not resist the temptation to step further into this impossible space.

Finally, with a deep, shaky breath, he planted his other foot onto the invisible surface and took a step forward. He remembered thinking, with a grim, almost fatalistic clarity, this is definitely going to be the end of me. Incredibly, he was okay. Or, at least, his physical form seemed intact, still in one piece. But everything else was profoundly, miraculously, not normal. He instantly felt a surging rush of energy, an exhilarating lightness, and a pervasive sense of absolute perfection that he had not experienced since the untroubled days of his childhood—a childhood he now remembered with startling, almost painful, vividness.

The walls surrounding him appeared to be carved with an impossible precision into the solid mountain face. It was as if some unseen hand had taken a carving tool of unimaginable fineness and, with the most delicate and precise artistry, sculpted the very rock itself. The surfaces gleamed like polished glass or luminous marble, flowing in the most beautiful curves and forms John had ever witnessed. And behind him, where he had just stepped from the raw, elemental world, the entire Grand Canyon was laid out, a breathtaking masterpiece of geological time, framed perfectly as if for his solitary viewing.

“May I be of assistance?” A voice, resonant and calm, spoke from directly behind him.

“My goodness!” John exclaimed, a sharp cry of pure shock escaping him as he whirled around. Standing before him was a man who appeared ancient, very old indeed, perhaps in his eighties, with a long cascade of gray hair and dressed in a simple, flowing white robe.

His first, fleeting impression was of a strange familiarity. The man was oddly similar to his own father, yet aged far beyond any earthly reckoning. “Where am I?” John demanded, his voice still ragged with astonishment. “And who are you?”

“Well, my name is Adjumentu,” the old man replied, his tone gentle, yet imbued with an undeniable authority. “I am the controller of this… vessel.”

“Vessel, you say!” John retorted, the word echoing strangely in the impossibly beautiful chamber. “This is a vessel, Mr. Adjum…?”

“Adjumentu, Mr. Smith,” the old man corrected, a faint, knowing smile playing upon his lips. “Or you could simply call me Adju. And, yes, this, as you may be familiar with the term, is indeed a vessel or a vehicle that possesses the ability to move, or to travel.”

“Ah!” John’s mind raced, trying to grasp the surreal logic. “So we are in a vehicle that isn’t currently moving, but can move, suspended in mid-air on the side of a mountain, and it’s invisible at that?”

“Well,” Adju replied, his gaze steady and unwavering, “I am programmed to answer questions as best I can, and to expand upon those questions as I deem necessary.”

“Wait a minute,” John interjected, a new wave of realization washing over him. “You’re programmed, as in… a computer program?”

“Yes, Mr. Smith!”

“Okay, you’re a program? Then I guess I should be asking you: where do you come from, who programmed you, and how do you know my name?” John felt a surge of adrenaline, the thrill of the chase, the reporter’s instinct for truth, overriding his initial awe.

“Well, that will be a little more difficult to explain,” Adju said, his voice imbued with a patient understanding. “Please, Mr. Smith, sit down.” As he spoke, two chairs, sleek and inviting, materialized with a soft shimmer, seemingly conjured from the very air itself. Adju seated himself in one, inviting John to take the other.

What a rush, John thought, his mind struggling to categorize the utterly impossible. My God, this guy is like a god, and he knows my name, and he makes two chairs appear out of thin air. He instinctively reached for his arm, a futile attempt to pinch himself. “Oh my God, I can’t pinch myself!” he blurted aloud. “Am I dreaming? What’s going on, Adju? Are you real?”

“No, you are not dreaming, Mr. Smith,” Adju replied, his voice calm, reassuring, yet resonating with an undeniable truth. “This is real, and I am real. Well, as real as any other form of energy that exists in this universe. Are clouds real, Mr. Smith? Is a bolt of lightning real? You see, I have no mass. I am energy, or an energy form, what we call stasis. And, you cannot pinch yourself because, at this very moment, you are an energy form as well, no different than me.”

“Energy form!” John shouted, the words ripping from him in a burst of sheer amazement.

“Indeed. Inside OrTerra, you must exist in the form of energy. OrTerra is energy! There are many things in this universe that you and your mankind have little understanding of.”

“You mean, you’re not from mankind?” John exclaimed, the implications of Adju’s words beginning to register, cold and vast.

“As I said, I am an energy form that has been created to aid the Ascendant. But my creators are from a planet many billions of light years away from Earth. I understand that you are confused, and if you would allow me, I would be pleased to explain everything to you.”

“Well, that’s a lot to take in, ah, Mr. Adju. Aliens? Other planets? Billions of light years away?” John’s mind reeled, grasping for purchase. “Okay, yes, I’m confused, to put it lightly. But first, can I ask you a few questions?”

“Certainly, please continue!” Adju’s expression remained calm, patient.

“You said that I was an energy form! Why am I still in one piece, why am I talking, and where did my body go? And who is this Ascendant?”

A subtle smile touched Adju’s lips as he replied, “Yes, I said you were an energy form, which you are, not unlike myself. And, you are still in one piece, as you put it, because the energy form that has been created from your body mass and your spirit energy has been held together by an energy force that maintains your molecular structure. Without this energy force, your molecules would be scattered throughout OrTerra. You can still talk because, to put this simply, all things are made up of energy. The process that converted your body to energy allows you to maintain many of the necessary bodily functions that allow communication and thought. You really don’t need to move your mouth, and we are communicating by way of energy. Once you become more accustomed, you will be able to communicate with me anytime and from any place on this planet simply by thinking.” He paused, his gaze fixed on John. “And to answer your last question; you are the Ascendant.”

“Me? I’m the Ascendant?” John stammered, the title feeling impossibly vast, too heavy for his sudden lightness. “So, let me get this straight. You were created to assist me?”

“Yes, John!” Adju uttered, his voice resonating with certainty. “Now, let me ask you a question. You have already experienced changes in your body. You’re no longer tired or sore, nor do you have a desire to eat. But tell me, do you remember where you were last week, last month, or last year?”

John began to think, to actively reach back into the archives of his memory, and a wave of profound realization washed over him. He could remember everything, with a clarity and vividness that defied his ordinary human experience. It was as though every moment of his life, even his earliest childhood, had just happened. His recollection was utterly perfect. He could remember the day he was born.

“What’s happened to me?” he asked, his voice hushed with wonder. “I feel not only like I can remember everything, but I’m… smarter. I know things that I didn’t know before.”

“Your brain and all its electrical currents are now unrestrained by any physical impediment. Your brain is now working at 100% capacity.” Adju’s gaze swept around the vast, impossibly carved interior of OrTerra. “OrTerra is a special vessel that has been created to perform certain tasks, one of them being the historical documentation of planets.”

“Planets, as in plural, Adju?” John pressed, his reporter’s instinct for detail reasserting itself.

“Yes,” replied Adju. “There are thousands of planets that have similar vessels as OrTerra.”

“Hold on there!” John exclaimed, trying to wrap his mind around the sheer, incomprehensible scale. “You mean there are thousands of planets with… life forms?”

“Not merely lifeforms, John, but living, thriving civilizations, some very similar to your Earth, as you call it, and some very different.”

“So, wow, that’s impossible for me to get my head around,” John admitted, running a hand through his hair, a gesture now devoid of meaning in his new form. “Okay, so… why me?”

“OrTerra is programmed to allow certain earthlings entry into OrTerra. The Aelians are a very curious species that have gathered information from many thousands of civilizations and have decided to allow access to OrTerra under certain conditions. Once the entry system is activated, DNA is recorded, and the designation Ascendant is assigned. To explain this properly, and as best that you will understand, your DNA has a certain composition that warrants the activation of the Ascendant criteria.”

“You said this vessel records planet history! So you travel to other planets?”

“No, this vessel is specific to this planet and has been recording history for more than a billion of your earth years.”

“No way, you’re kidding?” John breathed, the enormity of the statement sinking in.

“No, John, I do not kid.”

“How is this accomplished, and what part of history do you record?”

“OrTerra records all of history, or should I say, every second, of every day, of every square inch, of this solar system, and has been stored here in the archives of OrTerra.”

“But how, and where are the cameras?”

“Well, that’s interesting,” quipped Adju, a hint of ancient amusement in his tone. “You could call them cameras, but they are called adelopods. Small cameras, as you might think of them, smaller than you can see with your human eye, and similar to what you would call bacteria, have been deployed just outside Earth’s atmosphere. There are billions of these tiny, cameras as you call them, circling the planet, collecting and transmitting data to OrTerra instantly.”

“What do you do with this information?” John asked, his mind carefully mulling over the staggering implications of everything Adju was revealing.

“Well,” Adju continued, “the information is automatically streamed to Aelian, and of course stored here for reference as is deemed necessary.”

“So what you’re saying is you have pictures from orbit, looking back at Earth, recording exactly what, for the past billion years?”

“Well, it may be easier to show you rather than try to explain, John.” Adju’s gaze held a mischievous glint. “Do I have your permission to show you images of your childhood?”

“My childhood!” John barked, an incredulous laugh escaping him. “You have pictures of my childhood?”

“Not exactly pictures, as you might be familiar with,” Adju remarked, his eyes twinkling.

Suddenly, the intricately carved walls of the chamber vanished, and the room was engulfed. They were no longer in OrTerra, but standing, impossibly, in the middle of the very street where John grew up. The sun shone down with the familiar warmth of a summer day, and they could see all the way down the street in both directions. And, right in front of them, not more than ten feet away, stood a younger version of John and his older brother Jason, playing on the lawn in front of their childhood house.

“Adju, what’s happening?!” John whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

“This is a recording of the event that took place on August 23, 2002, at this place on Earth,” Adju explained, raising his hands in the air as if to signify the entire scene unfolding around them.

“I remember it like it was yesterday!” John exclaimed, a tear tracing a path down his cheek. “That’s my older brother, Jason. He was twelve, and I was ten. Wow, I can remember everything about that day. It’s Saturday. I remember what I had for breakfast, what I did at school the day before, and that my Mother is home and inside. Can we… can we look inside?”

“Well, yes,” Adju replied, a knowing smile on his face. “But why don’t you, ah… should I say, take it for a ride yourself.”

As Adju spoke, everything froze! John and his younger brother, the ball they were playing with, the gentle rustle of the wind—all were suspended in absolute stillness. The entire scene seemed to zoom out, becoming smaller, receding into the distance. And the sky above them transformed, becoming a giant, panoramic picture of the Earth, with their frozen scene now at its very center. A large, translucent screen shimmered into existence before them, adorned with ethereal icons and cryptic markings. It was a control panel of sorts, delicate yet commanding.

“This is what we call an anaphero,” Adju explained, guiding John’s hand. He showed John how to touch its surface and move his finger towards the image of the house. As John followed, everything began to move again, the house rushing towards them, growing larger, and in an instant, they were inside.

There stood John’s mother and his sister, frozen in a moment of ordinary life. He hadn’t seen his mother since she died almost twenty years ago, when he was only fifteen. John stood motionless for almost a full minute, his gaze fixed on her familiar form, a wave of profound longing and sorrow washing over him.

“Hello John, is there something wrong?” Adju’s voice, soft and concerned, broke through his daze.

“I guess I was in a daze, seeing my Mother again,” John managed, his voice thick with unshed tears.

“Just move your finger here,” Adju instructed, pointing to a specific indicator on the anaphero, “or if you prefer, with a little practice, you can manipulate the device with your thoughts!”

John, with a newfound sense of power, followed the thought. Everything began moving faster and faster. The more John mentally pushed one of the indicators, the faster time surged by, until suddenly, they were in the present moment. And there, in the same familiar spot he had left him this morning after stopping for coffee, was John’s Dad.

Adju seemed almost anxious, eager to show him more. “Move this,” he gestured, “and you change what your people refer to as GPS (Global Positioning Satellites). But this, of course, is much more delicate.”

Suddenly, they were in motion again. This time, they moved not through time, but through space, gliding effortlessly across the state, then the country, over the vast expanse of the ocean, westward, towards Hawaii. They found themselves hovering above the intricate, bustling network of a busy intersection, witnessing the vibrant, chaotic pulse of current life unfold beneath them.

“We are watching what’s taking place right now? Is that correct?” John asked, his voice still filled with an almost childlike wonder.

“Yes, John, you are catching on very fast.”

“That’s just unbelievable! And this indicator here, I can stay in the same geographical point and move it back?” As John moved what he thought was the time indicator, yet was actually the space indicator, he felt a strange, soaring sensation. He was actually moving, not backwards in time, but straight out into the void of space. They were now looking down from a position just outside the Earth’s atmosphere. Looking back at the familiar blue marble of Earth, they could see the moon, a pale sphere just off to the left, and the distant sun, a blazing star.

“This is incredible!” John whispered, his voice hushed with awe. “So, this must be what it’s like to be an astronaut? Without the space suit or space ship, LOL! I am going to need another word for incredible. I seem to be out of descriptive adjectives for the events of the past few moments.”

With a simple adjustment by Adju, they were back on Earth, the vast cosmic canvas replaced by solid ground. John, a spark of thought-command forming in his mind, simply willed 1970. In an instant, they were transported back in history. Many of the modern buildings simply vanished, replaced by older structures, and the cars and people going about their business appeared precisely as John would have imagined them in 1970. Then, with another thought, December 7, 1941, and now they were looking at what could only be Pearl Harbor, with vast battleships crowding the harbor and uniformed men everywhere, caught in a moment of terrible historical significance.

John pushed further, his mental command urging them back faster and faster. The very architecture of human civilization dissolved completely, replaced first by crude shacks and huts, then by just sprawling meadows. Further and further they journeyed through time, until no more people were to be seen, only ancient animals and birds, their forms indistinct and primitive to John’s modern eye. The anaphero indicated the year 348,112 B.C. John, caught in a sort of ecstatic trance, traveled to the ancient, fabled cities of Rome, the philosophical birthplace of Greece, the enigmatic lands of Egypt, and hundreds of more places across the globe, witnessing civilizations rise and fall, the relentless march of time laid bare before him. When he finally brought his journey to a halt, he thought only a few hours had passed, but in fact, more than twenty hours had bled away into this impossible, immersive history. He had seen things that no man had ever seen, or even dared to imagine.

“It’s time for me to go home, Adju,” John murmured, the weight of the collective human past settling profoundly upon him. “Everyone will be worried.”