<--An original short story in the tradition of CS Lewis -->

Blood Beyond the Farthest Star
Chapter 3
by Mark Wendt


III


Walking with the urban commute crowd always energized Colonel Bridges but it had been a long time since he had taken the time to do it. So long, in fact, that he had almost forgotten how invigorating it was. As the sea of movement swept him along the large open walkways, it almost felt as though he need not even move his feet - as if he could simply glide along, allowing himself to be carried by the busy, herding multitude.

At times like this, when he had no particular place to hurry to, the experience seemed almost surreal. The way everybody's face tilted downward, everyone in his own little world, hurrying here, or there, or somewhere else - yet moving in unison. It was actually quite impressive that there weren't more complications and casualties on the high walkroads each day.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a cafe he hadn't visited in years. With the mellowed reflexes of an ex-rocket pilot, he maneuvered his way over and off of the vocational commute lane. He had done well. It was only a block and a half walk back to the cafe.

Sauntering along the less populated retail walkway was quite a change of pace. He paused at a newsstand long enough to read the day's headlines - and the obligatory advertisements that accompanied them. Sometimes it was hard to tell when the headlines stopped and the advertisements began. In general, the ads were more interesting and enticing, if only slightly less credible.

After gazing at one of the many strategically placed monitors for 10 seconds or so, he found what he had been waiting for. "Blood Beyond the Farthest Star!" It was the day's top story. Picking up a pair of uncomfortable, cheap, plastic headphones, he entered "1-#" on the keyboard in front of him and adjusted the volume downward to a comfortable level.

He couldn't help but chuckle as he only half-listened to the commercial messages that always preceded the news selection in such venues. His mind was on the AEC marketing division and how very proud they had been of their "Beyond the Farthest Star" campaign last year. This news headline was a testimony to that campaign's longevity, and consequently of its success. After lisening to the short news audio clip, he removed the uncomfortable headphones as quickly as possible and placed his order.

"One news daily please... with Science, Technology, Top Stories, Sports, and ... I guess that's plenty." Bridges smiled politely as the stand operator punched in his order. In far less time than it had taken to decide upon the desired selections, his custom magazine was printed and in his hand. Thanking the newsboy he paid the nominal charge, turned, and resumed his walk to the cafe.

The cafe's ambiance was as he remembered it, although there were no familiar faces among the wait staff. He seated himself at a window table and watched the people passing by. As he contemplated the turn of the 24th century, it struck him how very little things had really changed. Men and women still worked and slept, married, and raised families... Countries still cooperated and competed, fought and propagandized... Yes, science had made life easier in some ways, but had complicated others as well. Each new consumer item brought with it a new set of instructions, a new list of side effects, and cautions, ...and of course, disclaimers. Each new disease brought with itself new therapies, new theories, and new treatments, many of which would later prove themselves more destructive than the illnesses they were designed to combat. Just when you thought you knew something, the universe mischievously complicated matters, becoming even more vast and mystical than ever before.

He turned his attention to the daily newsmag, read the lead article, and found it to be relatively accurate - (although he couldn't help but wonder the identity of the unnamed source from his staff.) While punching up his food order, he casually flipped through the remaining pages. Noting a technical article of interest, he forced his gaze to focus on each line momentarily, in case he would need to refer to it later. Upon completion, he skimmed the first paragraph before moving on to the next page.

The meeting. Less than six hours away and still he had no answer for the board. Out of duty, he mechanically perused the online data files on his hand-held while waiting for the food to be delivered to his table.

Exactly how he happened upon the archeology section remains to this day a bit of a mystery. Had it been the selection of a bored, tired man seeking diversion? (Bridges has no such recollection.) Perhaps a simple slip of the finger, inadvertently clicking on the "wrong" key? (Some say there must have been something more.)
Whatever is was, the data he soon found there was so surprising, so incredibly unbelievable, the sentiment of the moment was immediately swallowed up, radically replaced, and dramatically overshadowed by what was truly one of the most bizarre discoveries of the officer's lifetime.

Repeatedly, he checked every string in the structure. A perfect match! After pausing to rub his eyes, sip some coffee, and clear his tired head, he returned his gaze to the screen that laid so inconspicuously before him, defiantly unchanged. For the fourth time he verified each and every letter/number combination in each complex chain. "Incredible!" he whispered to himself.

He glanced about the room. People eating and drinking, talking and reclining - life goes on as usual even in the most magical of moments. Instinctively, he began punching a series of numbers, forming a probability query for his handheld to compute. In a mere fraction of a second the result was displayed. "Statistical significance: .99999999999999". The number was too large for his display to show with precision. Adjusting the format, he fixed his eyes upon the exact figure. Data match significance: One minus 10 to the negative 27th power.

This number undeniably qualified as what he had always called a statistical "certainty". A probability so convincingly strong as to preclude real doubt - although he knew full well that many would choose to believe otherwise.

In amazement he considered his own reaction. Dare he really believe what he was looking at? A perfect match? On a small patch of raiment? In a little publicized museum - a quiet shroud - in an isolated corner of the Middle East? On a burial cloth said to have been wrapped around one most influential man some 2400 years ago? The results of the query remained on the display as he considered the implications of what he was witnessing.

This probe that had traveled so far, reaching out beyond that which mankind had ever seen, had finally, in the farthest reaches of space and time, stumbled upon life - new life - mysteriously budding in a flurry of inexplicable evolutionary frenzy. And now - here and now - as incredible as it sounds, the Colonel had inadvertently uncovered an even more amazing discovery! By either a stroke of destiny - or a blind keystroke of luck, he had stumbled across the source, the exact match, the key to this new budding life so far away. And it was there, as here, as always - within the Blood - beyond the farthest star.




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This document (modified Dec. 6, 1997)












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