Tyrone E. Keys / Jr. Quantum Dawn

1. Auflage 2012
ISBN: 978-1-62488-617-1
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 149 Seiten

The biggest secret in creation is hidden in plain sight and must be protected at all costs. Free-will and individualism are merely illusions that help maintain order throughout the universes. The truth is you aren't even in control of the next thirty seconds of your life.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Tyrone E. Keys, Jr.

Jr.,

Leseproben

PROLOGUE
“Hello! Where am I? Hello! Can anyone hear me?!?! Am I on Cardinal?” Looking around the sparsely lit space, Pavo could see that he was in an antiseptic white room filled with what could only be described as medical diagnostic equipment. He was bound at the wrists and ankles with thick padded leather straps. Several tubes snaked into his arms, chest and legs, and he could feel the catheter protruding from his penis. The rhythm of the footfalls indicated their creator’s military bearing. As they came to a halt a voice called out. “Pavo Zonding/Dr. Zebudair?” Pavo strained against the restraints to crane his neck in the direction of the speaker. The voice and footsteps belonged to a severe-looking man clad in a gray uniform that contrasted against the stark whiteness of the room. The man’s eyes were black and empty. Pavo, frightened and confused, responded sheepishly, “I’m Pavo. Am I on Cardinal?” The man in gray stared back menacingly, his cold, obsidian eyes penetrating Pavo’s very soul. *** The most important revelation in the whole of creation had been discovered by the most unlikely of individuals. Pavo Zoding was from a small town filled with small thoughts. He’d left his village decades ago and moved to the big city with just enough money to get him started in that universal dream of making it big. He occupied an insignificant occupation repairing star drive systems for a minor freight carrier ferrying ore and various other necessities of the interstellar black market throughout neighboring star systems. Although he worked on ships that were capable of visiting other galaxies, he’d never left his planet. Pavo had aspired to greater things, but time, in its unforgiving march forward, had always shown an uncaring indifference toward his ambitions. Opportunity, on those rare occasions when it had made its presence known, had always slithered through his fingers like sand. The tighter he tried to clench it the faster it slipped away. “Goodbye, Melova.” He waved at the young female receptionist as he entered his worker ID code into the touch pad. He’d always found her kind and attractive but had never worked up the nerve to offer her anything more than the briefest of timid salutations. “Hey, Pavo, don’t forget to clock out.” She waved her hand, never looking up from her magazine. He loved her but knew that she was hardly aware of his existence. Why should she be? He made just enough coin to afford a windowless one-room unit in the workers’ district on the outskirts of New Prospect City. He lived in one of the many tradesmen high rises, a place where crime was rampant and respect for life was nonexistent. Although it was markedly safer to catch the Transhub, he decided to walk home today. After all, this was the last time he would get to see this town. As he exited the building he could see the gleaming glass and steel structures of New Prospect City in all their splendor. Those buildings represented a level of wealth and comfort that he had, at last, decided was unattainable for him in this existence. He’d often daydreamed about what his life would have been like had he been able to become betrothed and raise a family in the finery and freedom of New Prospect. As his mind drifted he could see the diffused purple glow of Gandistun, his home world’s twin planet, rise beyond the Sageus Corporate Towers. This was a sight he’d never tired of seeing and the one thing he would truly miss about this life. As he made his way home, the neighborhood became increasingly blighted and more dangerous. His stride was purposeful and guarded. He knew his massive build was only an initial deterrent to the numerous ne’er-do-wells lurking in the shadows. But like jackals, the thugs that called the housing districts home traveled in packs and therefore were emboldened far beyond their individual allotment of courage. He’d been in more fights than he cared to remember. His face was a study in physical conflict. But his pace quickened once the sprawling group of massive buildings that made up the workers’ quarters came into view. It was an area where anything bad was possible. He hated this despicable place. Pavo could never understand how such a small portion of the society’s population had been able to exist in such luxury and affluence while the overwhelming majority, who supported the minority’s every whim with their labor, lived in abject squalor. Of course he understood the unwritten class prohibitions instituted by the Regency. Although he disagreed vehemently, he knew that the ills of society were as a result of these policies. Unless you were a Regent, you were prevented from owning property, attending certain academies or even associating with certain segments of society. But what he just did not get was why it had to be this way. What would make the wealthy so averse to expanding opportunity to more individuals? Maybe it had to do with the popular belief that there was only so much to go around. And then there was always the lust for more and more power. The Regency would never allow common born to chart their own destiny, especially after so many generations of oppression. The way he saw it, opening up opportunities to all could only serve to create a limitless pie from which everyone with the will to succeed could partake. Fighting the power was useless. These mores had been in place for centuries and were firmly entrenched in the society’s fiber. The rich had no reason at all to flout these rules, while the deprived were so filled with generational hopelessness that most of their time was spent thinking of survival. A static acceptance had developed between the factions. This was reinforced by institutional distractions proffered in the form of ceremonies designed to elicit worship and reverence of the Regency. Periodic pamphlets tracked the more salacious aspects in the lives of certain Regents. It gave the poverty-stricken masses something to focus on, wasting time and brain power as they speculated on it, while commemorations of the more reserved and conservative Regents were spaced strategically throughout the calendar in order to act as a relief valve. Workers would be given days off and free parades would display the pomp and pageantry of the Regency in such a way that the people were fooled into the belief that their oppressors were munificent. He knew the royals had no respect for the people. He also thought their insistence on rule by birthright was completely ridiculous. Pavo was sickened every time he heard someone mention the Regency. He was not susceptible to the programming. But everyone else was. So he was trapped. While it was true that a modicum of guilt ran through a small group of the high born, it was easily assuaged by the funding of social programs, such as the worker housing districts, designed to further sedate the people. After all, the downtrodden outnumbered the well-heeled, nine to one. The Regency could not afford to have the masses thinking about the bleakness of their situation. But over the years the effectiveness of the system had actually multiplied because of the dumbing down of everything that affected the poor. Pavo was a man apart. A confluence of events in his early life had allowed him to have access to educational material not provided to his class. His mother was the domestic for a Regent who kept vacation quarters in their home city. The Regent was kind and allowed Pavo to associate with his own son. As a result, Pavo was introduced to concepts and ways of thinking not shared by the elders in his class, let alone his contemporaries. This created in him the notion that he could break into the miniscule middle class that provided services and products that made the culture function. Why should he be relegated to a life of meaninglessness? Wasn’t his intellect worthy of making a positive impact on society? He had packed up his belongings and invested everything he had in an effort to dig his way out of the cycle of scarcity and desperateness. He persisted, and over the course of cycles he eventually gained an audience with a moderately powerful Regent in New Prospect City. His presentation had been accepted and funds had been made ready for him to initiate operations. One detail had to be cared for prior to that. He needed to name his sponsor, that person who could vouch for him and provide him with the final piece of the puzzle that, once completed, would introduce him to a way to fulfill all of his dreams. He’d thought the Regent that he met at New Prospect would have been enthusiastic about sponsoring him. Pavo was devastated to learn that he would not receive a sponsorship from this Regent who had once seemed so generous. He became absolutely apoplectic when he discovered that same Regent had appropriated his idea and established it successfully, thereby generating billions in coin. He had been inconsolable with a smoldering rage. It burned so hot within him it actually consumed his energy and fatigued him to the point of sleep. That was the first time he’d experienced it. When he awoke he knew an escape from his so-called life might be possible. It was at that point that he found a new reason to live. “You want some company tonight?” a suspiciously masculine female asked, snapping him back to reality. “No thanks.” He kept his head down as he made his way through a throng of adolescents who were chewing Tagil, too intoxicated by the cosmoceutical leaf’s hallucinogenic effects to pose a serious threat to anyone. Still, they were loud and boorish in...