To My World and Back Again Chapter 6
The Fateful Night
"Let's see...In the 11th Century, a scientist by the name of Lucca indicated the possibility of time travel through the use of a 'Time Egg,' which utilizes minature black holes. Whether this could actually be possible or not is still the subject of intense debate and no conclusions have been made. According to her theory, by rotating a single point of supergravity, space-time continua can be drawn in...thus making it possible to transform that singular point, which pulls everything else, into a ring formation. Using this ring as a Gate between dimensions, it should be possible to travel back and forth between various space-time.".
Anomonous scientist. Chrono Cross
May 6, 2006
Patrick had waited for the information update on his laptop to complete. He was ready to check, double check, and triple check all connections before he left. He had to make sure there would be no mistakes. He was also so sure that he was alone that he jumped when he heard a voice close behind him.
"Pretty nice place and machine you have here, Patrick, but is it really going to work"
Patrick turned around slowly to see that blue-hair kid again. He was still in his blue jeans and black shirt with white tennis shoes. He had his arms crossed and was examining the lab, paying special attention to the machine that would, hopefully, make a gate. The kid walked around the object making approving and disapproving noises.
"What's the problem, kid, I've got work to do" Patrick said annoyed. He had already had one encounter with this specter, and that was enough. "And what are you exactly are you anyway?"
The child smiled knowingly as he stood with his back facing the machine. "Well, I'm sure you'll find out later, Patrick. Trust me, I'll tell you one day." He walked to the computers, which had the common Desktop on the screen. The child began typing on the terminal before Patrick could stop him. The child, amazingly, had brought up the schematics of the device he had studied previously.
"Pretty interesting. This machine you've built is crude, but it seems to be just enough to do what needs to be done."
"What needs to be done. What would that be?"
The child walked in front of the machine again, his back toward Patrick. "You have an idea of what you want it to do. But, do you know what it should and will do? It's all part of destiny. So don't worry about it."
Patrick crossed his arms as the child had done before. He closed his eyes and shook his head as he stared toward the ground. "I don't believe in Destiny, kid, and you are the most cryptic child that I have ever," Patrick looked up to where the child was supposed to be standing. Patrick looked around the room to see the child gone, without one sound, just as before. "Seen," Patrick finished, unsure of what had happened to the kid, but not really concerned.
He walked back toward the computers, ready to fold up his laptop. And looked on the screen of the terminal to see a something different on the screen. Actually, the computer screen showed the desktop as it did before. It was as if the child never even touched the computer, and that conclusion made Simmons nervous. In reaction, Patrick shut down his laptop so he could bring it home.
After Patrick folded his laptop, he finished up the long day by checking, double checking, and triple checking all the connections to his project, including the machine itself. There was to be no margin for error.
May 7, 2006
The Spirit Dojo
The door shut behind Patrick as he entered the karate dojo where he had trained many years ago in the style of karate called Tang-soo-do. Now, Patrick had on white gi pants and a blue T-shirt. In his left hand, he carried a red duffel bag. His right hand was bare.
The Spirit Dojo consisted of two stories. The first floor had weight training and gymnastic equipment in two separate rooms in the back. The weight training room had a wide assortment of machines to strengthen the many muscles of the body. The gymnastics room included balance beams, mats, uneven bars, and machines to help students make full side splits. Near the entrance of the dojo was a small bar which people would serve water, sports drinks, and assorted nutritional snacks. All of this came with the monthly fee to train.
The second floor, accessible by stairs alone, consisted of the main dojo where the true karate training took place. The room could fit thirty comfortably. On the floor were gymnastics mats to break any falls. There were striking posts to practice the all-important techniques because in this dojo, technique came first, and speed and power came second.
As Patrick made his way past the bar, opened after training, and up the stairs, he could clearly hear the "Kiyas" that the students were making. It was a part of the training which helped to tighten stomach muscles and increase the effectiveness of a punch or kick. In addition, the strong, powerful "Kiyas" impressed judges in tournaments.
Patrick stopped at the top of the stairs and stood at the entrance to the training area. He bowed in and walked into the room while assessing what was happening. The students were sparring one another. Sparring was an important part of karate. Sparring helped students practice technique, and judge distance on all punches and kicks. Speed was always improved with this practice and would pay off in tournaments.
Patrick took a seat with other parents in chairs placed against the wall adjacent to the entrance. He observed the white belts starting out in the sparring process as well as the orange, green, and red belts improving their technique with moves old and new. Everyone was wearing protective gear. It was as if the past was reliving itself as memories of his training came back to him.
Patrick had started his training at the age of eleven when Ms. Ellerbee arranged for him to work for Mr. Maddux by mowing the yard. His future sensei had talked to him about the class and what it could offer, and Patrick literally jump on the chance to take the class. Patrick knew it would not be easy, but sensei had surprised him by working him every class to the point of exhaustion. Only later would he learn it was to help him learn his mind powers, which only a handful of students learned, few ever learned well, and one or two actually mastered. Patrick hoped to be the latter. As Mr. Maddux had said to him when Patrick was catching his breath, and Patrick would later read in the Robotech books, "Nothing extraneous, in mind or body." Sensei was always firm, but fun.
Patrick now observed his old, and quite accomplished, sensei as he sparred with a first degree red belt boy whom appeared to be around twenty. In a completely black karate gi at forty-eight, Sensei Michael Maddux was as fast as ever, maybe even faster. He was a cue ball with a white beard and a fourth degree black belt. As he sparred, Sensei Maddux deflected a defensive sidekick with a low block, hit the student's protected head with a powerful back fist, and ended the combo with a reverse punch to the solar plexus. At that moment, the two-minute buzzer sounded, ending the round of sparring. Sensei was barely breathing hard and the red belt was exhausted. The boy would definitely be sore tomorrow.
Sensei Maddux dismissed the class after the two hours of intense training. It was a well deserved break since no one dared to slack off. Patrick had waited for all the parents to go down the stairs with their children to grab a snack before leaving. Leaving his duffel bag on his chair, he walked on to the mat and bowed before his old teacher then embraced him.
Sensei Maddux looked over his old student. It had been one year since they had seen each other. Patrick often stopped in after long intervals because it made the reunion much more desirable. After Sensei Maddux had had a good look at Patrick, he punched toward Patrick's solar plexus, which Patrick nicely slapped away as he stepped back.
"Very good, Patrick," Sensei Maddux laughed, "it seems you keep well with your training!"
A smirk formed up on Patrick's face. When it came to sensei, it paid to be on your guard. He always tried to pull some sort of stunt, the trick was when he would pull it. " 'Nothing extraneous, in mind or body'" Patrick quoted, "I was expecting it, sir. You taught me well."
Sensei Maddux nodded, "I see that, but I wouldn't call my punch a stunt." Patrick's jaw about hit the mat. "Yes, yes, I can still read your mind. I am not surprised. Though your power and skill grow offensively, you have to train your mental defenses."
Patrick bowed, "Yes, sensei, I will remember that. Of course, I would like to test my skills. I am sure you have plenty of energy left for one last spar for the day. Am I right?"
Sensei Maddux turned around and walked to the center of the mats. He turned again to face Patrick and beckoned him with a wave of his hand. "Okay, Patrick, if you want a challenge, I'll give you one, but I prefer to spar one with a complete gi."
"I can honor that," Patrick answered. He looked at his bag, which he levitated toward him. With his mind he set the bag on the floor and unzipped it. Then, he telekinetically pulled out the top part of his gi. He had ordered a sky blue gi from a catalog. He donned the gi on, making a blue top and white pants gi combination. Then, to save his strength, Patrick physically pulled out and tied his third degree black belt around his waist. Then, he pulled out and put on his red hand and foot padding. Patrick walked onto the mats. He stood before his sensei and bowed, Sensei Maddux bowed back in respect, then, they both took a side stance.
Patrick started first with a back fist to sensei's head, which Sensei Maddux avoided. This gave Patrick the time to bring a reverse punch and a jab to his gut. Sensei Maddux wasted no time in counterattacking with a ridge hand from both hands. Each one was an easy inside-outside block for Patrick. There was something not right about the beginning. It seemed too easy. Then, Sensei Maddux spun around and swiped Patrick's feet out from under him. Patrick fell onto his back, knocking the air out of him.
Patrick recovered easily as he got back to his feet. "You got me, Sensei," Patrick said, "but it won't happen again." Sensei Maddux responded with a grin as Patrick readied himself again. It was going to be a while.
The adrenaline was pumping through both of them as they continued their sparring match. Each had taken a fair amount of blows, and each was exhausted. Patrick took a punch to the head and stumbled back, then returned with a sidekick to the gut. Patrick and Sensei Maddux stood facing each other, each breathing heavily and actually standing after a near thirty minutes of sparring. With a satisfactory smile, Sensei Maddux extended his hand which Patrick took.
"I was right," Sensei Maddux said after a deep breathe, "you have been training hard." You were one of my best students, Patrick. You have proven to me that you still are."
Patrick bowed to his teacher, breathing deeply. "Thank you, sir. I too enjoyed our little spar. There was another reason, though, that I came today."
Sensei Maddux took off and put away his sparring gear, and Patrick followed suit. Each sat down in one of the chairs near the entrance. Sweat poured from their heads, but they ignored it. "What other reason did you have to come today, Patrick? Would it have something to do with John?"
A series of emotions ran through Simmon's mind at the mention of the name. "No sir, it's about a child."
"No, sir. Since yesterday, I have seen a blue hair child that would appear out of no where without a trace. Then, he would talk to me and disappear the same way he appeared. I don't know this child, but he acts as if he knows me. Plus, he keeps talking about destiny my destiny."
Sensei Maddux adopted a thinking position. Hmm. Patrick has blue hair. He is the only one I know with blue hair, unless "Could he be your brother?"
Patrick shook his head, "He isn't. I already asked him that, but the thing I forgot to mention is that I am the only one that sees him."
"That is a very strange event. A kid with blue hair carrying a conversation with you, but no one else sees him." Sensei Maddux let his thoughts wander for a minute before he spoke up again. "Let me try something," Sensei Maddux began as he put his hands on the sides of Patrick's head, "whatever this is must be in your mind, so I am going to take a peek."
"Okay, sensei, I hope you can make some sort of sense with all of this."
Sensei Maddux closed his eyes and instructed Patrick to do the same. He began to probe Patrick's mind. Like a search engine, he focused on the blue hair boy that flashed into Patrick's mind. Sensei Maddux searched through the memories, focusing on the child and nothing more.
All of a sudden, he was hit by a flashing screen presentation of memories. Most were going too fast to understand, but a blue hair man and a brunet woman both smiling at him. They were smiling at a blue hair child who was smiling affectionately back at them. Then, there was a man in a strange blue and orange garb. He wore small spectacles and carried a cane with which he walked with. Then, Sensei Maddux heard a message in his mind. It was a message that sent a chill up his spine that said, "This boy's actions may either save or destroy life. You must be careful to keep him away from others since they would turn him in. Also, teach him well about life or he may end up consuming it along with our world."
Patrick and Sensei Maddux opened their eyes. Sensei Maddux appeared to be frightened beyond life. "Sensei," Patrick called worriedly, "Sensei, what did you find out?"
Sensei Maddux blinked several times before responding, sweating more than before. It had been years since he felt this way. It's just like that other time he thought. He looked back to Patrick and regained his composure, "I'm fine, Patrick. It's just that your mind is like a roller coaster. That's all. I'm sorry to say, though, that I did not find anything about that child."
"Oh, I see." Patrick stood up. He took off the blue top to his gi and put it in his duffel bag. "Thank you, sir, for trying at least." Patrick walked to the entrance and bowed out. "Have a good day sir," he called as he walked down the stairs.
As Patrick disappeared behind the door, the message that Sensei heard rant through his mind. " he may end up consuming it along with our world."
"Wayne, hurry up man," a scrawny man commanded. He was a skinny man with hardly any meat on his bones and had a small tattoo of a black widow on his right arm. Standing about five foot five, he wore blue jeans and a tropical shirt. At the time, he was too nervous to be worried about anyone but himself.
A head taller and more muscular man than the scrawny man responded while trying to break into a 1999 Buick. He too had a similar tattoo on his right arm and wore a muscle shirt and cut-off jeans. "Man, Jim, I'm doing the best I can. I'm almost there, okay?"
"No it's not okay," Jim spat out. "Ever since Bruce and Bart got beat up, I've been on the edge. Just hurry up and get into the car. The boss will be glad after we sell this car to a scrap shop. We'll really earn the brownie points this time."
There was an audible click as the door unlocked and Wayne opened the car door. "Look so what if the Bash Brothers got beat up. Maybe they were drunk. You know they were in a bar. Besides the doors open so let's go."
Jim shook as he opened the door. Wayne was probably right. There was no reason to get anxious just because they got hit on the head. Jim finally smiled thinking of the money and the brownie points. "Okay, let's get going." Jim was about to close the door when he felt a sudden tug. He tried again and again, but the door would not close.
Wayne hot-wired the car and looked over to see someone coming out of the Spirit Dojo. He was a good-sized man with blue hair, and he looked quite sweaty. Of course, he didn't look too happy either. "Jim, stop playing and close the door, some blue hair punker is coming this way, and he doesn't look happy."
Jim stopped trying to close the door to look where Wayne was looking. Jim's breathing increased and his pulse raced. Blue hair. Blue hair was the description that Bruce and Bart both agreed on after they returned from the other night. The man coming toward the car was the man that they had seen. It had to be. "Holy cow! Let's go Wayne, let's go!"
Wayne heard the engine rev up as he hit the gas, but they weren't going anywhere. The blue hair man was upon them when Wayne realized that he had not taken the parking brake off.
Patrick grabbed Jim by his shirt and pulled him out of the car. Jim made a thud as he hit the ground and stared up with fear as he got to his feet. "Wayne, a little help, please?"
Wayne exited and walked around the car while he sized up Patrick. Patrick seemed too wore out to be a threat so he did what anyone would have done. He attacked. Wayne charged at Patrick as fast as he could, not expecting a fight. He was right. Patrick did not fight. Patrick, in a controlled manner, fell onto the ground and lifted his bent legs up just as Wayne reached him. As Wayne came in contact with Patrick's feet, Patrick grabbed Wayne's hands and tilted his body back. Then, using his feet, Patrick actually threw the muscular man behind him to land on his back with a lot of pain.
Patrick rose to his feet and stared a scared Jim in the eyes. "Do us all a favor and tell your Black Widow friends to be careful who they choose to mess with. I'm getting tired of messing with you guys." With that, he closed the passenger side door. A little mind power did a lot when it came to preventing car theft. Patrick walked around to the driver side of the car with the engine still running. After getting in, he drove off.
As Patrick approached the door to the orphanage, Joe did not come speak to him. It was early evening and the children were to have dinner and watch television before going to bed at nine. He knocked at the door and waited for it to open, and Patrick was not at all surprised to find that Joe Martinez opened the door.
"Good evening, Mr. Simmons," Joe chimed, polite as ever.
"Good evening, Joe. Is Britt busy?"
Miss Ellerbee showed up and greeted Patrick the same way Joe did. "You're back soon. I didn't expect you for another week or so."
Patrick beamed at Miss Ellerbee, "I know, but I wanted to thank Britt one more time before I did my experiment tomorrow."
Miss Ellerbee stepped aside, "Well come right in, Patrick, you know you're always welcome here. Let's see. Britt is upstairs in his room. He said he wanted to do some schoolwork and play his games before he went to bed. If you ask me, he's taking after you, Patrick."
"Really," Patrick said with a hint of sarcasm and innocence, "what would make you say that?"
Miss Ellerbee placed a hand on her hip in a "don't go there" way and then laughed heartily. She brought a smile to Patrick's face. "Well, don't just stand there," she laughed, "go up and see him already."
Patrick made a small salute which brought a laugh from Joe and more laughter from Miss Ellerbee. He made his way inside and heard the children gathered around the television watching evening cartoons on cable. None of them paid him attention as he walked up the stairs, and he preferred not to disturb them. He made a right at the top and walked to Britt's room. He was about to knock on the door when he heard Britt speaking.
"So you're saying that I'm different from other children."
"Yes," a male voice said. The voice had an accent of some sort. Different form any he other heard. "Different from many children here."
"How so? How am I different?"
"Well, look at that card you have. Do you think that's normal?"
"Well no, but I can't explain that card. I had to tell him that it was my lucky card."
"That can be true."
"Maybe, but I only found that card in the book that morning. What could I tell him? I told him about the card, but not about the book.?"
"It doesn't matter now. Don't worry, I'll tell you everything about that card and the other's like it, especially that book."
It was then that Patrick decided to interrupt the conversation with a knock. The room was silent for a moment except a few exchanged whispers that Patrick could barely hear. All was quiet again until Britt shouted, "Come in!"
Patrick casually walked into the room acting as if he had just gotten there and closed the door behind him. Britt's room was quite nice. It had white walls that brought out the colorful bed sheets on the bunks. The top bunk, Britt's bunk, had a solid red comforter on it. The bottom bunk, another orphan's bunk, had a solid green comforter. A chest of drawers held both orphans' clothes, which was located by the door to the right. On the left was Britt. Britt was sitting in front of his television playing Chrono Trigger, and now, he was leveling up his characters on Mt. Woe.
"Hey, Britt," Patrick said casually, "whatcha up to?"
Britt was just as casual as Patrick. He paused the game and gave Patrick a hug, giving Patrick his complete attention. "Oh just doing like you always do, level up. That is important, right?"
Patrick nodded his head in agreement. "That's right. You know, the funniest thing happened just before I knocked on the door. I thought I heard to different voices in this room." He chuckled a bit, trying to put emphasis that the event was funny.
"Oh, that was just me. I was just practicing making my voice deeper," Britt smiled, "because you never know when that will come in handy."
It was all too strange for Patrick. Did Britt actually lie to him? Was he lying now? Patrick closed his eyes in thought. Anything was possible, and he really wanted to believe Britt. He opened his eyes with a smile on his face. "All righty then. I just wanted to say 'thank you' again for all the help you gave me. You are the most helpful kid I know."
"How about Joe? Isn't he helpful?"
"Of course he is, but only second helpful today." He gave Britt a hug. Thank you again, Britt. No matter how it turns out, I'll always be here for you."
"Okay," Britt said barely, "but stop squeezing me." Patrick let go. "Thank you. Now if you succeed tomorrow, will you tell me?"
"You bet, bud. I won't leave you out." Patrick motioned to the video game, "I'll leave you alone know. I need to go home and cook a microwavable dinner. You know me, I love plastic food."
Britt giggled, "Plastic food? That's what you call it? Miss Ellerbee calls it 'you can't cook.' So what do you have to say for yourself?"
Patrick opened the door to leave, "Guilty as charged. See you later, I need to escape before the Food Police get me."
"Okay, buh bye," Britt called as Patrick closed the door.
As Patrick left the orphanage, he began walking up to the iron gates. Miss Ellerbee would be by in a half-hour or so to close them up. As he neared the iron gates, he felt someone or something watching him. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned his head slowly to his left.
What he saw was not a blue hair child. No, it was a black cat, but he was standing where the boy was yesterday. The cat was starring right into Patrick's eyes as if he knew him somehow. It was as if the cat recognized Patrick from somewhere. The contact lasted only a minute before the cat turned and leaped over the tall brick wall, leaving Patrick to himself.
Patrick thought nothing of it as he continued strolled toward his car. The cat was just hungry or lost. Besides tomorrow was the day he would try again. Destiny or not, he was sure of success. Out of sight, the cat watched as Patrick drove away
May 8 2006
The rain poured down endlessly during the dark destined night. There was a curtain of rain outside the laboratory which Patrick, clad in blue jeans and a lab coat, could hardly see through as he stood, finally finished setting up the model rocket. The emergency exit door had been opened as promised and Patrick had decided that the time was right to begin preparations. The rocket had barely been changed from before. Instead of a plastic tip at the top of the rocket, there was an air needle. There were wires running through the rocket from the needle to the machine Patrick had set up in the back of his lab.
There's no turning back now, Patrick decided as he walked back to his lab. He carefully laid and taped wire, which was connected to the ignition device for the rocket, down to the floor. As soon as the time came, Patrick would remotely launch the rocket into the storm. The lightning would be attracted to the rocket, strike the rocket, and the gate would be his.
Patrick entered his lab and tapped commands onto his terminal to bring up the command to begin the experiment, but before he began, there was something that had to be done. Patrick reached into the front-right pocket of his lab coat to pull out a head set and a walkman. He would record everything to tape since he wanted everything documented. He put on the head set and attached the walkman to his jeans.
After pressing RECORD, he began to speak. "Hello. My name is Patrick Simmons and the date is May eighth of the year two thousand and one. Tonight, I will conduct an experiment to cross the gap of time and space. ' How can this be done?' is a question you are probably asking yourself at this moment. Actually, Einstein answered this question without his own knowledge years ago. He answered this question when he explained gravity."
"We know through experimentation and observation that mass alters time and space. Gravity is the result of this tremor of time and space. In conclusion, a time gate is an extreme disturbance of the time-space continuum, and therefore, a time gate is just a disturbance in gravity. If we assume that energy has mass since mass has energy, then a large concentration of energy in one place has the ability to rib the very fabric of time and space. The result is known as a time gate."
"Tonight I will prove that time travel is possible with the aid of a simple model rocket and the resources of the SROC." A troubling thought wracked his brain after he finished the sentence. What if his research ends up in harming the planet? What if it is used for the wrong reasons? What if something utterly despicable happened? Patrick had an answer.
"I realize as much as the next person, probably even more, the dangers of time travel. I realize all the logic that goes into the action and the results of the action. As a scientist and a member of the human race, I promise to correct any wrong that is caused by tonight's experiment. Even if I have to go against an army, I promise to correct any and all evil from this experiment."
Patrick left the tape running as he entered the commands to begin the experiment. A humming sound began to originate from the circular machine as it began to take on energy. "Experiment proceeding accordingly. Situation normal."
Energy began to crackle in the room. Patrick could feel his hairs on his neck standing straight and stiff. Then, flashes of blue energy filled the room. It was just like the other night. "Come on," Patrick urged, "it's just like before. Experiment normal. All actions are like recent attempts."
The energy began to pulsate rapidly, unsteadily in the center of the machine. Beads of sweat formed on Patrick's brow. Just like the energy, Patrick's breathing speeded up. He could not help it. It was like this each time he did the same experiment. It was as if he were afraid. "Just a little more," he urged, "just a little more." He continued nervously, "Energy is pulsating unsteadily. It is the same as the last situation.
Patrick tapped his fingers on his computer nervously. The energy, just as before seemed to find a medium and the energy pulsated steadily. The energy slowly condensed into an elliptical shape of a football. "Energy output is steady. It is visibly condensing."
A bright flash of blue light filled the room after the energy condensed. Patrick closed and covered his eyes as before and waited for the light to die down. Within a minute, the light died down, and Patrick uncovered his eyes to gaze upon the bluish sphere that stood before him just as before. He smiled in joy, but did no more. The experiment was just begun. "Energy has condensed to a blue ball of light. This is the same reaction as the previous experiment for project Chrono Trigger. I will now attempt to open the sphere to make a gate by using the model rocket."
Patrick picked up a small yellow control box. The switches were all on and he had put the safety key in before he started it. He lightly placed his thumb on the red launch trigger. "Liftoff of rocket in three two one liftoff!" With that, Patrick mashed the button for liftoff.
Outside the laboratory, the rocket fired away into the rain. It was a miracle the rocket did not stop it's acceleration and all that could be done is wait. The rocket shot up toward the clouds. Higher and higher it went with no slowing down. As the rocket approached the clouds of its destruction, a bolt of Zeus's lightening shot down from the heavens and hit the rocket. The rocket was destroyed, but the energy of the lightening traveled through the wires into the building.
The energy ran through the wires on the floor. It sped around corners and through hallways. Eventually the energy found it's way to the laboratory and into the machine Patrick had made for this occasion. The orb of blue light did not seem to respond. Patrick could not believe what had happened. All his work was for vain.
He decided to close it out and was about to push the button for his tape player to stop when he noticed something. The orb had shifted colors. It was now red. From red to black. From black to green. From green to violet. It shifted over and over again unsteadily, uncontrollably. Blue, red, black, green, violet. It frightened Patrick beyond belief. Eventually, the orb shifted to violet and stayed at that color, pulsating rapidly, uncontrollably.
The orb looked like it would explode, and with all the energy it had, there would be a disaster similar to five thousand pounds of dynamite. Hopefully, it would be less. Patrick stared at the orb, frightened as the orb stopped pulsating, or it was pulsating so fast that no one could tell. It took some doing, but Patrick managed to speak, and the tape player recorded his words. "Oh, God, what have I done!" Then a white light washed over the room.
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