निनमित
Copyright © 2018 by John Erik Ege
EHP: Experimental Home Publishing “SG1:Point Five.” version 1.00 July 28th, 2018.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law, or by that guy who is it taking it to his boss saying, I want to make this movie, that would be like totally okay; caveat YOU MENTION ME! AND pay due homage to Stargate and SG1. For permission requests, email the publisher “Experimental Home Publishing.”
This book is a fan fiction dedicated to SG1, and all of those who have participated in this, directly or indirectly. Those of you who have followed my ‘I/Tulpa’ series, starting with “Not Here,” will probably find this a quaint departure from the usual adventure and debauchery, though I suspect you’ll find enough allusions that knowing the characters Jon and Loxy will at least give you a good chuckle. For those of you who have never met J@L, I highly recommend you start with ‘Not Here.’ You could, of course, start with any of the ‘I/Tulpa’ series, as SG1 characters have certainly influenced all of my writing, some more directly than others. Specifically, if you want more information on Tulpas, Wonderlands, or any of my other work, from the perspective of Jon and Loxy, I recommend
‘I/Tulpa: And the Worlds of Crossover. It is the first I/Tulpa story, divergent from ‘Not Here.’ Also, SG1 is in my cross over Trek fiction: Star Trek: Another Piece of the Action.
Where possible, I have added real life reports of what appears to be temporal anomalies. If you want more, and better written, I highly recommend ‘The Daemon,’ by Anthony Peake, as it is full of references. It is my personal belief, time travel happens all the time, and I live my life as if I am just one 1979 penny away from unraveling my entire world-line.
I assure you, there will be grammatical errors. I apologize in advance. I am working on doing better. I have marginally improved. Feel free to email me any corrections or complaints. My knowledge of SG1 trivia is not as sound as my Star Trek trivia. I am simply a modest fan, who finds himself caught up in the whirlwinds of imagination on a daily basis.
Sincerely
John Erik Ege 214-907-4070 solarchariot@gmail.com
Chapter 1
Colonel Jack O’Neill, clone, teenager, high school student, found himself on the side of the building where students were allowed to smoke. He chastised himself for needing one, well aware of the dangers, but he just needed something to take the edge off. Contrary to popular belief, starting over isn’t easy, even if everything is taken care of. Legally, on paper, if anyone dared to investigate, he was an emancipated teenager. In real life, his apartment was paid for by the Air Force, and he was just as independent as any adult. He had food, money, transportation, and if he needed anything, he had a direct line to a team that would bring a whole platoon to his rescue if he needed it. He could literally anything he wanted, from traveling the world, do just sitting at home and playing video games and drinking beer. He didn’t need or have to go to school. He wanted it.
One of his issues was that he wasn’t fitting in as well as he had imagined he would. Oh, he had made friends. That was easy enough, but his concerns were not the shared concerns of his peers. Though most people saw him as reservoir of calm, on the inside, he was on edge. A plane in the sky might spark as it turned into the sun and he found himself staring, wanting to see an alien vessel. If he allowed himself to watch the news, he read conspiracy into it, looking for alien threats. He had to stop watching the news. He wanted a beer most nights, but had decided alcohol would have to wait. Cigarettes, however, well, he wasn’t going to change everything about his life! He made an effort to talk to folks, walk with folks, because being by himself was too easy, but it was a balancing act, of not being too clingy, both real and outwardly perceived, to compensate for such a huge change. Though he had access to an Air Force psychologist, he had not availed himself of the resource.
He finished his cigarette and headed to class. He witnessed a student walking with his head down, somehow navigating the crowded halls without bumping people. He walked as if his thoughts were so heavy he could barely hold his head up. He wasn’t going to avoid the collision with the football team, as they were purposely angling towards him.
Lakeisha, varsity Cheerleader, caught up with Jack in the hall. She even hugged him.
“Hey, Jack,” Lakeisha said. “Hey. Excuse me a moment,” Jack said.
Lakeisha held onto him, delaying his exit as she traced his look back to the impending drama. “You can’t help everyone, Jack.”
“It’s not everyone, it’s…”
“He’s weird. He deserves it,” Lakeisha said.
“How does being weird translate into deserving one’s ass kicked?” Jack asked.
“Look, I am not a fan of bullying, but he brings it on himself,” Lakeisha said. “By not complying with social norms?” Jack began.
“No, seriously. He’s weird. Like psychotic weird. He’s the person who might come in and blow up the school kind of weird,” Lakeisha said.
“I don’t see that,” Jack said. “But, let’s say you’re right. He’s off balance. Will being bullied make him better, or cause him to seek power over those who torture him. Excuse me.”
Jack could hear the conversation in progress even before he made his approach. “You should look where you’re going.” “Why? Have your eyes quit working?” “Because maybe if you looked where you were going, you could have avoided us…” “We share this space, there is no way to completely avoid you…” “Maybe if I kicked your ass you’d do more to avoid me…” “Look, you’re not going to intimidate me. I am not going to run scared. I am also not going to fight you. So, if you’re going to beat me up, get it over with. But when you’re done, I am going to get up, brush myself off, and be right back here in your face, and you’ll have the same problem you got now, which is you’re too stupid to come up with an alternative solution to perceived differences other than physical coercion.”
The aggressor reached out as if to grab the target, but Jack stepped between them, facing the aggressor. “Hands off, Jake.”
“Stay out of this, Jack,” Jake said.
“There is no this. Well, there is a this, but if you walk away, there is no this. Kind of like magic,” Jack said.
“You really want to take me on?” Jake asked.
“No, I want you to walk away. Will I take you on? Sure. But unlike my friend here, I am going to fight back. So, do the math, then walk away,” Jack said. “I am doing the math, Jack. Five of us, one of you,” Jake said.
“You suck at math. Maybe why you’re a quarterback,” Jack said. “So, let’s do the math together. Yeah, five against one, I am going to get hurt. But before I go down, I am going to take you down first. More on that, because it’s not a fair a fight, I am going to have to take you down so hard that I am probably going to injure you, badly, which mean no more football for you for the rest of the year, maybe even for life. Since you suck at math, maybe you should consider focusing on your football career, and not sidelining people who don’t want to engage.”
Jake considered the math. His math still sucked, but he was convinced Jack was serious.
“Why would you protect him?”
“It’s what I do,” Jack said.
“You protect dweebs?” Jake asked.
“Jake, you have strength. You have charisma. People like you. You’re a natural leader.
You’re also not an idiot. Why would you use your attributes to hurt people? Set a standard. Stick to it. Encourage others to follow your example,” Jack said.
The coach entered the mix. “Is there a problem here?”
“You mean, other than the fact you only intervene when your star player is being threatened?” Jon asked.
“I am not being threatened,” Jake said.
“Oh, you were seriously about to be taken down a peg…” Jon offered.
“Jon,” the coach said seriously. “You have been warned about instigating fights.” “And about being defiant of authority, and about better hygiene,” Jon said.
“You could stand to shower more,” Jack said.
“I was using the smell to keep people from bothering me,” Jon said.
“It’s not working,” Jack said.
“Whatever this is, break it up, get to class,” coach said.
“This is nothing,” Jack said, looking to Jake.
“Nothing at all,” Jake agreed.
Jake headed out first, followed by his posse. Two of them entered Jon’s personal space, forcing eye contact, as they departed. Jon forced himself to breathe, very aware that the coach was scrutinizing him. Jon proceeded in the direction he was originally headed. Jack and the coach exchanged a look, but then Jack followed after Jon. Lakeisha took his hand to hold him back but he pulled her along.
“That’s was brave,” Lakeisha said. “That part was easy. The brave part is trying to make a friend,” Jack said.
“With Jon?” Lakeisha asked.
“Maybe he’s a nerd. Maybe even a dweeb. But he’s not a coward,” Jack said. “At least, not directly. And that’s interesting.”
Jack and Lakeisha caught up with Jon.
“Hey,” Jack said, touching his shoulder.
Jon stopped. “I didn’t ask for your help.”
Jack came around to make eye contact. “The right response is ‘thank you.’”
“Really? For making it worse?” Jon asked.
“How did I make it worse?” Jack said.
“The beating has been coming. Had he just hit me there, it would have been done, but by intervening you complicated it. You may have delayed it, but you also likely increased the severity when it does happen, because even though I agree it wasn’t a thing, now it’s a definitely a thing, and not a thing he is just going to let go and walk away,” Jon said.
“You’re right. That’s the worst case scenario,” Jack agreed. “Then again, now that everyone knows we’re friends, that’s less likely to happen.”
Jon blinked as if processing the information. The bell rang and Jon turned to walk into the class late. Jack and Lakeisha followed into the same class.
Chapter 2
The first time Jack went through high school he had made a point of sitting in back. Now, he was in the front row. He actually wanted to do better this time around. The thing was, because he had been in the front, he had paid less attention to the background players. Now that he had made
‘contact’ with Jon, he was suddenly more cognizant of just how present Jon was in the back ground of his life. He was in four of his classes, including this class; algebra. The teacher began passing back tests, walking the isle as he did. Jack had a 90. That was an improvement, but it wasn’t like it came easier. Having led an entire life hadn’t made him a genius in high school math. He knew more things than any of his peers, and yet, academically, especially in math, he was at best on par with the class average. In history class, he was now starkly aware of just how wrong history was, and it was a struggle not to speak up and say so. Being a student knowing what he knew didn’t make things better. It made it different. There was improvement in his total average GPA, but it still required work.
The teacher put the test on Jon’s desk. “Do you know what the odds are for you only scoring 76 on everything you turn in?”
“Do I get extra credit for solving that?” Jon asked.
“I believe you’re cheating,” the teacher said.
“Oh,” Jon said, sounding relieved.
“You’re okay with that?” the teacher asked.
“I thought you were going to say I was stupid,” Jon said.
“Well, you are stupid,” the teacher began…
Jon interrupted with a conclusion: “Because if I were cheating, it would be wiser to mix the grades up, give myself an occasional 100, but seeing a gradebook line with all 76s in a row, that’s suspicious. Are you worried about my grades or how that looks when someone reviews your gradebooks?” “Why do you make everything so difficult?” the teacher asked.
Jon seemed to consider the question. He was aware that some of his peers were watching him; he could see as much with his periphery vision. Some seemed uncomfortable and were doing anything but looking. “Do you remember the question I asked you at the beginning of the semester?”
“You never ask questions,” the teacher said.
“I do,” Jack said.
“Yes, Jack, you ask lots of questions,” the teacher said, annoyed by the interruption.
“No. I mean, yes, I ask lots of question, but I am saying, I remember him asking a question,” Jack said.
“He has never asked a question,” the teacher argued.
“Yes, he did,” Jack said.
“No, he didn’t,” the teacher argued.
“He did,” Jack said.
“He didn’t,” the teacher said.
“He asked a question the very first day of class!” Jack said.
“You remember the very first day of class?” the teacher asked, skeptically.
“Yes. It was a very good question,” Jack said.
“It couldn’t have been a good question if I don’t remember it,” the teacher argued. “Well, you did blow it off. Maybe because you didn’t know the answer. The consequence, though, of dismissing someone who may be smarter than you is that it causes them to not want to participate. Because, if it’s taken you half a semester to notice that he only scores 76, or more likely, only now just curious enough to inquire into the anomaly, then you are really not paying attention, you’re stupid, you just don’t care, or maybe all of the above. So, the new question is, why should he believe that you care now, when you clearly didn’t care before?” Jack asked.
Jack flashed a smiled towards Jon. Jon glared back.
“What was the question?” the teacher asked.
“Is the order of operation based on a mathematical principle or is it based on convention?” Jack asked.
“That’s a stupid question,” the teacher said.
“Clearly you think that. Probably why your response was, just follow instructions and you will get the right answer,” Jack said. “I, personally, think it’s a great question.” “It’s just the order of operation. Stupid question,” the teacher said.
“So, it’s based on logic. Which means, hypothetically speaking, if there were aliens on a planet in Alpha Centauri, and they’re doing math in school like us, they’re going to derive the same answers on their test as we do?” Jack asked. “Aliens? You kids watch too much television,” the teacher said.
“But, we’d all do the same, math, right?” Jack asked.
“I don’t know. Probably not. The order of operation is based on convention. It’s just what we are taught so that we all come up with the same answers,” the teacher said.
“Well, that’s interesting then. Because, if you really think about it, if the rule sets are arbitrary, not based on math but because some pompous ass a thousand years ago decreed this is the way it should be done, then there is an argument that Jon’s answers are right based on his personal mathematical paradigm, which would also explain his consistency of grades,” Jack said. “I suspect you should just give him all hundred because he is thinking outside the box and not playing by the established rules.”
“That’s not how this works,” the teacher said.
“That’s exactly how this works. I mean, take the scientific principle. You question the validity and assumptions of reality, both natural reality and social reality, and you try evolve to a greater level of understanding. You can’t do that if you don’t question the dogma and fundamental assumptions espoused by the apologists of the day. Every age has thought they were right, but then someone said, what about this, and we changed. Not always easy. Some of us changed kicking and screaming, but we changed. Now, we’re in the present paradigm, but it’s not working so good for everyone and there are people questioning and wanting to do more, but just like the days of old, there are gatekeepers forcing the status quo. You’re the gatekeeper of old, but we are the sojourners of a new paradigm.”
“This is basic algebra, not philosophy,” the teacher said.
“Maybe we should do both,” Jack said. “The thing is, this is not a class of soldiers. You’re guiding people into being free adults. You don’t teach people to think for themselves by instructing them to blindly do what you say…”
“This conversation is finished,” the teacher concluded, then proceeded to instruct them into busy work.
The next class was history. There was evidence that this was also ‘pick on Jon day,’ as once the roll was accomplished, Jon was invited by the teacher to come to the front of the class to do his book report. “I am not prepared to speak today,” Jon said.
“Well, improv,” the teacher invited.
“I’d rather not,” Jon said, politely.
“And I would rather not give you a zero, so come on up, you’re the next contestant…” the teacher said, playfully.
The humor didn’t change Jon’s disposition. He looked at his desk. “Please, call someone else.” “Jon,” the teacher said, kindly. “Everyone is afraid of speaking in front of others. The only way to get over this fear is to do it so you can have experiences that prove you can survive even this.”
Jon frowned. “I am not afraid of speaking in front of others.” “Great. You’re up,” the teacher said.
Jon dragged himself from his desk and started up.
“No book?” the teacher said.
Jon went back to his desk, collected his back pack, and lugged it to the front with him. He sat the pack on the table. It made a sound. Someone whispered, a little too loudly, ‘this is where he reveals the bomb and blows us all up.’ It was Lakeisha’s friend, from the cheerleading squad.
Jon closed his eyes. His hands were shaking. He unzipped the entirety of the bag, revealing several huge books, one of which was a college textbook, a couple paperback library books, and two notebooks, one of which clearly had clippings of newspaper and magazine articles pasted or stashed inside.
“Contrary to popular belief, being weird, and sometimes confrontational, doesn’t mean I favor violence,” Jon said. “I am ethically and morally opposed to violence.” Someone said ‘redundant.’ “Ethically and morally are not necessarily synonymous, look them up.” He picked up a book and displayed the cover: “The Sirius Mystery, by Robert K. G. Temple 1976.” “Excuse me, Jon,” the teacher interrupted. “This is not an approved book.” “It’s nonfiction,” Jon stated. No one knew enough to laugh.
“It’s not history,” the teacher said.
“It’s not the history being taught,” Jon argued.
“What else do you got?” the teacher said.
“More of the same,” Jon said. “May I sit down now?”
“Nope, what else do you got?” the teacher asked.
“Chariots of the Gods, 1968 by Erich von Däniken…,” Jon said, holding up the book. “Anything other than alien conspiracies?” the teacher asked. Now everyone laughed.
“Fingerprints of the Gods,” John began. “Graham Hancock.
“Anything other than from a pseudo archeologist?” the teacher asked.
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Jon said.
“Jon, this is a history class,” the teacher said. “Not the X-files.”
“This is history!” Jon said. Before the teacher could argue, he pressed on. “Seriously, if the gatekeepers of knowledge never allow for controversial dialogue, then science and academia becomes no better than the religious structures that once suppressed information because it was contradictory of the established dogma.”
“This is not suppression. This asking you to comply with the same rules for the book assignment that everyone else had to comply with,” the teacher said.
“How is this not suppression! There are anomalies in history that no one can explain,” Jon said.
“No, there are not…”
“Explain how it is that with our technological prowess, we can’t explain how the pyramids were built,” Jon asked.
“Yes, we can,” the teacher said.
“They didn’t make the pyramids with stone tools,” Jon said. “Hell, I got metal and power tools, and I can’t remove a simple tree root pushing up a sidewalk without breaking my tools. But not only that, we have found absolutely zero tools anywhere, not even a picture of them using tools, and yet we can’t duplicate what they did with our own tools, not even to a tenth of a degree of the precision they achieved. Do you really expect me to believe that since the Egyptians built pyramids, people have become stupider? How many times do we have to relearn drinking from led cups is not good for you?”
“These books are not examples of history, written by academics,” the teacher said. “Nor, are they historical autobiographies. Do you have anything else?”
“Rethinking Giza, how the pyramids may be older than we dare imagine, Doctor Daniel Jackson,” Jon began.
“Oh, come on, Jon,” the teacher complained.
“It’s not about aliens,” Jon said. “And he is a real archeologist. You can’t get much more historic than that?”
“He is insane,” the teacher said.
“But he has a PhD and everything,” Jon argued.
“And he hasn’t worked in a legitimate job since he published that book,” the teacher said. “In fact, I dare say, that book buried him, because he hasn’t been seen since. It’s almost like he fell off the face of the Earth…”
“Just because he is disenfranchised from academia doesn’t invalidate his PhD. He’s smarter than you and I, speaks and writes 23 languages…
“Being smart doesn’t mean he’s right,” the teacher argued.
“It does earn him a voice, doesn’t it? A PhD is something right? More than you? Do you even have a masters? A PhD means you don’t get to roll your eyes and walk away just because you don’t agree with him. Even if what he says ends up being inaccurate in a literal since, it
could mean something metaphorically or symbolically,” Jon droned on “Jon,” the teacher tried to interrupt.
“No! Jon, nothing. Gobekli Tepe predates Stone Henge by 6,000 years. Tell me how hunter gather’s built that? How do you explain the Sumerian tablet with 9 planets carved into the stone thousands of years prior to telescopes? How do you explain the UFO in mid-evil art, like the Annunciation? 1468, a UFO shooting a laser at Mother Mary!” Jon asked.
“It’s a representation of spirit…”
“Why would anyone represent God as a UFO?” Jon asked.
“Exactly,” Jack piped up. “What need does god have with a spaceship?” “What?” Jon and the Teacher both asked.
“Captain Kirk, Star Trek V…” “Stay out of this,” Jon said.
“Yeah, the story line was little weak,” Jack agreed.
“Okay, Jon, we’re done here,” the teacher said.
“The hell we are. You called me up when I politely asked several times for an out, now I am going to be heard,” Jon snapped.
“Jon!” the teacher interrupted. “You’re smart. You’re well spoken. And you’re working way too hard to avoid the assignment. All you have to do is…”
“Your assignment sucks balls,” Jon said. “It’s boring. It’s constricting. When they put
‘send me your huddle masses yearning to be free’ on the statue of liberty, they didn’t put disclaimers and caveats that you had to kiss ass in order to enjoy liberty. School is about maintaining the status quo within the industrial complex. So, here’s a news flash: The industrial age is coming to an end. The school system can’t keep turning out cogs because we’re going digital. Catch up, or you’re going to seriously impede the ability of several generations from being able to play in what’s to come. This book here, by Daniel Jackson, Doctor, PhD, not from a crackerjack box, he doesn’t just play one on television, meets your criteria but you dismiss it because it messes with your world view. Well, you can take your world, sir, and go fuck yourself with it.”
“Princip