One of Parmayan’s pretty assistants said, ‘he will see you now.’ It was as if a monarch had deigned to allow a subject to be in his presence. Of course, the delusions of grandeur were a necessary prerequisite for a religious cult leader, as were his followers delusions of their leader's greatness.
Raiya walked through a surprisingly modest-looking door – held open by a burly guard – into his personal ‘suite’. The inside, however, gave no compromise to its location; opulent hardly described it. Parmayan was seated in a large leatherette chair, and on seeing her he stood up, smiled and said, ‘Welcome to my humble residence. Please do take a seat.’ He was something of a disappointment to her: a small man who spoke with a high voice, certainly not in any way handsome, yet she knew from her research that he could command the devotion of hundreds and influence the beliefs of many thousands more. Likewise she could still believe the tales of his sexual exploits with some of the most beautiful women. For men like him charisma was enough. In a way she was reminded of Roidon, though at least Roidon had something in the looks department going for him. What rivals they could have made, could make; it was a thought that galvanized her need to get him back – if only to satisfy some diversional psycho-drama fantasy.
‘These are troubling times,’ Parmayan said as he sat back down. His somewhat predictable words at least brought her back to reality of the present.
‘I was told you could help me.’
His smile was broad this time: the smile of a man who thought he had all the answers. ‘I have helped a lot of people. I have also tried to help many more, but they would not listen to me.’ Because you're a delusional monomaniac, she thought. He looked more directly at her now. ‘You know the ones who recommended yourself – they have confidence in you.’
‘They do indeed rely on me,’ Raiya said, thinking she might be playing along with an exaggeration. ‘People in certain parts of the world are in distress; they don't know what's really going on. But you do, right?’
‘Yes,’ he nodded. ‘You probably expect me to come out with some religious crap about the end of days, but I'd save that for my followers.’
‘The ultimate cynic,’ she said, really thinking out loud.
‘No. Just someone who knows what side he should be on, who knows what it takes to survive.’
‘And a man with friends in powerful places.’
‘Which is something we have in common.’
Raiya thought about pointing out their differences, she had not changed her opinion of him ... well, hardly at all. Instead she said to him, ‘Then you must have access to some powerful means of dealing with the situation.’
Parmayan looked towards a plain white dimly-lit side wall. A screen appeared, it showed the area in Russia where people were in a state of panic. ‘Some believe it is caused by a strange gravitational phenomenon. But even the more scientific-minded amongst them cannot explain its exact nature. And others believe it part of an alien invasion – an advancing death ray. There are a few who are even convinced it’s an act of God, and perhaps a few who think it is an act of a mad-man. This I am sure is typical of any civilised nation.’
‘And you would know what to tell them, how to reassure them?’
‘I have the data on the device that is causing it, yet even I cannot explain its true nature, since this is technology taken from the enemy. And you know they are beyond our comprehension. Right?’
‘Well, apparently so.’
‘So, Raiya, what would you tell those people?’
For a while she was stuck for an answer, but then it became so obvious. ‘I would tell them the truth, but then add a positive spin – “we should be able to find a solution” type addendum.’
‘Then you mention all about the aliens – the good and bad ones?’
‘We can't keep them in the dark any longer, Parmayan.’
‘Of all people, you know the efforts that have been made by both sides to keep a lid on the true situation. If the enemy knew we were about to reveal our knowledge, that would be it for our lives.’
‘Then what do you suggest – we lie?’
‘Yes, we lie. I will claim responsibility for an experiment – my “response to the threat of an alien invasion.”’
‘I think I understand my role in this.’ She figured enough of the world now knew about this “insane and increasingly influential cult leader”.
‘I will go along with your plan if you help me with mine...’
*
Finally the missiles stopped. The Elusivers had not succeeded in destroying the temporal field device despite how close their adapting salvo had got, close enough to destroy everything but the very foundations on which they were fixed.
The concept of they was a curious one. Torbin no longer felt himself to be an individual, yet he knew the individual part of him remained. Now it was more like the Torbin part of him/them was a child’s memory: the child will always be a part of the adult, can inform the adult’s beliefs and actions, but the adult never believes that child side is the executive. He now thought himself to be disconnected from that immature past, just as he would never accept a photo of him truly encapsulated his identity. Torbin’s past, with all its supposedly great achievements, humiliating failures, and life-encumbering worries, would not even be a footnote – in the universal scale. But weren’t these aspects of his life the very basis for his motivation to stop it all being wiped away? His current self only saw that as an ego-driven motivation. Certainly, there was concern for others’ survival, but through a kind of empathy. The notion of what mattered was no longer so clear. So the entirety of Earth’s civilised history is wiped from the memory of the universe. How is the universe any worse off for that? He now had access of every recorded event in human history; much of it – the scientific and technological achievements, conflicts – was driven by a false belief in the greater good. There was no overarching altruism, even the bloodiest of wars had their basis in someone’s good intentions. Self-interest is a clever deceiver. With the benefit of the Elusivers’ collective knowledge he saw things from a wider perspective, the logic of the humans’ threat.
So why even try to stop the Elusivers from their objective?
Torbin was not the only human incorporated into the device. The presence had not made itself known before this time, before his doubts had crept in. But somehow he knew it was always there, in the background, observing.
‘Roidon, it is you.’ The words came out in the usual thought projection.
‘For all intents and purposes. I was not about to risk my life without making a backup. Though this is just as much me as the being of flesh. So back to the essential, then, Torbin. And for you it is no different. Losing your body does not make you less of a human, or and indivisible part of this mind. At least it hasn’t yet.’
‘Why are you concerned for Torbin the individual?’
‘I am concerned for the greater good. This device is assimilating you.’
‘But it needs me, I am a useful resource.’
‘You were useful for repelling the Elusiver attack. Now you must break away ... and do your work.’
Torbin was becoming accustomed to being part of this expanded consciousness. The individual was a far diminished thing – too many trivial concerns clouding true clarity of thought. To lose so much of this enlightened perspective. Yet already he felt himself separating. How was Roidon suddenly so much in control?
He was just Torbin now, his link severed, thrown away from the device with a violent force, feeling like a rejected son sent out to fend for himself. His momentum sent him drifting towards Earth, but even at this rate it could take weeks. And even when he reached Earth he would just be a helpless lump of metal, the device had left him with no power.
With nothing to sustain him Torbin’s consciousness waned.
When the ship approached he wasn't sure if it was real or merely a hallucination.
*
Parmayan took her to his ‘shuttle’. In reality it looked more like a space cruiser. Ludicrously opulent. The exterior was a smooth onyx tapering from a rounded delta. Inside: white passive spot lights, large and soft recliner chairs along the side with a large porthole for each, likely to be found in a first class cabin. Incongruously, a ten-seated dining table in the centre, certainly worthy of a cult leader. She imagined there must be a king-size bed in another compartment where would entertain his special guests.
‘A gift from your benefactors?’ she asked, refusing to be impressed.
‘A gift is morally better than something acquired from the proceeds of my followers.’
‘Of course. I would never accuse you of exploiting your followers.’
He invited her to sit. The craft took off so smoothly she felt no sense of motion. They reached St Petersberg, Russia in about twelve minutes. The craft hovered a hundred metres above the affected area.
‘You’d never miss an opportunity to court maximum attention,’ Raiya commented. And why have you not been killed? she thought of adding.
Parmayan didn’t respond but asked, ‘Are you ready to make the broadcast?’
‘As I’ll ever be.’
They moved to the conference room, with its sober chairs and round table. Here was where their images would be beamed to every broadcasting station world wide, their voices translated into over a hundred languages.
Parmayan was composing himself. A screen appeared before him, scrolling text invisible to his audience.
‘People of Earth, my name is Parmayan Redandich,’ he began, haughtily. ‘The end of days is upon us ... or so the enemy wishes you to believe. Of one thing I can assure you: your governments will not help. They do not even want you to know about what is coming, what the enemy is sending to destroy you. I can also assure the people of Russia that the strange time phenomena you are experiencing now is not generated by the enemy but quite the contrary – it is my own technology, designed to slow the hostile's advance.’ Parmayan turned towards Raiya. ‘Allow me to introduce my assistant, ‘Dr Raiya Fortenski.’
Raiya's heart was skipping along, faster than when she attended her first interview for the post of psychiatrist. She positioned herself next to Parmayan, trying so hard to appear relaxed, but not really succeeding.
‘Most of us go through our lives not worrying about what's out there, the potential threat,’ she said, sounding less nervous than she feared. ‘Why should we? Our governments are supposed to protect us. After all, there are enough concerns about everyday life.’ Parmayan turned to look at her, perhaps she was rambling. But she had considerable doubt about mentioning them. She resumed: ‘Right now the inconceivable appears to be happening, and you are understandably in a state of extreme distress. But there are those observing from above who are here to help you. They---’ She couldn't continue, and looked over to Parmayan. She whispered to him: ‘We can't tell them.’
He got the message. He took over the broadcast. ‘If you follow these instructions then---’
A figure appeared, over on the opposite side of the room. It was vaguely humanoid: a dark creature. Then it morphed into ... that man: Standford. Raiya wondered if she was hallucinating. Or was this just a dream? After all, this situation hadn't seemed real for some time.
Parmayan waved a hand, and the screen disappeared. He then turned to Standford, nodded subtly as a kind of acknowledgement, and said, ‘How good of you to show up. I’ve been waiting years for this confrontation. But that doesn’t excuse the interruption.’
‘How very human you have become,’ Standford said, in his flat tones. ‘At least in the eyes of others. Yet to my perception it was never more than a pathetic pretence.’
‘Humans have a saying: pot, kettle, black.’
‘But I still retain the beliefs of my kind. And as their loyal servant it is my duty to kill you.’ Standford raised a small key-fob type device and fired it at Parmayan. He collapsed without a sound. Then the device was pointed at her. But in an instant another creature appeared, like the one who had formed into Standford, held up something similar ... and fired. Standford hit the floor, once again becoming the dark creature.
The creature that shot the Standford one then morphed into the image of Parmayan. ‘A pathetic pretence perhaps,’ he said, ‘but it works as a disguise.’
‘Who are you really?’ asked Raiya, still feeling the adrenalin coursing through her veins.
‘The one who defied the gods. And before you ask, that was a remotely controlled clone. Quite useful on my away trips.’
‘I'm not sure what to believe any more.’
‘The safest thing is to believe we are still in some danger. I have just incapacitated one of their key assets.’
‘Why not kill him?’ It sounded brutal, but she really wanted that creature dead.
‘Because his death would be detected. My plan is to keep him just alive enough to provide useful knowledge. And to appreciate consequences of non cooperation.’
‘I want no part of this,’ Raiya said forcefully. ‘Remember your part of the deal. Take me to Roidon.’
‘As you wish.’
***