The Adventures of Tremain & Christopher BoxSet Page 2

  He gestured out into the distance, "Last minute gifts are easy, no more running around. Eventually I think we'll be able to travel with these gadgets. A platform here or there and we'll be able to go to the other side of the continent in seconds rather than hours. Exciting, eh?" He hugged Christopher a second longer, then quickly released and moved back to the table. "Do you want to see it work?" He asked, noticing they were now alone in the lab. Christopher shouted his acceptance. Smiling, Tremain began slapping at his pockets, looking for something.

  "Now, where did I put the remote unit?"

  Christopher started leafing through things, not really sure what he was looking for.

  "What's it look like, Uncle?"

  Tremain made a sizing gesture with his hands,

  "Oh, about this long, this wide, looks kind of like a small circuit board with lights and a very large button. Eventually, I’ll hook it up to my tablet . . ."

  Christopher glanced over to the platform. The remote sat there innocently.

  "Found it!" He raced to the platform.

  "Watch out for that spot of grease on the floor. Haven’t quite made anymore cleaner yet, for obvious reasons." He said it just as Christopher's foot came down on the smear. He slid the six feet to the platform, where he hit hard. Unfazed and giggling, he pulled himself straight and jumped onto the platform to grab the remote.

  Tremain heard the impact and whirled around only to watch some cables slip from the top of the framework and slam into the side console. The machine hummed to life, the rising sound indicating the transmitter preparing to cycle.

  Tremain glanced over at the coordinate box. All dials were set to zero.

  No coordinates were set.

  His eyes widened in shock.

  "Christopher! NO!" Tremain jumped towards the machine. Christopher picked up the remote and held it out towards his uncle. Tremain had just reached him and grabbed his arm when the transmitter cycle hit its peak. A disk in the center of the frame above the platform blinked to life.

  A coruscating curtain of light enveloped them.

  In a flash, they were gone.

  The transmitter cycled back down. Silence filled the lab except for the ticking of the platform as it cooled. There was a popping sound, the lights flared, then all went dark.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “NOOOOO!" Tremain's cry rang into the darkness. Realizing they were okay, he released Christopher's arm.

  "Uncle Tremain," Christopher began, "what happened, where are we?" All he could see was a thin mist that hung in the air, swirled by some weak air currents.

  "We . . . transmitted. It works!” Tremain patted himself down, making sure he was all there. “Good news, there, but I have no idea where my machine sent us, Christopher. There weren't any coordinates." He breathed in then out. "There's air to breathe." He pinched himself. "Ouch! Well, we're still alive, so we're somewhere." He walked ahead a few paces, hands out in front. "But where?"

  Christopher held onto his uncle's lab coat, careful not to lose him in this dim light.

  They walked on for a few minutes, distances not measurable when everything looked exactly the same. Tremain paused and knelt down.

  "What is it, Uncle?" Christopher asked. Tremain was feeling the ground in front of him.

  "The ground changed, I think. I can't be certain, but I believe it did change. It was lighter back there, I'm sure of it." He stood back up.

  "But what does that mean?" Christopher asked. He stepped closer to his uncle.

  "I don't know. But gathering facts is the first step to finding out where we are." He pulled the remote from Christopher's hand, who had it clenched in his fist. "We can always get back," Turning away from Christopher, he began walking again, "if the remote still works." He added under his breath.

  They kept walking, the mist never growing thinner, the light never increasing. Tremain grew more frustrated with each passing moment.

  A shape loomed in the distance. Telling Christopher to keep close, he jogged up to it.

  A wall appeared before them through the mist, roughly hewn and scaly. Tremain put his hands on it and felt the material.

  "Wood?" He snapped off a piece of the scale. The fibers were thick and dry. "No, not wood, but similar in structure." He tossed the shard to the side and looked up. The wall stretched as far as the eye could see, which granted, wasn't a great distance.

  Turning his head, Tremain looked down the wall to his left. Frowning, he turned to his right. "Curved?" He started following the wall to his right, motioning to Christopher to stay put. The boy sat down at the base of the wall, his arms hugging his knees to his chest. He didn’t know where they were and mentally kicked himself for being so clumsy. Presently, Tremain returned to him, but this time from the opposite side. Christopher stood up.

  "It's a curved wall, Christopher. Completely circular, as far as I can tell. No doors, no windows. But what's it containing? What's its purpose?"

  They stood there, the mist swirling about them.

  "What now? Can we go back home?" Christopher asked hopefully.

  "Back home? We haven't figured out what or where this is yet!" Tremain replied.

  Christopher's shoulders sagged. A chill caused him to shudder. If he hadn't slipped, they wouldn't be in this place right now and he could be home, sipping something hot and sweet. Instead, they were in this strange place. He shivered again then started in alarm.

  The wall had moved.

  Tremain jumped back as well. They both gasped. Tremain ran underneath the structure as it sailed up and up, disappearing into the gloom.

  "What happened?" Christopher asked. His eyes were huge.

  "I haven’t the slightest idea." Tremain replied, running his hand through his hair, "Come on." He started off again into the mist. "If there was one of those buildings, there may be another."

  They kept on in a fairly straight line, Tremain alternating between looking directly ahead of them and at his feet.

  After what seemed a long time to Christopher, they came to another wall. This one was lighter than the first but constructed of the same rough, scaly material. Tremain again walked completely around it.

  "Exactly the same as the first one except for color. The same material and diameter, if I estimated it correctly." He scratched his head and sat down. Christopher sat next to him. "I'm sorry, Christopher. I know you want to go back home. I just want to know where this place is. What it is. We may never get back to it."

  Christopher could see the light of challenge in his uncle's eyes. Despite the unknown, Tremain was ultimately an aggressively curious person who needed answers.

  Tremain took the remote from his pocket.

  "Well, we may never know." He twirled it in his hands. The light from the buttons glowed brightly in the gloom.

  “Uncle . . . if we’re . . . wherever we are, and your machine is back in your lab, how does this remote work?”

  Tremain held it out in demonstration for his nephew to see.

  “It’s all about the quantum mechanics,” he said. “Well, and potentially tapping into other dimensions, but I need to look into that a bit further. Either way, I’ve linked this remote to the controls of the transmitter at the quantum level. You’ve covered that in school, haven’t you? Well . . . no matter. Wherever we go, no matter the distance, we should be able to get back to my lab with this . . . in theory . . . like so. .” He was about to press the return button when the wall they were leaning against shifted.

  Like the first one, it sailed straight up into the air with one major difference; Christopher's shirt snagged on one of the scales, pulling him into the air as well.

  "Uncle Tremain!" Christopher yelled as he felt himself rising off the ground. Tremain acted fast and grabbed at Christopher's feet as they flew past him.

  "OOPH!" Christopher gasped as he felt Tremain's weight. He twisted and grabbed two sturdy scales to help support them both. Tremain moved to grab a handful of scale himself.

  Through the mist, he s
aw the ground come into focus below him. As they rose into the air, he saw boundaries crossing themselves, resolving into squares of alternating light and dark areas. In some of the squares there were edifices, some tall, some squat, a couple had odd shapes on top of them . . . .

  "A game board!" Tremain gasped in amazement.

  "Uncle Tremain!" Christopher screamed again, panic filling his voice. Tremain looked up at his nephew. Christopher’s gaze fixed on something in the distance, a look of utter fear on his face. Tremain twisted around and almost lost his grip on Christopher’s legs.

  He stared into an eye. The largest, most amazing eye he'd ever seen. The veins in the white pulsed with blood flow, the cornea glinting wetly in the light above the mist. The iris swiveled closed, each colorful fiber rippling as the pupil focused on the two of them hanging from the . . . chess piece?

  "It's a game . . .” Tremain whispered to himself, "a great, big cosmic game . . . for what stakes?" He continued to stare in wonder at the sight, fear banished by curiosity, until the piece they were holding onto began to shake.

  "Uncle!" Christopher shouted. Tremain stirred from his pondering. Grasping Christopher's ankle, he hung from his nephew with one hand, causing another gasp and grunt. In his other hand, he held the remote.

  "Here we go!" He shouted and pressed the return button.

  Nothing happened. Incredulous, he looked back and forth between the huge eye and the button as he pressed it again and again, finally hearing the answering beep come none too soon.

  Christopher felt his grip loosening. Unable to carry his uncle’s weight along with the jostling, his hands slipped from the scale. A tearing sound came from his shirt as it ripped away from where it snagged. They fell just as the coruscating light enveloped them.

  In the lab, the transmitter abruptly came back to life. A glow lit the center of the platform and two figures came tumbling out.

  Tremain and Christopher pulled themselves from the floor and brushed themselves off.

  "There now. We're home." Tremain said softly, shaking his shoulders, more to calm himself down than his young nephew. "I knew it would work. Feeling alright?"

  Christopher nodded, shaking with relief. Tremain went to turn the machine off, but paused and moved over to the coordinate box, picking it up.

  "I wonder if I can track where we went?" He started to pull open the back of the box, when the door to the lab flew open with a crash.

  An important looking figure strode briskly into the room. His black hair, flecked with gray, was brushed back, his bristly mustache puffed out from a full upper lip. His black robes were long and regal with a sash around his shoulders which shimmered purple and blue in the lab’s lighting. A senatorial robe. He was one of five who were elected each term, one for each region in the ever expanding colonies.

  "Ah Senator Marcus." Tremain held out his hand. "What can I do for you this evening?" Marcus shook the scientist's hand brusquely, t.

  "What the hell are you doing in here this time, Tremain?” He growled. “Oh, hello, Christopher." He said, a little more gently, noticing the youngster.

  "Hello sir.” Christopher said as he shrank behind Tremain. Even though the Senator had been in his life since he'd been a baby, he had always been a little afraid of the formidable official. Tremain smiled at the other man, as innocently as he could.

  "What experiments this time? Oh, the usual. Why do you ask?"

  Marcus blew an exasperated puff of air as he began.

  "The power grid went black."

  Tremain blinked, non-plussed.

  "I'm sure it was just a localized event?"

  "ALL of it. The entire thing. All at once. Everywhere."

  Tremain sat down on the chair nearest him.

  "All of it? Oops." He muttered and grimaced, rubbing his chin. He looked sheepishly at the Senator. "You'll be happy to know however that my transmitter works perfectly."

  Marcus grunted, then sighed and sat down himself.

  "In all the years we’ve known each other, since grade school, I’ve supported you, you know that?" He asked the scientist.

  "Of course I know. Just as I've always supported you and your crazy desire to become a boring politician."

  The Senator looked into Tremain's eyes.

  "Then why can't you test things without risk to the rest of the city?" He gestured around the room. "We've already given you a completely separate circuit on the grid, given you every grant you've asked for. You have the best equipped lab on New Earth. Why can't you just do this one simple thing? Put in some safety buffers, anything."

  Tremain thought about it.

  "You make a good point, Marcus. I'll keep that in mind." He stood, grabbing Marcus’ hand as he did so. The two shook hands as Tremain slowly led the official towards the door. "And I'll definitely consider putting some power filters in my transmitter. Wouldn't want to have blackouts every time I order parts." He turned and winked at Christopher, who suppressed a giggle. The two men had almost reached the door, when the lab around them vanished.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Tremain, Christopher and Senator Marcus gaped in wide-eyed astonishment as a large semi-circle across the room from the lab door to the archway that led to the kitchen and living quarters literally winked out of existence. It was as if some giant hand had taken a knife then neatly and instantaneously carved the rest of the building away. Instead of the city and downtown all they saw were trees.

  Birds fluttered around and through the foliage as a breeze blew through the gently swaying branches.

  "Ahhh . . . Oops." was all Tremain could manage. Marcus reached out a hand to touch the leaves just past them, to see if his eyes were tricking him. That launched Tremain into action. "No, Marcus . . . don't do that." He grabbed a piece of paper. Crumpling it up, he gently tossed it at the opening. It sailed through the air until it passed the edge of the cut-away and disappeared as if it had never existed. Marcus turned to Tremain.

  "What is going on?" he asked. "Is this another one of your experiments?"

  Tremain rubbed his chin, then ran a hand through his hair, thinking. He grabbed a pad and pencil and started scribbling, racing around the corner of the room that remained, checking some instruments, bypassing ones that were only half-there, occasionally muttering "No, that can't be right" or "Fantastic!" After a while of this, he looked around the room and ran over to a computer close to the edge of the floor and printed out a long diagram. Ripping it from the printer, he scrambled over a pile of books to grab a similar chart sticking out of a garbage can. Comparing the two, he showed them to the Senator and his nephew. "There. It's right there." He said, pointing at the papers. Christopher and Marcus shared a dubious look and Christopher piped up,

  "What exactly are we looking at, Uncle?"

  Tremain grabbed the sheet out of Christopher's hand, looked at it, gave it back and grabbed the sheet out of the Senator's hand.

  "This," he brandished the chart. It was a series of lines, some jagged, some straight, some wavy, some very irregular, "is a diagram of energy. I was playing with a theory of mine a few days ago. Extrapolating from a theory someone else came up with centuries ago. Everything can be depicted as waves of energy. Light, electricity, brain waves, sound waves, etc. . .” He waved at his machine, which hummed in the corner, "This transmitter uses that energy to do its job. This chart is the energy pattern as it existed three hours ago." He snatched the paper from Christopher. "Now, this one . . .” he was almost out of breath, "this one you just saw me print out.”

  The lines and squiggles looked almost the same to Christopher and the Senator.

  "Explain it to me, Tremain." Marcus exclaimed after a few seconds examination. “In layman’s terms, if you would.”

  Tremain pulled both charts to him and looked at them himself, a frown creasing his forehead. He brightened a split-second later.

  "Ah, but Marcus, they're not exactly the same, see?" He pointed to a faint line, fairly straight in the older chart. Putting the newer
chart on top, he pointed to the same line, which had moved two-thirds of the way across the page and was now slightly diagonal and much, much fainter. "It moved. Don't you see?" He clapped his hands and the papers fluttered to the floor. "It moved! Energy stays put! Yes it moves forward in space, but never out of its natural frequency!"

  Picking up the newer chart again, he flattened it out on the table, moving some old cables out of the way. "Energy is very stable. Take visible light. Red, orange, yellow, etc., always the same, never a color out of place. It can't move like this."

  Marcus moved next to the scientist.

  "But what does that mean, Tremain . . . what . . . energy is that?"

  Tremain stood up. With a very serious look on his face, he grasped his friend's arm.

  "It's ours, Marcus. As near as I can tell, that is the human race's entire impact on this planet. It's the cumulative signature of our civilization. And it's changed."

  "But again, what does that mean?"

  Tremain looked out at the swaying treetops.

  "We've ceased to exist."

  Christopher gasped and grabbed his uncle's lab coat.

  "But if we don't exist, what are we doing still here?" he asked, panic at the edge of his voice.

  Tremain turned to his nephew, pride in his eyes.

  "That's my boy . . . always questioning!” His eyes widened. “Good question!" He glanced at his machine, ran his hands along one spine of the frame, "Good question . . .” he said again, more softly. He looked up at the ceiling and around the room, following the line where the floor suddenly ceased. Muttering, "I always think better on a full stomach." He strode through the archway towards the kitchen only to reappear seconds later. "The kitchen's gone too. Bisected the refrigerator." He shuddered. "Probably for the best, anyway, my milk had expired. Still . . .” He came around the center table to stand in front of the transmitter. “Okay. The event line follows the same curve as that one over there," he pointed to the far side of the room, "which means roughly that my transmitter is the center of the . . . bubble." He ran his hand through his hair. He walked around the face of the transmitter, running his hands over each surface.