THE FOURTH WORLD
By
Laurence Moroney
Book One of “The Legend of the Locust”
Published by Destiny Press at Smashwords.
Copyright 2009 by Laurence Moroney.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is dedicated to my family: Rebecca Moroney, my wife and confidant; Claudia Moroney, the first person ever to read this book, and a seriously wonderful daughter, and my Son, Christopher, who is just an awesome dude.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotes embodied in critical articles and reviews.
For information, please contact Destiny Press: enquiries@destinypress.net
Cover Art by: Bradley Wind
Special Thanks to: Liz Tipping who backed this book right from the beginning.
Chapter 1: Fintan
Are you sure it’s the right time to take him? He’s immature.
He’s more insecure than immature, and you know that is one of the side effects of-
You think they are involved?
I’m sure of it. And if we put him in the school, we’ll be able to watch him closely.
But so will they.
They’re doing that already.
Poor kid.
“Cough it up space boy, or I’ll put my fist down your throat,” growled Brian Delaney. It probably wasn’t possible to do, but Fintan figured Delaney would still try, so he didn’t argue. Besides, with his arm twisted painfully behind his back, and remembering prior times with the bully, he decided it was best not to fight back.
“Right coat pocket,” he croaked.
Delaney threw him to the ground and pushed his knee into Fintan’s back while rummaging through his pockets. He pulled his hand out and inspected his prize.
“Only 3 Euro? Mommy’s getting cheap with lunch money for her precious boy, isn’t she?”
“It’s all I have.”
The response was Delaney’s knee driven harder into his back. Lights blinked in Fintan’s eyes and a hot flash of pain burned through his back.
“Speak when you are spoken to, you little maggot,” said Delaney. “It’ll have to do.” Roughly, he stood up, causing another bolt of pain to shoot down Fintan’s back. He sneered, and as Fintan tried to get up, Delaney kicked him in the arm, dropping him to the ground again.
“You can stay here until I’m gone. Little maggot. Little worm can crawl on the ground.”
When he was safely gone, Fintan got up and dusted himself off. He inspected his school uniform. Nothing ripped or pulled. He sighed with relief. There was no visible evidence of the incident he would have to explain to teachers or parents. They said he should always report bullying and they said he would be protected, but they had no idea what the repercussions of snitching would be. It was easier to lose the money and leave things as they were.
Afternoon classes were miserable for Fintan. He wasn’t sure which was worst between the pain in his back, the hunger in his stomach or the smug grin from Delaney who licked his lips and patted his belly thanking Fintan for the free lunch. After what seemed like an eternity, the bell rang, and Fintan grabbed his backpack and ran for the door. If he wasn’t quick the bullies might find him again.
He ran all the way home.
***
Fintan always loved late summer and early autumn in Ireland. The nights were cool with clear skies, and if he stayed up late enough, he could see the stars in all their glory. He had just finished dinner and came out to sit in the fields behind his house. He watched the sky darken and change through its brilliant colors, from dark blue, through rusty reds and finally to black. His favorite part was when he got to watch the stars twinkle into view one by one.
His back still hurt, but he decided not to let it bother him.
His chest tightened as looked at the sky. Only the brightest stars were visible now. Polaris to the North was bright as always. He imagined generations of sailors looking up to it, comforted by its presence and its stability, always showing them the way home. A feeling welled up in his chest. It was like he was inflating and the sky was lifting him up. He couldn’t name the feeling but he loved it. It was like the stars were calling to him. Like he belonged there, but was stuck here on Earth.
Stuck in a miserable life, in a miserable town, with a miserable family.
He shook his head. No point in worrying too much about it. It would only depress him.
Someday. Someday I won’t feel so helpless. Someday I’ll be my own man, setting my own path in my own life. Someday I won’t have to put up with bullies, and school, and a brother who hates me and parents who don’t care for me despite what they say.
***
On Sundays, Fintan usually helped his mother with shopping for groceries at the local market. Fintan Senior, his father, would usually sleep off his hangover from the night before. For the afternoon, Fintan would stay out of the house, wanting to avoid Father’s temper, and would take a walk down to the cliff tops nearby.
It was a land of bleak beauty, with the roar of waves crashing below, and the bare limestone rocks peeking out of a deep green covering. He always liked to come here to sit and think. To the west he could see the sun setting, and the growl in his stomach told him it was getting late.
He returned home to find dinner in the microwave.
An empty package stood on the dinner table. It was addressed to him, but his parents had opened it. He sighed, not surprised. Of course they would disrespect his privacy. Of course.
Mother came into the kitchen. She ran to hug him. “Oh here you are,” she said.
Fintan held up the empty package. “What’s this?”
“Great news!” she said. “It’s a school for gifted children. They want to talk to you in Dublin, tomorrow, all expenses paid!”
“Can I see it?”
“Oh they sent a check with it. Your Father took it out to cash it.”
“And the letter?”
“He took it too.”
“It was addressed to me,” said Fintan.
“Sorry, we thought it was for your father, so we opened it.”
Right thought Fintan. Like I am stupid enough to believe everything you tell me.
Mother took his silence as an accusation. “Oh don’t be like that! He’ll be home in half an hour.”
Half an hour passed, then an hour, and then two hours. Mother was high and excited, but Fintan was too angry to even think, much less hang out with the family. His older brother Dermot was smirking at Fintan’s unease. By midnight Father still wasn’t home, and Fintan went to bed.
***
Father finally turned up in the small hours, and his drunken singing and clumsy banging of doors woke Fintan. Finally, when all was quiet, Fintan crept downstairs.
Father was asleep, snoring loudly on the sofa. The stale, sour smell of alcohol filled the room. His jacket lay sprawled on the floor where he had dropped it. Some crumpled papers were sticking out of the inside pocket. Fintan grabbed them and retreated upstairs before Mother or Dermot came down.
He straightened the papers out carefully. There was a letter, addressed to Fintan.
Dear Mr Reilly,
I am pleased to inform you that have passed the selection process for entry into the ‘Young Boys Elite School of Ireland’.
Our entry requirements are strict, you are one of only a handful of students from around the country who is eligible to test for entry.
In order to enter the school you will be required to pass an interview and admissions test.
Please present yourself at our administrative offices on September 19 at 10:00AM. Directions and address may be found on the other side of this page.
Enclosed are expenses for travel and accommodation for you and your family. An overnight stay may be necessary.
Punctuality is expected.
Yours,
Mr Smith, BOE.
September 19 was tomorrow. To get there by 10AM, he’d have to leave his house by 7AM, which would mean getting up in just a few hours. How was he going to sleep? Worse, how was he going to wake Father?
Chapter 2: Mister Smith
The poor kid has a wretched life, doesn’t he?
And yet he tests off the scales. So much for nurture being greater than nature.
But how? I mean the rest of the family isn’t too sharp, and the father is downright nasty.
That’s evolution, isn’t it? Sometimes a random mutation can change the direction of a species. Or a family.
But what happens when the mutation isn’t random?
Groggy and hung over, Father somehow dragged himself out of bed and got them on their way. They made it to the station just in time to catch the train to Dublin. The cheap tickets were sold out, and Father had argued noisily with the ticket officer, but there was nothing he could do.
Had they gotten there earlier, there may have been a chance, but for now it was either pay the higher fare, or wait for the next train.
Again, Fintan could feel the frustration ready to boil over within him. They had been sent more than enough money for the whole family to travel first class, with hotel accommodations and meals. Despite this, Father was considering missing this train and being late for the interview just so they could save some money, which would be spent at the nearest bar later.
Reluctantly, he agreed, but only after yelling at Fintan for ‘dragging your feet’ and being late, lazy and every other cliché he could think of. He was still telling Fintan off loudly as the train departed. He finally stopped as the drinks cart arrived and he helped himself to some beer.
Finally, with some peace and quiet, Fintan was able to catch up on some sleep.
***
They arrived in Dublin without further incident, and made their way to the given address.
They were greeted at the entrance by a prim-looking secretary. They showed her the invitation letter and she discreetly ignored how crumpled it was. “Please take a seat,” she said. “Someone will see you shortly.”
It was a plain office, but Father looked around it, impressed. As a factory worker, any place where people sat to work impressed him.
The secretary’s phone rang. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’ll send them in.”
She brought them to a back-office where a man was waiting. He was tall and slim with thinning gray hair and sharp blue eyes.
Introducing himself as “Mister Smith”, he shook Father’s hand vigorously before turning to Fintan. He held Fintan’s gaze a moment.
“I’ll get right down to business,” he said, addressing Father. “Fintan junior is here to be tested for a very special and very exclusive school. Needless to say it’s only for the best and brightest.”
He glanced briefly at Fintan before continuing, while Father beamed with pride. “We’ve been following his progress through primary school, and feel he has the right stuff, not just to enter, but also to succeed.”
Before Father could say anything, Smith spoke again, in a firm tone. “Do note there are tests, and Fintan will have to pass these tests before he is admitted.”
He passed a permission slip across the table to Father.
“Please be clear Mister Reilly, this school is expensive. If he enters, we want him to complete his education. He’ll be away from home, out in the country. Should Fintan junior pass the tests, and accept entry, you will have sign a document legally passing parental rights for him over to the state. We will care for him until he becomes of adult age.”
Father looked to Fintan. His eyes glazed over, calculating.
“Of course,” said Mister Smith “that is why the whole family was invited, so it could be a family decision. But, as the only parent present, and head of the household, you have the authority to decide.”
“Where is the school?”
“I’m not at liberty to disclose the location,” said Mister Smith flatly.
“You want me to sign my kid over to you, but you won’t tell me where the school is?” Father asked. His voice was getting louder. “What if I say no?”
“Then you will never find out where the school is, and Fintan junior will no longer be invited to attend.”
“So he’ll just go to school back at home then,” said Father, dropping the pen.
“And be doomed to a life of mediocrity,” said Mister Smith. “He’ll likely go through secondary school, and do well, but, will there be money for University?”
“He’ll get a scholarship,” said Father.
“Will he?” Do you know how good you have to be to get a scholarship these days?”
“He’s good enough,” said Father.
“Maybe,” said Mister Smith, “but I noticed Fintan’s brother has had to take a part-time job to help out at home, and bring some money in. I assume Fintan junior will have to do the same when he’s 14?”
Father said nothing.
“And do you know how badly his grades will suffer? Studies have shown once a child starts working, they drop at least 2 grade points. So an ‘A’ student like Fintan will drop to be a ‘C’ student. Do you really want that for your son?”
“It’s none of your business,” said Father.
“Correct, Mister Reilly, but it is Fintan’s business, and I want you to understand what you are passing up just because we will not tell you the location of the school. It suggests to me your pride is being dented, and you would sacrifice your son’s future for its sake. Am I wrong?”
“No.” said Father, emphatically. Then, with a little less strength, he repeated, “No. This has nothing to do with my pride.”
He picked up the pen.
Fintan held his breath.
Father put the pen to paper, and paused.
“What are the chances of him going to University after this school of yours?”
“We haven’t had anybody drop out yet,” said Mister Smith.
Father signed the paper and threw it back at Mister Smith. Fintan finally breathed.
Mister Smith said “Thank you,” sweetly, with just a little hint of sarcasm.
He then put his professional face on and told Father the testing would likely take several hours. He took Father’s cell phone number and told him they would call when they were done.
“And what should I do while I wait?”
“There are several pubs within walking distance,” said Mister Smith, “I am sure you will enjoy them.”
Father left, and Fintan was alone with the mysterious Mister Smith.
Chapter 3: The Tests
You’re good. You’re playing with his head already.
I just did what I had to do to get him into the test.
You think he’s worth it? He’s damaged goods.
Nothing that I cannot repair.
The first words that Fintan said to Mister Smith surprised even him.
“I don’t like the way you spoke to my father.”
“Really?” Mister Smith answered, a smile creeping onto his lean face. “I thought that you would enjoy seeing him put in his place.”
Fintan’s silence was an answer in itself.
“For the next few hours you will be tested,” said Smith, changing the subject. “And I will not entertain any questions until the end of the testing. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes,” said Fintan, and Smith led him through a door at the back of his office.
Behind the door was a room with a simple computer terminal. Fintan sat at the terminal and Smith left the room.
The screen was blank.
Is this the test? Fintan wondered. Smith had not given him any instructions other than not to ask any questions. Was that also a part of the test?
Fintan figured that if he touched a key on the keyboard, he would be showing initiative, but he would also be showing curiosity, and perhaps a lack of respect. This was after all, their terminal, and they hadn’t given him permission to use it.
But if he did nothing, it would show a lack of initiative, and the need to be led and instructed on everything.
He reached to touch the space bar on the keyboard, hesitated a moment, and then pressed it.
The screen came to life. It said ‘Welcome, Fintan Reilly’, and then turned off.
Mister Smith entered, holding a stopwatch.
“Two minutes, thirty six seconds,” he said, and then harrumphed as he led Fintan to the next room.
This one looked the same as the first, and again he showed Fintan where to sit before leaving. This time, without hesitation, Fintan reached out and touched the space bar. The screen came to life and said:
What is the password
Enter password here:
They wanted Fintan to enter a password. But they had given him no sign of what it was.
Fintan thought frantically. Could it be ‘Smith’, ‘Mister Smith’, or ‘Fintan’? He had no idea.
Fintan looked around the room, guessing there must be a clue, but the walls were featureless and bare.
He looked again at the screen. There had to be a clue.
And then he noticed that something was missing -- there was no question mark at the end of the first statement. That made it a statement, instead of a question: What is the password.
Fintan carefully typed it in, making sure that he capitalized it correctly. He pressed the ‘Enter’ key.
A light came on, the door opened, and Mister Smith stood there applauding slowly and quietly, a mocking look on his face.
“So, you’ve passed the first two tests. That gives you the right to go towards the real testing,” he said with vigor. He led Fintan out of the room and into a windowed corridor. Through the windows Fintan could see what looked like a video games arcade with each game station having at least one technician in a white coat standing nearby.
“These are the real tests,” said Smith, “tests of dexterity, imagination, strength, stamina, and even intelligence. Don’t worry, and just relax. You may even enjoy them.”
He was right. The first few tests looked like simple computer games, but once he started playing them, they weren’t as simple as they first appeared. They didn’t have any logical rules. One involved flipping tiles to reveal colors, a little bit like a child’s pair-matching game, but, the colors weren’t always consistent, so the first time Fintan flipped a tile it might be orange, and the next time it might be green. Every time he flipped, the score went down.
But soon Fintan began to see the pattern, and deduce the algorithm the programmer used to decide the color rules. It was complex and multidimensional, sometimes depending on which previous tile had been flipped, sometimes based on its color, sometimes based on how long Fintan took (in moves as well as seconds) in flipping it.
He could see where it would be easy to get frustrated by its randomness, but once he began to figure it out, Fintan was able to start clearing the board quickly. The more he cleared, the easier it got.
Finally, he finished the board, exhausted. He looked at the game clock. It had taken nearly two hours.
Smith was eyeing him closely.
“That was fun,” said Fintan.
More, similar tests followed, all being bizarre games, but, Fintan discovered that if he didn’t get frustrated, and focused on the task at hand, he could quickly find the solution. Some involved him needing to interact physically with the games console, lifting and twisting bizarre controls to navigate a ball through a maze. Others involved a sensory overload as they forced him to wear a headset that projected virtual screens.
After several exhausting (but exhilarating) hours Fintan finished all the games. Mister Smith was waiting for him in front of a large black door.
Fintan was feeling a little cocky, “Is that all you’ve got?”
“That was a question Mister Reilly,” was the only response.
One of the techs handed Smith a sheet. Fintan saw many tick marks on it, and his name at the top. Fintan figured this was a good sign.
Smith spoke again “For the final test, you will go through this door, and you will continue down the corridor on the other side. At the end, there is a hatch. Enter it, and you will find a small room. You will see a headset. Put it on, and I will use it to direct you what to do next.”
Fintan nodded, and opened the door.
Chapter 4: Flight Simulator
They’re getting closer aren’t they?
Are they?
That’s why you’re taking these risks.
Maybe.
A long black corridor lay in front of Fintan. He followed it as directed, turning several times. It was a long walk, taking him perhaps fifteen minutes. At several points along the way, the corridor led through hatches, which Fintan struggled to open.
At the end, as promised was a small room. It had painted foot impressions on the floor, and a thin metal rail behind them, which was about four feet tall. It made Fintan think of a bar stool, but without a seat. It was clear that he was to stand where marked, and the metal rail was something that he could lean back against, but not sit on.
Hanging on the rail was a headset. It looked like an oversized pair of skiing sunglasses, with angular rims around the lenses. Tiny speakers locked down over his ears and a small boom microphone extended from one side.
On either side of where he would stand were two raised columns, with polished black surfaces that angled towards him.
Fintan stood on the footprints and leaned back slightly against the rail. It was strangely comfortable, and although tired, he felt relaxed. In this position he could rest his hands on the tops of the columns comfortably.
Investigating his headset, he felt a small button on the left side. He pressed it and the headset came to life.
A virtual display overlaid his field of vision. Now, instead of plain walls, he could see a star field, and as he moved his head around, the gray curve of the moon came into view. He could also see the two black columns, but, through the headset they were lit up with many and varied controls.
To Fintan it felt like he was floating in space. His heart fluttered. This was awe-inspiring technology.
Mister Smith’s voice spoke through the headpiece. He coached Fintan in how to activate the console under his left hand. This console gave different views from inside or outside his ship. The console on his right hand controlled the ship, but the method of piloting was unfamiliar.
“You are the pilot,” said Mister Smith, “but you don’t fly the ship like you see them do it in the movies. It is all about programming the right course, and telling the ship to go there. It will do the rest.”
On the right hand console he found a trackball and experimented with it. He quickly learned that he could use it to ‘draw’ where he wanted the ship to go on his display.
“Moving in space isn’t like moving on the ground,” said Mister Smith. “When you’re in deep space once you push the ship in a certain direction, it will keep going in that direction until either you, or something else pushes in the opposite direction.”
“So, to stop the ship moving, I push the ship in a direction opposite to its current movement, right?”
“You got it.” Smith paused. “Just remember that gravity can also take effect if you are near something big, like the Earth or the Moon. Think about what happens when you throw something. It starts moving in the direction you threw it in, but soon falls away towards the ground. The same will happen here, so you must take gravity into account. Think about throwing – the harder you throw, the more time it takes before gravity pulls the ball down.”
“Ok,” said Fintan. “I have to understand the best trajectory with limited fuel. Anything else?”
“Well, there’s the effect of other forces, inertia and the like, but wait until you learn about them in school. Not to mention the funny math when you have to consider the changing mass of your ship when you use fuel to move it.”
Fintan figured that if a smile had sound, then he could hear Smith smiling. He was a different man now. It seemed that Fintan had passed Smith’s personal test, and he hoped he could do as well with this simulation.
After playing with the controls and moving the spaceship around a little, and after crashing several times into the surface of the moon, he started to get the knack, and picked arbitrary targets and locations. With practice it did get easier, but Fintan was beginning to realize that while it might be easy to do the basics, it would be a lot harder to master flying the ship.
The screen went blank and Mister Smith spoke up again.
“Are you ready for the test now?”
“Yes,” he replied.
The screen came on again, and it was a much more detailed and realistic star field than that Fintan had seen earlier. The ship was still in a parking orbit above the moon.
“You will run through several scenarios. The first involves a rescue mission; your monitor contains the details. Please get to this location in less than three minutes.”
Some coordinates popped up on the screen. Fintan instantly recognized them as being on exactly the opposite side of the moon from his current location. He could reach it easily, but slowly, by following the parking orbit. For speed, he would have to spend fuel to climb away from the moon, and then dive back towards it as he moved around the moon towards his target. Using the trackball he drew a curve that took the ship into a high orbit, and then dived back down. He activated it, and the ship began to move.
The clock was ticking down faster than he would have liked, but he felt confident that he’d make it.
But when his ship approached the top of the curve it was beginning to slow down, pulled back by the gravity of the moon. If Fintan added thrust, it would change his course, and he may not have time to readjust.
With only thirty seconds left he reached the summit of the curve, and like a rollercoaster the ship turned around and tore downhill towards its destination.
Just in time, he arrived at his goal. Fintan breathed a sigh of relief. One down.
Scenario after scenario followed each one progressively more difficult than the last. Sometimes he had to reach multiple destinations against the clock, sometimes with little fuel or a damaged spacecraft. Sometimes he had multiple points of reference to deal with as he was between Earth and the Moon, and had to figure out which one gave the coordinates of the location to reach.
For the final test, Fintan had to catch two drifting objects and put them into a parking orbit around the Earth. He had to do it with little fuel, so he would need to be perfect. There wasn’t enough fuel to do each separately, so he needed to come up with a way to tow the two of them together.
In the end the solution was deceptively simple. He played snooker with them. Using about half his fuel in one shot, Fintan put the ship on a trajectory that would strike the first one towards the second, hitting it, placing them both in a parking orbit around the Earth. The simulator made it easy for him to project this and tweak it until it was perfect. The ship would recoil from the first impact and drop into a wild orbit, but, it wouldn’t take much to adjust. He hoped.
The course laid in, Fintan changed from projection to real mode. He watched as the ship shot around the moon and approached the first object.
And then it seemed all hell broke loose. He could see from the monitor that his ship had collided with the first object and sent it earthward, but, the impact had damaged his ship. Parts of the simulator were shutting down, and some of the controls were not responding. He could see that his ship was falling towards the moon in a rapidly tightening spiral.
The projector was broken, so he would have to set a course manually. Fintan calmed himself by breathing deeply, fighting the urge to scream. This was just a simulation.
“Be calm and you’ll be fine,” he whispered.
And then he saw it: The way out.
In a moment of perfect clarity he guessed a direction and thrust that would get him out of this spin, and send him Earthward. It would be the ideal time to perform this thrust in a little over a minute. Only a few seconds later the ship would crash into the moon, so the timing would have to be perfect.
He started a countdown from ten in his head. At five most of his screen panels were gone. At three, the whole room began to vibrate.
At zero, he punched the actual mode, and the vibration worsened for a few moments before subsiding and finally stopping. Most of the viewport was out now – huge parts of the sky showed instead as white hexagonal cells – the underlying computer monitors.
After a few moments Mister Smith’s voice came through the headset again.
“Thank you Mister Reilly,” he said. “You’ll find a small ante-room at the back of this chamber. You can take your headset off and go there to rest while we calculate your scores. I’ll be in to get you in less than an hour.”
The ante-room contained a small bed. Fintan lay down on it, exhausted from the day. Within seconds he was sound asleep.
***
He was woken by Mister Smith, placing his hand gently on Fintan’s shoulder. He was smiling.
“Congratulations,” he said, “you passed”
Fintan was speechless. A smile crept across his face.
“You are welcome to attend our school. However, you must understand something. You cannot tell anyone, ever, what the school is, or what you are studying there. You must agree to secrecy. You must not even tell your family.”
Fintan nodded.
“There’s one more thing,” he said, pulling out the paper that Fintan’s father had signed earlier. “The choice is yours now. Nobody else can legally tell you what you can and cannot do with respect to this school. If you say ‘no’, you can go home and nobody will know the better. If you say ‘yes’ and sign this paper, then you are agreeing to attend, agreeing to secrecy, and agreeing to extreme punishment should you break this secrecy. You will be given a believable cover story of a normal school that you can tell your parents and friends, but they must never know the truth. Is that clear?”
Fintan nodded affirmation.
“So, Mister Reilly, will you join us?”
Without hesitation, Fintan signed the paper.
“Good,” he said, “you will of course need to go home and pack. Term starts in two weeks. This is the greatest decision you have ever made, as you will see in time.”
He clapped Fintan on the back and led him to the exit.
“The simulator,” said Fintan, “that’s the most amazing technology I’ve ever seen. Will we be using equipment like that again?”
“Oh yes” answered Smith. “That’s one of the core parts of the curriculum.”
“It’s amazing,” repeated Fintan, “it felt like I was really in space, piloting a space ship.”
“Ah” said Mister Smith. “That’s because you were.”
Chapter 5: Ayako
So he passed the unpassable test. I bet you didn’t expect that?
He has a high ceiling, that’s for sure.
He almost died.
But he didn’t did he?
That’s not the point.
Oh, but it is.
Father went home earlier, so Mister Smith had organized transport for Fintan. A nondescript car picked him up at the office and took him home. His body was tired, so he was happy not to worry about trying to catch a train and call his parents for a pickup.
As he arrived at his doorstep, butterflies were dancing in his stomach. There’s no way that his family were going to swallow the cover story. But it didn’t matter – Father had signed him over to the state, and regardless of what they accepted, his parents had no choice but to let him go.
Father and Mother were waiting in the living room. Dermot was still out with friends.
“I passed,” said Fintan.
Father smiled and clapped Fintan on the shoulder. It felt unusually good. Mother cried.
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” she said. “You can stay here with us.”
Father shot her a dirty look.
Fintan raised his hand before they could start bickering.
“It’s for the best,” he said. “I’m going.”
They both fell silent. Mother nodded. “I know, but I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too,” said Fintan, surprising himself in realizing that he meant it, “but I’ll be back for Christmas and for the summer.”
Mother nodded. Father looked thoughtful.
***
There wasn’t much to prepare, as Fintan’s instructions had been for him to bring as little as possible. However, Mother had to trot him around her extended family showing off the brochures and exclaiming how proud Fintan had made her, Father had to introduce Fintan to all his drinking buddies, an endless cycle of pointless socializing.
However, the time went quickly and for that, Fintan was grateful.
On his last night, his family hosted a dinner in his honor, and for once Fintan felt like he was part of a family. Father was sober, talkative and funny. Mother was genuine and warm in her admiration for Fintan, and Dermot had gotten over his early jealousy, even mumbling a heartfelt congratulations.
What stopped Fintan from crying and tearing up his school papers was the memory of being in space, and the likelihood of going back. Excitement welled up in his chest, tempering his sadness at leaving home.
***
The day came. After melodramatic goodbyes at the train station, Fintan made his way to the ministry building, alone, as told. A black car was waiting for him there. It whisked him to the airport where, before he knew exactly what was happening, he boarded a flight for New York.
New York thought Fintan, stunned. But it wasn’t to be his final destination. He got off the plane and changed to another, headed towards Las Vegas, walking through a disappointingly scruffy terminal. Once on this plane, dead tired, Fintan fell asleep and didn’t wake until it landed.
At the gate, a normal looking man wearing a normal looking suit met and greeted him. The man didn’t say much, just small talk as he led Fintan through the terminal. While most passengers went to baggage claim, the man took Fintan in the opposite direction.
“We’ll take care of your bags, don’t worry,” he said, in response to Fintan’s unspoken comment.
Confused, Fintan followed the man, who led him through the maze of passengers and tourists, through the business lounge areas to a nondescript office with a woman sitting behind a desk.
The man flashed his security card at her. She inspected it closely, and a door opened in the wall behind her. Fintan didn’t know how she did it – there was no visible button or other control.
The door led to a large open area, which was clearly another terminal, much smaller than the main one, but looking unlike a typical airport terminal. There were no shops, no bars or other amenities. The people didn’t have the look of tourists, and looked more like commuters. Many were in military uniform.
Scattered around, were a bewildered-looking children, guided by escorts like his own. Fintan guessed that he looked just like they did.
The man guided Fintan to a gate, and bade his good-bye. And just like that, Fintan was on another plane. This time with no idea where he was going. There were no announcements or signage that might give him a clue.
He took a window seat in an empty row about halfway back. He had no ticket, so he figured that it was fine to take any seat.
The plane began to fill up, but there was little conversation. Sometimes people would pass Fintan’s row, see him sitting there, and getting a knowing look on their face would walk on by, leaving him alone. Fintan assumed they didn’t want a newcomer questioning them.
A girl about his age got onto the plane, which was now almost full. She walked down the aisle, looking left and right for an empty seat. She was short, so she couldn’t see over the seat tops too well. She reached Fintan’s row and looked at the two empty seats beside him. After a moments calculation she took the aisle seat without a word, sitting primly with her hands on her lap.
She had the classic Asian look with thick, silky black hair that flowed to her shoulders. As she turned her head, the way her hair moved was enticing. How it could be so thick, so black, and so shiny but just fall in place was mesmerizing to Fintan. People in Fintan’s town commonly joked about Asian’s having ‘yellow’ skin, which sounded unattractive to Fintan, but hers was bright and clear and had a healthy glow.
She turned to look at Fintan, and her eyes were large and brown.
He realized that he was staring and that she had caught him. Fintan quickly looked away, embarrassed and blushing. She didn’t say a word.
Since the flight simulator test, Fintan had gotten the habit of mimicking the gestures of flying a ship, using an imaginary thumbstick with his left hand, and trackball and buttons on his right. In an unguarded moment he started to do it again on the arms of the airplane seat.
The girl gasped, and pointed at Fintan’s hands.
“You’ve done that too,” she said, curiosity tinting her voice.
Fintan figured that he owed her an answer, but he didn’t know what to say.
“We’re not allowed to talk about it,” was the best he could do.
She nodded, but she was smiling, as was Fintan.
“I’m Fintan Reilly,” said Fintan, offering his hand, and feeling like a fool when she stared at it.
She then took his hand gently in hers, which was small and cool to the touch.
“Ayako,” she said with a mild Japanese accent. “Ayako Katsuragi.”
“You are from Japan?”
“Yes,” she said, “Tokyo. This is my first time in your country.”
“It isn’t my country,” Fintan said defensively, “I am from Ireland.”
She looked a little blank for a moment. Fintan heard her say ‘Ireland’ and then start translating it phonetically into her language. Understanding finally dawned on her.
“Ireland,” she said, “In Europe, right beside England. I have seen it in books. It is beautiful.”
“You think so?” Fintan asked sarcastically.
The sarcasm clearly went over her head, so instead he said “It has some beautiful places, and some ugly places. I come from one of the ugly places.”
She laughed. “It sounds a lot like Japan!”
“This is my first time in this country too,” said Fintan, pointing out the window at Las Vegas. “It’s an interesting place, isn’t it?”
From their window they had an excellent view of the Las Vegas strip. At one end stood the huge ‘Mandalay Bay’ and ‘MGM Grand’ resorts. Between them they could see what looked like a fairytale castle and a huge black pyramid.
Ayako leaned over slightly to see out the window.
“Beautiful” she said.
“The Pyramid is called the ‘Luxor’,” said Fintan. “Because it is a pyramid it doesn’t have elevators, but ‘inclinators’ that go up the angle of the wall. They might be fun to try.”
“Yes,” she said, “perhaps one day we will try them together.”
Fintan gulped. His heart felt like it skipped a beat.
“And the Castle. That’s called the ‘Excalibur’. It’s from an English legend.”
“You know a lot about Las Vegas,” she said, “you must be very smart.”
“Nah,” he said casually, “I just read it in this brochure I picked up in the airport.” He held up a glossy paper.
They laughed. It was a nice moment. She took the brochure and started flicking through it.
Another boy had gotten on the plane. From his brand-name clothes and confident stride, he was clearly American. Ayako noticed him too, and as he got closer, it was obvious that he was eyeing the seat between her and Fintan. Deftly she stood, and took the center seat, letting the new boy take the outside aisle seat.
“Thank you,” he said in a thick and loud American accent, while looking her in the eye.
She nodded and returned to her brochure. Fintan went back to looking out the window.
“Zack Adams,” the boy said, offering his hand. He shook Fintan’s vigorously.
“Fintan Reilly,” answered Fintan, without the same enthusiasm.
He then offered his hand to Ayako who politely took it and gently shook it.
Trying to be friendly, Fintan opened a new conversation.
“So, any idea where this plane is going?”
“Well, it’s all supposed to be a big secret,” said Zack, “but I think it’s pretty obvious.”
Ayako raised an eyebrow.
“C’mon guys,” Zack said incredulously, “look at this plane. It’s small, with limited range, probably only an hour or two flight time.”
Fintan and Ayako said nothing, waiting for more.
“We’re in Las Vegas, right? So where do you think we’d be going in such a small plane?”
He paused, searching their confused expression.
He smiled, and whispered “Area 51 of course!”
Chapter 6: Area 51
And so the die is cast.
Time is getting close, we have to take risks.
Zack smiled smugly as the plane took off. As it turned, Fintan watched the sun the long dark shadows it cast on the tawny desert ground.
“We’re heading North,” he finally said.
Zack was nodding and grinning widely. “Area 51,” he said, “I knew it! This is just so cool!”
Ayako’s eyebrows furrowed. She cocked her head to the side, facing away from Fintan, and towards Zack. Fintan felt a pang of jealousy like a sharp knife sticking beneath his ribs. In her soft but lilting voice she asked “What is this Area 51?”
“Sorry,” said Zack smiling a broad, confident grin, “I’m just geeking out on all this.”
He paused and took a breath.
“Area 51 is the most secret military base in the country. Many people believe that our Government has made contact with aliens, and that they are in this base.”
“Oh,” said Ayako, disappointed. She returned to the brochure of Las Vegas.
“Oh?” said Zack. “Is that all you can say? We are going to Area 51 and all you can say is ‘Oh’?”
He shrugged, and looked at Fintan, his eyes speaking inaudibly “What’s with this girl?”
Ayako looked at Fintan. “Do you believe in Aliens?”
Suddenly he felt like he was choking. A hot flush emanated from his lower back and quickly went up to his neck and his face. He was sure he was blushing as he saw Zack hide a snicker.
“Er,” said Fintan.
She was looking him right in the eye. Her eyes were a deep black, like a midnight lake, and he was swimming in them, trying not to drown.
“Um,” said Fintan.
“Well I don’t,” said Ayako, “I mean think about the diseases that aliens would carry. If they landed on the Earth, we’d all die.”
“Unless,” interrupted Zack, “we kept them in a top secret base out in the middle of the desert where they wouldn’t mix with the general population.”
Ayako turned back towards him. Her hair flicked near Fintan’s face. He suddenly remembered how to breathe.
She said nothing, and conceded the point.
***
Fintan mulled over the previous conversation. “It makes sense that we’d be going to a secret base though, right? You saw the papers that we had to sign to get here.”
Zack nodded. “Not to mention where we did our final test, assuming you guys did the same test as me?” He pointed upwards, towards the sky, towards space.
Ayako nodded slowly. Those magnificent eyes of hers were lost in thought.
***
The plane turned to climb over a mountain range, hitting some rough turbulence. Through the window Fintan could see a sparse rocky desert. So different from where he had grown up, but so beautiful in its way. Having crossed the mountains, gradually the landscape began to change.
The ground beneath gave way from pebbled slopes to a flat, white plain that stretched towards the horizon in every direction.
“Millions of years ago, this was ocean,” said Zack, “all that is left after the waters receded or evaporated is the salt. Area 51 is actually built on the bed of an ancient salt sea called Groom Lake.”
“For something so secret, you know a lot about it” said Fintan.
“The Internet is a wonderful place you know,” winked Zack.
The plane was beginning to descend.
“We’re landing,” said Ayako.
Peering out the window they could see as the plane descended towards the white ground. It touched down smoothly, and then taxied for a long time to approach a cluster of buildings. In the distance Fintan saw some fighter jets, but on the whole the base was nondescript.
The plane finally halted, and without ceremony an attendant opened the doors and the people filed out. Fintan saw other children on board, and as they left, the attendant handed them a pair of sunglasses with a warm smile.
When it came to be their turn, they also received sunglasses. Once he passed through the door, Fintan could see why – the glare of the sun, reflected off the white sands was overwhelming. He slipped his glasses on gratefully.
Fintan looked around, openmouthed, in awe at the natural surroundings. The white flat landscape was surreal and except for the distant brown craggy mountains that surrounded the base, and the rich blue sky, he could have believed he was on the moon.
With a whoosh he heard the plane move away behind him. It turned surprisingly quickly on the runway and raced away, taking off with a dull boom. One thing struck him about the plane – it was nondescript and unmarked, being a simple white jet with a red stripe down the side.
A uniformed attendant led the children – besides Fintan, Zack and Ayako there were perhaps half a dozen others on this flight, towards a nondescript unmarked hanger. The other passengers just went their separate ways into the different buildings that dotted the area around the landing strip.
“Secret military base with Aliens,” whispered Fintan to Zack. “I expected something a bit more, you know – modern!”
Zack was quiet. Fintan figured that this wasn’t a typical state for him.
***
The building was set up to be a simple staging area or waiting room. It was full of curious children, just like them. Fintan did a quick count, and estimated there were around a hundred of them, all around the same age.
Zack grunted and pointed towards some empty seats near the back. Excited, they sat, listening to the speculation and buzz going around the room. Zack spotted a buffet area, and went to get them some drinks. Another stab of jealousy hit Fintan as Ayako rewarded Zack with a beaming smile.
***
“Not what I expected of Area 51,” said Zack, louder than necessary, “I mean, other than my Irish friend here, there ain’t no little green men!”
A few kids nearby snickered, but the adults paid no attention.
A door on the far side of the room opened, and there was a bright light behind it. It was hard for Fintan to see, but some shapes resolved out of the glare. Four soldiers marched into the room in full combat gear. He had never seen men as big as these. It wasn’t just their size, but their very presence was intimidating and was the epitome of strength.
Another man walked into the room behind them. He walked past them to a low dais in the center of the room. The soldiers fell into place around him and knelt, facing outwards towards the group.
“What, are they afraid we’ll hit him with a spitball,” whispered Zack to his new best friend, a tall gangly kid with the same goofy grin.
“Good morning,” said the man. “And welcome to Groom Lake. My name is Mister Jones, and I’m what you might call a member of the school board. It is nice to meet you, and I’m looking forward to knowing you better. We will enter the main part of the school shortly, but before we do, I just have a few safety notices.”
The crowd paused, waiting for more, expecting a long boring lecture.
Jones took his time, slowly gazing around the room, meeting them all with a look in the eye until he owned the room, and the anticipation for what he was about to say was building.
“No running,” he grinned. “Now, let’s go.”
The inner side of the room, that being furthest from the door, and close to where Fintan was sitting, opened with an enormous groan, peeling away to reveal some ordinary-looking escalators leading downwards.
***
Zack elbowed Fintan gently in the ribs. “Mister Jones, ” he snorted. “Now how much are you willing to bet that that is not his real name?”
They stepped onto the escalator and rode it down to a large elevator lobby. All the elevators were open, and the kids were directed to enter them.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been in a lift before,” said Fintan.
“A what?”
“A lift,” said Fintan. “You know this thing.”
“A lift,” said Zack, shaking his head. “That’s what you call an elevator?”
The elevator interrupted their conversation as it jarred to life, and started to move downwards, slowly at first, but quickly picking up speed.
“We’re going pretty deep,” said Zack.
“If it’s just black walls outside,” said Fintan, “why are the walls of the elevator made of glass?”
Beyond the elevator walls they could see the darkened rock of the elevator shaft moving past. And it was moving fast.
There was a gasp, and the elevator suddenly became glaringly bright. Fintan fumbled for his sunglasses and put them on. He turned around to see the back of the elevator and his stomach jumped into his mouth.
“That’s impossible,” said one kid, a short dark skinned boy with an Indian accent.
Through the glass wall, Fintan could see that they were high up in the air, descending rapidly towards a huge city far beneath them. It was disconcerting – they were underground, but it felt like they were flying.
He looked around to see the city was surrounded by green fields. He followed the fields towards the horizon where he saw a dark wall that surrounded the city, forming a perfect circle.
The wall must have been hundreds of feet high, and on top of it, covering the entire city and surroundings was a dome that curved upwards and over Fintan’s head.
He guessed that it could be as much as ten miles across and maybe two miles high.
Above their heads, in the center of the dome was a bright light, illuminating the city and the lands below. It was like a small sun, providing light and life to the world below.
Between them and the city, far below, was a circular platform, empty in the middle like the rim of a wheel, and standing on the ground with four legs like a giant dinner table.
The elevator approached this platform, slowly grinding to a halt. Shocked and awed, Fintan joined the others in leaving the elevator, and, with the other kids, they entered a large reception hall, with a view in every direction of the city below, and the roof above.
Mister Jones spoke up. “It’s called a geofront,” he said, “and it will be your home for the next few years.” He paused before continuing. “We’re buried beneath the Nevada desert, but here is where the future of humankind is waiting to be born.”
Zack’s face spoke volumes to Fintan. It didn’t take much to deduce that the American boy was as stunned and as shaken as Fintan was. He looked at Ayako who was pale, and staring around openmouthed.
“Are we still alive,” said Zack. “Is this real?”
They left the lobby and walked out towards the main platform that they had seen from the elevator. The sides of the rim spread out before them, meeting at the close of the circle, perhaps half a mile away. They could look down through the center of the rim at the city below, or over the outer edge of the rim to see the outskirts of the city and the countryside leading up to the rim wall.
Fintan looked down at the city. Several skyscrapers occupied in the city center, and he could see trains snaking their way between them. Hundreds of smaller buildings surrounded them; tapering out in density as well as height the further you got from the city center. He did notice four large dome-shaped buildings spaced evenly around the circle of the city center. Each one had train lines leading to and from them, and each one was a hive of activity.
Far below, he could see the dots of people walking around on their daily business.
I belong here he thought. They want me here. A great rush of pride welled inside him, bursting over him like an ocean wave. He shuddered, and couldn’t help but smile. A tear crept to his eye.
***
“The show’s about to begin,” said Mister Jones.
As if on cue, the bright light far above them began to dim, and lights started to twinkle in each of the buildings. The domes that Fintan had noticed earlier lit up brightest of all, with searchlights that penetrated the rapidly darkening sky and diffusing in the roof above in a splash of colors. Each dome had its own distinctive color. One was Red, another Blue, another Green and the last one Yellow.
Out of the searchlights, Fintan could see small objects beginning to move. They made small trails of light and darted around like angry insects.
“Some type of ship,” muttered Zack.
He was right. As they got closer, Fintan could see that they were small aircraft, but they moved like nothing he had ever seen. They turned and banked easily and effortlessly as they zipped their way around the sky, trailing light behind them.
In an instant the ships fell into a formation and flew directly at the observation platform. The crowd gasped as one as the ships whizzed over, under and around the platform, bathing it in light.
The ships were moving so fast it was hard to see their shape. But then a group of them broke formation and hovered just above their heads, spinning silently, with only a faint whoosh of air giving a cooling breeze to the onlookers.
They were disk shaped, metallic, and maybe ten feet across. A bubble at the top center contained the pilot.
“Flying saucers,” said Zack. “Flying saucers!”
Fintan felt like his chin was going to hit the floor.
The saucers broke formation and continued with the light show. For the next few minutes they banked and turned, performing stunts, spinning, flying in tight formations before breaking in an array of glittering lights that made the crowd laugh and cheer.
Not for the first time, Fintan forgot to breathe, and gasped as a trio of red saucers buzzed the platform only feet away from him.
A tear was running down Ayako’s cheek. He stood closer to her, and their hands touched. She held his hand for a moment, squeezing him tightly before letting go.
Fintan’s chest tingled.
The show’s climax came with the ships clustering beneath the platform, in a huge bright dancing group. They went still, and the kids peered over the edge. Then, in a choreographed maneuver, the ships exploded upwards and outwards, skywriting the word ‘Welcome’ in many different languages.
The group cheered and applauded loudly. Fireworks started exploding in the sky below them, and from the city they could hear the faint cheers of a large crowd, lost in the distance.
Around the platform, lights came on slowly, and as the sky-written words faded away, the center of the ring turned opaque, and a boy walked out onto it. He looked to be about fourteen, and wore a dark gray uniform with three red stripes on his right arm.
“A force field?” Zack wondered out loud. Ayako shushed him.
“Welcome to Area 51,” the uniformed boy said, smiling enthusiastically.
The silence broken, some students began to applaud. And then some cheered. Quickly the area became a cacophony of noise as the students cheered for the display that they’d just seen, and the secret world that they knew they would be a part of.
“On behalf of the Area 51 flight school, we want to welcome all our new students,” he said in a rehearsed manner. “You’ve come from many different countries and cultures, but together, here, we are all the brotherhood and sisterhood of humankind.”
Another cheer went up, this one much louder than the first. Fintan felt Zack grab his hand and hold it high cheering with all his lungs.
When it subsided, he continued. “Before we begin our welcome meal, the principal of the school would like to meet you. Do you want to meet her?”
They answered as one “Yes!”
A small figure in a silver, hooded robe walked out of the crowd. Fintan couldn’t make out if it was a man or a woman. It reached the microphone, faced them and lowered its hood.
Its skin was gray in color and hairless. Its head was much larger than Fintan would have expected on an equivalent sized human body.
It had a small mouth, filled with tiny white teeth, and large, almond-shaped black eyes.
The principal was an alien.
Download this book for your ebook reader.
(Pages 1-31 show above.)