Читать книгу City Out of Time - William Robison III - Страница 8

The City Processing Center

Date Unspecified

An excited murmur rushed through the crowd of people emerging from the cave. For Lanz, all hesitation vanished at the sound of the greeting. There was a pleasant quality to the greeters voice that reminded Lanz of the first time he visited Disneyland. It was happy. It was inviting. And, perhaps most of all, it made Lanz curious as hell. Where the heck was he? And who were all these people?

A minute later Lanz emerged into a large rotunda with a high-domed ceiling and a pleasing blue light all around the walls. He stopped immediately and took in his surroundings.

Large crowds of travelers were entering the rotunda out of two large tunnels like the one he’d just been in. Other than those who were standing around trying to get their bearings like Lanz, everyone else was walking towards the center of the rotunda where a large entry gate with check points stretched from the right side to the left side, dividing the rotunda into two sides. In the exact center of the entry gate there was a large gap where soldiers stood guard.

On the other side of the gate, past the checkpoints, cheerful uniformed people directed the travelers towards one of eight different archways that exited the rotunda – four to the left and four to the right. All of the travelers passing through the checkpoints were exiting through the archways. In between the eight smaller archways, there was a large central archway that nobody was passing through.

There were absolutely no signs anywhere to give a clue as to where any of this was taking place. And the cacophony of languages floating around didn’t point to any one language group or region. As far as Lanz knew, geographically, he was still in Death Valley – but where he actually was… Lanz couldn’t guess.

“Keep moving please,” said someone behind Lanz in English, and before Lanz could respond he was pushed aside by not one, but several uniformed people walking through the crowd of travelers.

As Lanz watched, the uniformed people were waved through by the soldiers standing guard at the gap in the center of the checkpoints. Once on the other side of the gap, the uniformed people exited the rotunda through the main central archway.

Lanz turned to the guy next to him – a long haired rock and roll type who was still wearing his sunglasses in the cave – and asked, “Any idea where we are?”

The guy turned to Lanz with a somewhat glazed look on his face and said, “I don’t know, man… but it’s far out!”

“Welcome Travelers…” the voice announced again, “Please move forward so that you can be processed more quickly. Thank you. And welcome home.”

Lanz knew he wasn’t going to get any answers just standing there so he approached one of the check points on the right with many other confused travelers. As the line moved forward, it appeared to Lanz that none of the travelers knew where they were nor had expected to find anything like this. Yet, nobody was trying to leave. All were proceeding through the check point quietly as if it was to be expected.

At last, Lanz approached one of the checkpoints and overheard what was being asked to each of the travelers.

“Welcome to the City,” said a cheerful teenage girl, “All of your questions will be answered momentarily during orientation. Please state your name for the record and indicate the current year.”

Name and current year? What the… but before Lanz could even guess at why they might be asking those particular questions, he was at the front of the line and the young lady had already spoken. She looked at him questioningly as if perhaps he hadn’t understood. Lanz shook off his stupor and answered.

“Lanz Franco… 1996?”

The teenager suddenly perked up.

“Oh… uh… can you please wait here a minute? Please?”

Before Lanz could reply, the teenage girl had slipped into the crowd of travelers on the other side of the check point and was approaching a middle aged man who had the look of a supervisor about him. As Lanz watched, the girl spoke excitedly to her supervisor and then pointed towards Lanz. The supervisor’s eyes grew wide and then purposefully became calm. He gave some directions to the teenager before they both returned to the checkpoint.

The supervisor said, “Lanz Franco? We were told to expect you. This way please.”

Lanz thought about protesting… but so far he’d been treated exceedingly well. Although he really wanted answers, he decided to play along.

The supervisor led Lanz through the checkpoint and towards a spot on the wall in between two of the exit arches. As they approached the solid wall of the rotunda, Lanz was able to see a door that had been all but camouflaged by the large blue lights that illuminated the domed room. The supervisor reached the door, pulled out an electronic pass key, and passed it over an electro-magnetic sensor. The door buzzed and then unlocked and the supervisor pushed it open and waved Lanz through.

They entered a fluorescent lit hallway that was only about forty feet long. The walls were painted a creamy yellow; in sharp contrast to rotunda they’d just left. This was a warm hallway. Lanz got the impression, even in an empty hallway, that he was being led somewhere important.

At the end of the hallway, the supervisor pushed open a door – unlocked – and bade Lanz enter. Lanz strode past the supervisor into a small lounge that one might find outside an executive’s office. It was comfortably appointed with leather furniture, faux wood paneling and fine classical artwork. Aside from soft chairs, a couch, and a coffee table with the usual assortment of art books spread across it, there was also a fully stocked bar. Lanz was curious, however, to note that the room had no windows and only two doors.

“Someone will be with you shortly, sir,” and before Lanz could object, the supervisor had gone back out the same door they’d entered and shut the door behind him.

Lanz was alone in the room.

Lanz thought about pouring himself a glass of water or whatever cool and liquid the bar was sporting. His thirst from the previous hike – something that he’d only abandoned maybe fifteen minutes before – suddenly came rushing back at him. But Lanz refrained. There was something about this place that invited caution… even in its seeming warmth. Lanz had a mental picture of a house made entirely out of gingerbread and candy.

He walked over to one of the walls and began to admire the paintings. They were all quite exquisite reproductions – brushwork and not just photocopies. Although Lanz didn’t know much about art, he could tell that a lot of work and effort had gone into the paintings to make them look authentic. He recognized a couple of the paintings and was just admiring the haunting vision of Edvard Munch’s The Scream when a door opened on the other side of the lounge and an elderly lady entered the room.

“That’s the original, you know,” she said. “We got it right before it was destroyed in a museum theft. The one on display in Norway is a brilliant forgery.”

Lanz admired the look of this woman. She was nearly his height and had a look of windswept adventure etched into the fault lines of her face. Though age had managed to bend her a little, she looked as if she might yet snap back to full height and slough off old age like a snake sheds a used skin. She was spry, strong, and there was a gleam in her eye. And behind it all, Lanz almost thought he could detect a bemused smirk – like a mother catching her child with an innocent surprise.

Ultimately, though, none of that mattered to Lanz. Here, at last, was a person that could give him answers.

“Who are we? Where is this place?”

She smiled and said, “Ah yes… a million questions. Believe me; I know exactly how you feel.”

She laughed in delighted mirth and there was no mistaking the bemused smirk on her face now, nor the pleasured warmth of her cheeks. With a wave of her hand, she directed Lanz towards a comfortable chair and then without waiting to see if he was following her, she made her way to the chair opposite and sat.

Lanz, reluctantly, left the paintings on the wall and sat down in the chair she’d offered. It sighed under him and the sudden coolness of the leather and the ease and comfort of the room put into sharp contrast the hills of Death Valley where Lanz had just been. He became comfortable despite himself and waited for answers that he hoped would be forthcoming.

Before the elderly woman spoke again, however, a steward appeared with a plate of sandwiches and water. He politely acknowledged the woman with a bow of his head and then placed the plate on the coffee table between them.

As the steward exited, the elderly woman looked at Lanz and said, “I thought you might be hungry. Eat up and I’ll explain everything.”

“That’s okay… I’m fine.”

“You are no doubt starving. It’s a long journey here. Eat up. With your mouth full of food, you’ll be less likely to interrupt and at my age I find that not having to stop and explain everything twice is very comforting.”

Lanz wasn’t terribly hungry, but he was thirsty. He nodded to the lady and poured himself a glass of ice cold water. It soothed his body as he drank the entire glass down. He started to relax a bit and picked up a half of sandwich. It tasted remarkably ordinary… like something he’d have made for himself at home.

As soon as Lanz took a bite, the woman smiled again and began.

“So, first of all, welcome to the City. It was founded in 1943 for people like us as a special safe haven from the rest of the world. Only we know of its existence, and, as you may have encountered, only we can see the City.”

“Mmmagh mo fumbo…”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full please and save your questions to the end,” she replied.

What the hell was she talking about? What was this about a City? And that it could only be seen by… who exactly? Was it underground? Was it invisible? What was going on? Lanz swallowed quickly so that he could ask some real questions.

“Now, in answer to your inarticulate mumbles, I’m just going to come right out and say it. Lanz Franco, you are a time traveler, as are all who enter this City.”

Wait… What?

“This is an ability you were born with and have carried with you all your life. Though you’ve probably never entertained such a crazy notion before, you’ve no doubt often wondered why you always felt so restless, so disconnected, so full of wanderlust. You were born that way – like a ship without an anchor – waiting for a stiff breeze to blow you willy-nilly. That’s how most of us find our way here. We wander off into the hinterland… and then a cave appears before us and we enter and… well, you know the rest.”

Lanz put down the heel of the sandwich – food and drink, all but forgotten. This woman was clearly insane…

“Hold on a second,” Lanz said. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What is this place, really?”

“Back in the 1930’s, as the world once again braced for war, a group of us realized that our gift – the ability to travel through time and alter the course of history - could be extremely dangerous in the wrong hands. So we got together and built this City as a haven for our kind so that we could continue to exist in peace without worrying about the ramifications of living amongst the rest of the human race.”

“But… an entire city… out here in the Desert? How? I mean… it’s not possible? Is it?”

“The City was built to be self-sustaining, Lanz. We have farms, manufacturing, and virtually everything else a town needs to survive and thrive. As for protection, once the City was completed the Founders threw a switch and the entire City disappeared into a hole in space-time. We exist outside time and space and are affected by neither. As far as the world is concerned, we don’t exist. We never have. And we never will.”

“Okay… fine. You’re a time traveler. I guess. What makes you think I’m one as well?”

The woman smiled that capricious smile again and put her cool hand on top of Lanz’s. She looked deep into his eyes and Lanz could detect some sort of knowledge there – not intellectual knowledge, but emotional. This woman knew Lanz somehow.

“It’s genetic mostly,” she said. “You were born with the ability, as were we all. But each of us becomes aware of our ability at different times. Still, we’ve always known, haven’t we? Why walk out into the middle of the desert at night?”

“I was looking for something,” Lanz replied.

“Looks like you found something,” she countered.

“My brother died,” Lanz said, as if this explained everything.

Lanz didn’t know what to think. He was shocked. He knew it. His entire world and everything he’d ever thought possible had just been turned upside down... again. There was no way this woman was telling the truth… and yet, Lanz found that he believed her. He… he just couldn’t wrap his brain around it.

The woman suddenly reached out and put a hand on his knee, drawing Lanz back into the room.

“Now I know what I must have looked like when I first heard this same story.”

Lanz nodded. “It’s a bit much…”

“…to believe? Yes. I know. But don’t worry, those feelings you have will eventually fade away. You are a time traveler, Lanz. You may not believe it now, but you will believe it sooner or later.”

“Want to bet?”

The woman smiled.

“For now, after welcoming you, I’m going to see that you get settled in to the City. And then, by tomorrow, you’ll find that you’re already getting used to your new home.”

“New home?”

Lanz could hear the stress and fatigue in his voice. And she must have heard it and understood it as well.

“Take that panicked look off your face. You’re not a prisoner here. You can come and go as you please – though you’ll likely find it easier once you’ve learned to use your skills. However, we’ll save that discussion for tomorrow after you’ve rested. For now, there’s someone who’s been dying to say hello.”

She stood up so quickly that it caught Lanz completely off guard. By the time he finally reached his feet, she was already standing by the door.

“Wait… I never asked… who are you?”

She looked surprised as if it never occurred to her that someone wouldn’t know who she was.

“I’m Amelia… Amelia Earhart. Ask for me by name.”

And she went out.

Lanz fell back into the chair and then looked around as if expecting to see Rod Serling or the Devil.

Instead, a familiar young man came through the door. He was a little shorter than Lanz and was a bit more muscular than Lanz remembered. There was a twinkle in his blue eyes and a smile on his face underneath an unruly mop of sandy brown hair. Lanz stared at the young man and tried to comprehend. As far as he could tell, there wasn’t a single thing wrong with the man – not a scratch.

“Hello, brother.”