Justice
Chapter Nine
Focal Points
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Justice is the sword that cuts
through a situation,
and will not be swayed
by outer beauty when deciding
what is fair and just
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Ninety minutes later, Jim was awakened by Genie.
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“John will be here in thirty minutes, if you are receptive.”
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“Yes. Tell him I’ll be expecting him.”
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He stirred Helen awake and dressed. He liked being on the Dutchman far more than Artemis. Here, surrounded by endless ocean, he felt free—sea and space alike, both stretching into infinite expanse.
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An illusion, he reminded himself. The sea was Earth’s most precious natural resource, rare in the universe, teeming with life and mystery. Qblh knew Isis expected him to negotiate access, trading water rights for technological knowledge. But humanity’s disbelief and hesitation had to be managed; new phenomena rarely found acceptance without preparation.
Earth still knew little of Venetia. Jim had yet to compare notes with John. They both had partial knowledge of Earth’s past, while Isis knew everything they did.
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Qblh focused. A new focal point was approaching. He would ask John to transport the yacht back to Lake Michigan to fill the temporal gap. Then, at Fermilab, John had something to demonstrate—or perhaps a lesson to impart. Weeks had passed since Pegasus routed the fleet, yet Jim scanned Idiot’s circuits for an impact study on his cultural influence.
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The media, frustrated by Jim’s disappearance, had turned elsewhere. Most encounters had occurred beyond Earth’s vision. Pearl Harbor maintained a marine guard for the Flying Dutchman, while Helen and Antiope blended effortlessly among civilians. Wherever they went, admirers followed. Invitations to the Miss Universe pageant were politely declined—preliminary odds: Helen 49%, Antiope 49%, 2% someone else. Jim would have bet on Helen.
Official press declared that the starship had returned to space, piloted by Jim. Alien intervention had secured Earth’s destiny. John, unseen by the media, continued discreetly aiding technological development, motivated by love for humanity. His tasks mirrored those he had performed in Egypt—simple, yet essential merkabbah repairs.
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Project Gold Alien consumed the attention of General Needhymen, his apprentice Lt. Colonel Breedlove, and General Armstrong. Both generals, four stars each, reported to the President. Their staff filed congressional reports. Oddly, Project Gold Alien operated like a highly profitable business. Antiope liaised with the generals, requesting approvals and receiving them. Tax revenue from some of her secret ventures ensured surplus funds.
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Antiope, however, refused federal mandates, insisting on complete control of her industries—efforts secretly orchestrated by Jim and John. Washington was obliged to cooperate. John moved incognito, assuming multiple roles, free to travel with full authority.
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There would be no public announcement of the twenty-two kilograms of antimatter to be generated in Chicago the next day. Yet renowned physicists booked passage to witness the demonstration. Antiope Industries promised billions in contracts, but representatives would attend forums discussing industry proposals, not the actual antimatter transfer. The media would only see what those representatives revealed.
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Qblh had no fixed plans for the future, but he resolved to run a few queries before John arrived. He was fascinated by Einstein’s work. Idiot confirmed Einstein had no external help. Qblh instructed Idiot to internalize Einstein’s theories. Daily, they applied gravitational and light manipulation, earning the title of ultimate experts. Jim intended to use Einsteinian principles to explain his abilities to Earth scientists. He also wondered how much his father’s tinkering had influenced their capabilities. Idiot confirmed recent time manipulations originated from Jim and John’s adventures.
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“If a body gives off energy L in the form of radiation, its mass diminishes by L/c². The energy withdrawn becomes radiation. Therefore...”
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Jim chuckled. “Imagine that, Idiot. They think mass can be changed by controlling radiation.”
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“Fortunate it is possible,” Idiot replied. “How else would we exist? How do you explain zero rest mass yet continued existence?”
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“Easy,” Jim said. “Mass is dispersed over time due to relativistic velocity and its effect on experienced time. Observers notice no change in rest mass because our mass per unit second is unchanged. Our second is slightly stretched, making our effective mass density near zero.”
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“Possible because we recapture emitted radiation.”
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“Radiation conveys inertia between emitting and absorbing bodies.”
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“Then John’s Box can radiate energy for repairs, but we must return it to him.”
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“Once fully charged, we can retrieve additional energy elsewhere.”
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“As long as the control system memory does not fail.”
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“Malfunction? Planning to malfunction, Idiot?”
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“Only if errors are programmed.”
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“Since when have I done that?”
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“Occasionally.”
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“Occasionally?”
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“You allowed me to confuse Helen with Morgana.”
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“I hadn’t considered that possibility.”
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“Perhaps a program error.”
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“I don’t classify it as such.”
“Yet it was recorded that way in memory, with a margin for error.”
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“Once recharged, we shall return to Artemis at my command. Verify 100% operational status.”
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“Verified.”
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“Upon return, simulate repair unless security protocols require otherwise. We will use a Xanadu-to-Flying Dutchman portal for Earth travel. Public portals maintain the illusion of our presence.”
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“Dual existence?”
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“An illusion. The portals preserve the integrity of your control system while Isis observes compliance. In reality, you act independently.”
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“Acting as her agent removes suspicion?”
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“I will never be free of her suspicion entirely.”
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Helen entered. “She loves you, Qblh. All Amazons know it. If she finds me again, she’ll kill me. She knows how much I love you, and I can never hide that.”
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“She assures me you are forgiven and serve as her Earth ambassadors.”
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“As are you?”
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“I could place you in another time and space, beyond her reach.”
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“You would do that?”
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“I have considered it.”
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“Antiope enjoys this era more than I. I love Earth’s beauty. Perhaps you could take me to another time, a ghost ship called the Flying Dutchman… I dream of joining you, Qblh.”
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“Don’t tempt me, Helen. I trust you, delight in your company, and love you. Adventure has pitfalls, and I won’t promise more than you can receive.”
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“John asks you to activate the portal so he may come aboard,” Genie announced.
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“Activate.”
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John entered, carrying a briefcase. Accepting Helen’s embrace, he smiled at Jim. “So she named you Qblh. You have quite a future.”
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“I’ll discover it in my own time.”
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“That’s the spirit.”
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“Genie informed me of the antimatter transfer tomorrow. Why the public display?”
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“To teach our friends. They must understand hyperspatial temporal displacement through controlled action, not magic. The learning is experiential, mirroring our own difficulties.”
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“Yes, I remember.”
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“How did I put it, Idiot?”
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“From point to line to plane to space and beyond: mapping higher to lower dimensions loses information. A three-dimensional fixation distorts reality, unlike a higher-dimensional view. Temporal expansion requires orthogonal dimensions, defining unfolding space. Expanding an area to 3D transmits its image at light speed.”
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“Time control describes hyperexponential linear temporal expansion of induced images.”
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“Jim’s mapping system lets Idiot maintain stable local gravity while controlling dimensional translations.”
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“Except we need a slight power boost.”
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“Ten kilograms should start a good chain reaction within your merkabbah,” John said.
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Helen interrupted. “John, teleport the yacht back to Chicago. Keep me onboard, refuel, and adjust the interior. Jim’s Box won’t manage accommodations.”
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John winked. “Done, sweetheart. But I leave tomorrow.”
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Helen watched in amazement. The yacht had been transformed instantly, enchanting her completely.
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“Well, I believe we solved the mystery of the pyramids,” John remarked.
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“Yes, but why isn’t this classified as a paradox?”
