The Cylinder (17.2)

On Planet Udoran, orbiting a sun on the farthest tip of the Perseus Arm of the Milky Way galaxy, Peter McClain sat in his vehicle reading a word screen. The expensive fabric and style of his freshly pressed company jumpsuit reflected his high society status as CEO of one of the biggest corporations on the planet. Peter McClain's corporation was the one you went to if you needed to get away from it all. He worked from a large office on the first floor of a high rise building in the middle of the large, densely populated city of Triktin.

Triktin was the largest of the few colony cities on Udoran and home to most of the planet's major corporations. Peter, though, did not call this place home. Nowhere felt like home anymore.

At the ages of 15 and 16, upon their parents' death, Peter McClain and his sister inherited one of four software companies on the entire planet. Peter's sister showed no interest in operating the large company. She transferred her ownership to Peter, trusting him and a few selected advisors to manage the family holdings. His businesses had offices all over the planet. He ran mass loan systems of the written and electronic word, to businesses that sold diverse titles of text to the everyday person who wished to read. Having access to all of that information enabled Peter to access information on any subject he chose.

Now twenty years old, Peter McClain was overseeing the sale of a mass amount of DataTech WORD Readers to a school in the city of Triktin. The WORD Readers being sold to the school were preloaded with bibles and other theological texts specifically compiled for the school's new theology department. This sale of WORD Readers was a land mark since the school was the largest on the planet, but he really didn't care for the school's choice in preloaded content.

Peter had, at one time, studied comparative religions with a focus on those that still had active members. With all of his knowledge, he still felt that the evidence of his senses was more reliable than the ancient legends of people long gone. Lately Peter preferred to spend his free time learning the ins and outs of the local government and politics. He followed the variations of the free trade economy, and the history of science. However confident in real world knowledge he may be, Mr. Peter McClain was not prepared for what he was about to learn.

Peter looked up from his WORD screen and noticed that his men were done unloading the boxes from his vehicle and had stacked them onto a hovering platform. Peter stepped out of his vehicle and led his group of men and their portable cargo deck into the main lobby of the school. Student projects lined the perimeter of the lobby. One particular diorama of a comet caught his eye. Peter smiled to himself remembering how excited his sister would get every time she had the opportunity to study a new comet.

Something about them being remnants from when the universe was created really thrilled her.

A bald man approached them, wearing a warm and welcoming smile.

"Ah! Mr. McClain, you've personally delivered our books! Thank you ever so much!" the older man reached and shook Peter's hand firmly. "I'm glad you've come. I am Mr. Canose, the Superintendent of Atore's School for Children. Come --I'll lead you to the new Theology wing."

Peter suddenly felt squeamish inside. He had no desire to step into a classroom where all that was taught was religion. But, well, he had come here and he did want to please his customer. It certainly seemed as if it would thoroughly disappoint the superintendent if Peter refused his offer.

"I'm looking forward to a tour of your new Theology department, Mr. Canose." Peter lied.

As part of the tour, Mr. Canose asked Peter to sit in on one of the classes currently being held. Peter sat, feigning an interest, as the teacher delved into the scripture. Peter's eyes began to glaze over, and he fought to stay awake. He was drawing circles on the desktop in front of him with his finger when suddenly he felt as if he were in a film that had been put into slow motion. He watched as one of the children raised their hands, struck by how it seemed to take forever until the child's arm was fully extended above his head. Peter blinked, and everything went wrong.

The child vanished! Peter looked around in panic. The teacher had vanished too! The chalk and notes he had been holding were still floating to the floor. Seven other children in the room were also missing from their seats. Peter stood in alarm; he turned to ask the superintendent if this was intended as a joke. The superintendent was no longer there, the clipboard he had been holding lay on the floor. The remaining students sitting in the room began to talk in worried-sounding whispers; then several screamed as a fire alarm went off in the building. Peter pushed through the scared children and headed towards the door.

As he stepped out into the sun, expecting to escape whatever madness that was being orchestrated inside, he looked around for the men that had been transporting the books into the school. Their dollies were left unattended. He walked outside to discover that another vehicle had crashed into his, crushing it into the stone sculpture on the school lawn. Everything outside was chaos and disorder. People running everywhere.

Swallowing hard he looked around and spotted one of his men in uniform sitting on the curb a little further up the street. Peter sidestepped frightened people who were running or stumbling down the sidewalk as he made his way over to his worker.

"Johansson! What happened? Why are you not with the dollies, and where are the rest of my men?" Peter demanded, as he walked up to the man sitting on the curb.

Johansson looked up at him blankly.

"Two of them, they've disappeared --right in front of my eyes. Mitch ran off after he saw it happen. He was afraid of some contamination conspiracy nonsense."

"Why do you call it nonsense?" Peter asked slowly, the irritation in his voice increasing.

"I saw it happen-- Children even. We've been drilling for years here. Doctors and scientists have been warning us that the planet's soil may contain viruses we are not equipped to handle. Oh, the environmentalist whackos are going to love this." The man answered, distraught. "Problem is, I don't think it was contamination, Mr. Peter; I finally believe that my wife was right. I know what I will find at home."

"Explain," Peter demanded of his employee.

"My wife was an avid church person and a devout Christian--" Mr. Johansson's voice trailed off for a moment.

He covered his face with his hands.

"I should have listened to her. I was afraid to admit that everything I'd believed all my life was only a façade--But now--"

Johansson dropped his head and his shoulders started shaking as he silently cried. Peter was a bit shaken by the man's statements and obvious grief. He looked up to the tops of the skyscrapers around him while he tried to figure out what to do.

"Let's just forget about what happened here. Certainly this incident isn't planet wide--Let's get you home. Forget about work for a few days. Perhaps I am working too hard as well. Who knows? This may even be all part of our imaginations."

Peter helped Johansson up off the curb, and they walked up the road, forgetting the dollies. They took the nearest elevator up to the upper platforms to signal for a passing Magnacar taxi. When none stopped, Peter noticed an overhead warning word banner displaying the notice that all Magnacar rails were shut down. The word banner switched to display news segments about the missing persons reports that were being called in from all over the city.

Peter, still thinking that he was going mad, decided that it would be best for him to get home and get some sleep as soon as possible. He led Johansson back down the elevator to the ground level, and they walked the five blocks to the company tower.

"Sir, my home is in the outskirts of town, "Johansson said, waking for a moment out of his mournful reverie.

"I know. You can use the guest room in my apartment. The rails are down. It's going to be pretty hard to get home tonight."

Peter led Johansson into the company tower and up to the floor that served as his apartment. Peter opened the door to the apartment and let the both of them inside. Johansson stood inside the foyer in a daze, his expression sad and distant. Peter took him by the elbow and led him to the guest room. Johansson sat on the edge of the bed without speaking, still staring vacantly. Peter wondered what he could say to encourage the man. When nothing came to mind he decided against the idea and turned to give him some space instead. Peter rubbed his eyes and followed the hallway down the center of his apartment into the master bedroom. He climbed into the sleep chamber and set it for four days, hoping to cure whatever madness was going on inside his mind...

Peter McClain soon woke up from his sleep. Disturbed and disoriented at finding that he was in total darkness, he fumbled around until he discovered he was no longer inside his sleep chamber. He was in a chair. Without thinking, he reached for his head and found a helmet blocking his hand from his face. He tugged at it again, but the helmet would not move.

Peter cried out. Another hand gently unlatched the helmet. It opened like a clamshell, releasing him from his confinement. As Peter's eyes adjusted to the lighting of the room, he found himself inside the technician's lab in DataTech's corporate office in Triktin. Peter realized that what he had just witnessed wasn't real at all. He had been dreaming.

"Was the trial satisfactory?" The technician holding the helmet asked, after Peter had regained his senses.

"Well I certainly saw more than just gibberish this time!" Peter exclaimed in disbelief. "Where did you say that capsule came from?"

"Some of our men found it on their vacation time out in the Pekonet Desert area. They said that there was a rock laying in the center of a large flat spot. When they picked it up, it changed into this cylinder."

"I remember --do we know yet what the pictographs around the top and bottom say?"

"Sorry sir, but you've only been in the program for thirty minutes--we hadn't translated it before you went into the last run, and we still haven't."

Peter nodded in understanding, and then abruptly he froze, as he realized what his technician had just said.

"Robert--no known word program can take you through all that in only thirty minutes!" Peter exclaimed.

Just as the man was about to reply, another technician burst into the room through the swinging double doors, juggling a large stack of papers.

Peter turned to look at the distressed technician who was continuing to fumble with the stack of papers in his hands in an effort to organize them.

"Am I correct in guessing that you have made some progress, sir?" Peter replied with an impassive look that hid his inner feelings of anticipation.

The excitable technician jumped upon hearing Peter's voice. Grasping at his files before he lost them all, the man looked at him as if suddenly realizing the man before him was his boss.

"Um-- oh, yes sir! We have finally been able to decrypt the ciphers that are inscribed around the cylinder--" the Technician's words dropped off. Even he found it hard to believe what he was about to say.

"Well, man, out with it! What does the cylinder say? Does it tell us what it is supposed to be?" Peter asked, standing from his chair to face the man.

"Well sir-- The ciphers around the cylinder say 'Greetings to all the creatures of God's creation who have found THE WORD as it has been written and compiled from the all the sacred scriptures given to the inhabitants of all known planets. They are all recorded as one and contained in this cylinder. Study it. Take it into your minds and hearts, and fully trust and believe on God, as well as his one and only Son, our Redeemer," the Technician replied, drawing himself up to full height in preparation for Peter's response.

"You mean to tell me that this thing"-- Peter took the cylinder from its jerry-rigged docking station on the table beside the chair he now stood beside-- "this thing is an Intergalactic Bible?" Peter asked.

The two technicians did not reply; they were aware of how much rested on whatever the answer to their boss' question turned out to be.

"Well whatever it is, it is truly entertaining that's for sure," Peter mused as he wandered around the room, carrying the cylinder with him.

He passed his right hand over the inscriptions on the cylinder as his eyes narrowed, then, he paused, deep in thought. After a few seconds, he suddenly snapped to attention and crossed the room to the intercom system beside his door.

"Mrs. Trihn please send a call to EASA. Tell them that I want the crew of the Star Traveler sent here. They were on the hunt for some peculiar alien objects similar to the one that we have found. Tell them that I want them to help us figure out what this thing is."

"But sir, you've already told them that you didn't want their help."

"I've changed my mind--please do as I have instructed," Peter replied back in a terse tone.