Magestic 2

  Magestic 2

  Copyright © Geoff Wolak

  www.geoffwolak-writing.com

  Part 1

  ** NOTE. Magestic Book 2 follows on closely from Book 1, so you will need to have read Book 1 first. There is no review.

  Book 1 is available free from many outlets.

  The prophet returns

  Jimmy slowly started to come around from the sedative we had administered to him, lying now fully-clothed on a medical bed, a nurse in the background watching monitors. The year was 2047, and he was on my world – at the portal facility in Manson, Canada.

  And he was now safe.

  Meanwhile, I was exploring the old hotel in Manson where Jimmy used to live and work, but in post-apocalyptic Canada, and not safe at all. At first glance, the hotel had reminded me of an old western saloon, and then one that had seen better days. I had met his former assistant earlier, and had informed her that he was not only alive - but now elevated to godlike status on another world. It had taken some explaining, quite some explaining, the lady sent back to my world along with many others.

  I now sat at Jimmy’s old desk as US Marines explored the hotel, finding myself flicking through dusty papers relating to refugees and medicines, food stocks and supplies, and I recognised his handwriting – there were few working computers here. A hand-drawn calendar had been pinned to the wall above the desk, hanging at a slight angle, a few days of the month crossed-off.

  Back on my world, that calendar would have fetched millions. Back there, early documents signed by Jimmy were sought-after relics. Here, he had to make his own calendar after they had stopped printing them; a global nuclear war will do that to the local stationery business.

  And, back on my world, they had always figured that it would have been hard to persuade to him leave this world; they figured that he would have wanted to remain – and to fight to save what was left of this world. Well, there was more to it than that. There was also something else, something we had discussed in private before his return to my world to re-join Dr Singh and the others; there was the small problem of his godlike status, the problem of our godlike status.

  Everywhere we went back on my world we’d stop the traffic, people gawking at us like a pair of living gods. Like a pair of freaks. The others, those who had worked with us, had also been the subject of many books and films, and now they all found it very hard to simply get on with their lives. Jimmy would have a hard time back on my world, a hard time living in a glass case and being gawked at.

  I lifted up from Jimmy’s old desk and inspected an old US Army jacket, extra-large size, SILO on the name tag written in felt pen. In a pocket I found a bloodstained lock-knife, a morphine vial, and a needle and thread; Jimmy’s first aid kit.

  Jimmy opened his eyes and turned his head, finding a pleasant young man in a smart suit smiling down at him.

  ‘Welcome back, sir,’ came a refined English accent. ‘You’re quite safe, you’re here on the world you saved, not in Manson, Canada. Well, actually you are in Manson, Canada, but our version of it.’ Jimmy waited. ‘I’m Timkins, Shelly sent me to act as your liaison and assistant until such time as … well, you decide you may wish hire other staff.’

  Jimmy eased up and let his legs fall of the bed, still in the clothes he had been in, a dark blue suit. He took in the Spartan and clinically-white room, and the various monitors relaying heartbeats - presumably his – although he wasn’t wired up to anything. He heaved a big breath, rubbing his face. ‘What year is it here?’

  ‘Twenty forty-seven, sir. April. A fine spring morning,’ Timkins enthused. ‘We didn’t want your first day back to be cold or wet.’

  Jimmy slowly nodded to himself, and then thumbed towards the door. ‘Would I be right … in assuming that there are a million people outside that door, and that’s just the Press Corp?’

  ‘Ah. Well, yes, sir. I’m supposed to brief you on things … on the here and now, and then lead you outside, where many of your old friends are waiting for you - including Helen, Shelly and the family.’

  ‘I would have thought they’d be here when I woke, if they’re outside,’ Jimmy commented as he stood and stretched, towering over Timkins.

  ‘We discussed it, but decided that you should have some privacy, a shower, a meal; things like that.’

  Jimmy pointed at a door that said “toilet”.

  ‘Yes, sir. It’s a ... toilet.’

  Inside the toilet, Jimmy pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, sat down and read both sides of the hand written note, recognising my handwriting – as well as struggling with a few words and cursing me. Hell, he got the gist. When done with it he dropped it down the toilet bowl, the paper quickly effervescing and dissolving, soon nothing left. He peed over it and flushed. Washing his hands, he took a moment to stare at his reflection, nodding to himself.

  Back in the main room, he said, ‘Well, best get it over with.’ He stopped and turned his head. ‘Is that … singing I can hear?’

  ‘There is a choir, sir, from Africa,’ Timkins enthused with a smile. Adopting a puzzled frown, he added, ‘But … they’re quite a way away, and … I don’t hear them, sir.’

  ‘Never mind. Lead on.’

  ‘As you are, sir?’ Timkins broached, a glance at the creased suit.

  ‘My best dress is at the cleaners,’ Jimmy stated with some attitude as he headed towards the door.

  The door was opened by a guard the other side, a nod given as Helen and Shelly now stood up, huge beaming smiles for Jimmy.

  ‘Been sat there long?’ Jimmy asked as he approached.

  ‘No, it all happened quite quickly,’ Helen said, closing in and giving Jimmy a big hug. ‘I missed you.’

  ‘I’ve only been gone a few hours,’ Jimmy quipped, holding Helen by the shoulders.

  ‘Twelve years this side,’ Helen said, Shelly pushing in and grabbing Jimmy for a big hug.

  ‘You haven’t changed,’ Shelly noted.

  ‘You’ve put on weight, young lady.’

  ‘Only a little,’ Shelly said defensively. ‘Hell, I have five kids, and I’m almost fifty!’

  ‘Don’t remind me,’ Helen quipped. ‘I’m over eighty.’

  ‘When you both hit three hundred … then you can complain,’ Jimmy told them. They led him to a table, an assortment of food laid out. Fresh tea was made, everyone sitting.

  ‘So, what have you two been up to?’ Jimmy asked. ‘Besides breeding like rabbits!’

  ‘I returned to office, serving as the British Prime Minister for eight years,’ Shelly informed him. ‘I’ve been out of office a year now, working out of New Kinshasa. Well, trying to work.’

  Jimmy shot her a quizzical look.

  ‘They dog us everywhere we go,’ Helen put in. ‘It’s hard to get anything done. And if we try and start a new project they accuse us of using our fame. You know, there’s actually a special UN committee to monitor us, and to influence us.’

  ‘Us … being who, exactly?’ Jimmy nudged as he tucked in.

  ‘My family, Jack and Sykes, Mac, Rudd, Anna and Cosy; all of the original members. And all of our kids are affected. Even Cookie is a freak show these days.’

  ‘Cookie?’ Jimmy puzzled.

  ‘The old house is used for state meetings, kept in a trust that Paul set up after you went,’ Helen explained. ‘They also allow paying guests in to raise money for Rescue Force, and ordering pancakes from Cookie is something of a must for them. He quit once and came back; he’s well paid.’

  ‘They’re all here,’ Shelly mentioned. ‘Each to be afforded a chat with the living legend and prophet.’

  ‘Don’t you start with that crap,’ Jimmy warned. ‘Bad enough the public do it. Are Lucy and Liz here?’ Helen nodded. Jimmy lifted his head to the hovering Timkin
s. ‘Bring in the girls, and their kids.’

  A minute later the gang entered, and what a gang. Lucy had brought in her two daughters and five grandchildren, Liz shepherding her four daughters and eight grandchildren of various ages.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Jimmy softly let out. ‘Christmas at your house must be fun.’

  He stood and hugged Lucy and Liz in turn, hardly recognising Liz. Then a long list of introductions began, fifteen minutes worth, Jimmy finally sitting with a three year old girl dressed up as if off to church.

  Jimmy pointed towards Helen. ‘Who’s this?’ he asked the girl.

  ‘Grandma.’

  ‘Great grandma,’ Jimmy corrected the girl.

  ‘There’s no need to correct her,’ Helen quipped. Extra food was brought in, tables dragged around, the kids now noisily attacking the food meant for Jimmy.

  ‘Do you … mind if we bring a camera in, sir?’ Timkins delicately broached.

  ‘Five minutes, then out,’ Jimmy said without looking up, now feeding the girl on his lap.

  A man in a smart suit stepped in, something resembling a bicycle helmet on his head, a small camera and light attached to it. He stood off to one side. Jimmy lifted the girl’s hand towards the camera and waved, the image flashed around the world, and to some of the two billion people sat glued to their screens awaiting their first glimpse of the returning prophet.

  Half an hour later, Jimmy stepped through to the second room, finding Cosy, Anna and Rudd. He smiled genuinely, closed in and hugged them all. Sitting, he said, ‘Do you carry your glass cases around with you, old friends?’

  They exchanged looks. Anna said, ‘We’re not unhappy for all we achieved, but … we have outlived our usefulness.’

  ‘And if you could go back and do it all again?’

  ‘We’d not change a thing,’ Anna firmly stated.

  Jimmy slowly nodded to himself. ‘And if you could … go back, but to someplace else…?’

  Their eyes widened, looks exchanged.

  Jimmy added, ‘Maybe … a world just like this, but in say … 1920?’

  ‘My god, Jimmy,’ Anna gasped in a whisper. ‘You’ll go?’

  ‘Only if I have a little help,’ he whispered. ‘So, think about it – but discreetly.’

  ‘How long would we be there?’ Rudd asked.

  ‘Maybe as long as a hundred years. But here, it would be a month. Your families wouldn’t miss you, but you’ll miss them.’

  ‘You’d fight through the Second World War,’ Cosy noted. ‘Altering the outcome.’

  Jimmy nodded. ‘Now, let’s change the subject.’

  They chatted for ten minutes and caught up on news and gossip; families, houses and work.

  In the next room, Jimmy found Jack and Sykes, a few of the old house guards, and Big Paul. ‘Well, what an ugly bunch to greet me on my return,’ Jimmy let out as he closed in. He shook Big Paul’s hand. ‘You’ve aged a bit, and put on some weight.’

  ‘Sat behind a fucking desk now, that’s why,’ Big Paul complained. ‘Ain’t allowed to do anything dangerous.’

  ‘Family?’ Jimmy asked him.

  ‘Got married, had a kid, got divorced.’ Big Paul shrugged.

  Smiling widely, Jimmy shook Jack’s hand. ‘How’s the garden?’

  ‘I visit now and then and check in on it. I’m living in the Cotswolds with my wife, well away from the crowds.’

  ‘How do you make a living?’ Jimmy puzzled.

  ‘They make sure that we’re taken care of, the government.’

  Jimmy shook Sykes hand. ‘Looking old, Mister Sykes.’

  ‘I haven’t had an injection for … well, since yours. Growing old gracefully. I’ve written a few books, and we all do the lecture tours – when we can stomach them.’

  Jimmy nodded his understanding before greeting the former house guards. Thirty minutes later, and after a few beers, he left a raucous group and stepped into the next room in sequence in this odd building. Abdi and Ngomo, plus their aides, stood. Jimmy shook Ngomo’s giant steak of a hand. ‘My god, man, you’re twice as wide as when I saw you last.’

  The other men laughed. ‘He is sitting on his arse a great deal,’ Abdi commented.

  ‘Look who’s talking, Mister President without portfolio!’ Ngomo joked.

  ‘Ah, it is a sad state to be put out to stud,’ Abdi lamented.

  ‘Uh, Abdi, that’s put out to pasture … not to stud,’ Jimmy corrected him as they shook. Jimmy greeted all of the aides in turn as Ngomo and Abdi ribbed each other. Sitting, the men chatted for fifteen minutes like a bunch of teenagers, not the venerated elder statesmen they now were.

  In the next room, Jimmy greeted twelve of the current world leaders, including the leaders of America, Russia and China, Mister Han still operating as Chinese Ambassador to the UN and warmly greeted.

  Jimmy had decided to steer the conversation away from politics. But, when the Indian leader kept getting back to current problems and gripes, Jimmy sent for the three year old girl and Shelly. The Indian leader got a gentle kick in the shins, all caught on camera and flashed around the world. They would be embarrassed in India later.

  With the various leaders, past and present, lined up for a photo, the world’s Press got their cover image for the news websites, printed newspapers largely a thing of the past now. Jimmy was then led outside, that fine April morning now a late April afternoon, and to an area of neatly mown grass crammed with paying spectators.

  Singing began, a choir of children from Ebede. Jimmy smiled and waved at the crowd, then stopped, lowering his head with a frown. ‘Something’s not right.’

  Timkins was worried, but controlled his reaction. ‘Not … right, sir?’

  Jimmy frowned over his shoulder at the choir, the children now singing “If I had the words to make a day for you…” He stepped over to them as they finished. ‘Again, please,’ he called, the teachers delighted, the kids starting up again, all now being watched by two billion people worldwide.

  Jimmy turned his head to Timkins. ‘Do me a favour, and find out if there are any problems in space, anything threatening the earth.’

  Timkins stood rigidly shocked for a moment, and then lifted his phone.

  ‘Who?’ General Hughes asked, a phone to his ear.

  ‘Jimmy Silo just asked if there was anything in orbit threatening the planet.’

  ‘He what!’ the General loudly exclaimed. Softer, he said, ‘He … doesn’t have any knowledge of this time period. Still.’ The General slammed the phone down and stepped out into the nerve centre of Space Command, operating now the Near-Earth Collision Monitoring Programme. ‘Listen up, people: Jimmy Silo just asked if there was a threat to Earth from space.’

  The staff all glanced at each other, shocked and puzzled. A man stepped forwards. ‘There is that small gas cloud that may graze our atmosphere. Besides that … no threats listed.’

  ‘I want to know everything about that gas cloud. And today! Move it, people!’

  With the choir still singing, Jimmy walked along the line of enclosed spectators, smiling and saying hello, the meandering stroll taking half an hour. Back inside, the world leaders were worried, concerned, and downright horrified that Timkins had called Space Command without their consent.

  US President Gilchrist lead the group. ‘Mister Silo, you … want to tell us what’s going on, and why we’re all worried?’

  Jimmy shrugged. ‘I had an image flash up … of a disaster from space when I heard that song. That, in itself, is a bit odd, but when I came around from the sedative I could hear the same song.’ He turned to Timkins.

  ‘One of the first things he said was that he could hear music,’ Timkins confirmed.

  ‘And that dream was about a space threat to the planet,’ Jimmy added.

  ‘But you have no knowledge of this time,’ they pointed out, Jimmy agreeing.

  An assistant to the US President pushed forwards. ‘Sir, there’s a gas anomaly heading for Earth, be with us in ten days. They
say it could disrupt our satellites.’

  Could have heard a pin drop, everyone now focused on Jimmy. Jimmy shrugged, ‘Don’t look at me, I dreamt it.’

  ‘Could your numerous trips through time have given you a perception of … other things?’ the Chinese leader asked.

  ‘It’s possible,’ Jimmy agreed.

  ‘We’ll need to plan for some satellite disruption,’ Gilchrist mentioned, deep in thought and staring out of focus.

  Jimmy said, ‘I dreamt of a lot more than just disruption, a hell of a lot more.’

  Gilchrist stared hard, his mouth opening. ‘You’ve only been back a few hours!’

  ‘May I suggest … a planetary state of emergency,’ Jimmy told the assembled leaders with some emphasis. ‘And a meeting tomorrow of world leaders and scientists to discuss a plan.’

  Still stunned, the leaders scurried away, Gilchrist cursing Jimmy as he went.

  Jimmy faced a shocked Timkins. ‘In at the deep end, eh?’

  ‘I figured the worst I’d have to deal with would be the choice of sandwiches.’

  ‘Do me a favour. Call Rescue Force HQ, and tell them to cancel all leave, and to put all rescuers worldwide on standby.’

  ‘Sir, could I … ask that you address the world. This will leak in a micro-second and … there’ll be panic.’

  ‘That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said, and you said it from the heart. Keep doing that and you’ll go far.’ Jimmy headed towards the bank of cameras and called them forwards. ‘I wish to address the people of the world, all of the people.’

  ‘We’re live,’ came back.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of Earth,’ Jimmy began. ‘When I arrived back on this world and woke … I remembered a dream I had whilst asleep. That dream involved singing, the song that the children have just performed for me. I woke … dreaming of something that had not yet happened, and that should have been impossible.

  ‘Later, I remembered part of the dream, part of the dream about a threat to Earth from space. Well, a short while ago Space Command confirmed that a gas cloud is heading towards this planet -’ Everyone watching stopped breathing, all two billion of them. ‘- and that gas cloud will arrive in ten days, disrupting our satellite communications. Please do not be alarmed, either by the threat that we now face, or by my ability to dream up the future. There will be a meeting of world leaders and scientists tomorrow to discuss the problem, and I’m confident that they will find a solution.’