Chapter 3: Discovery

Mark had become "the man of the house," after his father was killed. He had been forced to take his father's place in so many ways. By the time he was twelve Mark and Rachel became confidantes, rather than merely mother and son. In time, it became necessary to help her make certain business decisions.

Soon after his father's funeral he began to learn how to repair things around the house. Rachel's job was more than adequate to support them. Their home was paid for and her taste in cars was modest. Life was good as they could expect under the circumstances.

The money from the truck driver's government sponsored insurance and the death benefits policy Dad had carried were additional cushions. Neither Rachel nor Mark would ever go without. Yet, they still felt it proper to economize where they could. In the process, their personal relationship became closer than mothers and sons. They became partners.

Mark dragged his mind back to the present. He heated water on his little paraffin stove and prepared a cup of tea. He took his latest book out of his backpack and tried to relax while he waited for his mother to arrive. It was impossible to be still. He gave in to his restlessness and decided to forage for something to eat.

He found a few wild onions, wild strawberries and some edible mushrooms. He passed over the nutritious sweet grasses he could have snacked on as well. Mark was too excited to feel hunger. The food he did gather was more of a way to kill time while he waited for his mother.

Once more Mark tried to read and couldn't concentrate on the book. He put it to one side, stood, stretched and began to wander around. He became more impatient for Rachel to arrive. He felt, between them, they should be able to figure what to do about his discovery up there on the mountainside. The wait was the longest three hours of his life.

"Marky." he heard his mother's voice in the distance. "Mark, where are you?" Mark smiled and figured she must have started to call to him a mile before she got to where he sat by the little pool. He hurried to meet her.

"I'm here, Mom. Please stop yelling." She ran up to him and hugged him hard. "Mom, I am all right. There is nothing wrong. Come on with me and I'll show you what I discovered. This is awesome."

He grinned at her and said, "You forgot your sleeping bag." Rachel acted as if she hadn't heard him.

Late Friday afternoon, after Melissa had left Mark's house by the back door, she took a deep breath and walked through the friendship gate that broke the fence between the two properties. She walked in the back door of her house and told her mother, "I'm not going to Relief Society this evening."

"Why dear? Don't you feel well?" Angela Puffin felt her daughter's forehead for fever.

"I feel fine Mother. I..." she paused a moment, "Well, it makes no sense for me to attend church functions when I neither believe the teachings of the church nor have any respect for the leaders of the church. It's all a big scam, so far as I'm concerned."

Carl Puffin came out of the living room. He grabbed his daughter's arm and tried to jerk her around to face him. "You shut up that nonsense right now."

Melissa twisted herself free from his grasp and shoved him away from her. "I warned you the last time you touched me what would happen. I hate you." She stormed up the stairs to her room.

"It's all the fault of that fatherless bastard we have living next door to us and his harlot mother." His whole body shook with rage. "Monday I shall call the authorities and charge them both with contributing to the delinquency of a minor." He stormed out of his house and seethed.

He remembered the last time he had any close contact with her, that young bastard's mother. Rachel Stone had humiliated him in an unforgivable manner. He merely went over to their house and extended an invitation for them to join the Church. Twice before, she spurned his offer and insulted him. The third time was the final straw...

The third time Carl Puffin came next door to "teach" Mark's mother about the wonders of the Mormon Church, Rachel Stone lost her patience. "Carl Puffin, you are a disgusting ass." For the first time, she showed her total contempt for him. "I warn you, if you rub yourself up against me just one more time I'll slap you silly, sillier than you already are."

She took a deep breath and continued, "I am not, as you so vulgarly put it, lonely for a man's touch. I assure you, if I were, it would not be that of a married man. Furthermore, it especially would not be for your touch that would turn me on. I already know a few great guys who take care of that little chore for me when I feel so inclined." She stood straight, as she looked down on him. Rachel was six feet tall, while Carl Puffin was five feet seven. She crowded him until he took a step back.

"You repulse me. You disgust me." Carl puffin was aware her son Mark had watched from the door to the den, ready to react if it became necessary.

Carl Puffin's eyes narrowed to glittering slits. His face turned red as he turned toward the front door. As he started to walk away, he turned back. "I came here to teach you about the Church. I'll ... I'll..."

"You'll leave right now," She interrupted him. "People like you give religion a worse name than it already has." As he stormed of the house, he tried to slam the door it behind him. The automatic closer prevented him even that small satisfaction.

"Damn them all," he muttered under his breath.

In the meantime, Melissa had changed into fresh sweat pants and a tee shirt. She went out into the middle of her back yard and began to practice a kata. Her style was an advanced hybrid form of Krav Lev, the unarmed fighting style taught the Israeli Army and Northern Tai Chi. There was also a bit of Bruce Lee's Jeet Kun Do thrown into the mix. Her concentration was total, as she pushed herself to her limits. After thirty minutes of intense workout, she was able to finally let go of her anger.

She turned toward the house and saw her father had watched her. He had a look of fear on his face. "I already told you, in less than six months I'll be eighteen and beyond your authority. Then I'll move next door and live with Mark and his mother. God I hate you."

Carl watched Melissa enter the house and close the door behind her. He sat in the back yard on a lawn chair and planned. He would strike back at those who were his enemies. They would all learn to fear Carl Puffin. Damn them all...

Late the next morning, Saturday, Carl watched Rachel Stone run out of her house dressed in heavy jeans and a plaid shirt. She threw a bulky something into the back of her van, got in and peeled rubber when she drove off. Earlier, he had watched her dressed in a miniskirt as she drove her son away to some unknown destination. He had seen that Mark wore rugged outdoors clothing and had brought along his backpack.

She's up to something, he decided. He got in his car and followed.

Rachel Stone was unaware Carl Puffin followed close behind her. Her mind raced from one disaster scenario to the next. If he has a girl up there with him and he has her pregnant I'll..."

"No," she decided, "Mark is too in love with Melissa to ever look at another girl. Besides, she would neuter him if he did." She was well aware of Melissa's proficiency in martial arts.

"Does he think he's found gold? Oh, I'll kill him if he brought me up here on a doodlebug chase."

Carl Puffin watched her when she stopped. He pulled over to the side of the road and waited. Has that bastard son of hers found gold? Perhaps he found a lost Spanish treasure. He watched and waited. Whatever they had found, he wanted his share of it. He, Carl Puffin, was entitled.

After Rachel Stone stopped at the turnout where she let Mark off earlier, she parked and got out. "Marky!" she began to call as soon as she gained the trail that led to the pool. She continued to run and call until...

"Mother, I'm right here. Please stop yelling." She ran up to her son and hugged him close.

"Relax, just relax a minute. Take it easy. Mom, I'm all right. There is nothing wrong. Come on with me and I'll show you what I discovered. This is unbelievable. We need Melissa up here and fast."

"Mark, you don't believe you found gold, do you?" She got a half-peeved look on her face.

"Follow me. We're going up to the base of that sheer cliff." Mark pointed uphill and headed toward the blank cliff wall. She followed in silence. She had never seen Mark in such agitation before. Oh, I hope he won't be too disappointed.

When they stopped in front of the hidden entrance, Mark stopped. Rachel asked, "Well? What is it? Where's this discovery or whatever it is that made you so secretive?" She folded her arms and waited for him to answer.

"Uh, Mother, now I don't want you to get all nervous or frightened of what I am about to show you, okay?" Mark was certain she would become hysterical when he opened the door.

He was correct. "Yes, yes. Just get on with i-i-i, it ... Oh good lord what's that?" She stepped back as the door slid upward and revealed the tunnel. "What is this?"

"This is a part of something so big I can't even begin explain it to you. You must see it for yourself. Come on inside. It's safe." Mark took the lead and she followed. When they entered what Mark had dubbed the "Star Chamber," all she could do was gasp. For once, Mark thought, my mother is completely at a complete loss for words.

"This is what our galaxy looks like from somewhere near the core." Mark pointed to a dim star off by itself and told her, "I believe that is our sun. Now I shall make it come closer and grow larger.

Then she saw the skeleton lying on the couch. Oh. Oh my. Is that real?" She knew it was real. Somehow, Rachel felt if she asked the question it would soften the shock of what she saw."

"Mother, it's only a skeleton and was one of our great, great to the something or other power ancestors.

She looked again and said, "Oh that poor soul, to be here alone for all these years.

Mark shook his head in impatience. We have bigger issues here than a dead skeleton. What we have seen so far is all part of a much greater discovery. Our problem is I don't quite know what to do about it. Whom do we tell what I've found here? On the other hand, even more to the point, should we tell anyone? We have some big decisions to make here. Do you have any ideas?"

Rachel frowned, "Well, I believe, for right now, we shouldn't tell anyone. Let's investigate a little and find out exactly what it is that we have here. Then, we decide what to do." When she said "we," his mother had included herself in and was ready to try to make sense of what Mark had been led to discover up there in the mountains.

"Let's see what's in those other two tunnels. So far, I haven't done more than to learn how to open the entrance from the outside and find out how this, whatever it is communicates with me mentally." Mark touched the golden band on his head.

She gave him a funny look and asked, "Mentally?" Mark recognized the look she gave him. It was a, "It's not that I don't believe you, but I don't," sort of look.

"Yes, Mother, mentally." Mark stood firm. He decided to get this over with immediately. "You see this gold band I have holding my hair back?"

"Well, yes, I see you have a new head band, that's all. If you got a haircut you wouldn't need a silly head band." She never had approved of his shoulder length hair.

"Well this is more than a mere headband, it's some sort of thought projection device. I don't understand much about it other than what I just told you. It also is supposed to protect me somehow. The little I have learned about it is scary. There is so much more here we need to learn."

"You said you haven't checked out the other two tunnels. What do you say we take a quick peek at them? Marky, do you realize what you have discovered? To borrow a phrase from you, this is totally beyond all bounds of reality." Mark nodded his head that he agreed with her.

He led the way back to where the main tunnel forked and became three separate tunnels. They stopped, and then turned up the central branch. This tunnel was lit with the shadowless lighting that seemed to have no single source. They walked about a hundred feet and came to a blank wall. "Now what?" Mark wondered out loud.

"Well, why don't you ask that magical thingy on your head?" Mark decided his Mother sometimes got a little bit sarcastic when she thought he had begun to act dense.

"Mom, I don't think my headband is a 'magical thingy' at all. It works on some sort of scientific principle we don't know anything about yet." He tried to save a little of his dignity. Every time she became sarcastic, Mark became defensive.

"Honey, just ask it, will you? Think kind and pure thoughts or whatever it is you do to get answers. There has to be a reason why this tunnel ends abruptly like this."

In his head Mark asked, "Well, you heard my Mother, didn't you?"

"No, Mark, I did not hear your mother," The answer came back immediately. "I am aware of her presence. However, her thought patterns are not coherent to me."

"Why does this tunnel end in a blank wall?" Mark asked.

"It doesn't," Came the answer, "This is an entrance to another level."

"How do we use it to get to another level?" Mark had begun to feel more at ease with mind talk.

It dawned on him that this, his dad's super computer, or whatever it was had no personality, yet it was somehow at least partially self-aware. No matter how sophisticated it seemed it had no "life" in the sense humans do. It seemed to be able to only volunteer a limited amount of information. For the most part, Mark must first ask in order to receive answers. Now he needed to figure out what the proper questions were to ask.

"Well?" Rachel asked, interrupting his thoughts, "What did it say? What do we do?"

"Well, first it can't communicate with you. It has something to do with the fact that you and Dad each had a portion of whatever it is in our genes that makes it possible for it to communicate with me. Right now, I barely understand it myself except in only the most vague of terms. All I know for certain is that it has something to do with divergent strains recombining. It's about our ... our genetic design.

"Also, it told me that this end of the tunnel is a sort of elevator that will take us to another level. As near as I can figure out, this whole area is sort of like a great big apartment building or an office complex. Most of it is well over a mile below ground level. Should we ask it to take us to another level?" Mark wished to see where they would end up. At the same time, because of the strangeness of the situation, he was hesitant to do so.

He decided his mother was not a big help. Instead of her usual cautious approach she said, "Sure. Let's see what happens next." Her face glowed with excitement.

"Can you take us to another level?" Mark asked.

"Yes," came the answer.

Mark waited and nothing happened. "Will you take us to another level?"

"Yes," came the answer. Still nothing happened.

"Will you please take us now?" Mark then understood that this thing had more in common with computers than he originally thought. Mark needed to make a more specific request for something and project his desire for it to happen before it would do anything. It had to be given orders first. Perhaps it would improve with time and use.

Without warning, the floor under them began to drop and take them with it. Rachel gave out a shrill scream. Mark feared he was going to toss his cookies. "Stop," he commanded. They stopped.

"Oh." What happened?" Mother asked.

"I told it to stop, so it did. Are you ready to resume our journey to somewhere else?"

"Uh, yes, but ask it to please take things a little slower." Mark looked at her and saw her face was pale and almost white.

"Take us down at a slower rate," Mark ordered. This time their descent began slower to start. Then there was a gradual acceleration. They didn't feel as if they were in freefall. The two dropped straight down for well over a mile, as Mark found out later. When they stopped their descent, they were to one side of a great chamber that was illuminated with what Mark thought of as "non light."

Round tables, large enough to seat six were scattered throughout the chamber with six chairs placed around each one. "Why, this looks like a great big cafeteria." Rachel exclaimed.

Mark asked, "Is this a cafeteria?"

"Of a sort. It is a place of food intake. However, there are differences," came the answer.

"What sort of differences?" Mark asked.

"There is no payment of either tender or specie. There are no slaves or servants to bring the food or serve it. The food will be delivered to whichever table you choose."

"What are you?" Mark asked. Like his mother, Mark preferred to have everything named and categorized.