A New Past - Cover

A New Past

Copyright© 2014 by Charlie Foxtrot

Chapter 42: Point/Counterpoint

Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 42: Point/Counterpoint - A disenchanted scientist is sent into a version of his past and given a chance to change his future. Can he use is knowledge to avert the dystopian future he has lived through or is he doomed to repeat the mistakes of his past?

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   mt/ft   Consensual   Romantic   Fiction   School   Rags To Riches   Science Fiction   DoOver   Time Travel   Anal Sex   First   Oral Sex   Slow  

“Who are they?” I asked once security cleared us to edge past the protesters in the wake of the bus carrying the interns. It had taken long enough that we had swung by the rental house so we could drop Jeryl to get the kids in bed. “Greenpeace? The Sierra Club?”

“No,” Alison said with a scowl. “It’s a group called ‘Save our Shores’. The leader here is a man named Seymour Xavier.”

I nodded. “And what, exactly do they think we are doing to harm the shores?”

Alison shook her head. “The best we could determine is they are afraid the desalination plants will damage the marine environment and cause problems where the water and power come ashore. They are more passionate than precise.”

I thought about options for a minute.

“No signs of violence?” I asked.

“No. They are even being very controlled of their group to make sure they stay on the green space outside the park, so as to not violate their permit.”

“Do we know how long their permit is for?”

“They’ve got seven one day permits. They appear to be very well organized.”

“Okay,” I finally said. “Let’s find out what they really want.”

“What do you mean?”

“They probably want some free press for their cause. Have Tom film me talking to them. Let’s offer them some of the free PR to defuse the situation. We can always leave it on the editing room floor in post-production if we need to. Keep your folks alert.”

Rather than give her time to argue, I looked around, spotted Tom and motioned him over. Alison began talking softly into her radio as Tom and Billy grabbed a couple of camera men. Naturally, we could not keep the interns from following along as the lights turned on and I walked toward the protesters.

“Is Mr. Xavier nearby?” I asked when I was about twenty feet from them.

An excitable looking young woman spotted me and pushed back into the small crowd of protesters. A moment later, she was pulling a fifty-ish looking gentleman to the front of the crowd.

“Are you Mr. Xavier?” I asked as I closed the distance between us and extended my hand. He nodded.

“I prefer Doctor Xavier.”

“Doctor?” I asked.

“Ph.D. in Marine Biology,” he added.

“I’m Paul Taylor. I’d like to understand what your organization’s concerns with our effort are.”

His mouth gaped like a fish out of water for a moment as he shook my hand.

I waited for him to compose himself as the camera’s continued to roll.

“We want to ensure your and the state’s plans are not going to create another mess for our volunteers to clean up. We helped get the Monterey Bay National Marine Sanctuary established, and we don’t want you undoing all of our hard work here.”

“Those are admirable endeavors, sir,” I said respectfully. “Could we discuss specifically what you are concerned with so I might be able to address those concerns? I don’t want to do any harm either. If you think we are increasing risk, I’ll be happy to sit down and discuss the specifics. I don’t think having a bunch of protesters in the background of our filming is going to really help either of us achieve our goals. Do you?”

He looked at the cameras for a moment and then shrugged. “We can talk.”

“Okay. So, what do you actually know about our desalination effort?” I knew that they were probably operating under one or more false assumptions.

“You’re going to use a nuclear fusion reactor off the coast to desalinate water and pump it ashore. You’re going to be pumping contaminants back into the ocean and potentially damaging this protected marine sanctuary.”

I nodded. “In general, yes, but I want to make certain we are aligned on a couple of points. How much do you know about our fusion generators?”

“I’m not an idiot. I know what everyone does. I’m a marine biologist by profession.”

“Very good. Then I want to correct something you seem to have focused on. You mentioned ‘nuclear’ fusion which seemed to imply we were generating radioactive waste byproducts. You do know that the European Environment Agency has published several peer-reviewed articles stating my generators do not produce any environmentally dangerous waste, especially waste that increases area radiation levels, right?”

He looked a little flustered on camera. “I have not read those papers, I’ll admit.”

I nodded. “Have you had a chance to review the CalEPA reports on our proof-of-concept testing for the desalination plants we were testing along the coast for the past three years?”

“Yes, but I’m not convinced they were unbiased reviews since the Governor was pushing for their reports.”

“Okay, that’s probably a fair concern,” I admitted for the benefits of the camera crew. “How about we get the raw data collected during all of those tests for you to review, to ensure their conclusions are backed up with the appropriate rigor?”

“If we are not monitoring the collection of the data, the readings could have been manipulated to support the conclusions presented.”

I paused to think for a minute. It was bordering on a conspiracy theory, which I knew I did not want to accuse him of on camera, even if we could edit it out.

“How about we start with a review of the report and data and then you tell me what it would take to verify the data to make you comfortable?”

It was his turn to think.

“I could agree to that,” he finally conceded.

“Okay, so the next part might get a little technical. If it does, please stop me.”

He nodded again.

“Our plants are positioned on barges instead of built ashore to address some of your concerns. Specifically, we don’t want to contaminate any rich ecosystems, either ashore or in the water. Our earlier testing helped us determine that our most efficient desalination efforts are when we are taking deep, cold water into the system to start with. We get that water from below the hundred-fathom level, over six hundred feet down. We believe that also limits the chance of marine life being pulled into the system and harmed.”

He nodded again.

“We have some other safeguards as well, to keep curious critters safe. Part of the challenge this week is to come up with environmentally safe methods of securing both the barges and the intake piping for the plants. We then flash boil the water through a process of reduced pressure and high temperature from the fusion generator. We don’t add any agents to the water during the process, so you should agree that when we return the brine remaining after the first pass through the system, that we are not introducing any unnatural pollutants back into the ocean, right?”

“Yes, but you will increase the local concentrations of salt and other distilled by-products.”

“Absolutely. Is it the amounts that trouble you?” I knew the numbers were so vanishingly small that he would be ridiculed if he agreed. I really did not want him to look like a fool, so rushed ahead. “Our calculations are that we could run tens of thousands of these plants at full capacity, for over ten centuries, before changing the salinity of the oceans by even a tenth of a percent.”

He looked surprised at that statement.

“I’ll be happy to go over the numbers with you,” I added.

“I’d like to see that! If it is truly the case, and you can demonstrate a safe and effective anchoring system, our concerns would be greatly reduced.”

“Good. The final part of our challenge for these interns, is to extend the anchoring system in a safe manner to bring all that fresh water ashore. I actually think that will be one of the hardest challenges. I’m particularly worried about that part, since I see us not only having to protect the environment from accidental damage, but also man-made concerns such as marine traffic, and the onshore connections.”

He was nodding again. “I could see how that would be a challenge.” I thought he was actually going to offer a suggestion, but he caught himself with a glance at the cameras once again.

“So, now let’s talk about benefits. I mentioned the brine that is pumped back down the intake piping to discharge near the inlet. Do you know what we found in our tests when we pumped that warm, mineral rich water back down to six hundred feet?”

His head snapped up. “You created an artificial bloom?”

“Exactly. We saw up to a tenfold increase in sea-life around our barges. It actually made us decide that a barge based system had beneficial advantages over the shore based stations we’ve deployed in Africa. The increased habitat created sustainable fishing populations. Some smart students at U.C. Davis are working on a study to foster fish farming centered on one of our earlier prototypes.”

He nodded. “I’ve heard about that study. It’s just getting started, right?”

“In the fall. They are working over their models for data collection over the summer.”

“Finally,” I said. “These new plants will offer excess power, since we’ve managed to make the generators smaller and more powerful at the same time. That clean power will come ashore in a shielded conduit, attached to the fresh water piping sending water ashore. I’m pretty sure that power can be used to handle the full distribution of the water into local utility feeds or pump it further inland for introduction to the larger hydro-cycle.”

He was nodding again. “That makes sense.”

“So, given all that, what do we need to do to address your organizations concerns?”

He stopped nodding, suddenly seeming to realize that I had painted him into a bit of a corner. He had agreed with nearly everything I said.

“I’d like to have some of my more experienced folks review the European papers as well as the CalEPA reports and data. If all is as you state, perhaps we were given some incorrect information that steered us to protesting.”

I nodded easily this time.

“Also,” he added. “I’d like to see if CalEPA has looked at run-off concerns if you pump the fresh water further up the hydro-cycle. Adding foot-acres of flow through the canals and rivers could have a significant impact.”

“I agree. We asked those questions, but never got satisfactory answers. That’s why we are targeting local water supplies in the short term.”

He nodded in agreement once again.

“Now, I don’t want to create the perception that we are buying your group off, but I would be happy to arrange for some additional shelters to be put up and invite you to join the intern’s efforts over the week. I’m sincerely hopeful that we can identify solutions that will meet your concerns for protecting the environment. I’d even be happy to invite you into the judging to make sure we are in full agreement on the recommendations we take forward to CalEPA for the anchoring solutions.” I had increase the volume of my voice on this last part, and was happy to hear some seemingly genuine applause amongst his supporters.

“I think that could work,” he conceded. “Honestly, if all you’ve said is true, I’d enjoy looking at your solutions and helping your folks work through the options. As Californians, the last thing any of us want is drought, water shortages, or higher power bills or taxes.”

His words got an even stronger response since many of the cast and crew were residents as well.

“Okay, Dr. Xavier, let’s get to work then,” I said as I extended my hand to him once again.


“Great television,” Tom said after I had introduced Dr. Xavier and several other leaders of the protest to the interns.

“That wasn’t exactly the plan, but I’m glad if you got something you’ll be able to use in the show,” I said.

“Heck, we won’t wait for the show. I’ve got Billy sitting on the editor’s shoulder putting together a cut version with a voice over. We’ll be sending it, along with the full tape, out to the news agencies. You just gave us more, better PR to counter the union FUD than I could have imagined.”

I thought about it for a minute and then laughed. “I guess I did. I also did what Jeryl, Kelly and you always try to tell me to do; I kept my temper and opinions of their rhetoric to myself. Maybe I am learning, finally.”

Tom laughed while Alison just gave me her patented arched eyebrow.

Before I headed home for the night, I grabbed Billy and Alison.

“Billy, I know you’re staying near the interns this week. Since these guys are going to be around, try to find out exactly who provided the ‘incorrect information’ that led to these folks protesting. I’d love to find a smoking gun pointing at the unions or PG&E. Alison, see what your folks can turn up as well.”


“Sometimes the light’s all shinin’ on me

Other times I can barely see

Lately it occurs to me what a long, strange trip it’s been...”

It felt like The Grateful Dead were singing directly to me as we stood in the crowd at Soldier Field and let the music wash over us in the hazy, smoke filled arena. Alison thought I was crazy to insist on taking a break from the show to fly to Chicago to listen to a rock band, right after we had taken a break for the fourth of July. Jeryl had shrugged and said she would watch the kids. I was the only one who knew that this was not just the final performance of the Grateful Dead with Jerry Garcia, but one of the last times anyone would ever hear Jerry Garcia play.

I tried to stay in the moment, enjoying something I had never experienced in my first life. While it was not as moving as loving Jeryl or our kids, being at a live show of one of the greatest music groups of the modern era was definitely and experience. By the time they got through their final encore, I was more than happy. I let Alison and Sanford escort me out of the stadium, through the slightly buzzed crowd, happy to have been there while I’m sure she was just happy no one had recognized me.

“Did you at least enjoy the music?” I asked Alison as we slowly made our way out of the VIP parking area.

She smiled at me. “It was different,” she said. “I never knew you were a fan. This is the first concert you’ve gone to.”

I nodded. “I’ve listened to their music for a while. It always relaxes me while working.”

“I wondered about some of the lyrics.”

“Jerry Garcia is a master musician and composer. I always wondered who had more influence on the lyrics. I like the fact that they have so much improvisation in their shows.”

“What do you mean?”

“No two shows are the same. Even if they played the same set list, they have parts of songs that are pure improv during the show. They may hit on something in a show that then becomes part of the next version they record, but it might be a onetime sound as well. That’s one reason so many bootleg recordings of their shows are around.”

Alison looked contemplative in the slow-strobe of the streetlights as we made our short trip to the downtown Hilton on Michigan Avenue. We were both silent as we made our way inside and up to our suite. Once we were securely inside, I was not surprised when she joined me in the bedroom.

Alison gave me a deep kiss and then proceeded to slip out of the black silk pajamas Jeryl had gotten her for Christmas last year. She pulled my sleeping shorts down and sucked my cock into her mouth for a long, gentle blowjob. The feel of her amazing tongue had me to the point of release in a couple of minutes.

After she swallowed my cum, she continued to keep me hard before pushing me back on the bed and climbing atop me. When I was firmly seated in her pussy, she leaned down and kissed me hard before starting her own ride toward orgasm. As her pace picked up, she wrapped her hands under my shoulders and pulled hard against me. Her strong fingers dug into my back as she achieved her own release.

“Thank you, I needed that,” she said as we finally parted. She slid down my body and licked her own juices from my still hard cock. “Now we just need to take care of you one more time and get some sleep.”

I grinned at her.

“You look sexy as hell, but sound as clinical as a doctor. What’s going on?” I asked as I pulled her back up beside me.

“I’m just feeling a little melancholy,” she said. “Maybe it’s the music and the marijuana haze we just spent three hours in. I don’t know.”

I kissed her softly and then gave her a one-armed hug.

“I love you,” I whispered. “Jeryl loves you. What do you need to be melancholy about?”

She sighed. “I’m fourteen years older than you and Jeryl. It didn’t seem to matter a few years ago. As I watch our kids grow up together, it starts to feel wrong somehow.”

I stroked her back and listened to her.

“I’ve had some of the happiest moments of my life with you two, but I’m wondering how I would ever explain to Rose when she’s a little older.”

“How would you explain it to your god-daughter?” I asked.

She actually smiled and slapped me playfully. “That’s your and Jeryl’s problem.”


“So, Paul, anything you can share about this year’s season of ‘The Interns’?” Joan Lunden asked.

“That would be telling tales out of school,” I replied with a smile.

We were filming a segment for Good Morning America. The network had asked that we do a more in-depth piece that they could include in a live broadcast closer to the season premier. Once we figured out the schedules, Joan had flown out to California to tape the segment.

She smiled for the camera and then looked back at me. “One of the things that appeals to almost every fan of the show, is the mix of physical and mental challenges you present. What types of hurdles will interns face this year?”

“As we say on the show quite a bit, I think it’s better to show, than tell. How would you like to face one of the challenges they will experience?”

Her laugh sounded natural and un-forced. “I’m usually up for a challenge.”

“Well then let’s get you suited up.”

“Cut!” the director called. We had roughly scripted this introduction.

“We’ve got all the gear you’ll need,” Tamara said as she stepped closer. She was helping cover this challenge as part of our own run through to make sure everything was set.

“What torture are you planning for me?” Joan asked as she stood and began following Tamara to her dressing room.

“No torture. We’ll be having the interns do some zero-g work for part of one of their challenges. We thought it might make a good segment for your show, if we showed you in the same environment. We don’t want to spoil the challenge, but showing you floating and working with Paul to get used to the environment should be a nice teaser for the audience.”

Joan looked a little skeptical.

“Don’t worry, I did the full training a few weeks ago. Once your inner ear adjusts, it’s kind of fun.”

Three hours later, Joan let out a little shriek as she floated away from the wall and found herself unable to get ahold of anything to move under her own control.

“Simulation, my ass!” she said with a laugh.

I reached out for her hand and pulled her back to the small platform we were supposed to stay next too.

“So, as you can see, the interns are going to have to develop some new thought patterns as they work in this type of environment. They will get a couple of days in zero-g for one challenge and have to learn to not just live, but work up here.”

I had arranged for a quick hop to Edwards followed by a launch of an orbiter just for the show. The cargo bay had been fitted with a large, pressurized habitat that contained the padded training space they would occupy. Their challenge would be to help improve and finalize the layout of facilities in a zero-g environment, but we did not want to spoil that challenge today.

“I bet they learn to not stray from the handholds pretty quickly,” Joan said before deliberately pushing off to sail across to the opposite bulkhead.

I followed her across, nodding.

“I think that is a lesson they will learn quickly.”

We finished filming with a couple of mid-air flips before the pilot announced we needed to return to our seats for the start of our de-orbit maneuvers.

“I can’t believe you kidnapped me and shot me into space,” Joan joked once we were back on terra firma.

“It can’t be kidnapping when your producer sends you on the job,” I replied.

“I suppose not. I think you just made me the first journalist in orbit. Thank you.”

I smiled. “You are welcome. I guess I’ll see you in New York in a few weeks.”

We shook hands and parted ways.


“Tell me again how I got roped into doing all these shows?” I asked as Joseph went over my calendar for the rest of the summer.

“It’s always like this in the run-up to the premier of the show. The Emmys are on the 10th and the premier is on the 14th. Prior to that, you’ve got the follow-up with GMA on August 28th. Since you are going to be back east for that anyway, Jeryl suggested we accept the request for you to appear on ‘Meet the Press’. Then the network decided to put you on Leno, later that week, to help build a buzz.”

“And is my lovely wife, who enjoys all these things, going to join me?” I asked, looking at her. We were in our weekly staff meeting that often replaced my morning briefings when we were filming the show.

Tom, Billy, and Joseph chuckled. Jeryl smirked while Tamara and Allen tried to keep neutral faces.

“I’ll join you on GMA and maybe Leno. You have to do the Sunday show without me. Alison and Anna will have the kids over in Utah while we’re gone.” Anna had shifted from minding our kids to Alison’s Rose, but still spent quite a bit of time helping keep our two where they needed to be.

“I figured I’d get the kids home from our summer travels and then fly to New York Sunday afternoon. We shoot with them Monday, and then hop back out here for Jay and the final challenge critique and wrapping up on Labor Day weekend.”

I shook my head because I knew I was committed by her tone of voice.

“Look on the bright side,” Jeryl said. “I haven’t agreed on a time for ‘Politically Incorrect’ yet.”

I shook my head.

“Okay,” I said motioning to the agenda. “Allen, where are we at on the orbital challenges?”

“Hunter and I have fleshed out the initial training episodes and run them by Dr. Culpepper. Since he’s spent more time up in the lab than anyone else, I thought it would be good to get his take on them. It’s going to take nearly a month per challenge. Tom said that was in the filming budget.”

Tom nodded. I agreed.

“We have eighteen months to film thirteen episodes,” I said. We need to make sure we do it right and safely. How do they break out?”

He slid a page with descriptions over and the passed out additional copies. I skimmed it.

“We’re adding module two to the station on the third episode? Will that be safe?”

Allen nodded. “All of the long lead-time items are complete. This season is finalizing layout recommendations as part of their final challenge. That gives us two months to modify the module while the new group is training. They are going to be hands on for the docking and then rotate through initial operational training and certification.”

“Tom, you’re good with this?” Jeryl asked.

“Yeah. It’s aggressive, but we have to have enough action to keep the audience tuning in. This set of challenges gets us in orbit quickly enough that we live up to the title. Allen has come up with a slick idea of splitting and covering two challenges each episode that are complimentary, but different enough to keep viewers engaged.”

“How’s that work?” Jeryl asked.

“Once module-two is up, we will have two teams of four on it rotating every week or so,” Tom said. “While in orbit, they will be gathering data and building their zero-g scores. We’ll be grading them on their learning and teamwork for various tasks. The groups not in orbit, will be doing more cerebral work down here, either designing mission profiles, framing orbital experiments, meal planning, ground based equipment testing, that sort of stuff.

“Okay. Tamara, with this much information, do you have a good enough feel for the types of candidates we need?”

“I do,” she answered. “What I don’t know is if we want a specific gender mix. With sixteen interns, we could do some single-sexed teams and some mixed. Billy thought it might give a different dynamic to the show.”

Jeryl was nodding, but I was not.

“I’m not sure I want to stack the deck and pander to gender politics. If we have enough strong candidates, we can look at the team organization, but let’s get the field narrowed before we discuss that.”

Tamara made a note and nodded.

“We will have some asymmetrical decisions already,” she continued. “We won’t have a doctor on each team, but I want at least two in the overall pool. Getting a mix of skills and assessing how they work as a team in space and on the ground, is going to be required if we really want to select a final mission team for whatever we pick as the final goal.”

Tom nodded. “We also need to make sure we are running a filming crew selection in parallel, since we will need fully trained operators depending on the challenge.”

I nodded. It was a logistics issue we had discussed previously.

“Jeryl, anything on the other operations we need to discuss?”

“Boeing wants a meeting with us. They have a long-haul aircraft design using a lot of our materials. They want to talk supplies and I think, make sure you aren’t going to disrupt them if they go forward with it. Also, Lockheed wants a similar meeting around materials capacity lead-times. Everyone loves the new things you are cooking up with Culpepper and Wilkerson.”

“Okay. Allen, we need a challenge relatively soon after episode three, that focuses on material fabrication processes in orbit. Tom Culpepper should be able to brief you on them before the end of the week. It won’t be a sexy challenge, most likely, but it will probably pay for the show if Boeing and Lockheed both want the materials.”

“Anything else?” I asked. Jeryl shook her head.

“Tom and Billy, what’s up for the week?”

They exchanged a glance and Billy took the lead. “The Interns should be back in the marina by lunchtime. We’ll have crews filming them. Once they are all in, we’ll get you and Jeryl for the initial debrief.”

“When do Nike and Hobie Cat get here?”

“Wednesday,” she said. “It will be a short week for turn-around of their material, and we need to get them back on the living quarters for the barges by Thursday.” We were initially having them perform habitability reviews of what would become the new crew quarters for the orbital lab under the guise of giving us habitability improvements for the desalination barges optional living quarters.”

“And they then learn they are further adjusting on-orbit, two weeks later?”

“That’s right. The second to last episode is launching with the finale being the time in orbit and then debriefing.”

Tamara cleared her throat. “Paul, after that, you know some of them are going to want to be considered for the follow-on show. Do we let them?”

I thought for a moment. “For people that are not still in a degree program, absolutely. With the level of commitment, I think we need to dissuade anyone from missing a full year of school.”

Jeryl nodded. With both of our mothers having been teachers, we knew we would recieve and earful if we encouraged anyone not to finish their degrees.

“Anything else?” No one said anything. “Okay, let’s get to work.”


“We’re finally making some headway on the orbiter,” Alison said as we sat in my temporary home office with coffee and tea.

“What do we know?”

“It appears three chips were replaced during maintenance. It was very cleverly done. They looked identical from the outside, but when we ran them through more detailed analysis, it was apparent they were all custom fabrications that maintained the design interface. Each chip was running a comparison loop in hardware and sending very small data sets to the other chips. When certain parameters were met, outbound comms were shut down.”

I thought for a few minutes. Our security protocols would prevent an external spoofing attack, but we always assumed the physical layer, the chips themselves, were under our control.

“How did they get introduced?”

“We’re still searching for the techs that last accessed those systems. It looks like they did the switch. Both have disappeared. Neither had families, so we don’t know if they were forced and dispatched, or were agents in place. I’ve got a team looking at both options.”

I nodded.

“Have we checked the other orbiters?”

“Yes. None of the others have been modified. We’ve also instituted a two-person control process for future assembly and maintenance with mandatory rotation so the same pair of technicians are not working together on a frequent basis. Since you have system redundancy in the design as well, we’re proposing having different teams manage the complimentary systems to prevent multi-system attacks as well. I’ve got Lila overseeing those changes personally.”

“Any leads on who they were working for?”

Alison shook her head. “Not yet. However, I had some folks from operations look at your flight plan that was public and determine where the issue would have occurred if you had not performed the extra maneuvers for the classified retrieval. We think it is pretty certain you would have been forced to land in eastern Russia, or northern China if you had stuck to your original, published plan.”

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