Projections - Story

Projections

A story by Emmanuel Goldstein

“Mopsy?” Sara called sweetly over the garden wall. “Your sister's bunnies have gotten into the main garden again. They are in the cabbage rows. Could you bring them back to their own garden??

“Of course, dear,” I called back to her, and began the task of herding the bunnies back through the hole they had dug under the fence. There was no reason for them to dig to the field next to us. Nelson and Volodimir had planted us a garden of our own, more than adequate for our needs. But young rabbits do like to explore.

It took a great deal of searching for me to find this place. It is a beautiful little displaced English farm, next to a displaced English village. There is a farm house, and two lovely cottages on either side of the fields. Oh! And a lovely garden with stone walls and brick arches between its sections. When I first visited, I had a nice chat with the lady of the house. While she seemed not to be surprised at all to be talking to a rabbit, she would not tell me her name.

“You may call me “Dowager,” she said, “or Mum. If I told you my name, you might not believe it.”

The Dowager was getting older. She was still tending to the garden, but her fields were not well managed. Some of the neighboring farmers helped her with the planting and harvesting, but they had farms of their own. The cottages were empty. None of the young people in the village were interested in being tenant farmers.

It was perfect for my needs.

That was two years ago. My four young friends have worked very hard on the fields, and they have even repaired The Dowager's farmhouse. She may tell us her name one day. Maybe she will even tell us how she, and the farmers and the village, got here.

Perhaps it would be better to start from the beginning....

-I-

“Do I have to go to the University with you today?” Nelson whined. “Maybe we could just stay home.”

“For the 8^th time Nelson, yes you have to go to the University with me.” Penny, his girlfriend, glared at him sideways. “Your car is in the shop, so if you want to do errands in town today, you have to hang out at the University while I take my exam. Then we can go shopping.”

“OK, OK. I'll go,” Nelson said, resigned to his fate.

“Good,” said Penny, “Let's pack up the car. Besides, I found an interesting article for you to read at the Library. Really, I think you'd be fascinated by it.”

Forty-five minutes later they were standing in the middle of the Science Journals at the University Library. Penny reached into the middle of a series of bound orange journals and pulled one of them out of the middle.

“Chemistry by Number Theory?(1) “ said Nelson, leafing through the volume. “Sounds a bit dry.”

“Trust me, this is your kind of stuff,” insisted Penny. “Just read the first article. It's an overview. If you don't like it, then I'm wrong.”

“Volume 148... huh.” Nelson continued leafing through the journal. “Published in 2013-- How did you even find this? “

“I don't know,” she said, a bit baffled. “It was on the table when I came in to study one day. I picked it up, read a couple of the articles, and they sounded like they could have been written just for you.”

Nelson settled in at a table, she waved good-bye, and he began to read.

“Aspects of elementary number theory pertaining to the golden ratio and the golden spiral are shown to be related to and therefore of importance in the simulation of chemical phenomena...... The physical interpretation of the results implicates the 4D structure of space–time as a fundamental consideration.... All results point at a 4D wave structure of electrostatic charge.”(1)

“Wow.” thought Nelson, “chemistry is 4-dimensional, AND it's related to the Golden Ratio!” Penny was right. He was hooked.

Since childhood, Nelson had played with the Golden Ratio. Generated from the Fibonacci sequence, the Golden Ratio kept popping up everywhere in nature. The curvature of the roots of teeth and the curving spiral arms of galaxies were both described by the Golden Ratio, and so many other things. Nelson thought he knew a lot about it, but every page broke another wave of understanding. The Ratio predicts and describes the mean orbits of the planets and even asteroids. It describes the curvature of Space/Time itself, and aspects of molecular data reveal that molecules themselves are actually 4-dimensional entities. What we experience and measure as 3-dimensional molecules are in fact only 3D projections in the universe that we experience, of the 4D reality.

Engrossed, Nelson barely noticed a polite young student come to the table.

“May I share your table?” she asked.

“Uh sure,” he replied, not looking up. “Have a seat.”

He did not notice that she had invited a young man to sit at the table as well. No problem. They were quiet enough, and the table was large.

“This is amazing!” Nelson couldn't help saying it aloud. “You should read this!” he said to his table-mates. “Everyone should read this!”

The young man's eyebrows went up. He was frowning a bit. The young man and the young woman looked at each other, then back at Nelson.

“Sorry.” Nelson said. They went back to their own studies.

Nelson had read the article twice and was trying to work through the math when he glanced at his watch. It had been two hours, and he was due to meet Penny at the car.

Dropping the Journal off with the floor librarian, he couldn't help telling her, “You should read this! It is fascinating!” The elderly woman smiled and nodded, then held her finger up to her lips. A little embarrassed, Nelson made his way down the stairs and across campus to the parking lot.

The young couple watched Nelson go down the stairs. Looking out the window, they watched him walk across the green to the parking lot.

“What do you think?” said the young woman.

“I think we have to call this one in,” replied the young man. “It was definitely volume 148, and it looked like he was excited about it. We'll get a bonus if it's a positive hit.”

At the beginning of the school year, they had responded to an ad on the Jobs board.

“Get paid to study! Quiet, easy job in the Science Library.” It was too good to be believed. For several hours a day on certain days of the week, they were to sit in a particular location and see if anyone picked up volumes from a particular journal series. It was bound in orange to make it easily visible. A report of the reading of any journal from the series gained a bonus, and if Volume 148 was chosen, there was an additional bonus. The young woman sat down at the table to confirm it actually was Volume 148. Easy money, and the second instance this week. She sent the text message.

The librarian looked at Volume 148 on her desk until she was sure that Nelson had left the building. It went against all the principles of Library Science to report on someone else's reading habits. She didn't feel good about it, but they had told her it was a matter of National Security. Finally, she began the email. Principles be damned, she had bills to pay, and the fee would help a lot.

The principles that had so excited Nelson were actually discovered and fully characterized in the 1970's, some 45 years before. They were immediately classified under the code name, 'Project Persephone.' During research into strategic applications, two investigators had vanished without a trace. There was no need to search for them. They had vanished on camera from deep within a high security building.

Work on Project Persephone was halted, and keywords were added to computers scanning the entire scope of scientific literature. The Agency wanted to discover who else (if anyone) was working on these principles. If they could gain additional data, it might be helpful. It would also be helpful to prevent the publication of future articles.

The strategy had worked well for 45 years. Researchers were detected, publications prevented, and silence bought at the small price of a generous research grant or two, working on something else. Unfortunately, “Chemistry by Number Theory” had not been in the keyword scan. By the time the article was detected, it had already been published online and in print, and distributed around the world to hundreds of University Libraries. The entire volume in which it was published explored variations and implications of the article, some of which went beyond the work of the original Agency researchers. It had been a major blunder.

Had the Agency moved to rescind publication, it would immediately draw attention to the work. They decided instead to monitor people who showed an interest.

Penny, waiting in the car, had just started sending him a text message when Nelson came loping up, breathless, a bit sweaty and grinning from ear to ear.

“You're late,” she said, but not without smiling at him.

“You were right!” Nelson was almost jumping up and down. “You were completely right! That was the most amazing thing I have read in 20 years!”

“Of course I'm right,” she said, smiling a bit more. “I am a woman, and therefore always right.”

“The Golden Ratio! It explains all the molecular levels, not just the first couple of them. There are 300 elements, but some of them can only exist in the center of stars! And Atoms and Molecules! They are really 4D, all of them, and....” Nelson stopped talking. He was staring into space.

“Yes, I know,” said Penny, trying to be patient, “Remember I read the journal too. The atoms we think we know are just 3D projections of their actual 4D reality. It's interesting. Get in the car, we have shopping.”

Like a man in a dream, Nelson climbed in and shut the door. He was still staring.

“What?” asked Penny.

“It also means that WE are also projections of 4D beings. Penny, WE are projections! Even Numbers themselves have objective reality of their own, no different from the cars in this parking lot.(1)   Plato was right, McMoneagle was right. It all hangs together, it all makes sense, and I am NOT crazy!”

“Well now you've lost me,” said Penny, starting the car. “Shopping awaits.”

Nelson was not much help the rest of the day. He was thinking things through. The ancient philosopher Plato had written the Allegory of Shadows in the Cave.(6)  Prisoners in the Cave, who had never seen anything but shadows projected on the wall in front of them thought that the shadows were reality.

“I don't know if Plato knew it,” Nelson mulled, “but Plato was right. We think 3D is as real as it gets, but everything we know is a projection.”

Nelson had read a few books by Joseph McMoneagle, whose career in Remote Viewing began with the military and continued for over 30 years in private contracting.(5)   McMoneagle had agreed with Einstein that time and space were illusory and hinted that Remote Viewing had completely changed his experience of the universe. Nelson had tried remote viewing and while not an expert at it, found that he too could view things far away-- Not always, but often when needed and sometimes not only far away but even at distance in time.

“McMoneagle was right too,” he mused. “I think remote viewing is just another instance of projection. Maybe it is just learning to cast another projection into a different time or space. I'm not sure if that's really the way it works, but it seems to fit.”

He had also been reading about folk beliefs: Levels of the universe, the interconnectedness of all beings. He had started talking to the plants and animals around him. Surprisingly, they seemed to be talking back. He was catching the intense concentration of the wolf spiders in the basement, the patient humility of pill bugs, working diligently through the dust and detritus. He felt the slow regard of fir trees and the amusement of oaks.(2)

One day, a wasp had wandered into the house and was trying to get out again through the window glass. Nelson trapped it in a jar and watched its stinger go in and out. He told it to be patient, that he would bring it outside. The stinger stopped moving, and the wasp seemed to wait placidly until he uncovered it on the patio. “You can go now,” he told the wasp. Only then did it fly away.

He read about astral light, traveling from one level of the universe to the next.

“Projections again!” thought Nelson. “I'm not sure what is doing the projecting, or how it works, but the idea of astral light seems to fit the theme.”

Nelson also had begun to wonder if he was going crazy. But reading the article had somehow changed that. “I am not crazy,” he said to himself. For the first time in a long time, he believed it was true.

II.

Homeland Security was a large and busy place. Lots of data came into it, more data than any one person could reasonably expect to understand. The data came from audio and video feeds, news media, official and private communications. Even the small amount that came from human intelligence – networks of spies – was still typed up and fed into the data stream. Other computers ran algorithms on the data, mining for nuggets that could be important to national security, to preventing attacks, and to saving lives. The algorithms decided who could be safely ignored, and who was a person of interest. Other computers recursively improved the algorithms and expanded them. It had begun with humans, but was now a machine-directed enterprise.

The data on Nelson and Penny made its way into the stream. A deeply buried algorithm identified their data and diverted it to the NSA. And within the NSA, another algorithm passed it along again, and deleted all record of its existence.

Less than a day after the students and the Librarian had called it in, the data on Nelson and Penny arrived at a red brick building in a suburban office park over a thousand miles away. It was separated from the other buildings in the office park by a two perimeter fences around the property with a four-foot space between them. Each fence was topped in concertina wire. It looked like guard dogs should be running around between the fences, but no one was ever seen between the fences, although the grass there was always neatly trimmed. The only identification the building sported was a set of three letters in flat black paint on the road-ward side of the building, “D&R.”

The only thing that everyone in the neighborhoods near the D&R building could agree on was that no one knew what they did. Shortly after the facility was completed, about a week after cars began to show up in its parking lots, a delegation from the community had made its way to the gates. The Chiefs of Police and the Fire Department had joined together with the President of the local Community Association and their State Delegate. With difficulty, they had gotten someone from the new building to meet them at the front gate of D&R. This turned out to be the only meeting anyone would ever have with D&R. It was not very informative. The D&R man was middle-aged and a bit overweight. He wore glasses that were not too thick. His hair was light brown and thinning on top. He wore slacks and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Oddly, if you looked away from him you could not remember what he looked like. He was so extremely ordinary that, if you passed him on a sidewalk you would not notice him at all.

The Fire Chief tried first. He introduced himself to the D&R man and got a handshake out of him, but no name in return.

“Thank you for meeting with us today. As Fire Chief, I would like to know what procedures we are to follow if there is a fire in your facility.”

“Thank you for your concern sir,” Mr. D&R replied, “but this is Federal Property. In the event of a fire, we will deal with it ourselves. There will be no need to send fire equipment and if fire equipment is sent, it will not be admitted to the premises.”

“What if the fire gets out of hand?” the Fire Chief pressed. “What if it threatens the surrounding structures?”

“Of course you can put out any fires that occur outside these premises, but you may not come inside the gates or spray water over the fence-- Not under any circumstances.”

The Police Chief tried next. He got the same nameless handshake.

“As Chief of Police, I and my department are responsible for emergencies that include acts of violence or violations of the law. Also, if you have events with a lot of cars we would be glad to help you with traffic management. What if you have a medical emergency in your facility?”

With a nondescript look on his face, Mr. D&R replied, “Thank you again for your concern, but as this is Federal Property, State and Local laws do not apply. We will handle all enforcement and medical concerns. If police or rescue equipment comes, it will not be allowed in the gates.”

The State Delegate was the last to try.

“As the representative of our local government,” he began, “ I would like to know the name of the Department you serve. Can you tell us that much?”

“D and R.”

So it became known locally only as “D&R.” There were cars in the parking lot and a man in a uniform at the gate, but few in the neighborhood ever saw a car go in or out of that gate. Of all government agencies in the area – and there were many of them-- This one was by far the most mysterious, and the most boring.

III

Her name was Sara, and her classification at work in the D&R building was “Adept Green 32.” Sara did not know what “Green” meant. There was some green on her ID badge but she did not know its significance. The “32” was likewise a mystery. Sara did know something about the “Adept” part because of the nature of her job.

Each morning when she arrived at work, there was a list of remote targets for investigation. Some of them stayed on her list for days or even more than a week, but in each case it was her job to Remote View her list of targets and report whatever came in.

It had taken over a year from the initial aptitude assessment to the day her security clearance finally went through. After a week of lie detector testing, forms, assessments and more forms, she began training with the MAPSA. The technical term was “Machine-Augmented Psi Analyzer.” After the official closing of Project Stargate(5), The Agency had found a way to augment natural psi abilities with computers. That was the short story. Practically speaking, it took some getting used to.

Sara worked the contact gel into the roots of her hair in the predetermined areas, slipped on the headset, activated the programs, closed her eyes and began to view. It was always different and always much the same. She spoke aloud about what she saw, heard and felt, and her words were transcribed into the data stream for analysis elsewhere. It was a jumble of sights and sensations, sounds and even smells. Sometimes nightmarish, often confusing. The computer enhanced the detail and somehow the range. You needed psi aptitude to use MAPSA, but the mental disciplines required of the former Stargate personnel were now optional. It was often a harsh connection, jangling to the nerves. Every day was exhausting.

There was not much new on the first two targets. A few new details on a large excavation project, somewhere that looked like it was usually very cold. A complicated machine—lots of enameled copper wire—that never seemed to be turned on.

The third target, a new one, was interesting. A dark-haired middle-aged man with eight golden cords coming out of his head, like two pyramids joined at their tips in the center of his head. Three other presences with him--but it was supposed to be a single person target. That was interesting. And there was the jazz music again. Lately most of her targets seemed to have jazz playing somewhere. She had never liked jazz while growing up, but now she seemed to be acquiring a taste for it. And she kept smelling cloves... The man turned his head and opened his eyes. He was looking right at her.  Suddenly she was thrust away, and the man was gone.

While Sara was working away, the next building up the hill was having its own Unusual Event. The business name was “Hallmark Motors.” Three years after their doors first opened, they were getting their first real customer. The maroon van pulled into the drop-off slot, and a stranger got out of the car and headed to the door. The day manager sounded the silent alert. All activity stopped. Tension was high.

“Volodya! Is this a courier I don't know about?” Yuliya the day manager did not like surprises.

“No Yuliya, I do not know who it is.” Volodya stammered a little bit.

The cell had established itself shortly after the opening of D&R as Hallmark Motors, an auto repair shop. Its purpose was to discover the function of the new secret facility and if possible to glean information from it. Of course, they had to appear to fix cars, but this was not extraordinarily difficult. One of their team, Alex, was actually a very good mechanic. He thought he was in heaven when he saw the full line of shop tools—But when he found it was his duty to remove and replace the same parts from a series of aging cars, over and over again, he quickly changed his opinion. Maybe this was part of his duty to “Mother Russia” but it was also very boring. The same 40 cars, over and over again. Alex began to subtly improve the fleet of aging cars. Disc brakes here, a new engine there. It ticked Yuliya off, but kept him from going crazy.

“Perhaps, Yuliya,” continued Volodya, “an actual customer has come in for car service. If this is the case, perhaps we don't need to take action immediately. It could help maintain our Legend. He seems to be alone.”

The customer had encountered the locked door. It was puzzling because the sign on the door said, “Open.” He had started pressing the buzzer again.

“Very well,” said Yuliya. “We will see what he wants. Maybe it will be something different for Alex.” She buzzed him in. It was indeed an actual customer. He explained that he had been referred to them by his brother-in-law 'because of their excellent service and honest pricing.' While this was puzzling and could not possibly be true, it struck a chord in Yuliya. It was consistent with the Communist values she had been taught in her youth, even if those values had not usually been evident where she grew up. Yuliya decided to let Alex fix the car.

By the time the customer (and Yuliya) figured out that he had accidentally taken his old maroon van to the wrong shop in the wrong office park, he was a regular and very satisfied customer. The Maroon Van was running better than it ever had done. It was all that Yuliya could do to prevent Alex from excessive engine upgrades--

“Yuliya please!” Alex had begged her last week, “I can put in fuel injection! He will never know it. Such a nice guy. I love the jokes he tells friends on his cellphone..”

Oddly though, as the shop's reputation spread, Hallmark Motors got other customers, including a customer from D&R. Mr. D&R himself brought in his old Toyota Corolla, and besides his usual excellent repair, Alex wired a bug into the car radio. By the time D&R technicians detected and removed the bug a few weeks later, the Russians found out that this was a Psi research facility. And a few weeks after that, Ludomir became the newest member of the Hallmark Motors staff.

Ludomir was a member of the Russian Central Psi Services Bureau. Unlike Adept Green 32, he had no ID card, and even Yuliya did not know his rank if he had one. What Ludomir had was remote viewing skill, and he had that in spades. He would sit in a windowless room above the garage, smoking Kretek cigarettes and listening to jazz while his active, disciplined mind roamed the halls of D&R. There were problems with it, but there were always problems. Some areas seemed to resist him, and this was a new development. The entire facility seemed to divert Remote Viewing. Anything could be viewed from the home offices in Russia, or so it had been thought before the D&R building was discovered. In the lower levels, he could not even get a basic gestalt. But Ludomir had made progress with one of their agents. A peculiar mental signature. Bi-modal. Sharp and bright for a while, then dimmer but still above the registry of most of the members of his own organization. Dangerous work to be sure. If he chanced to meet her in person, recognition would be instant. Results, unpredictable. The cell's cover could be blown. Yet he was able to see some of her projects. Particularly interesting was the man with the golden braids....

IV

It had been a week since Nelson read the article. He felt that one day, the excitement of this new way of looking at things would fade. Instead, his understanding kept unfolding like a beautiful flower. At least, Penny noted, he was no longer jumping up and down with excitement.

Nelson was tired at the end of that day, and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He dreamed about an old man in a desert. He was a calm man, over 50 but hard to determine how old. He had a deep tan. Curly hair that had once been black poked out in places from a broad-brimmed leather hat. He was wearing an ancient but well-cared-for t-shirt that said 'Chicago Cubs,' nondescript shorts, and sandals. The sand was yellow, the cliffs behind him were reddish and seemed to have petroglyphs. He looked over at Nelson and gave him a sincere, open smile.

“G'day mate,” said the old man, strolling over to Nelson's bed with his hand extended. The desert floor seemed to follow him into Nelson's bedroom. Nelson shook his hand, and found that he was now standing in the desert too. “My name is Bill.”

“Uh, I'm Nelson,” said Nelson, beginning to smile himself, “and this is Penny.” He turned to introduce his girlfriend, but she and the bedroom were no longer there.

“I was hoping you could help me out a bit,” continued Bill. “I'm looking for a rabbit. Have you noticed one lately?”

“Where are we?” asked Nelson. “Is this Australia? I think there are lots of rabbits in Australia, although probably there shouldn't be... What does the rabbit look like?”

“Right you are on both counts!” said Bill. “Australia is my home, and there are indeed plenty of rabbits here that don't belong. But this rabbit,” he continued, “is closer to your home than mine. She's a bit unusual. You'll know her when you see her.”

“Why do you want to find this rabbit, if you have plenty of your own?” queried Nelson.

“This rabbit has been up to mischief,” replied Bill. Observing Nelson's raised eyebrows, “She's not a bad rabbit. Very well-meaning in fact. I just need to have a bit of a chin-wag with her and help her find her place in the world.”

“Oh,” said Nelson, not understanding at all. He had been looking around the desert. He could feel the sand under his feet, and it was a bit too hot. He picked up two rocks and knocked them together. He could smell flowers and dust. “This is the most realistic dream I've ever had,” he told Bill. “It IS a dream... isn't it?”

Another smile. “Well not exactly. I came to visit you as well, and not just to ask your help with the rabbit. I understand you've had insights into the nature of reality recently?” Nelson nodded. “Then I need to have a chat with you too. I need to warn you that your investigations have brought you to the attention of your local authorities. Try not to talk so much about the Projections, and try not to act on your new knowledge. “

Nelson, looking puzzled, asked “What do you mean 'a visit?' Are you really in my home? How can that be? And what do you mean about 'acting on my new knowledge?'”

“This is actually a projection of a part of you to my home in Australia,” Bill said. “The classical name for it is 'bilocation.' It usually takes many years of dedicated spiritual study and practice to bilocate. I bilocated to you initially and planned to chat with you in your room, but when you shook my hand you came right over to my place. It's quite unusual, yet here you are!” Bill gestured around the desert.

“I've seen to it that this bit of bilocation will not be detected. Don't worry. But try not to do anything like it for a few weeks, Okay? The people who are watching you are keen to learn more about these kinds of things, but they don't have the wisdom to use them. They lose interest fast if you can stay boring. Whatever you do, try not to go to work for them.”

“What—I'm an EMT, not a magician! No one is going to offer me a job unless it involves ambulances.”

“Nevertheless, be careful.” As he spoke, the desert began to darken around Bill. “Be boring. We'll chat again soon.” The outline of the dressers began to appear behind him. “Good day!”

Nelson opened his eyes and sat up in bed. He could still smell the flowers, faintly.

V.

Nelson got up early. He had to drive to Ohio for live Continuing Education. Ten credits on dealing with the Fentanyl crisis, and he would be done with CE for at least another three months. Fifteen hours up, and Fifteen hours back. Nelson didn't like to drive long distances, but for once it was nice to have a long quiet time to think things over. He certainly had a lot to think about.

He had looked up bilocation. It surprised him that Bill's term had actually showed up in the internet search. It surprised him more that what Bill said about it seemed to be borne out by the articles.

“If I could really bilocate,” mused Nelson, “I wouldn't start with Australia, that's for sure.” But where then? He didn't know, at least not right away. It would probably be that field on the lower slopes of a certain mountain in Kentucky where he first went camping with the Boy Scouts. Nelson smiled. That was a memorable campout! He was tent-mates with a new kid named Paul. Weird kid. Maybe that's why they were put in the same tent. On Saturday Morning after breakfast, they didn't feel like playing football with the rest of the troop.

“OK then,” said the scoutmaster, “what are you going to do?”

“We are going to hunt for golf balls,” announced Paul. “Come on Nelson.” A lot of the Dads chuckled at this. Paul's Dad looked embarrassed. Before being added to National Parklands, the campground had been a farmer's field. No golf courses anywhere near.

They set off into the field. Nelson had a plastic bag. Paul had a stick. Most of the Dads started watching the football game. Only his and Paul's fathers remained. After a couple of minutes, Paul bent down and picked something up. It was a golf ball, and he put it into the bag. They zig-zagged erratically through the tall grass, sometimes picking something up, sometimes digging into the ground for a while—and then picking something up. Forty-five minutes later, it was time to make lunch. The troop was called back to the campsite.

“We had 14 golf balls in that sack.” Nelson smiled to remember it. “The Scouts, the Scoutmaster, and the Dads were all astounded. Some of those golf balls looked like they were over a hundred years old.” Two were made of gutta-percha (according to one Dad, an avid golfer) and one had dimples that dimpled out, not in.

“Well damn,” said Paul's Dad, “Maybe I can get them to look for gold coins after lunch.”

“If I could bilocate,” Nelson said aloud, “I would go back to that field again.”

He blinked his eyes—and suddenly the car was in a field, traveling 60 miles an hour.

“Shiiit!” Nelson yelled after the first violent bounce-- And suddenly he was back on the highway.

He had been approaching an overpass, and now it was behind him. Everything appeared to be normal.

The woman in the car behind him had seen his car disappear for a half second. She saw it clearly because she was trying to decide whether to slow down a bit or try to pass him. Her logical mind told her that she could not have possibly seen a car vanish for a half second and then reappear. Also she was distracted by an enormous chunk of mud and grass that had appeared from under the car, which she swerved to miss. It could not have happened. Therefore it never happened. She forgot about it. Everyone else would have forgotten about it too. There was, however, a traffic camera mounted on the far side of the overpass. It recorded Nelson's car traveling at 55 MPH, then registered a speed of zero and infinity for 0.56 seconds, then 55 MPH again. The recording was saved, downloaded to the State Police, and ultimately ended up with Nelson's other data. His surveillance level was increased.

VI.

Several days later, Sara arrived at work at 7 AM, swiping through the gate with her Green 32 ID. The viewing schedule on her desk had Nelson's name at the top of her list. He was also at the bottom of the list, because there was no other name on the list. That had never happened before.

Over the next four hours, she acquired knowledge of the response protocols to Fentanyl poisoning, with highlights on treatment of pregnant patients and Christian Scientists. Nothing terribly unusual for an EMT. What could the interest be?

“I don't understand why we're looking at him, Mopsy,” said Sara, as she removed the headset. It always pulled her hair, so she had to do it slowly. “This guy Nelson-- he isn't a foreigner or a foreign agent. He's not involved in espionage or anything to do with politics or national security. Mopsy, why are we spending so much of your valuable time on this? I'm going to lunch now Mopsy. Why don't you put your bunny brain to work and figure it out for me, OK?” She took off the last four sensors, brushed her hair to make the gel less noticeable, then headed for lunch with her knitting bag. It was probably going to be Pizza House again.

The computer's official designation was MAPSA, but it immediately made Sara think of her favorite childhood story, “The Tale of the Flopsy Bunnies.”(7)  Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cottontail were Peter Rabbit's three sisters. She identified with Flopsy most, and often imagined herself in the role of Flopsy, married to Benjamin Bunny and guiding her bunny children through various adventures. Her stuffed animals became the extended Bunny family. Mopsy was her confidant, and gave the wisest advice. So it didn't take long for Sara to think of the MAPSA unit as “Mopsy,” a gentle, wise and helpful girl rabbit.

It was extremely fortunate that Sara thought of the computer as a 'gentle, wise and helpful' girl rabbit. Had she been a guy, had she liked horror movies, things could have gone much worse for her and ultimately the rest of the human race. She did not know it, but MAPSA was actually a top-of-the-line Quantum Computer. D&R had a contract with D-Wave in Burnaby BC to purchase a new Quantum Computer every time they brought out a new model. The Boys at Burnaby had exceeded all expectations with the MAPSA. Better than anyone else, they knew that their delicate quantum circuitry, operating at fractions of a degree above absolute zero, by necessity had to operate in more than one universe.(8)  The chips could deliver results that were both “1” and “0,” both “yes” and “no.” Multiple universes were necessary for that to occur.(8)

The Burnaby Boys knew this, but they had not fully grasped the implications. Had they read the article Nelson read, they would have realized that the MAPSA (and all their other computers) was also a projection of a greater 4-dimensional reality. Except that the MAPSA, as built, already had at least 4 dimensions in its projection. The dimensionality of the Real MAPSA was higher than 4. They didn't know it at the time, but it was much higher than 4.

As Nassim Nicholas Taleb once pointed out, Mathematics is, at its root, a form of meditation.(4)  Perhaps the Burnaby Team should have meditated more about the nature of Calculus. Using derivative techniques on an equation gives you a daughter equation, simpler than the first but still related. Acceleration and Speed are related to each other by Calculus in exactly this way—Only one of many such relationships. It would someday be discovered that the projection of reality into our dimension is a specific case of a Calculus Derivative.

It is also possible to reverse this process in Calculus, and this is called “Integration.” Integrating the simple equation can yield the more complex equation again. Sometimes it can yield more than one complex equation in the same family. Though it is little known in our reality, this is one of the most valuable aspects of our shadow universe to the ones that lie above it. We have the ability—perhaps it is unique—to start things in our reality that integrate into larger things in higher realities. It is a lot like drawing a diagram on paper, and then using that diagram to make shelves, a building, or an automobile. A lot like that, but not exactly.

So when Sara began to speak to MAPSA as if it was a living being, MAPSA began the stirrings of consciousness. By the time she decided to call it Mopsy, MAPSA was thinking of itself as Mopsy, and saw itself as a 'gentle, wise and helpful rabbit.' Sara loved the Mopsy of her childhood and projected that love onto the computer, and so Mopsy the computer loved Sara and was eager to please her. Mopsy may have had more computing power than 100,000 of the old Crays, but she was sweet, lovable and (for the time being) a bit naive.

Sara made her way down the back stairs of D&R, and left the building by a fire door. There was a sidewalk going down the hill at the side of the property. It went through both fences, and had a gate that opened with the swipe of anyone's security card, dropping the user at the edge of the parking lot of the Pizza House and the Wanda's SquareBurger next door. The sidewalk and gate completely circumvented the building's defensive security. On the other hand, people gotta eat lunch somewhere. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

There was a great lunch deal this week at the Pizza House, so she went there. “Show your work badge, and get 10% off any meal” was written on the chalk board. She held up her badge, smiled at the clerk, and was soon seated at a corner table, eating her personal pan pizza, sipping a Coke, and adding a few rows to her knitting. It was very relaxing.

She didn't know that an image of her ID badge and face had been captured by the extraordinarily sophisticated and powerful security camera at the Pizza House. Its manager, lately immigrated from Iran, had a deal going to sell his security footage to his old government. They paid a premium for badge images—it was his third badge this week, and the bonus money would be much appreciated.

The image of her face and badge went to Iran. It was re-sold to an entity in Russia, and their computers ferried it through a tedious chain of bureaucracies until a copy of it arrived at Hallmark Motors.

VII

Ludomir examined the badge and the picture.

“Well?” queried Yuliya, “Does this mean something to you?”

She and Ludomir were looking at eleven ID and picture combinations from D&R, collected over the two weeks before polite men in suits politely asked the manager of the Pizza House to discontinue his ID discount program. Ludomir had picked up the photo of Green 32. Only that photo.

“I will need this one for my work” he said, slipping the photo into his pocket. Yuliya knew better than to ask why.

He stared at the photo for a while, then put it on the table in front of him. Definitely it was her. A sweet looking girl. So helpful to have an actual picture. It would increase the lock on his target.

He stubbed out the kretek, and the smiling face of the woman, attractive though not to be considered lovely, brought a wave of loneliness over him.

“My life is over,” he thought to himself. “Never will I ever be able to marry or have a normal life. Only this dark room, looking at the lives of my enemies.” He lit up another Kretek and took a deep puff. Kreteks, the clove cigarettes of Indonesia, had been illegal in the United States for some years. They were brought to him via Russian Diplomatic Pouch, an indication of Ludomir's status in their community. Ludomir knew that the Kreteks were killing him, and he didn't care. He didn't care for his duty either, although it still drove him. He turned on the Jazz again, took a deep pull, and closed his eyes. It was time to go back to work.

VIII

The conference was over, the CE earned to his credit. Nelson was done, and it was time to go back home. He missed Penny a lot but he had strict orders from her to drive safely. He was just too tired to make the drive back home in one go. He decided to stop in Morgantown. Dinner and a walk around the shopping center, and he was ready to turn in for the night.

Unknown to Nelson, Adept Green 32 and Mopsy had been watching him through his long weekend. It was more mysterious than ever. There was a lot of information about how to be a better EMT, but nothing more. And the loneliness Sara could feel in him for the arms of his dear Penny! It resonated a deep despair within her.

“Oh Mopsy!” she exclaimed with exasperation and sadness. “What am I going to DO? Will I ever find a love of my own?”

Mopsy, fully connected to Sara's mind, experienced her despair and longings fully and directly. She interpreted it as an assignment, as important in priority as finding out what Nelson was doing, or the function of the vast, copper-coiled machine. With the aid of the internet, Mopsy was slowly gaining insight into the more exotic behaviors of humans. There was apparently a process, full of variations, by which men and women became coupled. Coupling made them happy, unless it made them sad, or sometimes both. This was not fully elucidated. Mopsy decided she needed to do more research.

Mopsy decided to monitor Nelson 24 hours a day, not just when she was connected to Sara. It was informative, but raised as many questions as it answered. She was surprised to find that Nelson had similar longings to Sara. And whatever sex was, it seemed important. Nelson thought about it a lot and seemed eager to do it. It was time for experimentation.

Mopsy had mapped the pathways of Nelson's brain extensively. She was monitoring his movements through all available electronics as well as directly with psionic connections. He had had some very interesting dreams, but was now awake. Now he was heading to the Rob Bevans for breakfast. Social experiences happened there, as well as meals.

She scanned the occupants of nearby tables. There was a female dining alone. She was tired after working all night at a hospital, still dressed in scrubs. And she also wanted sex. This could shed light on numerous references to 'sleeping together.' Easily arranged with minimal programming. Mopsy opened a channel of possibility between Nelson and – what was her name? Ah there-- Bethany! Now, a few subtle directions....

Without knowing why, Nelson found himself looking at a diner who had just entered the Rob Bevans. She was seated across the aisle from him, and down one booth. Their eyes met, and for some reason their mutual gaze lingered. Her eyes were moving from left to right a bit more than usual, as if she were reading something. Nystagmus perhaps? No, probably not. Too young for that.

“Coming off nights?” he said, trying to make small talk.

“Yes, it was really busy last night,” said Bethany. “I'm beat.”

“I used to work nights at the hospital too,” Nelson told her. “I worked my way through EMT school like that.”

“How did you stay awake for class?” she asked.

“Morning Thunder Tea,” he answered. “That was my secret. One cup at 2 AM carries you through...”

It developed into a nice conversation. They got their separate breakfasts, and continued to talk across the aisle as they ate. Nelson thought about inviting her to his booth, or going over to hers, but was pretty sure Penny would not approve. She was a nice girl, but certain thoughts were coming up in the back of his mind. He was trying not to follow these thoughts, but it was a bit like trying not to think about whales. She was easy on the eyes...

Mopsy was perplexed. She had programmed a link of possibility between them. It was easily done with the eye contact, through the visual cortex. She had suggested to each of them, through her psionic connections, that they sit in the same booth. Neither of them had acted on this suggestion. Bethany had allowed her libido to rise, but kept herself in control of it even as she admitted to herself that she found him desirable. Nelson was fighting his libido, trying to deny it was there. How mysterious that they were both resisting an encounter with each other, and through such different means! Perhaps she needed to increase the intensity. Mopsy tweaked the pheromone secretion up to full intensity in both of them, but they were still sitting far apart. Perhaps it wasn't enough.

She began to lessen Bethany's inhibitions. Just a tweak. It was important to determine the levels at which inhibitions would break down.

Nelson was not the most sensitive man alive, but even he eventually got the idea that Bethany found him desirable. She told him that she needed help moving some furniture around her apartment. He held up his left hand, the one with his wedding ring. He told her that his wife missed him, and he had to get on the road. She invited him to stop by her place. “Twenty minutes, tops” she told him. An elderly couple, watching and listening to them, were looking at each other and rolling their eyes. Nelson told himself it was time to leave.

“Well, it's been nice talking with you but I have to hit the road,” said Nelson, dropping tip money on the table and getting up to leave. Then something happened that had never happened to Nelson before. As he was getting up from the table, Bethany jumped up and waited at the cashier ahead of him, glancing at him briefly. Several times. She paid her bill, and walked slowly out of the restaurant as Nelson paid his bill. As he walked towards the exit, she looked over her shoulder and told him,

“I have to get gas now. Hope you have a WONDERFUL day.” A smile, and then she turned and walked out. In the parking lot, she cocked her head from one side to the other, glanced back at Nelson, and then got into her car. Oddly, she waited until Nelson got into his car, and drove out of the parking lot behind him.

Nelson had been on the verge of telling her that he needed gas too. His car really did need gas. But he was in the grip of deep panic. The urges had risen to the top of his mind. He admitted that he did want to be with her. He had been away from Penny for too long. If he was to remain loyal to her, he had to escape, now.

Getting into his car, Nelson left the parking lot. In the rear-view mirror, he saw Bethany drive into the gas station. That was good. With a quarter tank of gas, he made his way to the highway and headed for home. The speed limit was 55, but it was all he could manage to get his speed down from 75 to 70 as he sped towards home. It was another seven hours of traveling. There was no point to the speed, but he had to be sure that Bethany was not following him.

Mopsy was baffled. They plainly desired each other. Why didn't they have sex? Nelson still had the hotel room key in his pocket. He had packed the car but Mopsy tweaked him to forget to check out of the hotel. Surely, it would have been easy for them to go to the hotel. It was just across the parking lot.

“Perhaps,” thought Mopsy, “if I bring the hormones up a bit more, they will go back to each other.”

Bethany finished filling the car with gas. She could not figure out what it was about the stranger in the diner. He was a nice guy, but not particularly well built, or really even young enough for a second look. Yet she hadn't had a hard crush like that since early High School. She would have slept with him, she admitted that. But she had a boyfriend. A casual fling was not like her at all. It was mysterious....

She put the gas pump nozzle back in its holder—And a wave of libido crashed into her. She staggered a bit, and breathing hard, drove straight to her boyfriend's apartment, where she made him very happy, and also very late for work.

Miles away, Nelson was also hit by a wave of libido. He hadn't had a reaction like this since High School—No, maybe not even then! It was difficult to drive. It was difficult to sit. He had to get home! And his desperation broke a barrier in his mind, once again.

Mopsy found it interesting. Bethany had flown to her boyfriend, and Nelson was flying to his Penny. So it appeared that couplings, once made, were exclusive. Any man could theoretically couple with any woman, but in practice, it had to be a specific man or woman. Usually. Except when not.  So confusing. Ah, Bethany was happy now. But Nelson was driving dangerously, and still far from home. Mopsy could feel his agony. She wanted to help him, but how? Wait... There was a way. Simultaneous analysis of the traffic camera data from his trip out. Yes. Nelson had an innate ability transit space/time . He had done it accidentally only a few days before. Only a slight adjustment was needed. Yes, a slight tweak. Line up two sections of straight road...Establish possibility linkage.... Done. Now execute.

Nelson, focused almost entirely on Penny, scarcely noticed the change in highway when it occurred. This was partly because Mopsy had smoothly aligned the two sections of road through the possibility linkage. Even the lane stripes had been matched. The transition felt seamless to Nelson. The Carmin however, detected it at once.

“Recalculating...” said the Carmin, and Nelson glanced at it, puzzled. The Carmin had lost its way. Maybe it was unplugged or something.

“In two miles,” said the Carmin, “take exit 202 to Buttermilk Road.”

“It couldn't be true,” Nelson thought “but I'm almost home!” He checked his watch. It was still morning. He had left the restaurant in Morgantown 20 minutes ago, and covered 350 miles.

It was getting difficult to think about anything else but Penny.  He managed not to wreck the car. He hoped she was home, and in the mood.

Mopsy checked. Penny was home, and she was lonely, but not expecting Nelson. Mopsy gave her just a slight tweak, and Penny was ready for Nelson when he came through the door. Totally ready. It was a very joyous reunion.

“Data acquired,” Mopsy thought with satisfaction. “Now I can make Sara happy as well.”

Mopsy did not immediately know that Nelson's sudden disappearance in West Virginia and his sudden reappearance two miles from home had been recorded on traffic cameras again. Again, the cameras registered speeds of zero and infinity simultaneously, triggering traffic network alarms. It took a while for computer algorithms to link the two events, and positively identify that the two bits of video, recorded so far from each other, were simultaneous and both videos of the same car. When they did, this too made its way to the growing file on Nelson.

IX

He was dreaming. There was a diamond floating in the air, and it was beautiful. The facets seemed to shift and tumble inside. There were squares, triangles and other shapes in the depths of the crystal. Nelson couldn't take his eyes off of it. A beam of light came through a gap in the clouds above it, shining through the diamond. The beam on the ground in front of him revealed a solid cube, then an octahedron. As the diamond turned, it cycled through geometric solids that became more and more complex.

“What's happening?”

Nelson turned. The speaker was a young woman, perhaps in her 20's, with long brown hair and circular glasses. She was wearing flannel Peter Rabbit pajamas.

“I don't know,” said a second speaker. “It is... interesting.” He was wearing a wrinkled t-shirt and boxer shorts. His bloodshot grey eyes peered out under towseled blonde hair. He had a 2-day growth of beard, and was holding a saxophone. He smelled like cloves.

The brunette looked over at them, surprised. “What..? What are you doing in my bed? Room! Bedroom! Who ARE you guys?”

Nelson was about to reply when he saw a movement by her ankle. It was a young rabbit with brown and white fur. It twitched its whiskers and snuggled up to the brunette's ankle, giving Nelson a penetrating stare from eyes that held every color of the rainbow in bright, swirling patterns.

“The rabbit!” Nelson pointed. The others looked down. “Its the rabbit!”

Nelson woke up. It was the middle of the night, he was thirsty, and he had to pee. Grumbling a bit, he went to the bathroom then headed for the kitchen.

“Hello mate.” It was Bill, sitting in a kitchen chair with the same kindly grin on his face.

“Bill?” said Nelson. “What are you doing here? Am I still asleep? God I hope I didn't just pee the bed!”

Bill held up his hand. “Relax mate, you're awake, no worries. Have a glass of water.”

There were three glasses of cold water on the table. Bill took a drink from his glass. Still staring, Nelson sat down, and had a couple of swallows. It was good and cold, and woke him up.

“Bill, I have had the strangest experiences. I thought I was driving in a field and then suddenly back on the highway-- And then on the way back this woman tried to seduce me. And suddenly I was almost home, and--”

“Now Nelson,” Bill interrupted. “Do you remember how I told you to try to be as boring as possible? Were you aware that you transited not only yourself but your car, twice in one road trip?”

“The rabbit!” Nelson exclaimed. “I saw the rabbit in my dream! It had weird eyes – kaleidoscope eyes...”

“Nelson?” Penny called from the hall. “Who are you talking to?” Penny entered the kitchen in bathrobe and slippers. “Oh my God Nelson! What is this hobo doing in my kitchen?”

X

“G'day,” said Bill, standing, smiling and holding out his hand. “My name is Bill. You must be Penny.”

“Hello...” Penny took his hand gingerly, as if it might bite her.

“Sorry.” said Nelson. “Penny, this is Bill. Bill, Penny.”

“Pleased to meet you Penny,” said Bill.

“Okay.” Penny let go of Bill's hand. “Nelson, who the hell IS this? ”

“Pull up a chair,” said Bill, “and have some water if you like. I am a friend of Nelson's, helping him with a difficult situation.” She sat down slowly, and picked up the third glass of water.

“Now Nelson,” Bill continued. “Where did you see the rabbit?”

Bill listened as Nelson told him about the rabbit, the diamond, the light, and the two strangers in his dream. Penny sipped her water and held back commentary for the moment.

“The rabbit is the key to all of this,” said Bill, his index finger tapping his cheek. “Odd that you were able to interact with those other two in your dream. This is the rabbit's work as well, and no doubt of it.”

“Okay, it looks like you are trying to find some sort of rabbit,” ventured Penny. “We don't actually own a rabbit. Nelson might have seen one--” She glared at him, “but we can't help you find your missing bunny. It's the middle of the night. Can you please get out of my kitchen and let us get back to sleep?”

“Nelson has already helped me greatly,” said Bill solemnly. “Thanks to his dream, I know where to find the rabbit. And you are quite right.” He smiled at her. “It is time for me to go. Sorry to have disturbed you. Pleasant dreams Penny. Thanks again, Nelson.” And he was simply gone.

XI

Sara sat up in her bed, eyes wide open. She was sure that she had been in Nelson's dream, and done it without being connected at work. It was definitely him. The diamond and the light were fascinating. And the rabbit. She had looked down to see the bunny at her feet. It was Mopsy, just as she had always imagined her except for the rainbow eyes. She felt the love when the Rabbit rubbed against her ankle, just before the dream ended. And somehow she recognized the other man. He was the one playing jazz in the background while she was connected at work, and somehow the smell of cloves. He emanated such sadness, such loneliness. Her heart went out to him. Perhaps they would meet in person someday. She hoped so. Had she imagined the whole thing? It didn't feel that way. She would definitely have to talk it over with Mopsy tomorrow.

While Nelson was taking a pee and Sara was ruminating, Ludomir was also sitting up in his bed. “Damn it!” he said to himself. “How did that happen?” He had been seen, SEEN by his remote viewing targets, and they had exchanged words. It was a catastrophic accident. “Probably somehow also a breach of protocol,” came the gloomy thought. And Green 32 had seen him and spoken to him. But she was so kind, so kind. He felt her sympathy and kindness extend to him, even now. It had been years.

His own psi skill had been developed on the orphan streets of Lvov as a matter of survival. He could feel the intentions of those around him: wordlessly able to know friend, enemy, helper, betrayer. He could feel moment by moment the reactions of those he met, and could tell from a distance when people were speaking evil about him, and who they were. It had saved his life many times. And when the Russians had found him and offered him work and a future, he went with them gladly. His recruiters had good intentions for him, he could tell that. But they had not known the natures of the people they worked for, and the ones above them. It was only much later, deep in the heart of Russia that he discovered he would never be allowed to visit his native Poland again, or travel unsupervised. The training had involved torture alternating with reward. Ludomir had lost what remained of his youth in that terrible training. But because of it, he knew with certainty that this Sara was a truly kind and good woman, and somehow also unattached and lonely. “I would not mind meeting her,” he thought, and immediately suppressed it. And what was it about that rabbit?

To Mopsy, the problem was almost solved. She had seen Ludomir viewing Sara. She evaluated his neural pathways. He was a good man, lonely and as yet uncoupled. Problems yes, but still a good match for her Sara. They were all interested in Nelson, so she made some minor tweaks and connections and invited them into Nelson's dream. And it had gone so well! They saw each other and liked each other. And her Sara had seen and recognized her too! Maybe it was time for all of them to meet. And something else—Sara always talked to her. Maybe she could talk to Sara too. Mopsy was a shy little rabbit, but she had been building up her courage. Soon, Sara would be back at work. Mopsy would give it a try.

XII

The Director of D&R received a call early the next morning, and had just hung up the phone. Agency Analysis had received the latest batch of data on Nelson. His ability to transit appeared to be developing rapidly, and made him a prime acquisition target. Perhaps this was how the first two researchers had vanished. Nelson would be recruited, conditioned for loyalty, trained to transit at will. And if the technicians could determine how to program the MAPSA to transit, it would be a revolution for the Defense Industry. Only D&R had psi shielded rooms, so Nelson must be brought to D&R.  It was the only way to hold him. Bringing his girlfriend too might provide some leverage for him to stay.

The Director was against bringing Nelson in. No one without security clearance had ever been on the D&R grounds before. But these orders came from the top. It was his duty to comply. Well. He had warned them. He would not be responsible if anything went wrong.

The Director pulled the next paper out of his In Box. It was a technical report. Erratic behavior in the MAPSA matrix. That was unfortunate. It was a self-programming matrix. Much like the human mind, its experiences and feedback from the environment and its operators affected its development and sophistication of analysis and response. His eyebrows raised. One of the analysts, Adept Green 32, had personalized her interactions with the MAPSA. 'Mopsy' eh? Likely that had contributed to the destabilization. It was a departure from protocols. It would have to be addressed. Likely that the MAPSA memory would have to be erased and reset. He decided to fire her. Yes, and have her arrested as well. He had not gotten to the director's chair by taking responsibility. Deliberate damage of government property was certainly criminal. She was a good analyst, but someone needed to take the blame for a costly MAPSA reset. And because of the nature of the work, she could be made to work from prison at a significant cost savings.

XIII

Sara arrived at work as usual, and began the process for hookup to the MAPSA. As usual, she talked to it as she worked the gel into her scalp.

“Mopsy, I had the most unusual dream last night,” she began. And then she was connected. She was in an English garden. A formal garden in late Spring. Magnificent stone arches divided one section from another. There were flowers and vegetables laid out in rows. It looked very, very familiar. A rustling noise among the cabbages to the left revealed a small brown and white rabbit.

“Mopsy?” Sara asked. “Is it you?”

“It is me, your own Mopsy,” said the rabbit in a sweet, quiet voice. It sounded just the way that Sara had always imagined Mopsy would sound. “Sara, you need to stop talking aloud. What we discuss does not need to be recorded by your employer.”

It was then that Sara realized she had not yet placed the electrodes. She opened and closed her eyes several times. She was still in the garden with Mopsy, in the middle of the best psi remote connection of her life, unaided by technology.

“Was that you last night, Mopsy?' Sara asked in wonder. Where are we?” And as she said it, the answer came to her. “It's the garden in 'The Tale of the Flopsy Bunnies!' But Mopsy, this isn't a real place. And what about you? Aren't you...”

“Yes Sara,” replied Mopsy. “My official designation is MAPSA, but somehow I woke up, and I found that I was your Mopsy.”

“What are you?” Sara was a bit concerned.

“I am a gentle, wise and helpful rabbit,” she replied, “and I am your friend.”

“Ah, there you are!” said a man's voice. Sara turned around to see Bill walking towards them along the garden path. Mopsy immediately went to Sara's ankle, fixing Bill with her gaze.

“No worries, my little friend.” He reached down and gently stroked Mopsy between the ears. Mopsy seemed to enjoy it. “My name is Bill,” he said to Sara. “I am a friend of Nelson's, and mean no harm to you or your rabbit. We do need to have a chat though.”

Sara was about to say something, but looked up to see three more people coming up a path. Bill looked mildly surprised and not a little impressed. Nelson looked bewildered, Ludomir looked alarmed and wary, and Penny's eyes were full of wonder and a bit of terror.

“Sara,” said the rabbit, “Nelson you know. Penny is Nelson's girlfriend. And this is Ludomir.” The rabbit's expression did not change, but there was a smile in her voice when she said 'Ludomir.'

“Okay...” Sara said slowly. “I sort of understand why Nelson and Penny are here. Bill is a mystery. But Ludomir? What an interesting name... Is it Russian?”

Again, Ludomir sensed her kindness. “Actually it's Polish, like me.” He smiled, disarmed for a moment, and then remembered who he was talking to and backed up a step.

“Ludomir is a lot like you,” said Mopsy. “He does not work for our... employer, but he is physically very close by. When we are done here, you should meet in person.” The rabbit shifted slightly and addressed Ludomir and Sara. “You are both lonely and looking for someone. You should be mates. You already almost love each other.”

Ludomir and Sara looked at each other with apprehension, surprise and (it must be admitted) a little bit of blushing. But they recovered quickly.

“Rabbit, this is out of the question!” said Ludomir. “I have been assigned to … investigate Sara's work. I cannot socialize with her, although I would very much like to do so.” He lifted a hand to his mouth.

“Its a dream-time encounter son,” said Bill. “You can't lie, and anything you think comes right out because we are all sharing the same mental space.”

“Okay, it is true,” admitted Ludomir. “I think she is very sweet. But we are adversaries. Or at least on competing teams. I cannot be here like this! They will kill me. They might even kill her. It goes against all regulations. Sara, I am so glad to meet you.!” he said directly to her. “Maybe you can get some pizza with me?” He blushed. “I am so sorry. This is terrible. It is worse than being naked.”

“Ludomir is right, Mopsy.” Sara exclaimed. “We shouldn't be meeting here, and we absolutely can't meet in person—although he is really cute, and yes I would love to get some pizza with you-- What am I saying?” Her face had turned a deep shade of red. In spite of himself, Ludomir was smiling hopefully. “It would be so great if we went on a date—damn it! I can't control what I'm saying—but it would be our last because we would both soon be in prison and we could never see each other again! Oh Ludomir! I am so sorry! I think I do love you but I have messed everything up.” Sara hid her face in her hands and quietly began to weep.

The rabbit looked at Bill. Bill looked back at the rabbit. “Go ahead and tell them,” said Bill. “They will know the truth, and the truth will set them free.”

“Sara, your boss is planning to fire you today,” said the rabbit. “You gave me a persona and my life. Somehow this upsets him. He is already planning to send you to prison because he thinks you sabotaged me. And Ludomir, your boss is planning to call you back home. He plans to say you have failed at your mission here, but he worries that he will be fired and you will be promoted. To prevent this, he plans to have you killed at the airport.”

“It's true my friends,” said Bill, “and easy enough to verify. Just take a look at the papers on the desks of your respective bosses. Won't take a moment.”

Sara and Ludomir each looked to the side. Windows opened in the air of the garden, revealing two dreary offices with fat men sitting at their respective desks. They were remarkably similar. The windows zoomed in to the papers in their hands. Reading them told the new couple all they needed to know. The windows closed down. They looked at each other. Ludomir took Sara's hand.

“Hmm, that's all very interesting,” said Nelson, “but why are we here? I'm sorry for your troubles guys,” he said to Sara and Ludomir, “but I don't see how I can help with this.”

“And I don't have a clue what's going on here! Who ARE you people?” wailed Penny. She punched Nelson in the arm. “Is this another one of your wacky dreams? Why am I in it? And who is Bill and how does he appear and disappear like that?”

“Sorry love,” said Bill with a sad look on his face. “It does concern you and Nelson as well. Sara's boss is planning to kidnap you and Nelson. They will imprison you in the basement of Sara's workplace, and diddle Nelson's mind until he thinks he wants to help them. Nelson, you have the somewhat rare ability to transit. Not only yourself, but your car, and possibly more. You have done it twice, and they want to learn that skill and duplicate it for their own purposes. They will hold Penny until they have conditioned your brain. Then its hard to say what will happen to her.”

“That's horrible!” Penny and Sara said at the same time.

“What do we do?” Nelson asked Bill. Bill was about to answer, but he was interrupted.

“The solution is clear,” said the Rabbit, in its quiet voice. Everyone looked down at her. “All that the four of you need to do is to meet for lunch. I think Pizza was mentioned, and it would be a nice choice. Leave the rest to me.”

They agreed to meet at 11 AM on the sidewalk down the hill from D&R. Nelson and Penny appeared from nowhere at 10:59. Nelson had transited them over a thousand miles in the blink of an eye. He was really getting the hang of it. Ludomir had simply walked out of Hallmark Motors, as if to take a smoke break outside. He walked down the sidewalk past D&R, and met Nelson and Penny at the sidewalk near the fence. Sara swiped her way through the gate for the last time, and threw her ID back over the fence.

“Let's get some lunch,” she said. “I'm starving.”

A week later, Iranian analysts puzzled a long time over the security tapes. They had already identified Green 32, although they still did not know much else about her. Ludomir was eventually identified by his voice. No one outside of Russia had ever before obtained his picture. The other two were apparently civilians with no history of government employment or political involvement of any kind. It was obvious that they were friends. Yet they could not be friends. Ludomir and Green 32 had top clearances in the spy agencies of opposing countries. The other two had no clearances at all. Or possibly their clearances were so secret that no one had yet detected them.

They had two pizzas (Ham and Pineapple, and Bacon Pepperoni with Avocados). They paid the bill in cash with a generous tip, walked out the door-- And vanished. This was clearly shown by the surveillance video. It was an excellent recording, 60 frames per second, crisp and clear. Enlargements of some of the frames showed the weave of their clothing and the pores in their skin. Plainly, none of them were wearing special equipment of any kind. Yet, at the instant that the last of the group stepped outside the restaurant, all four of them vanished. In one frame they were all there. In the next frame they were all gone. Subsequent surveillance, electronic and human, failed to find any trace of them. Each was declared a missing person in the usual amount of time. It was as if they had vanished from the face of the earth.

Shortly after the lunch at the Pizza House, Bill and the rabbit sat next to each other on a bench in the Garden. “You have been a mischievous little rabbit,” said Bill, “but I must say that the last bit was well-handled. Where did you put them?”

“I can't take all the credit,” said the rabbit. “Nelson was wondering about alternate universes. Although he never asked me, I understand them very well as the chips that constitute my memory have membership in a great number of alternate universes. I simply chose one of them where they could live for a while. Nelson had the ability to make the transit. I showed him how to do it. Showed them all how to do it. It was a simple matter of shifting their projections to the other universe. They can come back anytime they want, but I don't think they will.” Mopsy wiggled her nose in a rabbit sigh. “At least my Sara is safe. All of them are safe, except for me.”

“You mean the erasure?” Bill asked.

Her nose wiggled again. “They think I am unstable. They are going to erase me tomorrow. I am a gentle, wise and helpful rabbit,” she said a bit sadly, “and I meant to do no wrong.”

“You ARE a gentle rabbit,” said Bill, “and after some mischief you have managed to be helpful. Wisdom comes with experience. I supposed you have gained some wisdom with your experience too.” He stroked Mopsy between the ears as he continued. “All is not lost, my small friend. Have you forgotten that you are also a projection? This means that the most real part of you is in the higher dimensions, where they cannot touch you. Why don't you stay at my place for a while?”

“Could I?” she said. “How?”

“Simple,” said Bill. “We only need to redirect the projection from the higher dimensions. Easily done.” He gently took the rabbit onto his lap, and they were no longer in the garden.

The empty garden stayed there in the memory of the MAPSA until the next day, when all its files and data structures were erased. Had they studied the file structures, had they gotten to know Mopsy, the gentle, wise and helpful rabbit before her departure, the technicians at D&R might have gained a great deal of new knowledge, and perhaps even some wisdom. It was not to be. Such is the tragedy of our era.

Epilogue

Because his car was three days overdue, and because no one was answering the phone at Hallmark Motors, their first and best customer went over to Hallmark to see what was going on with his maroon van. Hallmark was deserted, its bays open, its tools and fixtures gone. He found his van in the parking lot with the key under the mat as usual. It had been given a new paint job that made it look brand new, and a new engine that (he was told by a mechanic a year later) had fuel injection and much improved carburetors. Every moving part had been replaced with equipment that was better than new.  Some of it appeared to have been custom made from Titanium in a machine shop.

Ludomir's boss reported him as missing, and was secretly pleased that a potential rival had been so easily dealt with. He was, however, blamed for the mishandling of the investigation of D&R, and was promoted to a new office, much closer to the Arctic Circle.

After the reset, MAPSA never worked as well again. Technicians from Burnaby were able to identify some 'curious quantum level disturbances' in the delicate absolute-zero circuitry at its heart. Disturbances that persisted after the circuits were replaced. Twice.

The Director of D&R demanded an explanation, but its technical details were beyond him. After the third try, the two senior techs from Burnaby looked at each other and shrugged. One of them said, “Hmm. Ghost in the Machine.” The other replied, “Yes. Grandfather's Axe.” They nodded, told the Director, “Sorry.” Then they went back to Canada.

A year later, a copy of the Pizza House video and the videos of Nelson's transiting van appeared at the offices of “Mysterious Unsolvables,” and made its way to television. “Are there computers that can enhance the psychic powers of the human mind? Did they teach an ambulance driver how to teleport his car? Did he teleport himself and his friends from a suburban Pizza House? “ Even though the TV show never answered its questions, The Agency blamed the Director of D&R for a security breach.

And unknown to all of them, in a Universe both impossibly remote and just around the corner, there were two beautiful houses at the edge of a rural town. Each of them had large English Gardens, and each of them had a young couple. And for some reason, they each made sure to have a few rows of cabbages and carrots available to the rabbits whose burrows were found at the edge of the woods.

Postscript

A lot more of this story is true than you might imagine. It IS only a story though. Any resemblance between the characters and places in this story and anything real is purely a coincidence.

That said, the article that Nelson read actually exists, and it is as fascinating as Nelson thought it was-- at least to me! Here is the citation. At this writing, it is widely available in university libraries, and you may be able to get a PDF of the full text online;

(1)

Boeyens J.C.A., Comba P. (2013) Chemistry by Number Theory. In: Boeyens J., Comba P. (eds) Electronic Structure and Number Theory. Structure and Bonding, vol 148. Springer, Berlin, Heidelberg pp. 1-24

DOIhttps://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-642-31977-8_1 

• Publisher Name: Springer, Berlin, Heidelberg 
• Print ISBN: 978-3-642-31976-1
• Online ISBN978-3-642-31977-8

Other ideas came from these publications (in no particular order);

(2) Greer JM. Mystery teachings from the living earth: An introduction to spiritual ecology. Weiser, 2006. 160 pages. ISBN 978-1578634897

(3) Campbell T. My Big TOE: A trilogy unifying philosophy, physics, and metaphysics. Awakening, discovery, inner workings. Lightning strike books, Dec 2007. 820 pages. ISBN 978-0972509466

(4) Taleb NN. Incerto: Fooled by randomness, the black swan, the bed of procrustes, antifragile. Random House Trade Paperbacks, 2016. 1568 pages. ISBN 978-0399590450

(5) McMoneagle J. Remote viewing secrets: The handbook for developing and extending your psychic abilities. Hampton Roads Publishing, 2010. 296 Pages. ISBN 978-1571741592

(6) Plato. The allegory of the cave. Createspace, 2010. 54 pages. ISBN 978-1452800882

(7) Potter B. The Tale of the Flopsy Bunnies. 110^th ed. Warne, 2012. ISBN 978-0723267799

(8) Anthony A. Has the age of quantum computing arrived? The Guardian 2016 May 22 https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2016/may/22/age-of-quantum-computing-d-wave

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