Original Horror The Return of Poe by Steven K Mitchell
“You cannot know me. NEVER will we meet in space and time. STILL, I am a conduit. MY words, YOUR interface with quantum space.”
Steven K. Mitchell
8/28/1999
“Time is not a line. It is a state of being. Like burning. Or orgasm. And it is the all-consuming and finite nature of TIME which constitutes LIFE…”
Edgar Allan Poe
9/16/2397
Paralogue
“I have reached these lands but newly, from an ultimate, dim thule , from a wild , weird clime , that lieth sublime , OUT OF SPACE , OUT OF TIME …”
Contentment…and peace…a surcease of the beastly burning called LIVING.
The years since his corporeal demise had been kind to Poe . He existed now only in quantum space , no longer stalked and obsessed by the
grinning specter of Death. Here was numbing detachment from all things …where anything , EVERYTHING conceivable could be observed
from infinite perspectives, time gone now and with it the pleasure/horror of finite existence .
Most of the others from his generation were truly DEAD . Unrecognizable. Unaware. CONSUMED. Their specific life energies dissipated throughout the cosmos, they existed NOWHERE . HE should be dead too yet, HE still lived. So much of HIM existed as quantum energy he spun his own existence
in the bizarre , gossamer reality of quantum space, a truly INFINITE place where unending possibilities exist, shift and permutate and to which THERE IS NO END!
Poe actually FELT an uncomfortable jolt/ripple of energy invade the blissful , swirling blue . He became shockingly aware of a PRESENCE from the OTHER side , where TIME is the hunter. Suddenly , she was there! Huge even at a distance. Growing to a colossus as space
narrowed . Righteousness, gorgeousity , cat-green eyes , strawberry-blonde hair, perfect ivory teeth, firm, ripe body with alabaster skin, tan and freckle-dusted like sweet , maple sprinkles on a honey glazed pastry . Her solidity contrasted mightily with the with the
ethereal , aqua-hued realm surrounding her . TIME dripped from her like molten lead in zero gravity and everywhere it flew it wrought convulsions of LIFE where things had merely EXISTED before. Poe stared intently and as she moved inexorably toward him he began
to expand , his pure energy form effortlessly making the transition. Then, face to face , they looked into each others eyes and lightly touched. Poe screamed as the scene was sundered of its dream-like quality. The girl too wailed and her eyes
opened wide , terrified with the realization that this was real! Immediately, she retreated to the familiarity of the known physical universe, thereby becoming the conduit through which Poe’s life-force would re-enter the fire of time . For his part , the mad genius
felt himself being sucked out! Out of the peaceful limbo he had so readily , eagerly embraced . Then , in the blink of an eye he was solid again, feeling again, ALIVE! He looked incredulously into the bright, frightened eyes of she who had re-incarnated him
and , with the succinctity of genius , voiced two one word questions…”How? Why?”
Then it began.
1
A BLACK PEARL SURFACES
On second thought , it had actually begun over 400 years previous, in the early 1990’s , when a quantum physicist named Penrose and a anesthesiologist named Hameroff engaged in a most interesting exchange of information . This dialogue led to the deduction that “microtubule webs” in our brains held the physical location of human consciousness . The logic behind this assumption was rooted in the realm of quantum physics. It had long been theorized that known physical law is meaningless in the sub-atomic world . Microtubule
webs , comprised of protein filaments a tenth of a millionth of an inch across with electrons inside , are significantly smaller than neural webs and are, in fact, sub-atomic. While he had no way of knowing why , Penrose did establish that these electrons vibrate in seemingly random sequence at seemingly random times. With this in mind , he theorized that , being sub-atomic, they could also EXIST IN SIMULTANEOUS STATES IN THE SAME SPACE! Thereby allowing INFINITE STATES OF BEING WITHIN THE BRAIN! The enormity
of this concept , coupled with the patterned vibrations,led the physicist to believe the microtubules DID have a purpose. But what? Hameroff, after reading this avant-garde theorem, correlated it to ground-breaking research of his own…
In the late 1970’s, certain anesthetics were developed which rendered a patient unconscious while allowing retainment of involuntary muscle reflex. In his research, Hameroff discovered that the ONLY discernible physical reaction these drugs engendered was THE
LOCKING IN PLACE OF THE MICROTUBULE ELECTRONS WITHIN THE BRAIN! Thus it came to pass that Hameroff and Penrose communicated and surmised CONCIOUSNESS IS INTEGRALLY LINKED TO QUANTUM SPACE! And they were right! For it IS there, in the swirling maelstrom of unending possibilities, that creative thought originates . Thus is true consciousness separated from the mere rapidity of computer
cross-referencing . ONLY in quantum space DO THINGS UNBORN EXIST!
Naturally , it was only a matter of time before this knowledge sunk, disturbing the depths of mankind’s collective soul like a stone, causing evil to surface like some great white shark in the person of one August A. Augenthaler , Admiral , U.S. Navy . “The Bull”
, as he was referred to by friend and foe alike , was a free thinker in his own perverse way. A lifelong military man , his imagination and capacity for carnage were both considerable and documented.
August had chanced upon the “root of consciousness” theorem browsing rare, back issues of the long defunct Omni magazine while comfortably stuffed into an oversized chair at the exclusive and secretive Warhawks Officers Club . With 100 year old scotch on side
table and 200 uni-credit cigar in hand, he sifted through the article until only truth remained . And that grain of truth, like irritating sand in the oyster, would engender the secretion of sick thoughts in “The Bulls” brilliant mind . Thoughts that would
congeal into a black, hellish pearl, control and death it’s sole expression. For it was then that the Admiral conceptualized H.E.A.D. (hearing, equilibrium, aeration device); an organo-techno brain, with a network of giant microtubules communicating to a central
web via audio , video analytical sensors. The advantages of this living compu-sensor would lie in it’s capacity to make “creative”, “intelligent” decisions concerning the strategic deployment of weapons and manpower WITHOUT human guidance or programming. Further, since microtubules interact instantaneously through
vibrationary energy, the organics could keep pace with the computronics.
Never one to hesitate, "The Bull” focused , like the over-zealous laser he was, and quickly tracked down the top geneticists and computer hacks capable of the creationary deed . He then tried to finance the project through the usual, above-board channels. When funding was not forthcoming , the Admiral petitioned the usual below-board
options . And when they failed him (due to the enormity of the endeavor and it’s unusual premise), Augenthaler took matters into his own capable hands. “Actually,” August deduced “It’s better this way.” For, once he established a large, steady supply of drug money
through maritime drug smuggling aboard Navy ships, “H.E.A.D.” would be his own private tool , beyond the stifling restraints imposed by less visionary souls.
Almost inevitably over the next few years the Admiral masterminded the cash flow, built and staffed a secret base, purchased the state of the art equipment and relentlessly propelled the project forward with the power of his excessive-obsessive personality. Off he went , recklessly rocketing into his visions of a new age of control and death. Where it would all lead however , not even
the mad Admirals hyper-fecund mind could imagine.
And that’s where Summer Rain came in.
2
OUT OF THE BLUE
Summer Rain was a beyond beautiful girl . Amazing as she looked however, it was her brilliantly creative mind which set her truly apart . A partial resume shows why … high school graduate at 9, youngest women to receive a degree from MIT at twelve . She was
already the senior microbiologist at “The Hive”, a classified government think tank, and had just turned 18 when Augenthaler’s operatives made arrangements for her to devote all her energies to creating a giant microtubule . Amazingly , she had done it , dubbing her
new creation the “macrotubule”.
One day shortly afterwards, she stood magnificent in her bedroom…freckled, dimpled, delectable, naked…sensually toweling beads of shower water from her glowing skin and absently pondering the second of the two macrotubules she had grown as it pulsed , a kaleidoscope of beautiful blue hues mesmerizing her from the organo-grow-tank
(o.g.t.) which was it’s home. After throwing the baby-blue towel into a wicker hamper, she reclined trancedly upon her many-pillowed, lace-canopied bed with it’s matching white and dark blue swirled pillowcases and comforter. Muted candlelight and the electro-aqua flickering of the macrotubule shone on the robin’s egg shaded walls and lent a strangely hypnotic illumination to the scene. Leisurely, Summer scanned the room, her bright, jade eyes occasionally lingering … on ceramic dolls , displayed in a glass showcase , on
the burnished sheen of her antique, cherry hutch, on the matching cherry bookcase where she vaguely registered the collected works of her favorite author, the legendary Edgar Allen Poe. Soon she was again staring, mesmerized and unfocused, into the thick, clear casing which held the macrotubule, where
the wild weird clime of quantum space flickered endless possibilities simultaneously. The giant electron within was EVERYTHING at once and, since even Summer’s brilliant mind was constrained by the limited range of intellect and sensory capacities , she was unable to decode the phenomena. Instead she saw only the the ever-shimmering, ever-shifting, ever-morphing sapphire flux.
The gorgeous girls formidable mind, influenced and acted upon by the unfathomable multiplied, drifted detachedly deeper into the source of all consciousness. As a creative genius, she was a genetically powerful interface with quantum space. Poe still crept, like a black cat, through the innermost corridors of her brain. Into her minds eye burst an image of remarkable clarity. It was Edgar Allen, at work on the Raven, quilled pen in hand, superb verbal acuity at the height of it’s power, then…
The image vanished, sudden as a popped soap bubble.
Numbly, Summer was probing quantum space. Deep into bottomless oceans of her mind she submerged, returning to places where she had gleaned incredible breakthroughs and beyond. For now her own extraordinary quantum awareness was being powerfully, dramatically enhanced by the giant, artificially engineered macrotubule glimmering nearby. Dreamily adrift in unreal reality, the beauty erroneously assumed she was asleep. In fact, she was hurtling effortlessly into all which ever was or ever will be (infinite perspectives,
dimensions , possibilities). It seemed so natural to be multi-reality mobile and racing to a rendezvous with another great source of quantum energy, Poe. Into and through a phantasmagoric landscape she “flew”…sg as swirling colors, shapes, smells, sensations, ideas, thing imaginable and unimaginable splashed
and burst from every perspective, conceivable and inconceivable…disintegration the ONLY constant against a deep-blue background which served as canvass for the ultimate art, EVERYTHING.
Her body retained it’s general shape and sensibilities, albeit gossamer and wispy and sheathed in an aqua-energy aura. She could “feel” things with this personal power field, but the information was so fresh and unique it could not yet be completely decoded by her consciousness . Summer could “see” Edgar Allen now, very small, as though at great distance. He too was wraithlike in this realm, yet there was no mistaking him. The high forehead, bottomless dark eyes, thin-lipped mouth, narrow chin; all impossibly melded into a look both arrogant and vulnerable . His personal power aura was a dazzlingly bright emerald green , which turned the adjacent blue landscape purple where they met . In close now , she remained detached, even as her own power-field began a liquid-like mixing with Poe’s . Finally , she panicked , suddenly realizing this was no dream or fantasy! This was real! “My god!” she thought, “I must get back ! I don’t belong here !” Instinctively, frantically , she retreated from quantum space,
leaving via the macrotubule, closing the microtubules in her mind to possibilities behind her…
Almost instantly she was back in her room,and so was Poe.
3
INTERFACE EVIL
It was midnight. The “Bull” sat alone. At the far end of the long, oaken table before him the first macrotubule pulsed electric-blue in an o.g.t. . It had been wheeled into the room as part of the just finished H.E.A..D. briefing . The Admiral and his cadre often gathered here , at this secret underground bunker (codename Wolfslair)located deep in an abandoned missile silo at Trueheart Naval Center. Now, with updates spread before him, August read the last of the detailed reports which charted the progress of his illegal brainchild. “So ,” thought the Bull , as he finished an hours worth of study which might have taken a normal man an entire workday to grasp, “time for a drink.” He then consciously turned his attention to the aqua-pulse of the o.g.t.-encased macrotubule , thinking “She actually did it! I must remember Ms. Rain’s prowess when casting future power plays .” Finally , his sixteen hour workday complete, the Admiral stood and stepped to the oak-paneled wall behind him where , with the push of a sensi-stud, a seemingly solid panel raised and quickly recessed into the ceiling with a Star Trek-like suction sound . Revealed was a superbly aesthetic silver bar, replete with gold-inlaid bull, connoisseur quality scotch and more. With an obvious sense of purpose Augenthaler immediately poured himself a double-shot of single-malt, straight-up , in a lead-crystal rocks glass , also emblazoned with a gold bull. Opening a small cherry and brass humidor (bull-etched, of course) he selected a maduro handmade , grabbed a large , crystal ashtray and returned
to his seat. He lit the cigar with a long, wooden match and savored the strong, heady flavor before raising the scotch to his thin, hard lips. Again and again he repeated the actions (sans the lighting) until slowly, puff by puff, sip by sip, he immersed in the ritualized relaxation which was the only peace he ever knew . Black daydreams began to inkily seep into his already stained mind . Dark , dramatic images coalesced… gigantic burning swastikas, armbands, black boots, hunting steel submarines , clanking Tiger tanks , shrilly swooping
Stukas, corpse-mounds, flayed skin, skulls, naked young women herded like animals to deep , bleak-stone dungeons where…
Death-dreams , the sordid impetus for the madman’s ambition.
The unreal, already heightened by the blueburn shimmering of the macrotubule, began altering, imperceptibly at first, as August began unwittingly fusing his own formidable quantum energy with the incredible power residing in the o.g.t. before him. Hitler himself dominated the Admiral’s thoughts now . Straight-backed and stern-faced, speaking at a rally 100,000 strong… All seemed real as Adolph’s magnetic eyes attracted August like iron, even as his powerful, guttural voice insinuated and insulated like lead, both poison and protection in a grotesquely hypnotic spectacle where sexual sadists and starry-eyed young girls alike were sucked screaming into the seductive , dark-night dreams of the dangerously demented German dictator . Gradually, the Bull lost focus on all but Hitler’s eyes, which were beyond color, hellishly deep and expanding, like bleak suicide pools where immersion ends pain , thought , choice, responsibility, life, death, love, hate, infinity…
In throes of a suddenly stunning epiphany , the Admiral realized HE WAS EXPERIENCING THE PULL TO HIS IDOL, NOT ENVISIONING IT! Hitler now appeared as gigantic , disembodied eyes , suspended in a black aura against a splashing , swirling cobalt backdrop where mere hints shocked his sensibilities . Closer, closer, closer to
those awful orbs came the Admiral, until the scale disparity diminished and he was scant inches from the Fuhrer, who was whole again, albeit ethereal and wispy, then…CONTACT! Augenthaler felt himself surrendering his own personality to the stronger will of the Austrian Madman with a sweet, quivering, almost virgin-like subservience. Ecstasy coursed his quantum form when he gladly became the interface whereby the great evil re-entered our plane.
4
“I would not be here!”
So stunned was Summer by the flesh and blood appearance of Poe that she scarce noticed she was still naked and glistening from the shower. The Bard’s first questions of “How ?” and “Why ?” barely registered as she stood teetering between disbelief and hysteria . “I must be insane!” she thought, even as her instincts told her “This is truly happening!” . Not dream or vision , but real! For the Master Writer stood before her in his physical prime , before alcohol and tension ravaged his frame . Once he had been a superb athlete, able to broadjump in excess of twenty feet . Now , he was corporal again, with mind and memory intact , naked and pristine in the soft, yellow candlelight and blue macrotubule glow . She was immediately impressed by his bearing , the arrogant/vulnerable glint in his eyes, the long, lean whipcord taut physique.
For his part Edgar Allen stood, trembling on the verge of madness. Nervous he was! Very nervous! His dark, seemingly bottomless eyes sucked in the scene…the gorgeous girl, frill-laced, canopied bed , strangely luminescent macrotubule and more,more,more! His ears vibrated a cacophony of sounds…the quick, erratic breath emanating from the girl, a faint hum from some appliance, the sound of air itself! He detected the delightful scents wafting from the incredible redhead…her flower petal soap, sweet skin, between her legs . He instinctively touched himself at the thought of THAT.
Then…
He realized he was solid again and immediately felt the awful fire of time consuming him as though he were food, or fuel . “No! No! No!” he screamed, backing convulsively to the wall, closing his luminous eyes and bringing his clenched fists to his temples as in pain. “Not again!” he said, stridently. Then, he deliberately stiffened, seemingly steeling himself . He opened his eyes and a hard surface was instantly discernible in his radiant orbs . “Not again.” he repeated , this time a mere whisper. His chill gaze turned to Summer, piercing her matrix. She shuddered at the plaintive perceptions therein . Sensing her discomfort, the Poet explained, in a voice dead of inflection, “I would not be here.” Instinctively, Summer was drawn like iron to this magnetically beautiful man
whose depth and melancholy were starkly evident. She reached out to him and they touched . Tentatively at first, until barriers so recently rebuilt in Edgar burst under the pressure of Summer’s genuine compassion. Poe’s dark eyes shone green-flecked as they reflected the Redheads jade orbs across the infinity of inches between them. Instantly, a kinship was struck which even he could not verbalize .
After a long moment, the Poet again posed the questions “How? Why?” and this time the gorgeous girls thoughts were coherent. “I’m not sure.” she started. With furrowed brow she continued, “I…I assume the quandary is linked to sub-atomic theorem .” Poe looked puzzled. “Quantum space?” she said. Still no glint of understanding. “Oh yeah. This is way after your time isn’t it? Let me update you . Since your last incarnation there have been tremendous advances which allow us to view the minutiae . For example, we now know that everything around us is comprised of atoms, units of matter so small they are invisible to the naked eye . As the basic building blocks of this universe , atoms operate within the boundaries of known physical law . Everything smaller than an atom however ,
is not so constrained. Once sub-atomic all bets are off, physical law breaks down, and strange things start to happen. One of the strangest involves the simultaneous occupation of the same space by multiple forms of matter .” Here , Poe interrupted “You mean…a chair and a person could exist in the same space?”
“Theoretically, yes.” “Provided sub-atomic atoms existed, of course.” “Why, of course Eddy! Nothing slips by you, does it?” Poe ignored the compliment. She continued, “Well anyway , let me go while I think I got it . I believe there IS a physical location of consciousness. It lies inside the brain within a sub-atomic web consisting of protein filaments encasing electrons called microtubules. I recently engineered two gigantic microtubules, which I have dubbed macrotubules one and two . And here is the second one .” At that
point she paused and motioned to the beautiful blue portal swirling in it’s o.g.t. . “Sub-atomic microtubules have been directly linked to quantum space through the use of certain archaic anesthetics. They used to render people unconscious simply by introducing drugs which locked the microtubule electrons in place. Conjecture places the interface for thought in the microtubule web . All thought derived from quantum possibility. And, based on what just happened to us , I would say the interface goes beyond thought and into physical
manifestation.” “I AM here.” Edgar agreed. Summer continued, “We must assume the dramatic increase in size engendered these further capabilities. After all, macrotubules are literally billions of times the scale of their natural counterparts . This one took me to you and, somehow, I brought you back here.” Poe eyed her narrowly, a trait she would come to recognize as a concentration signal. Already his formidable mind was subjecting recent events to the ratiocination litmus test (eliminate the impossible
and whatever is left, however improbable , must be true). “What you say seems analytically sound, IF the macrotubule is the only variant inherent in this time frame . I assume I am in the future of my own world ?” “Why …yes. How did you know.” “Shared language, simple extrapolation.” Summer was dressing now , tucking her lush breasts into a black, silk bra. “Simple, huh? It’s the future alright, 2397.” “So long .” The melancholy genius whispered, almost to himself. Summoning energy with some difficulty, he continued
in a louder, yet still weary voice, “This is fantastic, yet I know it to be true. Starting with your name , tell me more of this age , I implore you .”
Summer, black synthejeans clinging to her awesome form like a second skin, was in the process of pulling a silver “short-shirt” over her sculpted shoulders which hid her nudity, but could do nothing to impinge her radiant sexuality.
She motioned to Edgar Allen’s naked frame and said, quite cheerfully under the circumstances , “My name is Summer Rain and before we do anything else I think I’d best acquaint you with 24th century raiment . Somehow I’m finding it difficult to concentrate on the task at hand.” She smiled infectiously and a smile crossed Poe’s lips in spite of himself . She stepped to her Victorian style vanity and from a drawer removed a metallic gold card which beautifully reflected the blue shimmer of the macrotubule. Then, she tapped a sensi-stud near the mirror and the seemingly solid wall suddenly disintegrated in a rectangular pattern about four foot square. Revealed was a large, silver disc, recessed flat in the bottom of the aperture . It looked almost like an old phonograph record , only much larger. Transparent walls of light, alive with faint, swirling wisps of color rose from the circle until melding into
a matching disc in the niche’s ceiling. The girl waved the gold card between the discs, breaking the walls of light and triggering a compu-gen voice, silky smooth and female, “Welcome to Holoshop, the ultimate shopping network on the regen grid! Your Uni-card has a balance of 50,000 globals and a pre-approved overdraft limit of 50,000 globals . Beyond that , you may apply for further credit
in person at any Universal bank location. Where may we take you to begin?”
The great Poet stood entranced behind the voluptuous redhead as the scene unfolded, the painful shock of reincarnation mercifully superceded by the curiosity and fascination inherent in his fathomless mind. Summer’s sizzling smile was already melting the ice in Edgar’s soul like springs noonday sun. “And what, pray tell is the preferred raiment of reincarnated 18th century poets? What’s your favorite color ? Formal or casual?” she spewed without waiting for an answer. Edgar almost smiled as he said “I prefer black .” She made a face and replied “That figures. O.K. Let’s start at Todd Oldhams.” Turning her attention to the regen grid , she spoke directly to the computer. “Computer, take us to Oldhams in Megacity, men’s department please .” At her words the holodisc+ in the top of the remol chamber activated, allowing both real-time 3-D holoimagery of multiple regen grid locations and the actual transport of goods purchased via molecular disintegration/regener!
ation . Top down perspective imagery filled the remol niche with both Oldhams and overlapped marketing trailers touting various specials. A narrators voice began espousing the same message causing Summer to address the computer again , “Delete audio/video marketing feed.” “Audio feed deleted . New regen grid programming parameters no longer allow video manipulation.” “What? Since when?” “Protocol
implementation began 4/23/97.” “Figures. OK Let’s get started. Men’s pants please .” The perspective switched to that of a tweety-cam, hovering at about average eye height in men’s pants. “Take me to predominantly black pants . Begin with most casual and end with
most formal.” In a flash, viewpoint shifted to a tweety-cam in athletics . Summers eyes instantly saw a wall display showcasing a Karate GI inspired collection of training pants, manufactured with a blend of traditional canvass and synthejean. “What do you think of these Edgar?” “In truth they look comfortable. I am enamored of the black ones.” “Lets take a closer look. Computer, compugen item 86-AP, color black , holoimage ,
enlarge and rotate full circle slow.”
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