Historical Fiction

It’s almost like a phantasmic stance coming right out of a Lorraine Dille Williams novel; frozen in time has an individual discovering some long lost genealogical notes forgotten in the eyes of the past. This wide discovery has granted her a great find in linking her to an engaging past.

Within the late 20th century, Jason Tronel, who had been an electrical engineer most of his working life; he had conducted his own genealogical search in his spare time. He lived a quiet and comfortable life in the rural region of Gloucester, Ontario. Since the age of 31, he had decided to do some scholarly exploring throughout his family history. The exquisite pleasure of finding out undiscovered treasures and the surprising events had been a fascinating hobby for him. To reveal undocumented and overlooked events among his family heritage had been an unpublished literary adventure of its own.

Along the rest of the course of Jason’s affluent life; he had passed away at the age of 86 from pneumonia. He had left behind an extravagant historical legacy that possessed over 100,000 names amidst his lifetime inquiry. Before he died, he had only two copies of his notes made in each their different formats; one was burned on a few compact discs and the other was a written ledger of all of his own personal confidential records. These genealogical notes had possessed various kinds of hidden secrets which would be become remarkably valuable towards to commercial and legal purposes.

In retrospect within his whole literary and historical journey, Jason had been taking the time to document and record every piece of skeletal and illegitimate sources which he was able to attain and manuscript. Also he was clearly aware that some family members had known of his accomplishments. He had always refused them because he knew that he was reading pure greed on their faces. Most people didn’t appreciate his work and only wanted to benefit from his notes on a financially basis. Then, he had locked his compact discs and ledger in a fireproof safe and secretly buried where it wouldn’t be found, accidentally. In his old age, before his health would have gotten any worse; he wanted to spend some time traveling throughout Europe before he died.

This vault buried in a safe remote area which only if the reader holding his cryptic map would be able decipher its correct location. Jason had deliberately drawn it up for someone who would possess a specific expertise in either geometry, calculus or trigonometry.

Jason had formerly bequeathed an abridged version of his life’s research in a type-written format that was originally configured from an old computer writing software. This precious family heirloom was left to his grandson in whom he had never had any inclination in continuing this family research. So, he himself had sold off this document to the National Archives for a menial sum and they had not given him absolutely no regards to its memorabilistic value; he didn’t even bother to have it monetarily approved. These such notes still remain in this institution, lost and forgotten somewhere on a shelf, collecting dust.

For the last four-hundred fifty years, the North American continent had suffered several tectonic shifts in consistency with the extreme ravaging and uncontrollable tsunamies, landmass sinkings and collapses. Also the two added world chemical wars between the Orient, the Middle-East and the Americas didn’t help humanity’s greed for power or any kind of prosperity. These tragedies had universally affected the whole planet in one manner or another. It's been over five-hundred years have passed since humans have invariably call “ Home “ has been irreversibly damaged and forever changed. Most of the natural resources have been completely depleted. Water supplies everywhere, have become a luxurious and most expensive asset to grasp. Agriculture has become severely monitored for world-rationing needs. Overall, loose monetary currency isn’t being handled anymore; it was replaced by portable 50mm diameter pliable discs which only holds the individual’s savings. This device maintains similar aspects to the former 20th century interac card.

It’s the year 2562 AD; still humanity hasn’t found a decent method to properly live in harmony. The legendary ‘ space stations ‘ which were supposed to be built had never materialized because of each country’s ineffective finances and political collapses. Whether Armageddon came or not; ‘ Paradise ‘ will definitely never be found. Leftover continents were compelled to algamate to form new governmental structures and to unite new world delegations.

Orleans, Onquony had been initiated as the new capital of the new and only North American continent named: Canamera. Since the year of 2378 AD; capital cities like the former regions of Ottawa, Canada and Washington, DC were notably wiped out by floods, mud-slides and toxic wastes.

A 27 year-old female history major and a graduate of the L’Université de la Jeanne D’Arc; Tracy Javrol, had been working as a 23rd Century archivist in the new historical institution of The National Archives that its chronicled data was built and moved to a new locale. This job was previously been an internship until she had graduated, presently she’s now a full-time employee. Today, Tracy was assigned to work in another area of the archives where it was completely disregarded and abandoned. This was room filled with information that no one held any interest. She was instructed to distinguish what was good for restoration and rest of it should be totally destroyed. The committee had been looking for a supplementary hall to in extend some other of their forlorn archetypes.

Certainly, Tracy wasn’t very impressed since she was scheduled to clean up this radical and dusty ancient disarray, alone. She had been given a month’s time to get everything in order before displaying the new exhibits. Her undiminished attire had her dressed for either an archaeological expedition or a radiation fallout, she had to protect herself against any sort of bacterial infections that she may catch, involuntarily. By carefully manipulating sift through torn, damaged and torched documents, this was absolutely not a simple task.

Tracy’s boss had her heavily treading around this room like a ravenous scavenger trying to loot out every shred of valuable treasure she could discover and return it to her for any pecuniary credit. Even in the 26th Century, nothing has ever changed; humanity’s nature is still barbaric at heart. She was given wooden boxes to properly category between the sufficiently salvageable papers and the beyond ruined depositions.

After twenty minutes of trampling around the displeasing disorder, she was suddenly having some mental flashes in her mind. Prominent pictures of places which she never been were pounding in her head causing her immediate, dizziness. These photographs were creating feelings of remembrance. Tracy was positively too young to possess particular these memories. As she sat down to rest for a moment, her heart was beating quite profusely; she found herself in a cold sweat. She had wondered why was this strange occurrence happening to her??? Once, she had calmed down before regaining enough energy to proceed with her work, again.

While she was sorting out ancients documents into their appropriate crates; she had a glimpse an unusual corner of black binder sticking out from underneath a pile of dust and old furniture debris. Something was compelling to pick this up from this dreadful clutter; it was an old leather folder with the embroided initials: ‘ J.T. ‘ in the center of the cover. She had been whisking the book quite hastily for her to further read on. Unknowingly, she had stumbled upon some kind of a time capsule of historical wealth depicting the fabulous and most forgotten sights and sounds of a kindred yesteryear. It was obviously disregarded and lost in the midst of all the archival registers.

Tracy had quickly decided to take her morning break from her alleged ‘ office excavation’. She instantly rushed to the institution’s catalogue data base to look up anything that would have pertained to this ancient leather folder. During twenty minutes into after her break, she had meticulously sought out every known possibility, but she candidly found nothing in the computer files. Somebody had either forgotten or didn’t bother to take the time to record this purchased document, seriously. The thought did cross her mind that the original register could have also been edited, rewritten and destroyed without a trace. There was no such existing roster or literary mention for a ‘ J.T. ‘ manual.

As she was being pensive; this binder had some type of hold on her. Tracy couldn’t figure it out, yet she was again compelled to find out what it was all about. Within the absence of her condescending and dominating forewoman, she took advantage of an opportunity to bring this book and leave it secured in her employee locker. Now, once office hours were done; she had to devise a manner to smuggle this relic out of the building without being detected. Then, Tracy rushed back to return to her excavating room before her boss came back caught her not working in sifting through the irrevocable and belletristic ruins.

Tracy had closely noticed that several of the antique remnants had 21st century security microchips or identifiable printed circuit boards wired onto each and every book. Little rectangular plastic plaques were pasted on all of the bindings. Assumingly, this custom was to protect the establishment from any piracy. It was a comparable apparatus found in public libraries, schools and numerous transportation admittances in order to prevent impulsive theft and contraband entries.

Evidently, it became a curious entity to her; she cautiously studied it and approached her boss with obsolete component. Her boss had revealed to her that those ancient labels were archaic and weren’t incompatible with today’s technology. She also mentioned to her that in her standpoint, there would be no point of retaining these illegible and faded materials with the same type of tags will eventually be shredded into oblivion. This was assuredly a dreadful impression coming from an historical curator. Her rude behavior was indicating that she didn’t care in preserving priceless moments of the past.

Anyway, she had clearly ignored her boss’s negativity towards these notable relics; yet she still was captivated with the data the binder that she found in the confusion. Once 1pm came around, she decided to eat out instead of staying in the cafeteria; she removed her uniform and put on her coat. Without anyone around, she casually slipped the binder in her handbag and went to the laboratory to locate a knife to attempt in peeling off the old security tag. In minutes, she had fully succeeded its removal.

Undetected, she inconspicuously left the building without any alarms going off. She was definitely relieved. While eating her meal in a diner, she was scrupulously examining and cleaning every piece of informative details which Jason had written down; amidst leafing through the book, she found a cryptic map with mathematical equations. Anybody with a math degree would be able correctly decipher it. And it just happens that Tracy had previously excelled in this field during her brief high school era. She had graduated with honors in the subject.

Apparently after the sundry of disasters, legal properties like Jason’s original Last Will & Testament weren’t considered as a priority for human recuperation. Nothing like this was ever salvaged and wouldn’t exist today, even a copy would have never materialized, since a myriad of offices were destroyed including their contents.

After her working day was over at 5:30pm on a Thursday evening; she went home to her parents. She had supper and abruptly went up to her room to study the mystic map. With the assistance of a computer generated map; she excitedly started with her calculations. It took her at least five hours of disentangling before she did arrive to a conclusion. Well, at 12:30am when she finally went to bed. Fortunately, she was able to have at least four hours of opulent sleep. Little did she realize, she subconsciously did discover the actual location of Jason’s vault.

By 9am, Tracy had been randomly late for work; her unruly boss tore into her for a decent explanation. At that instance, groggy as she was, she wasn’t in the mood to put up with her stupidity. As a dedicated worker, she instinctively told her boss off for the very first time to mind her own business and she didn’t have own up for her actions to her just as long as her work was completed on time. She just had enough! “ If you’re not happy with me, fire me, you idiot, OK !!! ” In shock, her boss had quietly walked away with dismay and without saying another word to Tracy.

Tracy began to haphazardly return to her assignment as if nothing ever happened. She was indubitably feeling great for standing up for herself; a sense of relief had overcome her. With her suit on and sifting through the remnants, she couldn’t help recalling the exact location in her mind’s eye of Jason’s vault.

On Saturday morning, she decided to get up early and dress up accordingly for her excursion. Alone, armed with her notes, digging tools and provisions; her hoverom was packed. She was ready to venture out for this long lost strongbox. It took her approximately two hours to accurately discover the precise location. Once she had arrived to the area that she supposedly calculated to. After two hours of digging, she couldn’t believe her eyes what she found. These notes had brought her to a vaguely and especially familiar landscape. This was unquestionably a very frightening concept.

Once the chest was unearthed, she pried it opened with her pick; fortunately the door hinges were rusted off, so she had no need for any explosives which she brought. In discovering the ledger and discs which Jason left behind; she began reading the notes which he narrated. A swift chill went up her spine when she had noticed that his writings were in an distinctively proportional manner as hers. While leafing through the pages, she had remarkably perceived that these notes just happened be an extension of her father’s pending research. This lucky strike will indeed answer some of his genetic road blocks. These observations were retraced over about 2000 years of literary ancestral reports and notable anecdotes pertinent specific family members.

Too stimulated to read any further, she had anxiously loaded this genealogical treasure into cardboard boxes with the damaged safe into her hoverom and promptly returned home to show her parents the great findings she came across by an unmistakable coincidence.

Or what is it??? Exceptionally, Jason & Tracy not have only the same amount of letters in each of their names, reversed initials and they each both possess similar memories, personalities, character traits and thought patterns.

Was it feasible or believable for Jason to be one day reincarnated into Tracy’s life to intentionally continue the work??? How did this individual know to protect an investment to one day be aware of the possibility of re-existence??? Actually, no one across time will ever know the real facts.

June 17, 2022 17:33

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