The Shadow of Valour

The wind blew through the city streets, and a sign announced to Hector Mares’s hologram that he was nearing a crossroads. There were gaps in the traffic but soon enough the lights changed and he navigated the cyber truck to the diner to meet Johnny Antunes. Antunes from the Canadian Spacetime Agency who was his contact.

He walked into the diner and sat opposite Johnny and his girlfriend, who had brought a quilted backpack. He shook hands with both.

He wants to work with us,’ said Johnny.

“What do you need me for?” asked Mares.

“We need you to decrypt a signal."

"I see you've both had a drink," said Mares. He often flatly refused to reiterate statements, preferring to ask polite questions. "You work for the Canadian Spacetime Agency as well?" he leaned forward as he spoke, addressing the girl.

"Yes. We…the Canadian Spacetime Agency, were ridiculed before the.. signal," interrupted Johnny, dangling wavy hair over the plexiglass table.

"The signal?" Hector spun a hundred degrees around to Johnny.

"When everything changed.’ Sally, sitting next to him was quick to respond, “and by the way, I study ancient pots and textiles. Not the sort that are respawned in the holographic time observatory, but the real thing.”

Mares noticed an absence of tattoos on Sally and leaned over to her quizzically. There was something physically approaching perfection about her form and one tattoo on her upper arm, the length of her black crop top, a condor, its eye cocked out at the viewer hinted that she knew it. The hologram’s threat sensor quivered.

“I don’t want my body to be a receptacle for bad art," she said, following his gaze.

It’s not bad art, it’s er… enduring.” Mares experienced the hologram's five sense sensors without having mastered concurrent ambience, its latest feature.

“Look,” she said, “if we trace the Nazca's pots and textiles back, we see they made them as scale models for pictures for…observers in space… who have sent us a signal." Her car, a sun-bleached red Tesla with a coat of paint which now looked the color of pink lipstick, was barely twenty metres away, parked against a pink, black and yellow pavement circle, a VIP parking spot. The diner was red leather upholstery, similarly, the chairs were in harmony, the round wooden-backed sort. A couple of wall mounts attested to the hygiene and outstanding quality of the food. Why the pink color in a hot country? It was an unspoken sentence. Instead, he asked, "What is the time observatory?"

"A triumph of science," said Johnny, and "After all, other countries had had the automobile, the submarine, the artificial satellite, and the celestial observatory." It was just a logical extension. Progress in hologram technology meant you could access the past by sending your hologram through the screen to anywhere in the past, even before you were born. Sally added this, proving that she knew a lot from Johnny.

 "How are you proposing I deal with the signal, Johnny?" Mares looked away from her to him as her phone began ringing.

“We think we have leads on it, clues, ah, suggesting figures in the Nazca lines being linked in a sort of sentence. It’s that short.”

The girl walked over to her pink Tesla. She wore her brown hair with a slight side parting. She found the car keys in her bag. “Why can we no longer space travel?” asked MARES, hoping for an answer. "That's what the signal tells us," replied the spacetime engineer, "We just need the confirmation by a cryptologist such as yourself. You see, there has been a series of misfired rockets, deaths in training and engine shutdowns, in other words, the human race is quarantined. I want you to note certain things which were useful to us in, ah, developing—yes, that’s it—developing this civilization. Then we will send it back to the stone age."

Mares felt a strange disorientation. "What sort of things?" he asked, his voice trembling.

“Quite a number of items. I’ve prepared a list for you,” Johnny paid for Mares's coffee then asked him to de-hologramize, he probably didn't use that word.

Mares pressed an app button and the cyber truck made its way through the low-lying bushes. Mares climbed in the back to a small laboratory. The wall controls were four colored slightly protruding spheres the size of marbles arranged like the axes of a tetrahedron. The three spheres at the base were red, yellow, and blue, while the fourth at the apex was white. Three spatial controls, one time control. Displacing any control away from the center moved the other end. The time observatory’s first field model, its packed hardware was as shockproof as the opportunity rover’s. Johnny told him to point towards the intermontane valleys of the Nazca plain, to the developed sophisticated irrigation systems (such as puquios). With another adjustment, the image became transparent, and Mares arrived in the first century BCE. “OK, you've turned the top sphere back two thousand years,” said Johnny's whiny voice, sounding as if coming from a place so distant it couldn't be identified. “To pinpoint a moment in time, you must balance all four controls precisely. Adjust the red sphere, and the coordinates shift slightly, moving you closer to or further from a distant star. Twist the yellow, and you might find yourself on a different plane, perhaps in a parallel universe where the laws of physics subtly differ. Turn the blue, and the elevation changes, placing you deeper within a gravity well or lifting you out of one. But it's the white sphere that holds the key to the moment itself. It must be aligned with the spatial controls in perfect harmony. A fraction too much or too little, and the moment slips away like sand through fingers. Time isn't just a fourth dimension; it’s the breath that animates the other three."

"I knew that," snapped Mares.

That done, but he could see the dense foliage and fruit trees and vegetables among the greenery. His alignment was confirmed by the light turning green on another button which had also been mentioned in the training. It was disorienting, but his instructor had been right. The voice was annoying but necessary. That was just a test.

With another careful manipulation, he steadied on a present-day city, observing cars, architecture, and other signs. After several false tries, he pinpointed midtown Toronto, Canada, amused as he thought of it like a ‘20th century New York on aspirin’ as someone had said. Then he found the diner again. He knew it from the posters.

Sally said exact figures of the flora and fauna of the geoglyphs at Nazca, the whale, the monkey, the tree, the hummingbird, shark, parrot and dog, were all worked into the fabrics which she studied. The originals were drawn on pots. The signal would explain all of them, once decrypted. And the signal would complete the mystery. Then they could erase the Nazca lines in a time observatory if they could turn it into an actual time travel machine, and this could never happen, or was always 50 years away, depending on who you listened to these days. But he now had her in his sights, so to speak.

Perhaps, he thought, he would give her the lie about how easy the cryptography life was.

“Don’t worry, it’s like a holiday,” he told her. The unexpected rigorousness of his discipline had broken his brain many times. Sally called to Winnie per pet spectacled bear, who had been waiting patiently in the car. She was listening to Mares with half an ear.

"It's all about perspective," Mares began. "In cryptography, we've got a unique way of turning challenges into opportunities." As he spoke, Sally sensed his words were just to gee himself up. She'd not doubted his credentials, nor had she met anybody like him before, but he just wasn't in her scene. She listened as if he would never appreciate the precision skills weaving required or the fluency needed to throw a pot and pattern it and finish it off without a computer or a 3D printer.

"Holidays typically conjure images of relaxation and enjoyment. How does cryptography fit in?" Sally pushed him to explain the false statement. "Think of it this way – instead of lounging by a pool, you apply your body and mind to an inner pattern which starts like the abstract ripples in a swimming pool. Cryptography is like an all-inclusive fitness retreat." Sally pressed him further. "Fitness retreats usually don't involve superior powers of deduction."

Admiration flickered in his eyes. "You're right," he conceded with a nod. "But in this sort of work, discipline and resilience are the bedrock of success. And trust me, it helps to be not just mentally fit, but physically as well."

Sally said, “Yours sounds more like a vocation than a vacation.”

The grim reality of cryptography began to bug him. Filled with a sense of excitement and anticipation, he withdrew.

Sally's hologram had been through the time observatory screen shortly before their meeting. She telephoned in her report on her phone as she drove.

In the shadows of towering ferns, vibrant hues of emerald and jade danced in the dappled sunlight, Sally climbed down the slope. Unseen creatures scurried through the undergrowth, their movements hinting at the hidden mysteries of the forest. She could smell it, see the lush green vegetation, hear the sounds of wildlife and running water, and taste the scented fresh and exotic fruits, soil, and decaying plants and wood. With fleeting glimpses of delicate butterflies, their wings shimmering with iridescent blues and greens, reflecting the fragile yet resilient essence of life in the wilderness, she trod deeper into the forest, the symphony of unseen insects, the distant calls of mysterious birds, and the occasional slithering of an elusive Sao Paulo Caecilian creating the illusion of being one with nature. Beneath her feet, the floor felt alive, her latest step sinking into a soft carpet of leaves which deadened the sounds. It was as if she were walking on a cinema carpet. When she got a stable footing, delicate ectomycorrhizal mushrooms were growing up towards the canopy ceiling above her. As she ventured towards the cyber truck, the walking palms stood like ancient guardians, their peculiar stilt-like roots bearing witness to the passage of countless creatures.

Each step through the verdant landscape was fraught with uncertainty, as if every shadow held a lurking threat. Massive boulders, adorned with cascading moss and lichen, formed imposing natural alcoves. Despite the allure of the tranquil surroundings, the air was heavy with humidity, a tangible reminder of the dense wilderness enveloping her. The gentle gurgle of the feeder stream provided a constant soundtrack.

As Sally stumbled upon the majestic waterfall, its waters were promising relief from the heat of the day. Yet, even as she longed to quench her thirst and immerse herself in the beauty before her, caution gripped her even as the allure of refreshment tugged at her senses.

A glimmer of hope emerged with Johnny's provision of a meal in her backpack which she unhitched. The scent of dried meat and savory vegetables underneath the white plastic container felt like a small victory. The medley of forest wild plants, prepared with care and finesse, offered a taste of greens amidst the primeval foliage. In that fleeting moment of reprieve, she found sustenance for her body but also hope for her mind.

Suddenly, the ground beneath her trembled. The flooring seemed to come alive, vines and roots moving with a will of their own. She fought her way through then climbed into the waiting cyber truck’s back and pulled at the levers.

Sally found herself disoriented, standing in the middle of a bustling metropolis. It was Toronto, like New York City on aspirin. ‘Toronto the Good’, it was called, and everyone was polite and well-mannered. Even the hustlers trying to get on the bus said ‘please’. Towering skyscrapers dominated the skyline. A restaurant came into view. ‘El automovilista enojado’ and she went in, sat down and ordered a beer. A man with a novel pick-up line came over to her table and said, “Do like whole food and fast sex?” and she laughed out loud. “No,” she quipped, “but I like fast food and whole sex.” It was Johnny Antunes. They were meeting for the first time, in a pointed paradox her fumbling the time observatory had caused. But the buildings were shaking, and the sky was filled with the sound of alarms and sirens. She had arrived moments before a catastrophic event—the collapse of several skyscrapers due to a massive, unforeseen earthquake.

As the ground trembled and structures begin to fall, they navigated through the chaos, dodging falling debris. She realized that temporal instability might be causing these catastrophic events. Antunes took fright as she sat up ready to dive under the table.

A blinding light enveloped them. The skyscrapers faded away, and they were thrust through the temporal rift. They found themselves back at the base camp in Peru. The connection between the jungle and the collapsing skyscrapers served as a stark reminder of the unpredictable consequences of tampering with the fundamental forces of the universe.

Antunes observed the walls adorned with mementos from distant lands. He managed a playful smirk, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Darling, you look positively feral!" he exclaimed to Sally.

Natural wit did not put her in a talkative mood.

The Peruvian leaned against wall, his posture relaxed yet his eyes betraying a hint of curiosity. We have to go and meet Mares in the diner." Once there, he turned to Mares. "Cryptographer, huh?" he mused, the corners of his lips twitching into a wry smile. "So you solve puzzles...hard ones?" His air carried a mixture of hospitality and perhaps vain hope. "Civilization, my friend, is but a state of mind," he hinted. "I was born in the place where the signal was picked up. That makes me feel engaged in this."

Mares raised an eyebrow, his tone carrying much curiosity. "The signal?"

Antunes was having fun. "You have a way with words, my friend. Well get this, we are in a zero sum game with aliens, if not the aliens who make aliens a thing of the past." He spoke in an over-precise English. The twinkle in his eye suggested he was genuinely curious, perhaps even entertaining.

Sally said, "Like as in, no more adventures, no more, 'a big step for humankind' stuff and all that."

"I see by your tattoo that you hold a high regard for the condor," said Mares.

“These people…these aliens, they look like condors.. that's your first clue, now go out there and solve it, so we can get these things off our back."

At the revelation, a spark of excitement ignited within both of them. “Our friend here,” Antunes gestured warmly, “is a brave soul, fearlessly charting paths where others dare not venture.”

"Thank you," Mares said, addressing Antunes with a touch of warmth in his voice, "my worldly compatriot." There was a hint of admiration in his voice. "But," he continued, turning towards Sally, "caution is not without merit. The unknown can indeed be daunting, its mysteries sometimes too vast to comprehend."

Antunes the host lifted his glass with a subtle flourish, his eyes gleaming with warmth and sincerity. “To each their own, my friends,” he declared, his voice carrying a gentle cadence of acceptance and understanding. “Now, Mr. Cryptographer, if you will infer further about this signal we can all get some shut-eye.” Was that a reference to the condor Mares wondered.

The three stood and pored over the piece of paper, in the richly furnished red-orange base camp, adorned with its opulent décor. A sudden series of collapsing buildings shattered the tranquility. The once-stable ground trembled beneath them, and with a deafening roar, the building they were in succumbed to the relentless force, crumbling to the ground. As the dust settled and the chaos subsided, they emerged from the tumult, their hearts pounding with a mixture of relief and disbelief. Standing amidst the rubble, they surveyed the wreckage of what was once an opulent sanctuary. The grandeur of the apartment now reduced to a scene of devastation. They knew they had to act swiftly, the urgency of the situation palpable in the air. With a steely gaze filled with resolve, a glint of danger reflected in Sally’s narrowed eyes, she stepped forward to take charge. She spoke with a voice of conviction. "No time to waste," she growled in survival mode. “We must find an escape route from this labyrinth.”

With adrenaline surging through her veins, Sally pressed forward, each step through the debris-strewn corridors a perilous waltz with death. Trailing behind, the engineer and the cryptographer moved with a calm determination, their memories fixed on the mystery of the signal. Their knowledge offered no hope in their desperate quest.

Together, they pressed on, fueled by a shared resolve to defy the odds stacked against them. The crumbling city echoed with the sounds of collapse, a cacophony of destruction that served as both a warning and a challenge.

In this shattered landscape, amidst the ruins of what once was, Sally felt like it was an eternity of perilous trekking, she emerged from the wreckage into the cool night air, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Blinking against the ethereal light of the moon, she paused, allowing its silvery glow to wash over her and her trailing companions, casting long shadows across the ruined cityscape. In that moment of respite, amidst the chaos and destruction, she looked around for signs of a cessation. This was no aspirin-fueled city any more.

And so, they stood shoulder to shoulder, the flickering flames of her torch danced wildly, casting a long, shifting shadow. The night crackled with electric energy.