2020-04-08 - spike - Trapped again Part thirteen

Author: spike
Title: Trapped again. Part thirteen.
Date: 08 April 2020

Again, they were queued outside the class when he arrived.

Eric stood to one side again and studied them for a moment. “OK… Now who’s taking this seriously? You know what happens if you fail again?”

A few sighs, a few grumbled acknowledgements but they all nodded.

He pointed at one at random. “How many sixteenths to a dotted minim?”

“Dotted? But he hasn’t covered that… has he?”

“No, but the two chapters you should’ve read by now did. You haven’t read it yet, have you?”

“He gave us until”

Eric sighed. “You’re not taking it seriously enough! You should’ve read those chapters twice by now! Just to make sure you bloody well absorbed it!” He glanced at his new friend. “How many?”

Meuler grinned. “You were right and I’m apologising to you in front of this lot, this time. Twelve. The dot adds half the note’s duration again.”

“Who else knew that?”

Half the class put their hands up.

“The rest of you, read that fucking book! I don’t give a damn about ooo, I can’t remember that stuff, excuses. You can if you stop yourself from turning off! No more day dreaming! Pay a-fucking-tension! I’ll be on hand if you ask. Cell four dash twelve. Call me if you need help.”

He resumed his place at the back and waited.

The teacher arrived a few minutes later. A couple more and they were all seated.

“It’s time. I know some of you will have put off completing my homework and will still be as useless as ever when it comes to notation, but I’m warning you now, the next test I give you will be in the next lesson. The questions will be harder and you know how much time you lose if you gain demerits. I want each and every one here to get at least fifty per cent. If you manage to get seventy, I’ll even add a privilege or lock, just as I did with those two last time.”

Eric grinned. “I didn’t think to check, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“I don’t like to make a song and dance about it, but you earned it. Baxter did too.”

“Time for what, sir?”

The teacher smiled, swiped his hand by a panel at the front of the class and a section of wall pulled back and slid to one side to reveal a glass case. He opened it and began arranging the contents on the front desk. Flutes.

“When I hand you a flute, wave your hand over the end. It’ll register that instrument to you. It will be for your exclusive use. Wind instruments can be a health hazard if shared, so make sure you don’t. You use yours and yours alone. In this lesson, you will learn how to make it produce a sound. More than that, no. It can be tricky for the beginner. The fingering, the notes, scales and melody… They can wait.”

He walked around the class and placed a flute on each desk.

Eric did as he’d been told and waved his hand over it. It made a beep.

A series of other beeps went off around the room.

The teacher returned to the front and picked up the final flute. “And this one’s mine. The flutes you now hold are beginner-level instruments. You will continue to use those until grade six when you will move on to the more advanced models. Those have open holes, rather than the mechanical covers these do. Now, who can guess why?”

Eric glanced around the room but none of the others put their hands up, so, he did.

“Go on, Unknown.”

“When you do it with your fingers, you have more control, sir?”

“Not only more control, but more sensation. An experienced flautist can feel the vibrations at those holes. They can modulate the output far more based on those vibrations. They can choose to partially cover the holes, enabling an even wider ranger of notes and sound quality.”

The rest of the lesson, how to hold the flute, correct finger positioning and much more importantly, how to blow into it.

Unlike the recorder which had a mouthpiece, this just had a hole and you didn’t just clamp your mouth over it and bow. It took half the lesson, even with the theory from the books he’d been reading, to blow across that hole in the right way.

Eric jumped the first time he produced a sound. After that, he experimented.

By the end of the lesson, he was producing a poor rendition of ba-ba-black sheep and it wasn’t only him. The room was filled with a cacophony of discordant notes.

The teacher held his hands up and the room fell silent.

“Excellent work. Excellent. Before we leave today though. Individually.” He pointed at Eric. “Go.”

Again, Eric played ba-ba black sheep badly.

He pointed at Cerol. “And you?”

Eric had never heard the tune, but it wasn’t bad.

Each student was called, each made the attempt and only three still couldn’t do it.

The teacher nodded. “Dismissed. I want you all to take the flutes with you and practice, tonight before lights out, but you, you or you.” His finger jabbed at the three who’d remained silent. “You require extra tuition and that will be now. I’ll get you producing a note before you go.”

Eric sighed. “Sir. I can’t.”

“What?”

“Take the flute, sir.”

The teacher’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t thought. I’ll have a word with the guards and your PE teacher. Try to get him to release you from your obligations tomorrow between lessons. You can practice then. I suggest you make use of the assembly hall. You can take the flute at the end of the first lesson and return it at the end of the second. You’ll get your practice time.”

Eric joined Meuler as they left the room. “So, gym again for you, now?”

“Yep. After the last time, I want to see how far you can push me.”

Eric chuckled. “It’ll be a pleasure.”

They left the room together to find three guards waiting.

“50095223, Unknown?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Turn, face the wall, hands behind your back.”

“Yes, sir.”

The moment Eric did so, the rigid wrist restraints snapped on, followed by the collar and belt. Another snap as the restraints locked to it, immobilising his arms.

Eric looked over his shoulder. “Looks like I won’t be pushing you in the gym after all.”

“What is this? What have you done?”

“I can’t shrug in this position, but I can guess… Visitor, sir? Or Governor summons?”

“Visitor. Come on.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Shit!” Meuler stared at him in horror. “You have all that? Just for a visit?”

Eric walked to the communal area and called over his shoulder. “Any time I’m in view of the public. Or the governor. One of the things about being black. Sir, does doctor Conrad know?”

“Should he?”

“I think it might be important he be there, sir. Depends who my visitor is, but there’s a lot on his computer that might be needed, sir.”

“Very well. Computer, inform doctor Conrad that prisoner 50095223, Unknown has a visitor.”

“Affirmative.” There was a pause. “Doctor Conrad has expressed his interest and asks that you be informed that he will present himself.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The guard led him along the perimeter of the communal area to the pointy end of the triangle, swiped a door and continued down a long corridor. Door after door after door, until, a swipe to one at the side and a large room with tables and chairs presented itself.

There were a few in there already and sitting at a table in the middle, one man without a prisoner. Eric continued to follow the guard until they were level with it. The guard pulled out the chair and pointed.

“Sit.”

“Thank you, sir.” Eric sat and studied the man. He looked to be in his late forties, maybe early fifties. Dark hair peppered with grey. His mouth twisted into what could only be described as extreme distaste.

“Hello, sir. I’m sorry, but they haven’t informed me who you are.”

“My name is Doctor Van Holder! What the shit is this about? You’ve wasted enough of my time, confessing, rendering my testimony, not that I had any, utterly invalid. Who the crap do you think you are?”

“A friend, sir. And before you complain about wasted time, my mission was a simple one or should’ve been. I was sent here to deliver some medical information courtesy of your ex-employee, Doctor Cal Anderson. It should’ve only taken a couple of hours to get to you, deliver the message and return home. Now I’m stuck here for god knows how long, so, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t complain about wasted time when I’m unlikely to get out of here for months. Sir.”

“And yet, you confessed to”

“I did not confess to anything, sir. I wasn’t even conscious during the questioning when they heaped all those trumped-up charges on me. I’m a sane individual, sir. Not someone who’d admit to murdering my first so-called victim at the age of six months.”

“And the suicide attempt? Explain that!”

“Put it this way, sir. You wake up in a blank white room. Utterly featureless. You only locate the door by tapping on all the walls and then what? Stuck there for days with no food or water. What would you do when no instructions were given? That, sir, is what happened to me. It was attempted murder and they would’ve succeeded too if I hadn’t resorted to drinking my own piss, sir!”

The distaste twisted even more to disgust. “You… You did what?”

“I’m a soldier. Survival is something that’s drummed into us from the very start, sir. It may have tasted foul but without that water, I would have died in that cell.”

“And just what is it you were trying to deliver? Obviously you can’t deliver it now, restrained as you are and without access to anything.”

“Doctor Van Holder… Please… Lose the attitude. I came here, to this world, for the best of intentions and instead, the police decided to, as the doctor here called it, parbroke me. Doctor Conrad is on his way and he has on his computer everything mine contained. The package will be delivered.”

“And this package contains?”

“Everything Cal’s discovered in the past few years, sir. More, his reason for not being back here. He made a few breakthroughs. A means to encourage paralysis victims to recover more quickly. A more efficient use of antibiotics and… other things concerning me, sir.”

“But antibiotics aren’t even close to human trials!”

“Where I’m from originally, antibiotics have been available to the general public for eighty years, sir. They’ve saved countless lives, but there’s a problem. Doctor Anderson, with the aid of the computers, came up with a solution to that problem. Do you have your scanner on you, sir?”

“Ye-es?”

“Then scan me. I’m proof.”

He nodded. “Computer, scan the individual sixty centimetres in front of me. Full physical, medical and neurological.” He glowered at Eric. “This should highlight any signs of mental instability.”

“Fine by me, sir.”

“Scan complete.”

“Three screens, display.”

Two replicas of Eric appeared. One, outside appearance, another, every blood vessel, every nerve, every bone and organ laid bare and on the third screen, a scan of only his brain and spinal column.

“Might I suggest you ask it to highlight any evidence of damage caused by infections, sir?”

“Very well. Computer, do as the last person who spoke suggested.”

The second screen changed, highlighting his urethra and adding a dimmer colouration around that area.

The doctor looked at Eric in alarm. He prodded the simulation. “Identify.”

“Evidence of damage caused by the bacterium Neisseria Gonorrhoeae. Estimate one week of accumulated damage after initial infection. No known markers present to indicate how the infection was eradicated.”

“What do… Computer, explain. How long ago was the infection?”

“Five years based on known patterns of healing.”

Eric nodded. “Actually closer to three, sir. Not five. I’m a fast healer. The reason there’s no sign of any bacteriophages is because they weren’t used to cure it. Antibiotics were, sir.”

“Computer. Search for any sign of antibiotic molecules.”

“None are present.”

“Errr… Sir, the course of antibiotics I took lasted three months, just to be sure I was in the clear, but… They would’ve been flushed out of my system very quickly after I stopped.”

“Stopped? Why would you stop? What about as a preventative measure?”

“Antibiotics are a cure. It’s not safe to use them as a preventative. You know we have a hell of a lot of symbiotic bacteria, sir. In our gut? To aid digestion? Overuse causes serious trouble for another reason too.”

“What other reason?”

“Resistance, sir. That’s the problem doctor Anderson found the solution to. Bacteria evolve, sir. They replicate very quickly and if even one has a mutation that resists the effects of an antibiotic… Well, you know they can evolve to evade phages. The same is true of antibiotics. They were seen as almost a form of magic in the early days. Massively overused. As a result, there are a lot of strains now that are increasingly difficult to cure. There’s even talk of a return to a dark age without antibiotics in my original world because of it. Because a hell of a lot of bacteria will have resistant strains. It’s an arms race and humanity’s losing.”

“And what was his solution?”

“Use a phage first. Wipe out as much of an infection as possible before the introduction of antibiotics to mop up the rest. Kill in two phases, reduce the number that have the chance to gain a resistance.”

“And he’s actually used this methodology?”

“Yes, sir. Lymes disease was the first. I know he must’ve done the same a lot since then, sir, including syphilis, sir.”

“Look… Just… Where is he?”

“I thought the doctor Conrad said he’d explain that, sir. He’s in my world, and loving it, sir.”

“He showed me some things that can’t possibly exist.”

“How closely have you been following the work on string theory, sir? The means by which they can manipulate them?”

“A little.”

“Well, I don’t need gadgets to do it for nearby timelines, sir. I still do to travel great distances though, and my home is a huge distance away. A timeline that branched from yours well over two hundred years ago.”

“And how far is that?”

“Best estimate? The last time we performed a measurement, about fifty million miles away, but that was over eighteen months ago. Much further now.”

“And you claim to be able to… what exactly?”

Eric sighed. “My arms are clamped behind my back, sir. So I can’t… Hmm…” Eric smiled. “Look under the table, sir. Normally, I’d make my arm disappear to demonstrate, I suppose my leg’s good enough.”

Eric waited until he was looking, shifted and pushed his foot into the corridor.

There was a gasp. The doctor scrambled under the table. “Blood and shit! Hold that. Computer, repeat the previous scans!”

“Affirmative.”

He scrambled out from under the table and stood, staring at the screens. This time, he concentrated on the neural display. Expand, move, dive in, switch to activity filtered display. His jaw dropped.

“I’ve never… The activity…”

Eric nodded. “I know, sir. Cal was just as awestruck. What’s more, it may have come naturally to me, but it’s teachable. Did he show Cal leave his house for the last time?”

The doctor nodded.

“The man who was with me… I’d been teaching him how to do it for a while, sir. Moving to a world with enough distance from our own was enough to give him the kick he needed to do it unaided. That was the first day he’d been able to do it himself. There is a major limitation, though.”

“And that is?”

“Even now, I can do it, but none of the other mes that result in the branching of time can. One only. Ever.”

“So… This’ll be it for you if you find your one of them? This hell hole? For life? You can use your… talents to leave whenever you like, surely? Once you’ve delivered this data package?”

“There is no way out, sir. I’m chipped. The police implanted it before I was moved here, sir. Besides, the prison’s been here too long. Too far to walk and every door’s electronic. Impossible to escape. I just have to wait, sir.”

“For what?”

“Retrial. When you’ve reviewed the data I’ve delivered this time, I’d like you to come again, sir. To testify on my behalf. I’ve been warned that even after that retrial, I’m still likely to be here for a while, though.” Eric sighed. “At least I’ll be able to plead not guilty to all charges this time, but I’m happy enough. Frustrated I’ll miss a couple of important appointments, but it’s not too bad in here, sir.”

“But you’re wearing black!”

Eric shrugged. “Doesn’t matter if I’m under a stricter regime than the rest. My only fear is what happens…” he looked around… lowered his voice… “One of the penalties I’d face if someone managed to sneak something into my cell, sir… Block eight’s nasty and might end up being for life. I’m being careful but it’s still a concern. As long as I avoid that until the retrial though, I’ll be fine. I doubt I’ll be in black after it.”

“And block eight?”

“The introduction when I activated my cell said I’d be denied any communication with the outside. Even if a retrial did occur after reassignment to block eight, I’d be denied the right to speak and being in block eight would not go down well with the judge. Only one person assigned to eight’s managed to gain release in the past fifty years and that’s only the start, sir. Permanent lockdown, only allowed out to use the gym. No privileges either. That’s what scares me, sir.”

He gulped. “I don’t… I… That does sound truly horrific. And you’re only guilty of a minor injury and a few stolen computers? What about those restraints, aren’t they uncomfortable?”

“I paid for those computers with the antibiotic data as far as I’m concerned, sir. Of course, they also pinned Cal’s abduction on me along with a shedload of false charges. I take it you’ve seen he came willingly? As for the restraints, very uncomfortable, sir. It’s just something I have to live with. This is how all blacks present themselves to the public.” Eric looked over his shoulder at the door. “Where’s doctor Conrad? He should’ve been here by now!”

“Don’t worry. You’ve convinced me. I’ll wait.”

“Thank you, sir.”

They waited, the doctor continuing to study the scans. “Your back…”

“Whip scars. The second world I encountered, I ended up trapped in for over six months, sir. As a slave. It was there I changed. Grew up in more ways than one and some of the benefits… That’s another component in doctor Anderson’s research, sir. He isolated some anomalies in my blood that aid healing, sir, and it was the food they forced us to eat as slaves that did it.”

“How on earth did he find out about that?”

“A friend was injured and I provided a blood transfusion. He recovered in record time so I asked Cal to draw some blood for analysis. Medical regulations back home aren’t as strict as here, so, when a couple of soldiers on an exercise suffered from burst eardrums, he had an opportunity to test what he’d found. They’d recovered their hearing in less than a week, sir.”

“But that’s…”

“They volunteered, sir. It wasn’t forced on them or much of a risk considering my blood transfusion aided my friend before he even drew that sample.”

“And they suffered no ill effects?”

Eric shrugged. “If they did, I haven’t heard of it, sir. From my friend or them, sir. I imagine he continued to monitor their progress long after the initial treatment. Probably included all that in the package too, sir.”

A yell echoed across the room. “Wait. Don’t…” Conrad rushed up to them. “Don’t leave yet. I’m sorry, Unknown. I got the message when I was in the middle of an examination. Utter waste of time, too. The prisoner was just faking it.” He pulled up a chair from one of the empty tables and slumped beside Eric.

Eric grinned. “It’s OK, sir. We’ve been talking for some time. I’ve convinced him my wish to contact him was genuine. If I’d been at that bloody trial everything would’ve gone much more smoothly. My computer would’ve been unlocked, I would’ve transferred the package and I would’ve been back home for over a week at this point.”

Conrad sighed. “Thank you for coming, doctor.”

“Sir, can you grant me access?”

He nodded. “Computer, grant access to prisoner 50095223.”

“Access granted.”

“Computer. Run program Anderson-2020-11-18.”

The doctor appeared, resplendent in his best uniform.

Van Holder stared. “What the hell is he wearing?”

“I’m not the only one in the army, sir. We had a spot of bother a few years ago that required military aid. A few high ranking officers were among them and they convinced both of us to join up.”

“He’s… He’s a soldier?”

“He’s an officer, sir. A Major. More than that, he’s my commanding officer. Chief medical officer of the royal army medical corps in our camp and commander of it, sir.”

The image spoke. “This program has detected artefacts that indicate the computer it resides on has been recently unblocked. That can only mean one thing. Is Eric present?”

“I’m here, sir.”

“And Doctor Van Holder?”

Van Holder nodded. “I’m here.”

“Good. Before I speak to you I will address the court. Let it be known by all here present that the man standing trial before you today is a good man. A man responsible for the introduction to this world of the concept of antibiotics. Yes, he committed a few minor crimes but think of the good the knowledge he gave us will bring. See that as a recompense for those crimes, please. He turned. Your honour, if you must sentence him… Don’t make that sentence too harsh. I was not abducted. I went with him on an errand of mercy, willingly. He offered to return me home at any point should I wish it. I chose not to.”

“Computer, pause. What… is this?” Van holder pointed at the image.

“He ordered me to allow myself to be arrested if my computer was blocked, sir. The only time he thought it’d be unblocked was when I was standing trial. It’s all preprogrammed, sir.”

“Of course. Good thought on his part. A little too late, though.”

“You saw what the police did at my arrest. I said I’d come willingly but instead… Well. Computer, resume.”

“Bren, I’ve detected your computer and the files have now been transferred, but I feel I should explain some of them in person, so to speak, not just for you, but for the benefit of the court.”

Cal continued, going over some of the antibiotic data in far more detail then Eric had. When he finished with that subject, an image appeared beside him. It was Rhy, standing before his easel, painting a stormy sea with a large blank section in the middle.

“What you’re seeing is not a boy, painting. It’s a projection of a projection. A simulated boy controlled by the nerve impulses passed to the computer by my hoverscans. For this treatment to be effective, you have to find something to interest a patient. Something that will keep their attention. Something that offers both large movements and fine muscle control. The boy was an accomplished artist before his accident. These were his statistics on the day he began that painting.”

A screen appeared beside the image.

“And these were his statistics one month later.”

A second screen appeared.

“I highly encourage you begin by advocating the resumption of old lost arts and crafts among all the populace. If they’re good at it before they require treatment, I believe it will be much more effective. You might consider those skills redundant but a lot of enjoyment and satisfaction can be gained in pursuit of them. I’ve included a few instructional works from the public domain archive in this file as examples. Books explaining technique from beginner to advanced in several of these crafts.”

Van Holder stood and stared at the screens. “Computer, pause. This… It’s…”

Eric grinned. “And to make things better, while I am here, I’ve offered my services, sir. I should be permitted to teach my craft of choice soon. Carpentry. I’ve also proposed to the governor he encourage the resumption of art classes based on those books, sir.”

“These statistics are astounding. I’ve never… Computer, resume.” He turned to the image. “What’s this boy’s prognosis now?”

“Apart from an unusual gait which some intense physiotherapy will rectify, the boy is back on his feet and has been for over six months with full control of his limbs and other bodily functions.”

“What percentage of restoration?”

“At this point in time, ninety-five per cent. Once his gait has been corrected, one hundred per cent is estimated.”

“It was a severe injury. I’ve never seen anything like this!”

“This is why I asked Eric to return. It was something you needed to see. I’ve included every piece of data concerning Rhy’s recovery in the data package.”

“Eric. I’ll be at your retrial, eagerly this time. The sacrifice you were willing to make to get this to me… You don’t deserve to be here, even as a petty criminal. I’ll push with everything I have to aid in your release.”

“Thank you, sir.”