MoboReader> Fantasy > The Future Is Heaven

   Chapter 5 Time In Love Too Thin

The Future Is Heaven By Rian Torr Characters: 15152

Updated: 2018-11-04 12:02


Boston was summoned to the Inner Sanctum.

Aegeless One took a long time in order to begin.

Black had heard something was wrong but not what.

He was soon informed that Rivers had gone off alone.

He had skipped out earlier that morning on a Jump.

"We were tracking him for several Jumps until now."

"God damn it! He went and did it. You lost him?"

"We'll find him again soon, he's Jumping quick."

"He's doing it on purpose to jam up the feed."

"He can't sustain it for long. We'll find him."

"Your confidence is misplaced. He has tricks."

"That is why you are here. You've been reassigned."

"You want me to hunt him down. My own partner?"

"Tempors have loyalty to Eterniti not individuals."

"Yes, Aegeless One, but I feel someone else ..."

"We believe we know where he will end up."

"You think he's going after the girl don't you."

"You will Demort him and extinguish the girl."

"You want me to mess with the Timeline more?"

"Once threads are bare, they must be cauterized."

"Aegeless One, in all humility, this seems much."

"If you care not for this mission, we will defer."

"You will find someone else to do the work?"

"Yes—and you will be added to be Demorted."

Boston's head swam for he had heard the doom.

It was his life or his friend's—and he had a choice.

He knew he would regret it either way unto forever.

He doubted he would even be able to do it for sure.

He tried to imagine looking into Rivers' dying eyes.

"I will do it, " he said, bowed and departed gloomy.

Astara closed the fridge, feeling a little depressed.

She set her mug on the counter and refilled it.

She walked over to the dining table.

She noticed a magazine open.

She had not left it that way.

Then turned another page.

She gasped spilling coffee.

She spun about feeling chill.

Something had just walked past.

"Rockwell?" she said aloud, hopeful.

The window facing French and Fourth streets suddenly opened—letting a breeze blow in.

She rushed over, looking outside.

"Rockwell?" she pleaded pitifully.

But it was not Rockwell in her apartment. It was Calistico—sizing up Rivers' love—getting a sense for what he was up against—getting them back together.

Then opening the window, he flew off over the city asleep—the City of Sirens, as it was called, after the mysterious, melodic harmonies that were often heard coming from the direction of Mount Miramar. New London was a hotspot of interdimensional activity. It always had been—always would be—making it a favorite playground of Angels.

Calistico soared low and climbed high—taking in the sights and sounds of Rockwell's old stomping grounds. He wanted to understand this man's history—in order to get a grip on his future—and what motivated him onward.

Reports were coming into his mind regularly from his Overangel who was tracking Rockwell's whereabouts in time. Rockwell was to be warned the second Rivers arrived. They knew soon or later he would come for the girl—and they would be ready to save one from Hell in Eternity—if not both.

Rockwell skipped across the Great Timeline like a stone on the water. He was a ghost through history—an aloof traveler, hitching a ride out of the hands of the Aegeless One—by always staying one world ahead of the Tempors that now hunted him. It was at once exhilirating and terrifying.

He knew sooner than later he would have to make a final play toward some happy end. The Tempors would catch up to him eventually—but all that mattered was he see Star one last time and fulfill his promise of returning to her.

He hopped through the Middle Ages—back to the Stone Ages—up through the Egyptian times—into the far flung decades of the 20th century—before finally landing in 2050—phasing in at the back of a deserted bus en route through New London on track for Star's apartment block.

He could feel his heart slamming against rib cage.

His pattern of involvement with Astara was all tangled up inside him—making him long for her more now with every second—strung tighter and tighter inside about it.

It was early morning and she would be on her way to work soon—to catch this bus. A few more passengers got on before they arrived—but as they turned the corner—he saw that Astara was not there. He began to panic—sensing the Tempors were nearly upon him—worrying they already had her—when he saw her step out to the stop and stand waiting.

The bus stopped—the doors opened—and on she stepped—not seeing him instantly—making her way to the back of the bus—sitting directly in front of him. At first he did not budge—afraid of startling her—but then she turned around and looked directly at him—through him—around his seat—sensing his presence but still not seeing him so unsure.

"Star, " he said—phasing into fuller light—and she froze, jaw slung as if she wanted to scream but could not—then she nearly swooned fainting before catching herself—and looking closer—really making sure it was not just her eyes—but she could tell he was real.

"Rocko?" she offered.

"Yes … It is me, babe."

She kept staring intently.

He did not flinch—waiting for her to get over her initial disbelief—for her truer feelings to come flooding back.

"Is it really you, hunny?"

"Yes ... It's a long story."

"Am I just going crazy?"

"No, Star, you are not."

"You were at accident."

"Indeed. I was there."

"But why now? How?"

"I'm not dead, Astara."

"What do you mean."

He was bathed in light.

"I'm from the future."

"You are from what?"

"When you die—some get saved by future versions of us—who are immortal time travelers."

"But I didn't die. I survived."

"We had come to save you."

"You mean you saved me?"

"No … you changed that."

"What did I do to do that?"

"It is believed that you sensed my presence—so changing the course of the Great Timeline—which is the worst case scenario for a Tempor—and for the State of Eterniti. The State must be kept stable—unchanged by our Retrievals of souls from History. It is the Prime Duty—to Protect the Past."

"So you are in trouble then?"

"I am a wanted man, babe. Our time together is thin, until we make a choice otherwise. We are both in danger beforehand, before we take action now."

"I can hardly even believe you."

"I am really here. This happened."

"What kind of danger?" she inquired.

Suddenly something slammed on the bus roof.

They both looked up at once. The driver pulled over, hearing it too. Whatever it was now walked along the roof of the bus, each footstep coming down in a terrifying crunch of steel and strength. It was one of the Tempors for sure.

"What the Hell is that?" Star staggered in breath.

"We have to go, now ..." he said grabbing her hand.

He pulled her along to the front of the bus. The driver had the door open now and he was outside looking at the roof. A brilliant flash of blue light threw across him, leaving him awash in a blinding, temporary brainwash designed to separate him from consequences of Past Interference. The Tempor on the roof was now firing this Great Neutralizing Stunner all across the crowds that surrounded—stabilizing and insulating Eterniti from the harm of Timeline Trauma.

Two more Tempors were spotted up the street. Rockwell led Astara through the crowds on foot—following a winding way to shake the tail—as their clocks unwound.

"We have to make a choice. They will not take you back now that you've seen the Truth. They c

onsider you a risk to everything—and they will now terminate you on sight—just as they will with me for going rogue. Our only hope is beyond the stars there is a Heaven Greater than Eterniti."

"You know I don't believe there is—so what hope is there for us if the Rulers of the Future want us cold dead?"

"There is one other way—one way to evade."

"You mean just keep running? Is it possible?"

"They track us by our natures, not our energy. They predict where we will go—not measure it in any traditional sense. They use intuition—but call it code-breaking—when they knock through someone's walls of thought and principle—to come upon a prognostication for where they go next.

"We had such technology in innovation even in our time—but it became so advanced, to outwit the machines became challenging. We learned it is always still possible for a human to outsmart an electrode—but it requires a passion for original thinking. We cannot go anywhere we once wanted to travel. We cannot dress in any way we used to prefer. We cannot do anything that is anything like what we would be expected to do. We have to turn left even when right seems like no big deal. The more we change it up—the longer we will make it alive—and we will be together the entire time. I still have my Immortality—for they cannot take that back unless they have me pinned down—but when you have lived out your life—then I would so give up my Powers and go forward with you into whatever may lie beyond the Mountain of Mortality—beyond the Valley of Eterniti—in the Clouds of Creation—the Final Sun—where Our Love Shines."

He stopped and kissed her now, caught up in a throng. The crowds were continuing on their paths—but in zombie-like trances—only conscious enough to keep moving.

But then he sensed Boston's presence. Black was back.

He turned and saw him emerge from the mob in light.

"The is the End of the Line, my old friend, " he said.

"Boston … What? Oh … they got to you, I see …"

"Damn right, they got to me—look what you did."

"I didn't do anything, old man … I did this for her."

"And now you've lost both your lives for the cause."

"You have come to do what you must, so go on."

Rockwell knew he had the upper hand—he was more adept at Jumping than any Temp he knew—but bringing Astara complicated the balance—and it would take skill.

Black would be on him at every turn for the duration. He felt betrayed—but also understood the man's motivation. He truly believe, despite all their discussions, that Boston had no faith in spirits beyond his body—or of his body. All Black wanted was to fulfill his Dues of the Tempor and spend Eterniti on a tropical beach living in a hut with a hunny.

Rockwell could not blame him but would not die.

He would randomize every atom of his being first.

He would scatter their days to the ends of the earth.

There would be no tracks to follow—no clues to claw back—no stars to lead the way—only ever following chaos.

"You could have had FOREVER!!!" Boston roared.

His old partner laughed wickedly now, possessed.

He was bitten by the ego bug—the need to everlast.

This was the mentality to which every Citizen of Eterniti eventually succumbed. Aegless One no doubt told Black he would have everything he ever wanted in spades. But the way it always panned out was it was never enough.

Citizens of Eterniti were a dastardly bunch of energy thieves—all so hollow and vacant, without that creative spark—simply existing for the want of stealing someone else's spin.

"You see I don't need forever, when I am with her."

"Oh please, Rocko … You've got a lot to know."

"Aegless One is not right about everything, Black."

"Blasphemy! I am going to enjoy finishing you!"

"You say that now, but we were good friends."

"Some things change? Maybe I never cared."

"All you had to do was look the other way."

"They would have terminated me too, son."

"Don't call me that! My real father never got saved. He was scattered to the winds—and that is where I'm going—but not on your watch—not in this Line of the Times."

"You will die one day—whether by our hand or your own. You will not last long once she is gone."

The wind was picking up into gusts.

"I won't on going on without her."

Black shook his head in disgust.

Aegeless One's Eye materialized.

It peered down through clouds.

Rockwell knew the time was up.

It was now or not at all if anything.

One look from the One could strip him from Immort and then he and Astara would both be lost.

Boston saw Rockwell's hand move to his side—and he knew the boy was going to activate his randomizer.

Black jumped to chase them down—but their particles were already blinking in and out—about to launch into photons—weaving waves through the dimensions of Time and Space—threading them across the toroid of History.

But even with the spectacular talents that Rockwell had learned through his time as a Tempor—none of that would have saved them without getting a head start. He had waited too long—given Boston too much time—allowed the Aegeless One to descend upon their position—and so the only thing that intervened was the Angel he did not know he had.

Calistico unfolded from a realm of Gold—white wings spreading wide as he stood his ground before Black—shining.

The crowds who still milled about in a trance noticed none of this. It was an event outside of Time in the sense that nothing they did would jeopardize the gait of greater tomorrows—nor close their gateways back to the future Present—but Black knew if he did not finish Rockwell he would be finished himself—so Calistico was just a footnote.

He stormed the Angel—firing off a flurry of rounds—screaming toward the Messenger of Heaven with a searing determination to destroy whatever blocked him from target.

"Stand down, " Calistico commanded, voice in heights.

"I spare no quarter for demons from ether-frames."

"Rockwell is protected by Divine Right, mortal."

"Deliver me from your fantasy, fool—and die!!!"

Boston swung for the Angel—but it flew up high.

It swooped back down and blasted him with light.

It tore at him in a primal fire wholly unfamiliar to it.

Calistico knew his bond with God was to sacrifice.

He did not deserve Heaven without humility.

All he had was a chance to help Rock and Star.

By sparing one unit's love, he loved vicariously.

Aegeless One skimmed over the two clashing.

The One swung its gaze over Time in chase.

But Rock and Star had all the head start.

They needed but just one opportunity.

So they took it and vanished into nothing.

They went somewhere but only they knew where.

So the longest manhunt in Eterniti had finally begun.

Plus the first romance to span millenia soon ensued.

Aegeless one would remain enraged until their end.

Black would be Tempor until Rock and Star collided.

The two would change the Great Timeline with every footstep they took—throwing Eterniti into a deep dive.

The Days of the Immort were rocked to the core.

Every sunrise brought new changes to challenge.

Not until the pair of heretics were apprehended would the wheel of fortune roll back toward Eterniti. Not until they were eliminated from Time would order be restored. Not until they were cut off from cascading paradigm shifts through History's ripples would it all end.

Their one weapon was Time. Their one choice was but to change the Future before the Future changed them.

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