Mystères Élémentaires

She stared at him, then laughed. "Yeah, right. So, that explains why when you look at me I feel like I could drop into spontaneous orgasm. Or when you tell me I've done something good in the cockpit I feel like a million bucks, or when I flub something I feel like I've let you down. And no, no jokes right now, Rob. You put up jokes like other people build walls around their heart. I need you to let me in right now."

"What if I told you..." he started, but then he stopped, looked around and shook his head.

"Told me what, Rob?"

"It's not important."

"Why do I get the impression you're keeping maybe the most important thing in the world from me right now?"

He looked at her and grinned, shook his head. "So, what do you have in mind?"

She grinned back, shook her head. "Fun. Strenuous fun."

"You know, kid, I foresee interesting times ahead," he said softly as he looked in the BMWs rearview mirror. A black Ford sedan had been following at a discrete distance the last few miles, but now it was closing fast and he scowled at the thought of even more interference. "I'm just not sure how much fun they're going to let us have this morning."

"Ya know, as long as I'm not left hanging upside down...I'm good." She turned, looked at the Ford coming up fast from behind, then groaned when blue strobes started winking.

Jeffries pulled over, watched the two agents get out of the car and walk along to the passenger's side, and June pushed the little button, rolled her window down.

"Hate to bother y'all," Mulder said, "but I'm hungry, wanted some breakfast. Wondered if you know someplace decent, and if maybe you'd like to join us?"

Jeffries looked down, shook his head. 'Well, at least he's going to be polite about it,' he thought, then: "Sure, follow me."

He turned on Davis and ducked into a pancake place and they squeezed into a crowded booth in the back, waited for a surly waitress to bring coffee.

"Man, I haven't eaten anything since yesterday," Mulder sighed.

Jeffries looked at the man and nodded, then looked at the woman in the seat next to him. "Your name really Scully?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Fun cover name, don't you think?"

"You two get all the UFO stuff, I guess?"

"No. We normally get all the werewolf cases."

"Ah. So, what do you want to talk about this morning. Lon Chaney?"

The surly waitress came by, dropped off a pitcher of coffee and took their order, then walked away, grumbling.

"Maybe more like ET," Scully said. "Anything we need to know, for instance."

Jeffries chuckled at that, but looked down at the table, fiddled with his napkin. "No, I don't think so. Just enjoy the day...if you know what I mean?"

"No, I don't," Mulder said.

And Jeffries looked up at Scully just then, looked her in the eye. "You should enjoy each day as if it was your last."

"Because? Why?" she asked.

"Because you know something, don't you?" Mulder said. "Like something is about to happen?" he added, his voice quiet now, very reserved and soft. His phone chirped and he looked at the screen, took the call -- but he got up and left the table, talked all the way out the front door.

"So," Scully said, "what are they going to do?"

"Nothing."

"Does that mean..."

"There's no one at fault here, no grand conspiracy."

"Do you know who they are? Why they're here?"

"Yes."

"And you're not going to tell us?"

"There's no point," Jeffries said, his voice almost a whisper.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that. The knowledge of what's going to happen won't change a thing. Besides, you'll know soon enough," he added, looking at his wristwatch.

Scully stared at him for a while, then at June -- who simply shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes. "You sound pretty depressed," she said at last.

"Do I? I'm sorry."

"I take it we'd have something to be depressed about if we knew?"

"You know, right here on vivid display we have the reason I never got married. Some women have this way of needling with these silly little roundabout questions over and over again. Really gets under my skin, all over my last good nerve. You know I'm not going to tell you a thing, but you just keep at it, ya know? Like picking at a scab. Why don't you sit back and enjoy your coffee, read the news on your goddamn smartphone..."

"Well, the coffee is awful and I don't read the news on my phone. I like to talk, and you -- apparently -- need to talk."

"Do I, indeed?"

Mulder came back to the booth and sat down, and everyone noted the look on his face. Surprise, shock, dismay, and his hands were shaking -- badly.

"Don't tell me. Some upsetting news?" Jeffries said, a little too sardonically.

"Yeah, you could say that."

"Friday, a little after noon perhaps, eastern time?"

Mulder nodded his head. "You know, I take it?"

"Only for the last twenty or so years."

"Know what?" Scully and June said, looking from Mulder to Jeffries.

"Friday, a little after one-thirty, the world ends." Mulder looked at his partner, shook his head. "No vast alien conspiracy, no cabal of evil men bent on conquering humanity."

"What is it? What's going on?"

"A meteor, about the size of Sicily," Jeffries stated. "Streaking through the solar system, coming right out of the sun. The SoHo satellite picked it up a few hours ago."

"We have something that can stop it, don't we?" June asked, suddenly alarmed.

Rob smiled, wanted to laugh but thought better of it. "It's going to impact in the Gulf of California. Every fault on the planet will let go within a few hours, almost every volcano will erupt within a week. The full force of the sun won't hit the surface of the earth for twenty years, and by then the next ice age will be well underway. This one will last around fifteen thousand years."

"Is that why the aliens..."

"They're not aliens, Amigo."

"What? What do you mean?"

"They ain't aliens, simple as that. They're what you might call 'what comes after us,' about a million or so years from now." He turned to June, tried to take in the abject fear in her eyes -- but all he saw was a reflection of his own disbelief, when he'd learned mankind's fate twenty years ago.

And she looked at him. "So, this is it?" she asked.

"Yup, you got three days to get it all out of your system. Anything you feel like doing, now's the time."

"Anything?" June asked.

"Well, yeah. I'm game -- as long as it doesn't involve sheep and bullwhips."

"You're no fun."

Mulder looked at the girl like she was nuts, then he leaned back, started softly singing 'Why Don't We Get Drunk and Screw' before he turned and looked at Scully -- and winked.

III

Rehn looked at Zanna sitting on the other side of the campfire, silently detesting her, fundamentally attracted to her -- yet unable to understand why -- beyond the stirrings down there. She was a vile creature, everything that guided her actions was simply wrong -- everything about her always reduced to me-me-me -- aside from her looks, that it. Everything about the way she looked turned his loins to jellied fire, and the longer she was around him the worse it became. He would choose her, he knew, because that part of his mind was stronger, exercised more control over his thoughts and actions than he cared to admit.

She was leaning back now, spreading her legs a little -- just so -- inviting him to look, to venture deeper, and the other girls were looking at him too, powerless to do anything but watch nature unfold. They did not have the looks to compete and they knew it, so all they could do was sit back, resigned and let the inevitable happen.

All, that is, but Tatakotay.

She watched Zanna as she watched a viper's slow movement through the grass. Wary. Uneasy. Like the snake was waiting for the right moment to catch them all unawares, to take them all out in a single strike. She watched Rehn, saw him falling away from her as if a spell had been cast, and she looked at Zanna, watched her reach between her legs and subtly stroke herself, further tantalizing the boy -- and she knew what she had to do to preserve all their chances of survival -- even Rehn's.

Especially Rehn's.

After three weeks on the mountain, three weeks in deep snow, they had returned to the Jeffries ranch -- but instead was washing and cleaning and all the other chores they were by now used to, they loaded up in two of the strange ranch vehicles and drove into Santa Fe, to something called a Wal*Mart.

Tatakotay had never seen anything as bizarre in her life, and now Rehn saw girls -- and women -- that were a thousand times more desirable that Zanna. They pushed big metal carts through the vast building while Tom Jeffries and Sam, his oldest son, loaded each with supplies, including a big red thing Rob called a Swiss Army knife. They drank something Rob called Coke, and ate something called a Big Mac, and ten minutes later she doubled over as violent cramps overcame all the girls. Even Rehn managed to run to the bathroom in time.

And that bathroom! Dozens of places to sit and groan, in privacy! Paper, not leaves and wet stones to clean up with after...

And then she wondered.

Why is The Other showing us these things?

What do they want of us? To learn about these things? To become as dependent on them as Rob and his family have? Or to warn us away from them, to not become so dependent?

They had heard Rob talk about things like pollution and she hadn't been able to understand what he meant -- until she saw the smoke coming out of the cars and tractors they used on the ranch. It was even more obvious when she listened to Sam and Tom talk about cities -- and then saw the number of people in Santa Fe. A brown haze hung over the village, and that was easy enough to see, but all the things people made seemed to carry them farther and farther away from the things she considered important. How could you survive, in the long run, if you couldn't hunt or grow crops on your own? What happened when you became dependent on others for your survival? Wouldn't your existence depend on the whims of those other people?

Yet she could see the other side of the story. There were more people living here than she'd ever imagined, and they weren't afraid of big cats or even, as far as she could see, going hungry. Tom told her that people routinely lived to be 80 years old, yet in her village very few lived more than 40 summers. How could this be unless her people changed their ways -- to be more like these people?

And then a sudden insight filled her mind: images of these beautiful people -- everywhere. No ugly women, all men pretty too...and she was filled with feelings she had never experienced before. She looked at these new men not as providers or protectors, but almost like they were breeding stock, little different than cattle on the Jeffries ranch. And she could feel the same imperative guiding men's choices; they were grading women not on an ability to work or to care for children, but on how simply attractive they were. Stupid women, weak women...it didn't matter to these men. If they were attractive they lived in big houses. If they were homely or ill-tempered they often walked the streets looking for food and shelter. It no longer mattered if a woman or a man was a good hunter or farmer: in this land if either was good looking they leapt to the head of the pack.

How would they, she wondered, survive?

They won't, she heard The Other say.

'But why?' She heard herself ask.

'Because they have produced a race that lives only in the moment, and for the moment. They have stopped looking ahead, and when they dream, they dream only of themselves.'

'Is that why you brought me here? To change these things?'

'Yes.'

'But -- how?'

Images filled her mind, images that made her fall away from herself. Terrible things would have to be done, but now she could understand the nature of the choice before her -- and her group. Yes...her group. She saw herself as publicly subordinate to Rehn in these images, but something else entirely behind the scenes -- and when she looked at Zanna she knew what had to be done.

They drove back to the Jeffries ranch, Rob talking to Rehn about all the things one could do with a Swiss Army knife -- from starting a fire to building a space shuttle -- while Zanna focused all her attentions on him, too. Whenever anyone competed for his attention she went on the offensive, and now was no different -- only now Tatakotay was watching more intently, looking for patterns in the other girl's response. When Rehn paid attention to her she ignored him, when he ignored her she tried to pry his attention away from the distraction -- and did everything necessary to refocus him -- on her. Around the fire at night she teased him; when she wanted something from him she flattered him. When there was work to be done she feigned aches and pains, unless it was something she wanted too, then she pitched in -- just enough. Everything, every action Zanna took was 'me' focused, and Tatakotay thought of the the people in the Wal*Mart earlier that day, about the single-minded look in many of the women's eyes as they dashed madly up and down first one aisle and then the next. Like every impulse could be satisfied in an instant, every indulgence attended to, yet she recalled seeing many of the same looks in those women's eyes as she saw in Zanna's just now. Coarse manipulation was called for when their mates were with them, then on to the next item on her list, the next manipulation, and many of the women had babies with them, and the babies looked on, and learned. There was very little 'need' on display, however. The actions she saw seemed focused on 'I want,' not 'I need,' and it all seemed very wasteful. If Rehn mated with Zanna, would that be their destiny -- again? How many resources would be wasted on such whims of the moment? How many had these people wasted?

When they got back to the ranch, Tatakotay went about her chores, watching, and when she felt the time was right she went to Zanna.

"I have a secret," Tatakotay said, and immediately Zanna seemed interested, even if she tried not to show it.

"Oh?"

"I have heard that Rehn intends to ask you to mate with him tonight."

"And where did you hear that?"

"From the voice. The Other's voice."

And Zanna appeared most interested now. "It talked to you?"

"Yes."

"What else did it say?"

"I can not tell you here. Come with me."

Of course, Zanna did not show up for dinner that night. Nor for breakfast the next day, and when they found her body it appeared to have been mauled by a big cat.

III

Christine Mannon felt as though she had never existed, not really. Not in the same sense that other people existed. Her memory was a patchwork -- not a seamless flow -- like her life had been arranged for her ahead of time -- by someone else -- like a child's building blocks dropped into place. There were holes, time that did not make sense: like how did she get from France to Israel after the war? She had no memory of the trip. Or of the trip back to France? Not a hint. One day she was in her twenties, a student, and the next she was in a classroom, teaching. What happened in between?

And the sky?

These were not normal skies. Always so blue. Too blue. Not the sky she remembered from her youth, and never once had she seen a cloud. Just cerulean blue one minute, and fog the next. And always the huge gaps in time when the fog came? Why?

Then she remembered the creature -- yet in a flash the image was gone -- and she was left with the horrible sensation even her memory was beyond her ability to control. Like she was being used -- for their purposes.

She closed her eyes and sat back, looked at her hands and feet.

"Am I real?" she asked herself. "If I am to believe what the other man told me, I was plucked from a gas chamber at Auschwitz, but where did I go? Who could do such a thing? And why?"

Suddenly her mind filled with images of other children in gas chambers, grabbing hold of their mother's flesh as gray gas flooded the white tile rooms -- and she saw them disappear too. Yet little children remained -- looking at her.

"Are you the innocent?"

Yes.

She felt the voice more than she heard heard it, like it was coming from inside the bones of her skull -- and she at once dismissed the words as madness.

Why?

"What? Who is this? Who is speaking to me?"

Why must madness be the only explanation. After what you've experienced.

"What do you mean? What I experienced?"

To be herded into a room and gassed. Not many have experienced what you have.

"Is that why I'm here?"

Yes.

"But -- why?"

Because we need you.

"I don't understand! Where am I? What have you done to me?"

You are part of an experiment.

"Oh, so it's not enough to be gassed! Now I am to be an experiment?"

Yes.

"To what end?"

To preserve. To pass on. To record and make note.

"Pass on? What am I to pass on?"

Only what any human might hope to pass on. Knowledge and experience.

"To my students?"

They do not exist.

"What? What do you mean?"

Only that. What you have experienced before was only preparation for the next phase of your evolution.

"Did you say evolution?"

Yes. What experience you gained must endure, it must pass on.

"Pass on? To whom?"

Those who live beyond your time.

"I do not understand."

That is of no consequence. Are you ready?

"Ready? For what?"

For what waits now, beyond this dream.

"May I ask you...am I alive?"

No.

"Will I be? This place I am going? Will I be alive again?"

The Other hesitated, as if locked in argument with a million other voices, then it appeared by her side and she looked at the creature, saw something like sympathy on it's blank face.

"You will not answer so simple a question?"

There is no simple answer to such a question.

"But...how can that be? Surely either life is, or it is not?"

No, that is not the case. Could you, just now, feel you were not alive?

She stared at The Other now, hesitating, then said "No."

We have recreated entire cultures in this way, to watch how humans interact with one another, and while the elements we have recreated are in every way human, none is what you would truly call alive. These elements do not need food and water for sustenance, nor really do they need air to breathe, but you -- and they -- recall these things, experiences deemed important, so we have recreated the memory of these things, as a way to experience, and to pass on.

"So, why do I get hungry?"

Because hunger is a memory worth experiencing. And that is why whatever you wish for suddenly appears. No animals are slaughtered, you need not hunt for food nor grow crops.

"So...I have desires and..."

Those desires are fulfilled.

"And you have done this to recreate human experience?"

Yes.

"Then you have failed."

I see.

"You have failed, because no human ever lived who did not have to struggle for these things, in one way or another. All human conflict has been rooted in such things. Without conflict humanity could not learn, and grow."

And have you ever wondered what might happen if these impulses were removed from the equation?

"No. I haven't."

What might have happened if, for instance, Hitler didn't have to worry about 'living space,' or petroleum, or financial burdens imposed by other powers at Versailles?

"But that wasn't the case, was it?"

Nevertheless, we are curious.

"So, you are going to recreate those conditions?"

We have. Yes. It has taken some time to assemble the elements, but you are the last and we are ready now. Are you?

"What am I to be in this recreation?"

He grows inside you now.

"He grows? What do you mean by that?"

Adolph Hitler. He grows inside you now. You are to be Hitler's mother. With your knowledge of history and human culture, we will learn the true nature of love -- and hate.