Play Testers Wanted Pt. 21

"How do you know so much?" I asked.

"My mom is the state treasurer. She retires next year and gets to use one of the outlying buildings for her retirement home. Discretion has its rewards." Belinda chuckled as she lathered up Akira's long dark hair.

"Aren't you worried the governor might show up unexpectedly?" I asked, and she began laughing so hard she gasped for breath.

"One, have you seen that old goat? Two, his wife watches him like a hawk. And lastly, he does not even know this place exists. Those in power keep secrets like this under wraps. I cannot say anymore. I don't have proof, but 'they' exist."

"Oh," I said and wondered if the Order was responsible for this house. "It is possible," I stated even as Surfer took the hint and dove into the Order's records.

Ding! The Schmidt family made this happen and had holdings here in the Midwest. Was there a connection between the location of this house and the GPS coordinates? They were less than ten minutes apart. I sent a message to Eric Schmidt, the current head of his family, via Wraith to take over the responsibilities of the love shack. It should be an easy sale with my portion of the Numenor fortune unless Eric knew something I didn't. My stomach rumbled, and I left to dress in a robe hanging in the closet. All of our clothes seemed to have disappeared.

"We have to leave after breakfast... er lunch."

I headed down and looked around the palatial first floor. It was a trove of Missouri history that ranged from relics of the native tribes to a small museum covering the life and times of Nicola Tesla. His Tesla Tower at the 1904 St. Louis world's fair created the wireless world we enjoy today. Few knew that the Order adopted Tesla; even now, one of his descendants holds a prominent position within the group. I heard the rhythmic staccato of high heels on the marble floor. A flash of movement in the corner of my eye and the soft laughter of a woman's voice drew me into the living room, then the dining room next to it, and finally to the kitchen. She dressed in the traditional maid uniform, not a hair out of place, and that killer smile.

"Do I greet you with good morning or afternoon?" She asked with a hint of an accent I could not instantly identify. The other thing is that she was hauntingly familiar, yet I was sure we had never met. "I get that look on occasion." She continued with a wry smile. "My sister works aboard the Numenor. She speaks highly of your loving attention if I may be so bold, Sir." The funny thing is that when she said Sir, she meant something else. I made the mental connection once she told me that her sister worked on the superyacht Numenor.

"Ilsa," I stated, and she smiled. "You must be Anna."

"Yes, Master," she whispered if one of the uninitiated guests were to walk in. "I am fixing a traditional English breakfast. Is that to your satisfaction?" Again, that killer smile kindled to life. "It is rumored that you may have worked up quite the appetite last night and this morning. Oh, there is a fresh pot of coffee just behind me or freshly squeezed juice in the fridge." I moved behind her and fixed a cup of coffee. I remembered her sister Ilsa quite well. The way the apron clung to her shapely backside aroused some delightful memories.

"What can you tell me about this house?" I asked as she continued to work uninterrupted in front of the island stove.

"A little," she began as her hips moved to an unheard rhythm. "The land belonged to one of the local tribes for nearly a thousand years. That is what some of the carbon datings indicate. Historians theorize that the original tribe may have died of disease or a plague. Three mass graves hint at many people dying at the same time. None of the remains showed signs of trauma or wounds that you find after a battle or conflict. A story survived about how the locals called this area the land where the dragon sleeps. Another older translation calls it the home of the 'ghost lines.' This house sits on a three-line nexus of those reputed ghost lines. The Chinese call them dragon lines, and current Wiccans call them ley lines. The Schmidt family thought it amusing to build atop a nexus. I checked the records, and nothing unusual or supernatural has happened since the construction of the house and outbuildings. It was farmland before that with a boring history otherwise. And before you ask, the remains were returned, and a local shaman blessed the ground to put his ancestors to rest."

"If that is a little, I would hate to see what you know a lot about." I joked. "Ghost lines sound like something out of an RPG."

I closed my eyes, and the song was louder than ever. This time there was a definite direction to the music. My feet moved practically on their own until I stopped. I opened my eyes to see my new surroundings, a grand ballroom. The floor had a geometric design etched into the wood with meridian lines radiating outward as if I stood at one of the magnetic poles. Left produced an almost erotic noise as he drank the steady trickle of ghost line energy.

"That is the center of the house," Anna said. "The ancient alien group believes there is a global network of ley lines that visitors used to recharge their spaceships." She tried and failed to say with a straight face. "Are you staying the night again? I am going into town for supplies."

"No, there is a location nearby I want to check up on," I explained as the rest of the crew appeared wearing matching terry cloth robes.

"Your clothing will be out of the dryer soon," Anna stated. "I collected them while you slept. I laundered your dirty clothes as well." She said, looking at me. "You are welcome to stay as long as you want."

"Perhaps if the spot is a bust, we could return and hang out for a bit," I said. "I can't make any promises, though."

We made our way to the kitchen.

"There is nothing there." Belinda declared as she set up the kitchen table with plates and utensils.

When I began pouring coffee for the others, Anna almost had a panic attack. Akira touched her shoulder, and she relaxed. It was like a silent message that he likes to help. Anna had not seen me pour and fix my cup earlier. I withdrew and let Akira and Anna fix more coffee and dish out the food. I invited Anna to join us, and she faltered until, once again, a nod from Akira and sat next to me. Quickening just watched everything with a critical eye; there was a keen intelligence behind those baby blues. She played at being simple, but I guessed that was an act.

"What is your favorite part of the house?" I asked Anna. "Is there a room or relic that catches your fancy?"

"Well, there is. It is not anything big, but there is an old road sign for a small town that was abandoned and disappeared a hundred years ago." Anna replied. "There is a barn near here. The thing was practically falling apart, and as they cleaned it out, they discovered the sign. The writing is almost illegible."

"I never heard about that," Belinda remarked between a bite of egg and a sip of coffee. "What was the name of the town?"

"Iram," Anna said with great reverence. "I believe it was a homage to the fabled city of Iram in the Middle East. It was known as the City of a Thousand Pillars."

"A thousand pillars, how interesting." Quickening said, making a thoughtful expression. "If the city existed, the original, how could they build a thousand pillars? Would that rate the same as the other wonders of the ancient world?"

"I suppose it would if they found it," Akira said and winked at me. Had the Order found Iram? There were too many coincidences building around those damn coordinates.

"Can we see this sign you are talking about?" I asked.

"Once you clear your plate," Anna replied playfully. We all got a laugh out of that. She was right, though. Last night's festivities had left me hungry.

After the meal, I reached for my plate, and Anna went pale, so I withdrew my hands and let her lead us to the museum portion of the first floor. Akira remained behind, no doubt, to clear the table and load the dishwasher. The gallery was more significant than the dining room and had display cases mounted above and along the walls. The museum was not limited to the first floor. It rose to the third floor, where a stained-glass dome crowned it and sent scintillating rays of many hues to light the artifacts.

The sign in question was under ultraviolet glass to prevent further damage. It was mounted at eye level and measured about four feet wide and three high. The pine planks had long ago begun rotting from sun, rain, and wind exposure. The surface was cracked and warped. The writing was visible, if barely. The stylized lettering reminded me of Victorian Era pieces from movies and TV sets in that bygone time. It read simply Iram population 589. If this were a mainly rural area, you would not expect a large concentration of people. What concerned me were the symbols running along the border of the sign's edge.

"Interesting decoration," I said, pointing to the edge.

"I know, right," Anna said. "Some think they took inspiration from early European explorers as far back as the 17th century. Though a local archaeologist that visited a few years back could not identify the designs and chalked it up to fanciful imaginings."

'Scanning and enhancing those characters,' Surfer said. 'Scan complete, enhancing the images, hmm, there is a distinct pattern and logic behind these symbols. This sign does not seem to be a simple fanciful imagining to me. Master?'

It felt like a seizure. One moment I stood before the sign under its protective glass, and the next, the wood looked newly carved, and I used a hammer to drive the post it was attached to into the ground. Sweat ran down my face and eyes from the summer sun above. I pulled a rag from my back pocket and wiped the perspiration away. The primitive stone path led into town, the village I had helped erect. I noted my hand bore the twin thumbs of a Duskwalker, yet none of the citizens of Iram seemed to mind.

'Booker,' Left said, breaking the spell. 'You okay? What the hell was that?'

'I don't know. One of your memories?'

'Not mine. I was elsewhere back then.'

"So, someone likely just made them up to dress up the sign." Quickening said, unaware of my little episode.

"Yep, that seems the most logical conclusion," Anna replied.

"The dryer just dinged," Akira said as she walked in. Anna rushed off to fold and deliver the clean clothes. "Time to go."

"I agree," I said as I looked at the sign. "Iram."

No one seemed to notice my momentary fugue, and I was okay with that. What triggered it if that wasn't one of Left's memories, and it couldn't have been one of Nick's? Perhaps my proximity to the nexus triggered a racial memory within my Duskwalker heritage? I had to accept that the old Booker had been born human, and now I had been upgraded genetically on levels I was still learning. Left and I needed to talk about my adopted people and their culture and history. Ignorance could get me killed.

'Agreed,' Left said. 'On the next leg of the journey, I'll tell you about the firstborn and the legends surrounding them. The Anunnaki created them at the height of the ghost line power, and their aspects and attributes were legendary.'

'Aspects and attributes?'

'The firstborn could manifest primal powers like those attributed to gods and demigods like Hercules. One of them earned the title of deathless since he discovered the power that others later called reincarnation. After his first successful rebirth, people claimed he was divine. He responded that I never claimed to be a god, but then again, I never claimed not to be one. I found his story appealing when I was a young boy. Sadly, time and war erased his name, and there were nearly ten thousand years between his original birth and mine. A lot can happen in that amount of time.'

'Hero worship?'

'You bet he was the best of us. Scholar, warrior, mage, and had a harem unmatched by anyone. I wanted to be him when I grew up. Fate is a fickle bitch.'

'I didn't mean to bring up bad memories.'

'No, it is good to be reminded of our sins. Without memory, we can't grow.'

'Those characters on the sign are Duskwalker, aren't they?'

'Yeah, it marks a refuge for survivors. Iram was a second chance.'

"Time to beat feet and see what there is to see," I said.

I hugged everyone and promised to return after visiting the mystery location. Surfer informed me that the Schmidt family had agreed to sell the mansion along with the surrounding acreage. The Shaw name carried clout within the Order, and they were happy to get that item off their holdings in exchange for an infusion of much-needed currency. Surfer said that one or more of the Schmidt clan were heavy gamblers, and their debts were building. I told her to investigate and see if any other holdings might be worth taking off their hands, someplace scenic if possible. Akira and I dressed and headed for the aircar, which had been hand washed and detailed, Anna no doubt. Akira drove, and I waited for her to tell me the significance of the original Iram. She began laughing suddenly, and I glanced at her.

"Fine. Jeez. One little wink and you get all Mister Serious. Nick found Iram. It is still out there in the Empty Quarter." She teased. "Most of the pillars have toppled over. There is an oasis beneath the city. It is deep, huge, and has been there forever."

"Millions of decaliters," I did my best, Paul Atreides impersonation.

"Really," Akira laughed. "Just had to go straight to Dune."

"Hey, it fits." I defended my choice.

It didn't take long to reach the area at the edge of the coordinates.

"It looks like we are going off-road."

The aircar slid past two concrete pylons barring access to the private road Belinda had described. No one had mowed the grass in a long time; it stood three feet in height and bent beneath the vehicle as it slid over the individual blades.

"So, not only did the funding fail, but they blocked it off," I stated as the car slid easily over the grass before returning to the road. "It is still in okay shape."

"I noticed that too," Akira said, her tone mirroring mine. "Fucking weird."

A thousand feet later, the road abruptly ended, and the grass grew up beyond it, but that was no obstruction for us. The aircar glided over the tall grass. Then went on autopilot toward our destination with the touch of a button. The hilly area grew steeper as I watched the readout count down in meters to our location. I cried out and pointed when I spotted it. Akira cursed and redirected the vehicle. The Tesla tower stood on a concrete slab and was a configuration I had never seen before. The structure projected clean, free energy, and during thunderstorms, would send a lightning rod to collect sky fire and store it within banks of batteries below the tower in a reinforced vault.

"Surfer. Scan and search." I asked, and she went to work.

"This particular configuration not found." She announced after a few seconds. A soft whine behind us alerted us to the deployment of the air car's sensor array. Bright blue beams painted the Tesla tower to determine the metal or alloys used in its construction and receive a more detailed image of the structure. "Nope. Nada. The tower is a custom job. Brilliant, someone who understands metallurgy and electrical engineering did their homework; it is a work of art."

"Send it to Wraith for analysis," I ordered, and she sent a pulse transmission to Nick's digital soul as I thought of the AI. "Is it functional?"

"Yes. It is transmitting." Surfer said.

"But transmitting to where? There is nothing to see. Is there?" I was puzzled. "If this were in-game, there would be a secret underground base of heroes or villains nearby."

"A moment please," Surfer giggled. "Arming scan pulse." She said, looking up. "I assumed you might want a closer look at the area when we arrived. Firing pulse." She hummed as the energy struck the area and bounced back to the geostationary satellite in orbit for analysis. "There is an underground stream that runs along there," Surfer said. "It is not deep until there. Then it dives beyond the range of the scan. Soil is great for farming, nutrient-rich, and no sign of human occupation."

"This makes no damn sense. Is there anything within its transmission range?" I asked, and Surfer closed her eyes and shook her head a few seconds later. "Could they have? No, that makes no sense either?"

"You mean the road. Could the Order have built an uber-expensive tower to power machines to construct a damn road that no one uses? Gods, this hurts my head." Akira cursed. "Let's just go and get this over with."

"I agree."

We continued and rode the irregular terrain, but there was nothing but grass or the occasional tree or small copse of trees for as far as the eye could see. The car topped a rise and looked out over a valley. If I estimated the reading with what was in front of us, the GPS coordinates were at the valley's center. Akira paused the car, and we got out.

"Nothing," I said, and she made a rude noise.

"I was hoping for at least ruins or remains of buildings." She declared with a frown. "You want to go down there? We might find a few basements or cellars in some state of disrepair."

"Eh, we are here," I said noncommittedly. "It won't take more than ten minutes to skim the valley, and we are back in time for another look at that museum."