Kindle Edition
Amazon
Category:
Science Fiction
Publisher: Xlibris
ISBN-10: 1479770280
Type: Fiction
Pages: 406
ISBN-13: 9781479770281
Price: $4.95 (eBook)
Shadows of Reality is the fascinating story of a young boy who was raised in the strict rituals of Christianity. The story is as educational as it is entertaining. Above all, it is not your typical airplane novel.
Jack Tessler was profoundly disillusioned when his mother told him Santa Claus was no more than an urban myth. But unlike most children his age, Jack didn't take the news lightly. His parents’ fabrication created festering doubts that led their son to question the very fundamentals of his Christian belief system... a system he blindly accepted on faith and his parents’ trusted word. So, as time passed, Jack’s primary mission in life was to understand his universe through the instruments of science and reason.
Then, in the early hours of Christmas morning, 2017, a strange thing happened that radically transformed Jack’s notion of reality.
A massive blizzard swept through the Washington, D.C. area carrying with it a shroud of arctic winds and driven snow. All air traffic on the northeastern corridor was cancelled and the radar system at Dulles International Airport had gone quiet. At the moment Ray Hodges was asleep at his workstation when suddenly an alarm warned him of incoming air traffic. But something was terribly wrong. The aircraft’s signature indicated that the incoming bogey was a TWA Constellation, a prop-driven passenger plane that Hodges had not seen aloft in four decades.
Hours later, Jack, now a well-respected theoretical physicist at Cal Tech, received an urgent call from NSA director General Alex Long asking him to investigate the Dulles incident. What Tessler discovered would restructure his world-view and shake the very foundations of modern science. The cause of the Dulles event lay far outside the accepted laws of physics and thwarted any rational explanation. It seems the aircraft in question left Boston’s Logan Airport early Christmas morning, 1954.
That event launched Jack on a journey into the shadowy world of the unknown. It was a place where all reality would become an illusion…a place where he would ultimately discover the truth.
The novel, Shadows of Reality, is the reader's invitation to a new genre of fiction that I call Smart Sci-Fi. The premise of this novel is based, in part, on the principles of hard science and is similar to novels written by Michael Crichton.
Excerpt
Shadows of Reality
Stephen N Berberich
In the beginning was
The Word…
Chapter 1
The defining moment in man’s search for truth came hidden in a breathtaking display of nature’s fury.
A blizzard of enormous scale swept down from the artic circle, blanketing the Atlantic coastal regions of the U.S. with an opaque shroud of howling wind and driven snow. Though the nor’easter had been predicted in advance, no one ever expected a storm of such intensity. One hundred mile-per-hour gusts of frigid air pushed horizontal sheets of snow into twenty-foot drifts that all but obliterated the interstate highways and rural byways. Within an hour of its onset all ground transportation on the eastern corridor had come to a virtual standstill. Moreover, the turbulent weather had shut down air traffic from Montreal to Georgia as residents in the storm’s wake hunkered down in their homes awaiting a reprieve from nature’s wrath.
Dulles International Airport, 3 a.m. Christmas morning, 2017
Just thirty miles from the high-value targets of our nation’s capital, FAA agent Ray Hodges was fast asleep at his post in the Dulles air traffic control tower. As a rule Hodges was not disposed to this sort of reckless behavior, but the radar equipment scanning the surrounding airspace had gone dark hours ago and the sheer boredom of the job began to dull Hodges senses. Truthfully, he intended to rest his eyes for only a moment.
Forty-five minutes later the calm that had settled over Hodges’ workstation was replaced by the high-pitched wail of an alarm. The piercing sound startled Hodges awake, warning him of incoming air traffic at a distance of 80 miles from the airport.
“Who could be so stupid to fly in this weather,” he muttered to no one in particular.
Hodges immediately turned his attention to the large data display terminal to his left. Then, on impulse, he began anxiously massaging his temples. Something was terribly wrong. The signature of the incoming bogey was a TWA Constellation, a prop-driven passenger plane that he had not seen aloft in more than four decades. Furthermore, as far as Hodges knew, planes of that vintage lacked the equipment to transmit an identifiable profile.
As per standard protocol, Hodges hailed the approaching aircraft on all assigned frequencies. His initial concern escalated to one of full-blown panic when his demands elicited no response. To further complicate matters, the unidentified bogey had just entered restricted airspace and the procedures manual required Hodges to notify NORAD immediately of the intruder. He picked up the red phone to the right of his desk and was at once connected to the watch commander at Andrews Air Base.
“Andrews, this is Dulles control tower. We have an unidentified intruder that has just crossed into restricted Capital airspace. All attempts at communicating with the bogey have thus far been unsuccessful. I recommend moving to DEFCON three immediately.”
Hodges paused and then added, “Commander, there is something not quite right about this aircraft. It appears to be one of those old guppy-tailed Constellations that was retired from active service decades ago.”
“Copy that Dulles. I’ll advise our squadron leader of your concerns and get back to you,” and both parties disengaged.
Shortly after addressing several weather-related issues, four fully armed F18 fighters were safely airborne and in hot pursuit of the bogey.
In the interim, urgent calls had been placed to the secretary of defense requesting, among other things, detailed rules of engagement. After consultation with the president, it was decided to hold fire until the aircraft declared its intensions. Yet one deviation from its flight path into Dulles International would require the use of deadly force.
While all of this was underway, Ray Hodges remained at his desk with eyes glued to the radar screen. Just sixteen minutes after his initial phone call to central command, Hodges noted the signature of four F18 jets moving in to surround the Constellation. Moments later the squadron leader hailed Hodges and reported that his attempts to contact the pilot of the Constellation had been similarly unsuccessful. He agreed with Hodges’ assessment that the bogey’s glide path had been stable over time and then repeated his instructions from the secretary of defense to closely monitor the pilot’s approach to the airport providing there were no threatening changes in the plane’s trajectory.
Then, almost reluctantly the squadron leader added, “Dulles, there is something very unusual happening up here that I can’t begin to explain. It seems that the fuselage of the Constellation has developed a very irregular contour and its skin seems to be writhing about like a snake. Understand, the visibility at this altitude and under these conditions is very limited, but it looks to me as if something inside that airplane is trying desperately to get out.”
Hodges suddenly felt a dull pain building in the pit of his gut.
While Hodges was occupied monitoring the bogie’s approach into Dulles, the ground crew had been notified of the situation and was frantically preparing a portion of the runway for landing. Meanwhile, police and fire personnel were huddled against the leeward side of the terminal in an effort to escape the gale-force gusts of wind and snow. They had been placed on high alert by airport security and everyone on the ground crew was expecting a worst-case scenario. Yet they were pleasantly surprised when the plane executed a flawless approach, landed on the plowed portion of the runway and then taxied to a vacant area adjacent to the main terminal. Soon after the engines shut down, emergency teams in four SUVs surrounded the aircraft. Four men exited one of the vehicles and used steel blocks to lock down the airplane’s landing gear. Then, as if staged by some ethereal director, there was a temporary break in the storm surge and the landing site settled into an eerie state of absolute stillness and clarity.
As the blurred image suddenly coalesced into sharp focus, first responders closest to the plane fixed their eyes on what lay in front of them. At random intervals, hands, arms, legs, portions of human skulls, and sundry body parts protruded through the plane’s metallic skin. Upon witnessing the horrific scene first hand, several of the seasoned professionals went to their knees and vomited.
The ghostly calm persisted for several minutes and time for those present slowed to a crawl. Then, for no apparent reason, the front hatch of the aircraft slowly swung open. Fearing the unknown, the men closest to the plane stepped back from the mysterious craft. Eventually, one young man in the landing crew rolled the air stairs to the left side of the plane and then quickly backed away. Finally the head of security went to the foot of air stairs and, with considerable trepidation, climbed the staircase with his gun drawn. He stood at the open hatch for a moment to marshal his courage and then disappeared into the innards of the plane’s cabin.
Five minutes later he reappeared at the hatch and announced with a voice quivering with emotion that the passengers and crew, including both the pilot and copilot, were all dead. Then he made a comment that caused the workers’ skin to crawl.
“I’ve seen the face of death in there, and I think it’s stalking all of us.”
Then he began shaking violently while repeating a muddled litany of expletives.
Chapter 2
Pasadena, C.A.-Christmas Day, 5:00 a.m., December 25, 2017
When the phone rang, Prof. Jack Tessler was fast asleep in his two-bedroom town home on the north side of Pasadena, California. He was not expecting, nor was he happy to receive a phone call this early on Christmas morning. His initial words into the receiver were, at best, cool and reflected his considerable irritation.
“This is Prof. Tessler. To whom do I have the pleasure of talking to at this ungodly hour?”
“Prof. Tessler, this is Brig. Gen. Alex Long calling from the National Security Agency in Washington D.C. Sir, sorry to disturb you this early, especially today, but we have a situation here at Dulles airport that requires your immediate attention.”
Tessler immediately sat up and focused his attention on the general’s every word. Long’s unmistakable sense of urgency was quite atypical for a high-ranking military officer.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss this matter over the phone, sir, but I will tell you this much. Your expertise in the fields of quantum physics and relativity make you an indispensable part of our ongoing investigation into this matter. In thirty minutes two MPs will be at your front door to escort you to LAX where a military jet is waiting to bring you here to the agency. All will be explained at that time. One more thing, we’re in the middle of a centennial-style snowstorm here in D.C. so dress and pack appropriately. But don’t worry, Professor; we’ll furnish anything you may have forgotten. Are there any pressing questions you have that I might be able to answer over the phone?”
“None, General, I get your drift. I’ll be ready when my escorts arrive.”
“Thank you, sir. We’ll see you soon,” and the general rang off.
With great effort, Jack dragged himself from between the covers and made his way to the kitchen to brew a fresh pot of coffee. Since his college days at MIT, Jack’s morning Joe had become an established ritual. And it was a habit that Jack couldn’t do without.
Fortunately the pungent aroma soon filled the air and succeeded in clearing the lingering cobwebs of the night’s sleep.
Assuming this trip would be a no-frills deal, Jack packed only the bare essentials. This, of course, wasn’t the first time the federal government had asked for his help, but it was certainly the first time their request was cloaked in such mystery. Truthfully, the cryptic nature of Long’s phone call made Jack very curious to hear the details of this Dulles matter, especially since it involved his primary areas of interest…quantum physics and relativity.
Tessler’s timing was spot-on. Soon after completing his preparations for the trip and consuming the last swallow of coffee, two uniformed marines began knocking at his door. Jack invited them into the living room and when he attempted to pick up his suitcase to leave, the taller of the two soldiers eased the bag from Tessler’s hand.
“I’ll take that for you, sir,” he said politely.
With that comment, the marine in charge walked out of Jack’s front door and down to a waiting limousine. Tessler, followed by the officer’s subordinate, dutifully tagged along.
Thanks to their early departure on this Christmas morning, the customary snarl of freeway traffic to the airport had yet to materialize and the trip to LAX was actually tolerable for a change.
Forty-five minutes later the limo pulled up to the entrance of an ancillary terminal used exclusively for military operations. Jack, led by the ranking marine, walked through the lobby and then quickly by-passed the security checkpoint without going through the usual hassle of screening. Tessler was accustomed to the modern complexities of flying and found it odd that at no time was his identification or carry-on bag ever checked. It was just one of many surprises to come in the near future.
Once past the security area, the two men made a sharp left turn and continued down a long, neon-lit ramp to the exit marked “Terminal A.”
Jack, accompanied by his minder, walked onto the tarmac. Nearby was an idling Learjet that had obviously been fueled and was ready for departure. Jack paused for a moment before boarding the aircraft to make one last assessment of his situation. This venture was certainly a far bigger deal than he originally imagined. Then Jack just shrugged and climbed the air stairs to the plane’s open hatch. He figured at this point it was far too late to question his decision.
As soon as the two men boarded the jet, they were whisked to their seats by a young female flight attendant. Once Jack had fastened his seatbelt, the young woman nodded to him and then walked forward to secure the hatch. A short time after completing her preflight duties the jet taxied to its takeoff position and immediately accelerated down the runway.
The Lear was airborne and at its cruising altitude in a matter of minutes. Jack assumed that some high-ranking official in Washington had expedited their takeoff and then instructed the pilot to push the aircraft to its limit.
In the midst of these musings the flight attendant who had seated Jack approached him from the aft section of the plane and gently tapped him on the shoulder.
“Merry Christmas, Professor. May I get you something to drink, coffee maybe, or perhaps a lite breakfast?”
She paused a moment and then added, “I guess there are a few places you would rather be than on a jet cruising at 40,000 feet, especially today.”
“That’s affirmative, miss, and I gather that would hold for you as well.”
She smiled and simply said, “Yes, sir”
Then Jack replied to her original question.
“I’ll just have orange juice, oatmeal if you have it, and some of that wonderful coffee you alluded to, black please.”
She nodded again and then left to fill his request.
Jack sat back in his seat and attempted to relax. It was the first time since the general’s phone call that he had time to consider the actual cost to him of making this spur-of-the-moment trip. Suddenly Jack felt an all too familiar sensation in the pit of his stomach. The vague feeling of guilt that gripped him was a carry-over from his religious days and the very same emotion young Jack suffered while waiting outside of the church confessional. In retrospect, the cause for today’s attack of conscience should have been all too obvious. Two weeks ago Jack had promised his girlfriend, Elizabeth, that he would spend Christmas at her parent’s home in Santa Barbara. In all the confusion this morning Jack forgot to tell her that he wouldn’t be able to make it for their holiday weekend together. On the surface it appeared very callous of Jack to overlook such an important family obligation. But, after dating him for five years, Jack hoped that Elizabeth was aware of his one-track mind and that he forgot an occasional social commitment. If so, would she assume that his intentions were pure and cut him some slack? Probably not and almost certainly he would find himself in hot water. Furthermore, at this late date any attempt at an apology would be a very tough sell. Actually, for all practical purposes, it would be a waste of time. So, instead of trying to explain himself, Jack decided that he would make it up to Elizabeth as soon as he got back from his trip to Washington. So, with considerable trepidation, Jack reached for the onboard satellite telephone, dialed Elizabeth’s home number and prepared for a well-deserved dressing down.
The Lear began its approach to Baltimore-Washington International Airport 45 minutes ahead of schedule. General Long, who was supposedly on his way from the NSA, was scheduled to pick up Jack at the airport, and then travel overland by convoy to Dulles.
It was presently 1:30 p.m. EST, and the ambient light outside the jet’s porthole made it look more like midnight. Peering into the void, Jack could see nothing but a dense matrix of dark clouds and swirling eddies of snow. To further complicate matters, the plane had been buffeted by violent gusts of wind for the past twenty minutes; and frankly he was getting a bit nervous. Jack looked over his shoulder for reassurance and saw, instead, cold fear written all over the face of his marine minder. Somehow the sight of this trained soldier having a similar reaction to the turbulence made him feel a little less like of a wimp.
Touchdown on the airport runway was anticlimactic. Jack guessed they had landed on no less than five inches of fresh snow. The experience was like settling into of a thick bed of goose feathers. As he peered out of the window, it was apparent that the landing strip had been repeatedly plowed in advance of their arrival. Mountains of snow loomed so high on both sides of the runway that the plane appeared to have landed inside of an ice tunnel. From the look of things, Jack gathered that the people at the NSA must have a very good reason to risk landing in these hazardous conditions.
The jet taxied to a remote area to the north of the main terminal. An entourage of military personnel headed by General Long met Jack as he walked down the air stairs. The general extended a gloved hand to his visitor.
“Prof. Tessler, welcome to the East Coast. I wish the weather here had been a little more accommodating for your arrival.”
“General, the name’s Jack, and I’m happy to give you people at the NSA a hand. Though I must add that I’m also very happy to be safe and on solid ground again.”
“I’ll bet. By the way, Jack, call me Alex. We have plenty to talk about and dropping the formalities will make things a bit easier. But let’s get moving. We have an escort waiting for us outside the terminal. I’ll explain everything on our way to Dulles.”
Jack’s luggage was loaded into a military Humvee equipped with snow tires and chains on all four wheels. Long and Tessler sat in the backseat while Jack’s minder occupied shotgun. An access road connected the airport to Interstate 295 and the Washington Beltway. A large diesel truck with a snowplow mounted at the front end met them at the freeway entrance and began clearing the way for the general’s caravan. Jack checked in both directions. There was no sign of moving traffic anywhere and, except for an occasional abandoned vehicle, the interstate was completely disserted. Jack was especially grateful for the truck escort since the nor’easter was at the very peak of its fury, and the overall visibility was close to zero.
Once on the interstate, Long began relaying the story that brought Jack some 3,000 miles to land in the midst of a mammoth blizzard. The general ended the tale with a graphic description of body parts protruding through the skin of the airplane.
“Jack, we’ve checked. There seems to be no point of origin for this aircraft and no record of a flight plan. The plane simply appeared on Dulles’s radar about 3:00 a.m. this morning. The really strange part of the story is what I’m about to tell you. A TWA Constellation with the very same serial numbers took off from Logan airport in Boston early Christmas morning and then dropped off their radar without warning one half hour after takeoff. No wreckage of the aircraft was ever found. Logan air traffic assumed that the plane must have wandered off course and crashed into the Atlantic Ocean somewhere off the coast of New York State. The curious part of the story is this. The event I just described happened early Christmas Day, 1954.”
Chapter 3
The Humvee inched its way along Interstate 295 South until it reached the intersection of the Capital Beltway. Their convoy then turned northwest to the Dulles toll road marked Route 267.
After an extended trek of four and a half hours, the Humvee finally turned onto the access road that led to Dulles International Airport. As the caravan approached the main terminal, Jack became acutely aware of an unnatural silence that had settled over the entire complex. The usual mass of travelers he came to expect at an airport of this size had long since vacated the premises, and only a skeleton crew remained to look after the security of the facility.
As they pulled up to the main terminal, the director of airport personnel met Tessler, Long and the entire military entourage on the second level just outside the American Airlines ticket counter.
The supervisor introduced himself and said, “General, I got word of your arrival a while back, but truthfully, we expected you hours ago. I guess things are a lot worse out there than we thought. At any rate I’m glad you made it safely. Come with me and I’ll show you the problem we’ve been dealing with. I must say, I’ve worked at this airport going on thirty years, and I have never witnessed anything even close to this. But you’ll soon see for yourselves. The private elevator is just over here to your left.”
The group took the lift to the ground floor and then walked a short distance to the outside exit.
“Bundle up, gentlemen, it’s cold as a witch’s tit out there.”
The men took heed of the supervisor’s suggestion, and, one by one, they stepped outside with their faces buried deep inside their woolen neck warmers. Again and again the group was assaulted by gusts of arctic air. Yet, as they looked up, their eyes came to rest on a sight far more threatening than the blinding snowstorm. The shifting outline of the aircraft loomed before them like an ill-defined apparition with only the howling wind to pierce the veil of pure white. Above and to the sides of the fuselage were the protruding body parts graphically described by General Long. It was a ghastly sight that defied all reason.
The taskforce of military men seemed immobilized; hesitant to approach something they couldn’t begin to get their minds around. Finally a solitary figure began walking across the tarmac to the air stairs and climbed up to the entryway. General Long and several of his subordinates followed Jack’s lead and they entered single file into the bowels of the aircraft. Jack noticed that snow had blown through the open hatch, and, over time, piled up into drifts throughout the first cabin. As he continued down the center aisle, his flashlight randomly outlined the facial expressions of the many passengers. It was evident from their grisly contortions that they had been through one horrific experience.
Jack stopped to examine one woman who had her seat belt securely fastened. The female passenger had pushed her right arm through the side panel of the Constellation as if it were made of stuff with roughly the consistency of Jell-O. Jack took a close-up photo of the passenger’s arm with his iPhone hoping to demonstrate the complete absence of trauma to her flesh.
“How in hell could something like this happen,” Jack muttered to himself? “It’s as if the basic laws of physics were temporarily suspended.”
But that was impossible, wasn’t it?
Frozen body after frozen body, the findings were all the same. Even in the cockpit the pilot and copilot appeared totally unprepared to respond to this terrible tragedy. The circumstances that decimated this aircraft and its passengers had happened just too damn fast.
As Jack and the others were leaving the plane, he heard General Long giving final instructions regarding the safe removal of the plane’s flight recorder. But Jack reminded himself that flight recorders weren’t available for aircrafts of this vintage. He began kneading the crown of his head in an effort to compute something that made absolutely no sense.
In the distance Jack heard Long order the bodies removed from the aircraft and he authorized follow-up autopsies on all the passengers and crew. The general also left orders for the plane to be reverse engineered in hopes of finding additional clues.
As Jack walked down the air stairs, his thoughts were churning. Instinct whispered to his brain that the cause of this bizarre happening might well lead him to some sort of transcendental truth; and today that journey had begun with a single step.
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