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    Genesis
    Genesis
    Genesis
    Ebook92 pages51 minutes

    Genesis

    By Greg Curtis

    ()

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    About this ebook

    The beginning might well be their end!

    It's 2065 and mankind's first chronosphere is about to undertake the greatest expedition ever attempted. Its crew will travel back through time to witness the beginning of it all, the big bang.

    But this expedition will be beset with problems from the very outset. Problems that only begin with the last minute replacement of their first officer with a glory seeking adventurer.

    But did no one consider the first paradox?

    Novella, 22,000 words.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherGreg Curtis
    Release dateMar 8, 2013
    ISBN9781301990047
    Genesis
    Author

    Greg Curtis

    Greg Curtis is the name of a hopelessly boring, middle class, sci fi loving nerd. He was born in New Zealand, land of the long white cloud and small flightless birds and grew up in the city of Wellington, renown for its high winds and the almost magical ability of rain and sleet to be lifted off the street and blasted into one's face. After eighteen years of suffering the cold and wet, he was finally blown away in a particularly bad storm to settle far away as a student at Massey and Otago Universities. He was intered there for more years then most would ever admit to. Then when the universities finally pronounced him done he became an overqualified and underpaid worker in the health sector - aren't we all! Greg has lived in the city of Rotorua, one of the very few places in the world where people have actually chosen to reside beside active geysers and breath air that reeks of sulphur, for the past seventeen years, working by day for his daily bread, and toiling away by night on his books. When not engaged in his great passions of reading and writing science fiction and fantasy, drinking strong black coffee (some call it tar), and consuming copious amounts of chocolate (dark naturally), he lives a quiet life of contemplation as the high priest to his two cats. Greg worships them with regular gifts of food, occasional grooming and by providing them with a warm dry place to sleep. They in turn look down upon him with typical feline disdain, but occasionally deign to bring him gifts of headless vermin - as a warning. In a desperate bid to understand the meaning of his life, he has recently started studying philosophy, particularly metaphysics, and has finally come to a startling conclusion. God must be a cat! Cheers and be good or don't get caught.

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      Book preview

      Genesis - Greg Curtis

      GENESIS

      Greg Curtis.

      Copyright 2012 by Greg Curtis.

      Smashwords Edition.

      Dedication.

      This book is dedicated to my mother Ruth Curtis and my sister Lucille Curtis, my biggest supporters, harshest critics and all round cheer team, and without whom this book would not have been written. It’s also dedicated to my father Allen Curtis, gone too soon but not forgotten.

      Chapter One.

      August Fourth 2031.

      Saint Johns Maternity Hospital, Washington.

      Mother and baby were doing well, although it had been a long and difficult labour. As the nurse wandered in to the darkened room to check the charts she couldn’t help but think it had been a close one. Both baby, Fergis Marshall and his mother had been lucky to survive. The odds had been against them but thankfully the doctors in Saint John’s Newbury were the very best. The odds might have been against the boy, but they had never given up.

      You all right? You need anything? She asked the grandmother collapsed in the chair beside her daughter as she made her notes in the charts. She was the only one still awake in the room.

      No. Thanks. The woman smiled at her, obviously tired but happy. She’d been with her daughter throughout the entire delivery, and had to be exhausted herself.

      I bet you’re glad it’s over. It must have been worrying.

      I was never worried. The grandmother smiled at her some more.

      That’s good. The doctors here, they are the very best. You should have faith in them.

      Honey the doctors are good. I believe you. But they had nothing to do with this. Fergis here would have survived if he’d been born in a paddy field. Her words stopped the nurse dead in her duties as she wondered if she’d heard right. Born in a paddy field? With all the problems the mother and child had had? That was crazy. Then she saw the little silver cross on its chain around the woman’s neck and understood. The nurse gave a professional smile in response. Religion. Even in these modern times with all the wonders of science there were still some who held on to their faith. Older people mostly.

      That’s nice. The nurse gave a noncommittal acknowledgement, her mind clearly on how a person could even think that this baby could have survived being born in a paddy field. This was the middle of the twenty first century, there were no births in paddy fields. No births without highly trained doctors and midwives on hand. And absolutely no high risk births outside of a hospital. The very idea was sacrilege. But the smile didn’t work as she’d expected. The grandmother burst into laughter at her words. Had she said something amusing?

      You don’t believe child, and I don’t blame you. Fergis here won’t either. But it changes nothing. This child was born for a reason. He has a purpose. He had to survive to carry it out.

      Ah huh. Finished with her notes and checks, the nurse smiled politely and rushed out of the room as quickly as she could without appearing rude, but she had problems dealing with the religious. Everyone did. Why couldn’t they just live in the real world of science and technology along with everyone else?

      Besides, Fergis Marshall? What kind of a name was that for a world mover? The chances were that the boy was going to grow up to be an accountant or a lawyer just like every other baby in the hospital.

      Chapter Two.

      April second 2065.

      Temporal Research Institute, Silicon Valley.

      The holographic sign in front of the door simply read Isaac Magnus, Director. But that was grossly unfair to the man. Director was the least of what the man was. For Magnus was the titular head of the Temporal Research Institute and the driving force behind the entire Genesis project. He not only ran the place, but he was also the guy who obtained the money and the permissions, who okayed the designs and plans, who arranged all the meetings and press conferences, and who would ultimately give the final go. He was it as far as the project was concerned.

      And he’d summoned Fergis to his office first thing in the morning, only days before they were due to leave on the greatest expedition ever undertaken by man.

      That worried Fergis somewhat.

      Still Fergis knocked politely, kept his thoughts to himself, and waited for the smoked glass door to slide silently open.

      Inside when the door opened, he saw Magnus sitting at his desk as he always did, looking fairly much business as usual. Overdressed as always, in his knee length suit and black shirt with the gold embroidered collar, and as always groomed to the nth degree. There was nothing that spoke of bad news in his face. Nothing that said Fergis should be worried. But there was something. Fergis didn’t know what, but when the director summoned him in with a wave, he knew there was something.

      Director. Although usually he used his given name, he suddenly felt the need to be a little bit formal.

      Shut the door and sit down. The director indicated the chair on the other side of his huge glass desk, and Fergis did as requested. There was no point in doing otherwise. But he didn’t like it. Normally when Magnus wanted to see him he simply came and saw him. Even the director had legs, and he liked to use them, to walk the battlements of his castle as he often said. Being summoned to see him was like being summoned to the principal’s office, and Fergus couldn’t help but wonder if he’d done something wrong. But as he sank into the deep cushioned foam of the seats he had to admit that even if there was trouble he had comfortable chairs for his guests.

      The director didn’t even offer him a drink as he surely would to all the other more important people who had sat in front of his desk over the years. But then he couldn’t really and Fergus hadn’t expected him to. The moment he had been selected for the expedition Fergis had become alcohol free. Drug free as well. A year and a half without a single drink, or a smoke. A year and a half of being poked and prodded by the doctors every morning as they looked for any sign that he might be unfit for his command. To date they had not found one and they never would.

      You wanted to see me?

      There’ve been some changes. The director cut straight to the point as he always did. It was

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