Time Snap

TIMESNAP

David Lee Howells

Copyrite January 1st, 2013

Smashwords Edition

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1 – The Projectionist

Chapter 2 – MEM

Chapter 3 – Time Snap

Chapter 4 – Aftermath

Chapter 5 – Adam and Eve

Chapter 6 – Enter the Garden

Chapter 7 – The First Dawn

Chapter 8 – New Appetites

Chapter 9 – Nightfall

Chapter 10 – The Journey

Chapter 11 – Projection Department

Chapter 12 – SUNY

Chapter 13 – Base of Operations

Chapter 14 – Ramada

Chapter 15 – A New Dawn

Chapter 16 – A New Day

Chapter 17 – U of R

Chapter 18 – Regrouping

Chapter 19 – Tactical

Chapter 20 – Dead Dawn

Chapter 21 – Repair

Chapter 22 – The Fall of Man

Chapter 23 – Aftermath

Chapter 24 – Vignettes

About the Author

Other Books to Read

Prologue

"Time is what keeps everything from happening at once." Raymond King Cummings. The Girl in the Golden Atom, 03/15/1919.

In the beginning, the Beginning was created. Before all the Heavens, the Earth, the waters and land, the animals and man, the Creator created Time. Time was the vessel into which Creation would be poured. And in the infinity of variations within Creation came to be two human beings, male and female, a modern Adam and Eve who were cast out of the Garden of Time.

A beginning implies an end, and, for every alpha and omega, there is a connecting line.

Some lines are predictable and reliable. In mathematics, a line may be drawn as described by a simple or complex formula that establishes each point along that line. This line cannot be broken even if you tear up the graph. That only destroys what can be easily reproved and replotted on another piece of paper.

Our world’s existence is made of countless lines, for linearity is part of our universe’s make up. Every great discovery that initiates a whole new line of thinking is but a point on a new line, one that may hallmark the end of an old line. When an old line breaks, a new line usually begins. For Adam and Eve, both the Biblical and the pair in this story, the line breaking process was cataclysmic, and the new line was radically different.

Holy books agree that we are made in the image of the Creator. Perhaps our own linear diversities reflect the infinite diversity of God’s greater universe. And since some lines in our own existence can be broken, maybe, just maybe, the same can be said of some of those lines that exist in God’s workshop. It would follow that those who inhabit God’s neighborhood would be subject to our own occasional need of a repair resource. A Heavenly Host handyman class, if you will. Why not? Angelic ranks and specializations have been woven into theologies for millennia.

For the sake of argument, suppose Humankind provides a certain degree of entertainment and enlightenment for those referred to in Genesis as the Host, that life truly is a stage, as Shakespeare once surmised. It’s not all that far fetched, for there are millions of reports of Angelic interactions with God’s earthly children. For every encounter reported, who knows how many more go either unnoticed, or was kept quiet? This implies a sizable amount of monitoring of our kind by such beings and Heaven can be theorized to be, if nothing else, organized, coordinated, and timely. All that observation must have reasons. Could one of those reasons be to troubleshoot?

In the world we know, time erodes all things. In another place, might something erode time?

Chapter 1: The Projectionist

"This most beautiful system of the sun, planets and comets, could only proceed from the counsel and dominion of an intelligent and powerful being." Sir Isaac Newton. The Principia: Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy.

Drat! From the Big Board room of Heaven’s Earth Projection Department issued forth the explicative that the Chief Projectionist was known for. Subordinates would wince to hear it. Drat forecasted serious effort and long hours of work to run down whatever poser was currently irritating the Projection Department Chief.

Vast numbers of beings made up the body known as the Host, yet there was organization to the multitudes of these sentient servants to the One. More so than Earthly mortals, all Host had assignments in their agendas that kept them productively occupied and endowed with purpose. That purposeful activity fell under the general umbrella called Mission.

The Primary Administration Department of Heaven (evolved from haven) was staffed with one hundred and forty-four thousand primary administrative Host and Saints. Soldiery numbers went far above that, as did the count of those whose main task it was to orchestrate expressions of praise for the One, be it singing debuts, poetry, artwork, plays or stringed and wind instrument tributes. But no one worked all the time. Periods of rest or at least activity of a different flavor were required, as it is with us. Otherwise, even Host minds became dulled with constant repetition and effort. Did not God stroll the Gardens called Eden and smell the roses?

Diversions were needed, and there were many to choose from in the true Holy Land. But by far the most popular were those that dealt with observing the inhabitants of the One’s created worlds. Of those, Earth was one of the more popular hangouts. Earth Humans provided such a spectrum of amusing and eye-opening possibilities, and it was even possible to have Host/Human interaction on a limited basis. The rules on that kind of interplay were strict. Breaking those rules was not something to be done lightly. Some daring Host had done so in intended secrecy and best of intentions. First time transgressors that were caught were punished. Second time offenders were banished. The One had a fondness for the Earth Time Line that didn’t allow transgressors much by way of toleration.

In Heaven, the rank of Projectionist involved a far more complex job description than what someone with the same title would experience in our local movie houses. Humans who ran cinematic entertainment only had to make sure that the films were in focus, the sound levels were adequate, and to make the occasional repair of a broken film strip or malfunctioning digital storage device. A Host Projection Department went far beyond those simplistic duties, and the Projection Department that was tasked to the Earth had more than the average issues and concerns. Each inhabited planet had a Projection Department assigned to it.

Suppose a diversion-seeking Host chose to enter the Mortal Experience Mansion, nicknamed MEM, with only a few months of Earth time to spend. While there are many visiting Host to choose from, let’s tag along with Barna. He is of medium rank in the hierarchy of Heaven’s Administration Department, and plays a significant role in what is about to unfold.

Barna has a single set of wings when in Manifest mode (more on that later), is reasonably affable and popular, and has of late put in far too much Host time in his clerical position maintaining the Book of Life at Administration. Keeping those records up to date is a tedious but necessary task, according to the One. Barna did his work well and, for the most part, without question, for it was his Mission. Mistakes could not be allowed in the execution of his tasks, so scheduled down time had to be taken. A Host named Fallel would take up Barna’s station for the next rotation.

Enter the MEM one haggard Host from the Department of Administration, Book of Life Sub-Department. Barna spoke to Chief Projectionist Quin.

Usual timeline and continent, Quin. So what’s with you? Something the matter? Host members were not as adept at hiding their inner turmoil as Humans are. Human talent for emotional subjugation was one of many curiosities that drew Host members to study and marvel at these beings.

Another Time wrinkle, Barna. There’s a glitch somewhere, but don’t worry. Nothing we can’t fix. Might have to close down a quadrant of Observation cubicles to chase it down, though. Did a quick-fix an age ago and that supposedly took care of it. Shouldn’t be having problems with it again so soon.

If anyone can fix it, it’s Quin, the old raven. Got my regular cubicle?

Quin got up from his seat at the Big Board control station. For you, Barna? No problem. You Life Bookers have connections in Administration, and that’s all I need to know. Someday I might need a high priority extended Earth break, if you know what I mean.

The visiting Host smiled. Just because he worked with Administration didn’t mean he had all that much pull on vacation assignments. But it didn’t hurt to keep the rep alive. What Quin was talking about was the less often allowed extended physical presence on a planet by a Host member. Most of the time, this didn’t cause any serious problem. On rare occasion, though, there was a Host-induced mess to clean up when too much exposure to mortals caused said Host to go native, or more popularly termed Earth happy. The One had special teams for just that eventuality that issued from the Department of Intervention. I’ll do what I can, Quin. Don’t pin your hopes on my string yanking abilities, though. I’m only mid-level on Jacobs Hierarchy Ladder. Ill see what I can do about that on my next rotation. Is the Ambrosia cornucopia working again?

Yep. Got in a new supply of rams horn steins, too. Go and enjoy."

Barna started walking down the lengthy hallway to pick up a refreshment before moving on to his relaxation time. Just before he got out of hearing range, he heard yet another drat. Poor old Quinn. He knew the MEM’s Big Board and all its linked Mini-Boards better than any of the Host. If there were Time wrinkles cropping up, no way would Administration allow him an extended leave. Barna slowly shook his head and kept walking.

Quin gave one more glance as the Administration Host went down the hall. The Head Projectionist didn’t personally handle cubicle assignments as a rule, but rules could be bent for the greater good. Glancing back at the Big Board, short for Main Time Line Board, that nagging thought that a significant overhaul or upgrade might be needed in the not too distant future recurred. There were a hundred and forty four Projection Departments, and all had their issues that needed attention. Influence with Administration might put Quin’s improvements need on a more front burner. That made Barna his ace in the hole. Quin laughed. Human expressions had become a style fad among the Host. Why?

Go figure.

Chapter 2: MEM

It’s a poor sort of memory that works only backwards, says the White Queen to Alice. Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass, 1872, published by Macmillan & Co.

Human dwellings and places of business or pleasure had length, width, and depth. Host edifices went beyond that, with time and space as featured alterable dimensions. From the outside, the MEM might have struck you as the storefront of a small scale department store. Once inside and assigned to your destination, it was a simple matter of walking through a single door that led to a bank of hallways that each had banks of thresholds. Once you passed your assigned threshold, you found yourself in a comfortable chamber, about bedroom sized, with a chair and a small table next to it. On the right arm of the chair was a half globe where a Host’s hand would rest. This was a control orb, and from it one could choose almost any place and any point in Time to witness. The orb rested right next to the stein stand. On the left arm were a call signal and a communication port. One cubicle wall, which the chair faced, had an amorphous appearance, dark and smoky, until a command brought the wall to an amazingly clear life.

To enter Earth in person by these portals was kept to a bare minimum. Mainly, these view ports were set-up to covertly observe a nearly limitless panorama of events and situations from a safe and secure distance. Barna set his ram’s horn down after a brief sip. He could have guzzled the whole drink if he chose. The thing would automatically refill. Resting for the first time in half a decade, according to Earth time, Barna sat down and placed his hand upon the orb. Twenty-first century, Present Time, North American continent, random site choice. Barna liked chance observations. It was like sampling a box of Human chocolates (he tried that delicacy once on a physical visitation to the planet…Administration had its perks). You might get a piano recital, a mugging, a sexual encounter, or a child transfixed before a television screen. Images carried a full dimensionality of both sight and sound for, in a very real sense, the observer was actually there. Even smells could be optioned if desired, depending on whether you were observing a field of flowers or a slaughter house. If it appeared necessary to go beyond simple observation, one could request permission to interact with the observed Human(s) with anything from an implanted intuition to personal interaction. Personal initiative wasn’t unheard of, but you had better have one Hell of a good reason to present once the dust settled, for that kind of interplay was supposed to be the exclusive right of the Department of Intervention.

At any moment in Host time, millions of cubicles in the one hundred and forty four Observation Departments may be in operation. Soldiery gravitated to military scenes, while Administration types might focus on the rise and fall of governments. But most would take some time for Joe and Jane Average. Book of Lifers frequently visited Past Time to check up on those that had either been entered in or stricken out. It gave some deeper meaning and impact to their job than just seeing a name and spirit ID shunted to the one category or the other.

Fred Kant was from Earth, and was one that had been stricken out on Barna’s last shift. A Strike Out only happened when an individual passed beyond the point where salvation could have been acquired, physically or spiritually. Settling in after a random witnessing of a wedding reception and children flying kites, Barna simply spoke, Fred Matthew Kant, ID… The utterance for a Spirit ID is of a language that English (or any other mortal tongue) had no equivalent sound sequence for. Brief Life Review mode.

The screen went out of Present Time and into one that could be more easily manipulated by the whims of the observer. Fred Kant’s birth, potty training, first steps, and pre-K days went by in standard review fashion. A divorce by his parents, followed with shuffling from parent to parent to grandparent to other relatives showed some strain on the boy. At age seven, there was an observed sexual abuse by an aging uncle. Reaching back in his mind, Barna recalled the name of that father’s brother. His name, too, had been stricken.

Trouble in school, slipped through the cracks, turmoil at home, rough friends, alcohol, then drugs. That was followed with a gang membership, crime, two arrests (the first for possession, the second for assault), and finally death due to a competing gang retribution. Barna sighed. The Human had been given so many chances. Whispered hints to his heart by the Host and reaching out by fellow Humans in what they called their Social Services apparatus had all been ignored. And at such a cost to a child who might have turned out to be a credit to his race? There had been a musical talent in his make up that would have been wondrous to hear.

It was illuminating, though depressing. There seemed so much that was wasted among Human kind. Waste was not considered a virtue by the Host, adding to the curious fascination/repulsion the Host held for Humans in particular.

Back on the cubicle’s screen, an autopsy was now being performed by a middle aged female forensic specialist. There was one more witness to her procedures than the poor old doctor knew of. For a moment, the doctor broke her professionally detached demeanor and stroked the hair of the lifeless youth. Then she sighed and went back to recording things like entrance and exit wounds, tattoos, and so forth. For Barna, no more could be done, no more could be learned, and so it was on to another distraction.

The next random shot landed Barna in Saratoga at a race track. Well-muscled horses were straining at the bit in their starting gates, mounted by small-statured Humans in outlandishly colorful clothing. But what held Barna’s attention more were the people holding onto their betting stubs with incredible anticipation. Gambling, what a concept. The Host owned nothing with which to gamble or barter with, that he knew of.

Or did they? Barna’s mind went back to his conversation with Quin. Influence could be considered a commodity. Could his own preferential treatment by a Projection Department Host to get his special cubicle be a bartered return for his Administration rank’s influence? Barna was just starting to feel a twinge of discomfort in his spiritual heart when a bell rang. The horses leaped out of the gate. Immediately, Humans began jumping up and down like their feet were on red hot coals, screaming, waving their arms around. It was shear lunacy, but they seemed to derive great pleasure in the act. Passion and pleasure were dangerous things according to Barna’s mentor, Floka. Floka was in the Soldiery and rising in rank, last he heard. He had thought to follow that mind trail a bit further, but the race ended. A small percentage of the people were rejoicing in a manner to put the joyous Host in the Praise Department to shame, but most were ripping up the stubs and throwing them to the winds.

There might be some insight possibilities here, but he felt it was time to move on. Another random jump landed Barna into a Human domicile…a living room in what was called an apartment. It was most likely an unattached male resident, judging from the décor and the mismatched pillows on the couch.

It was at that moment when Heaven and Earth took an unexpected and unprecedented turn. Barna felt it and saw the lights in the domicile go out. What had happened? A power failure? No, more than that. He sensed it so.

Chapter 3: Time Snap

"Then everything will be frozen, like a snapshot of one instant, forever." Professor Jose Senovilla, article in Physical Review D journal in regards the gradual deceleration of time.

New mortal entrants into Heaven were always given the royal tour of what their new home and neighborhood had to offer. While Barna was just switching the channel from the horse races, the Projectionist team was busy ignoring a Tour Guide. Host Shanna spoke in that loving instructor tone of hers to the latest batch of ex-flesh-and-blooders. As the last of her current brood gathered in an area near where the Chief was busy muttering, she softly said, Please keep quiet here, for you are observing something wondrous that involved each and every one of you every moment of your time alive. Before you is one of many Big Boards. On them, you will see billions of indicators, each representing a life currently being lived on respective planets. Each indicator begins on the left of the screen at conception, where the union of flesh forms the vessel of your soul travel. Note that, as the Time Line continues, the indicators may migrate towards the top of the screen, or the bottom. This represents the evolution of each soul towards the Holy, or towards a fall from Grace. This is where you are ranked according to the lives you lived, and that information is automatically entered into the Book of Life, which was our last stop before now. Here is where the information that ranked your kinds into the One’s hierarchy of favor is derived from. This group was successful in reaching the top thirty percentile of salvation achievers. That’s not to say you couldn’t have done better, but you certainly put in a good showing. You will be placed in the Holiday Inn class of Heavenly residences, as opposed to Sleep Cheap or Grand Hilton. But no matter where you are ranked, you’ve arrived and are protected by the One with love. You will all have tasks assigned later...we don’t allow our Human fellow-creations to become cloud potatoes. Now, if you will follow me, let’s move on to the sample Observation cubicle display.

Quin remained watchful over the screen that kept billions of bits of information constantly updated. His last quick-fix a few minutes ago seemed to clear up that annoying color wavering on the screen. But it still felt…wrong. The patterns of indicator colors and how they flowed into each other were almost right, but there was a sense of tension. The borders of the colors as individual mortal indicators flowed past each other as they migrated left to right and up or down didn’t look as smooth as they should, and indicator interfaces would at times show a third color when they touched, a sure sign of friction. He’d seen it before, but today there were many more momentary reddish orange color surges than usual.

If a Host could be said to have one failing, it was pride. Quin had put millennia of effort into the Big Board with all its subsidiary Mini-Boards. Though all things came from the One, this thing was still his baby. As the Earth’s population increased, his efforts to improve the Big Board’s function had always been up to the task. But even the increased dimensional capacities installed last century in Heaven’s Projection Departments were beginning to strain to monitor the increasing billions of individuals’ time lines on Earth as they flowed by and around each other. There was the usual flow from left to right as birth and death rates roughly kept up with each other. Major conflicts, epidemics, and cataclysms would reflect in a temporary pattern change on the Big Board as a group of indicators suddenly ended their journeys before they got to the typical four score and ten years that Humans tended to live to. Quin rarely knew why large numbers suddenly dropped, nor did he care. That was not his Department. Monitoring the Alpha to Omega progress of the Earth’s Time Line was. It had to be kept an eye on, for it was his responsibility to make sure that this planet continued to exist in synchrony with all the other worlds. As for what was happening on other worlds? He didn’t care. They weren’t his Department.

There, it happened again. It was a flash of frictional color that you or I might equate to seeing a ray of sunshine momentarily reflect off of a school of small fish.

Drat, drat, and double drat! Dang!

Eight subordinate Host shared looks that went beyond a mere wince. That extended phrase had not been uttered by the Chief in their collective memories. Three were fairly recent interns, but there were two Assistant Chiefs who went back a long ways. Both of them were rapidly manipulating a bank of information orbs to track down whatever the problem was, or problems were. Each of those packets of colored indicators that migrated from left to right was an individual Human. There were billions of them, separate and yet connected. What might happen if that connection was broken? None of them knew. Not even the Chief, and right now that bothered him more than anything else.

It was one of those moments when your worst fears were suddenly made manifest, when Time itself seemed to stand still. The Chief sensed more than observed the rising dysfunction, and his jaw began to tighten. Then, it happened. Time stood still, for real.

In a blink, one more wave of color flash from left to right hit. All indicator motion, as far as they could tell, stopped. Nine Host stared at the arrest of motion. No one moved, and none spoke until one of the interns asked, What in One’s Name just happened?

The Chief’s face was a study in stone that belied the frantic race of thoughts in his mind. Algorithms were tried, one after another, but even the most experienced member of the crew was at a loss for the lack of experience. This had simply never happened before. How could it? The Earth Time Line was created by the One. It couldn’t break, for that would imply a fault in design. But the One was faultless, according to Host Doctrine. But if the One was faultless, then how could this creation fail? It couldn’t be the One’s fault, thought the Chief. It had to be his. He had failed the One, somehow, but how? More and more the Chief’s wheels spun, digging deeper and deeper into a self-immobilizing standstill, just as still as all those dots on the wall. The two Assistant Chiefs were none the better off, and perhaps worse. Despite their longer years of experience, they had the disadvantage of coming to rely on the Chief in times of new events. But the Chief’s leadership was not forthcoming, at least not yet. Surely he was analyzing the situation and would come up with some miraculous answer, and so, they waited…in vain.

It took the newest intern’s inexperience and naiveté to break the deadlock. Chief, we have to do something. Should you call the One? What do we do about all the cubicles? Our Brothers and Sisters are there, watching. Are they affected by this…this…whatever it is?

That broke the vicious cycle, the conundrum that had derailed action on the Chief’s part. New questions gave him an opportunity for new algorithms. Right. Good show, Aron. We have a major glitch in the Line and we’ll need details and fast before we call the One. Once again, pride played a role in his decision making. An event of this magnitude would have had any of the staff issuing an immediate Priority One Prayer for emergency assistance. That thought had occurred to the Chief, but he held back. They could fix this, maybe, without bothering the One. Surely the One was more than occupied with other matters of intergalactic import, and so it behooved him to clear this one up, that is, if it could be cleared up. He spoke into another section of the wall.

Brother and Sister Host, this is the Chief Projectionist. Do not panic. We have a situation and our Department needs your feedback. Do not, repeat, do not respond right away. My staff will start contacting each of your individual cubicles. Be patient. Be observant. Chief out.

Each of the eight subordinates began the process of contacting their own subordinate teams, and those started the contact process of each cubicle’s occupant. Reports began to filter in quickly. Minutes later, it became apparent that the problem was greater than originally thought.

Chapter 4: Aftermath

"Time is the moving edge of reality". Plato.’

The working theory pieced together by the determined Projection Department was that elements of the construct of Time had snapped, for the lack of a better expression. Time (with a capital T, for Host) had physical laws and properties. Some of those properties included malleability. That was documented in the Bible twice in the Old Testament where it had been held still once, and reversed once. Time alteration had also been speculated by physicists when they studied extreme gravitational fields, or when travel might approach the speed of light. The original plan for Time, as it applied to the sentient inhabited worlds, involved additional complications, especially with the various Human species, and in particular with the planet Earth. As that population grew and advanced in culture and technology, so grew the fascination by the Host with this world. Human physical resemblance to Host gave those planets an even higher draw for attention, resembling our own fascination with the various primates. The MEM was founded, and grew in both usage and complexity. Earth was unique, and so it exceeded most planets for Host visitation. Some suggested this accelerated wear and tear on the fabric of Earth Time, compounded by the large number of Host that Time Hopped to Previous Time locations. If interventions in Present Time were touchy subjects, any kind of contact outside of Present Time was taboo and verboten.

The Snap would be found to have a selective freeze on life activity. There was little to hear, other than the sound of wind, running water or weather which weren’t part of the Time fracture. All animal life, though, was frozen. But the connections between Heaven and Earth that had grown over the many centuries had an even more startling result.

Host Observation cubicles had a curious affect of negating the Time Snap Effect on nearby Humans or animals being observed. At the time of the event, almost half the observing Host were taking an Ambrosia break, reprogramming for another visit, or meditating on the lessons learned from the last visitation before proceeding on to the next. That left roughly a million Earth-connected Host cubicles active. Of that million, three quarters were observing Previous Time events.

Different Departments had their own sections of the MEM earmarked for them. The largest four groups were Observation, Praise, Intervention and Soldiery. Of the Past-Time Host currently using the MEM, many of those were of the Soldiery who were studying Human battles. Some were Lauders from Praise looking for new ideas for hymns and poems. Interventionists were always Present Time. So, the estimated Present Time Host observers weighed in at two hundred and twenty thousand plus change.

The Snap froze Time progression for anything besides plant life considered living. The wind still blew. Leaves would flutter, sap ran, and oxygen/carbon dioxide exchange continued. If an animal were in mid leap, the Snap allowed an unnerving mid-air suspension of the action, almost as if the animal were hovering. Someone not affected by the Snap’s stasis affect might consider some fun playing with the frozen creatures, but they were not pliable at all. As for inanimate objects, these remained in Time stasis unless someone free of the Snap pulled said object into the Snap Timeline. More would be discovered about that later.

Each cubicle created a Regional Snap Buffer Zone affecting Human or animal individuals only if they were close enough to the Observation portal (roughly thirty feet). Inanimate objects, though, did not gain any such protection. All these components would be uncovered the Chief and his staff from the frantic paced data sharing with Host who were maintaining their Present Time Earth vigils. That information didn’t immediately help matters of Time Snap repair. Still, they were puzzle pieces, and so each were set to the side as the team desperately searched for other pieces that would eventually create a picture they could work with.

Those in Previous Time sites reported points along the Past Time Line were unaffected. Those cubicles were emptied except for a statistically significant monitoring sample that spanned three thousand years of Earth Time. They would give a warning should the Time Snap evolve a retroactive freezing affect. The Chief and his staff continued to sift and collect.

Like some old episode of Twilight Zone, the Regional Buffer Zone bestowed on a small fraction of Humanity an almost nightmarish situation of having the world to themselves. Since the Snap was not an instantaneous event but more of a staccato wave, this put individuals who were saved from Time Freeze into a spectrum of Time existence segments where only those who were part of the same given microsecond of freeze time would be able to detect or interact with each other. At least, if they could find each other. The segmentedness of the event caused a range of individual existence shared Time slots. Boiled down, active Humans now inhabited an Earth with multiple planes of Time almost like different dimensions. Some of these discrete Time planes had zero population of active Humans. The maximum plane population was clocked in to be seventy nine Humans, two horses, six dogs, four cats, and a parakeet.

The Projection staff eventually calculated roughly sixty thousand discrete Time planes in the pie which would hold active individuals. However, all segments would experience similar exposure to non-sentient elements of the planet, including sunshine or darkness, wind and rain, though frozen Humans wouldn’t suffer the ravages of exposure (no one would catch cold or get sunburned). The universe still existed and functioned, even if the inhabitants didn’t. Gravity, that marvelous element of Creation, held each of those in suspension to his or her place on the planet. Otherwise each being would wind up either sailing off into space, or to have their atoms crushed as the planet plowed on right through them.

Thoughts like these stayed the Chief Projectionist’s hands from calling upon the One for assistance and guidance. Since all these things had occurred, it must have been part of the One’s Master Plan, or at least be a back-up contingency. Therefore, it seemed reasonable to try and sort through this disaster and see if it could be corrected by a highly trained Host and his staff, all of whom were present at this moment and place because the One willed it so. Aron further skirted normal rules of silently respecting one’s superiors by suggesting the One may not take kindly to pride preventing their booting this to a higher power authority, especially if that delay caused more harm to the Time Line. Quin showed less appreciation for Aron’s new observation than he did for the previous, but took the time to point out that, for the One, nothing was irreparable.

Quin took a deep breath, cleared his mind, and then dove back into equations and action plans.

Chapter 5: Adam and Eve

"Time, time, time, see what’s become of me, while I looked around for my possibilities. I was so hard to please." Paul Simon, Hazy Shade of Winter. Bookends album, 1968.

On the eve of the Snap, Peter Stahl and Melanie Culpepper had enjoyed a wonderful evening together. Both privately considered taking the next step in closeness and affection this evening

But let’s turn back the clock and better introduce this pivotal pair whose actions would become known by many in Heaven, and some in another realm.

They had met at the Barnes and Noble in Rochester, NY, two months previous. Peter noticed her at the coffee and snack bar. She was a very attractive brunette who happened to have one of his