The Beaded Tapestry

Dear Victoria,

Everywhere I look there are people. Travelers, residents, business individuals and scientist such as myself fill the public spaces. It was so long ago that I was last here that my mind had forgotten the sheer number of bodies that occupy this city. Paris in all its glory! I had hoped that since the symposium was scheduled for late winter that the crowds would be less. That it seems is not the case. I have been so lulled by the sparse population in England and New Zealand that my first few moments upon arrival were a bit of a shock. Although it did take a moment for my mind to adjust, I am now dodging the passing civilians and weaving through the myriads of traffic like a pro. The years we spent living here, quickly coming back as a guide.

I went directly to the Louvre from the train station, not even stopping to drop off my luggage at the hotel. The excitement of once again entering our old stomping ground was too great to resist. The afternoon has been spent visiting our old haunts and making contact with key people before the symposium starts; A last engagement with the Louvre before my departure for another solar system and the start of the next chapter of my life.

One of my first stops after handing over my impediments to the concierge, was to our old friend the bone knight. How many hours did we spend trying to decipher his shield? Why were we so fascinated with this erroneous figure, tucked away in a side hallway between exhibit halls? It has never been identified and only mystery surrounds the purpose of this eerie piece. What the strange lettering on the shield means, not even the Rosetta stone has given a clue to the symbols.

As I stood there yesterday evening, it reminded me of something I should have mentioned to you before your departure. (Maybe I should say I should have asked you before your departure) When the equipment was returned to Oxford after its unfortunate adventure in New Zealand, several units required significant repairs before they were operational. During these restorations it was necessary to completely disassemble the pressurized inner compartments of a few units. Inside two of them I found replicas of symbols found around the edge of the shield held by the knight. Was this you’re doing? From what I remember, you completed the final potentiometer adjustment on these particular instruments before they were pressurized with nitrogen and sealed. It seemed a strange thing for you to do and also not to mention it to me, but I cannot imagine any other source for these ambiguous markings. Maybe as we once discussed, you feel they have magical powers, giving additional influence to the researcher for the success of their scientific endeavor. The idea that if a researcher included these mystical symbols in their calculation and setup, then there was an increased chance of a successful outcome. I know we jokingly spoke of this, referring to our childhood superstitions, but maybe you’re decided to put it into practice just to see the results.

I guess I will have to wait and ask you when I arrive at the end of my upcoming journey.  I never had the chance in the chaos before you left.

I must close for now.  The symposium on the neurology of music will be starting in an hour and I still must make my way from the hotel to the Louvre science center. My presentation is second on the docket.  Wish me luck. First I will be revealing the initial results from New Zealand. Then I will present an overview of your timeline on New London and my planned agenda on the Phycodurus 8.  It will be nice to speak openly of our current work.  This will most likely be the last time I can do this before my arrival in the Alpha Centauri system.

Tomorrow I will give you a thorough overview of the day’s events.  Hopefully there will be some additional revelations for me also; something to create a paradigm shift in my grey matter.

Love Always,

Annalis

I am always looking for interesting places to find inspiration. This week I visited a new coffee cafe ~ The Coffee Lab ~ It sits across from Nijmegen central train station so great for people watching. It also turned out to be inspirational. Another letter from Oxford down on paper!

Dear sister,

First I need to assure you that all is well with me. I am not certain what type of information mother is providing in parallel with my letters, but I want to affirm that I am fine and have no lasting effects from my little experiment. If you are reading our messages according to  the time stamp after you arrive in New London, I assume you have already read mother’s version of the events from the last week.  I apologize in advance if this is the case since I know how worried she and dad have been and her recent letters must be full of disaster and ill news.

I will start from the beginning so you will realize why I did what I did and also the success of the final outcome.

The second week after my lecture circuit came to an end,  I found myself in an endless cycle with the data from New Zealand and the comparisons to  the Anomaly’s frequency patterns. Around and around I went, comparing my brain emissions with the music of our subject, trying to find a cause and effect between the two. Was my emotional response mimicking the patterns I received from the creature, was the Anomaly responding to my terror or was it influencing my response?  This circle of questions plagued me for weeks, leading me in an infinite loop with no way out.  I admit now that the decision I took was one of desperation and recklessness!

I packed up my essential equipment, borrowed a flitter from the college and headed out to the rugged mountains on the northern extremes of the Scottish highlands. This area is still sparsely populated after the continental submergence in the 23rd century and the emission levels in the atmosphere are still low enough to create a dead zone for my research.  It is not as good as New Zealand, but for my current purpose it was suitable enough.

I set up a temporary camp for a few days of study and sat down on a flat rock overlooking the rugged valley below to draw up a plan. Recreating the terror of my New Zealand encounter was a bit risky, but I knew I could minimize the dangers if I had an adequate plan. Mother asked my later why I had not included a research assistant in my plan.  I knew this would taint the data since my brain would know the risks were minimal, with help so near at hand, so I decided to do this alone.

Once I had mapped out the process,  I bedded down for the night, preparing myself for the ordeal the following day. Early the following morning, before the sun cleared the horizon,  I set up the scenario.  I had programmed both sets of data into my simulator, creating a mock-up of the events in New Zealand. I set up the playback using the parallel distribution process to trick my brain into reliving the occurrence. Using this method from the 21st century to simulator actual neuron functions, seemed to me the way forward in releasing me from my research conundrum. I surmised that if I could relive these events in parallel with the view from the Anomaly and the reaction from my own brain response, then I could determine what was leading.

The next step was where my miscalculation occurred.  I set the simulator on repeat, thinking it would take several replays of the program before my brain could sort out the truth behind the events.  After connecting the simulator to my receptors, I made myself comfortable within the confines of the environmentally controlled research tent.  I then pressed the controls to start the program.

There I was, back at my camp in New Zealand, the sun rising once more over the distant hills and the heat increasing to meet the day.  The smell of the distant New Zealand soil permeated my olfactory sensors, just as if I was actually back in that place.  The thrill of my research was there along with the impatience for the day to start. Then the terror of the storm bearing down on my position enter me thoughts and the pain of the instruments bombarding my body in the torrent of mud and water. The quiet calm as my mind paused along with the simulator while it stopped at the end of the data, resetting itself to restart again.  Then there I was again, at the start of the day, watching the sun rise once again above the hill, planning out my day ahead.

It was then I realized my miscalculation in the plan. I had not set up a panic button to stop the playback or a limit on the parameter for the length of the simulation program. With this realization the terror became tenfold as this added factor in parallel with the terror from the Anomaly data,  plus the response from my own data intermixed with the reading from my own time brain.

I am not sure how many loops I experienced before the replay abruptly ended just as I was viewing the first signs of lightening illuminating the violence of the storm bearing down on me.  Hands were gently lifting my head to offer liquid to my arid throat and I gulped down the much needed moisture until the offered container was empty.

Slowly opening my sandy eyes, I blinked until the figures at my prone side came into focus.  A young man in uniform knelt by my cot holding the now empty mug. Another man stood just inside the broken seal of my tent.  They were members of the Scottish park service.  It seems they had seen my camp over the past few days and seeing no visible activity, had decided to investigate.  I had been in a simulation loop for four days! The rangers sent for a medical team and I spent the next week in the medical unit in Oban.  It was lucky the older of the two rangers had enough technical knowledge to disengage the simulator from my receptors without any lasting effects.  That can be a tricky process.  It was finally determined by the medical staff in Oban that I had no lasting damage to my system and I was allow to travel back to Oxford.

So that is the bad news.  The good news is that my experiment was a success.  I now know that the Anomaly was the leading data from the accident.  It was the source of the music within my mind during the events.  The frequencies of comfort, the music of the calming and support came from out Black Swan! Only you could appreciate the significance of this outcome.

Now I only have to convince mother that I am actually in control of my life.

Love,

Annalis

Dear Victoria,

At last the lecture circuit has come to an end and I left the audience with a final portrayal of the Anomaly.  Using words, I depicted a vibrant, functional automaton and not the crafty manipulating creature that has emerged from our current work.  I hope their overall view leaves them with no doubt that any type of intelligence hides behind its glamorous facade. I did not realize when I agreed to this assignment how difficult a task this would be. It is now done, and I can turn my full attention to the actual nature of our subject.  My mind is no longer split between analogies, but can be solidified on the central conclusion of our findings; an intelligent being with premeditated intent guiding its actions.  Only one final encounter has left a shade on my intellect.  Yesterday at the end of my last lecture,  I received a visitor.

I was sitting in my campus office, completing the final rooster from the day.  A quiet knock preceded the entry of a young woman.  When I looked up from my work, I found myself confronted with the same student who had mesmerized me several months ago during my first lecture.  She had that same expression on her face that so reminded me of you. At once I was looking at you again and not a stranger. We had not had contact since that initial conversation and I cannot recall seeing her face in the audience in the lectures that followed.

After she had taken the seat that I indicated, an elaborate story spilled from her over the next half hour.  The bulk of her tale described her journey toward the decision to study the Anomaly.  She kept referring to her difficulty with this decision in reference to what had occurred during one of the lecture she attended. She kept referring to the strange question asked at the end of the session and the need to have clarification before she returned to her studies. I vaguely remember that particular occurrence since I related it to you in one of my letters. I had been daydreaming as I viewed the periodic table depicted in a tapestry hanging across the doorway with the lecture hall.  Someone had asked a question and the entire assembly became quiet in anticipation of my response.  I had forgotten about this event and had never gone back to the recordings to review what the young man had asked. I was not even sure if the question had been captured by the lecture records since only the lecture material is captured for the archives.

The young woman (she identified herself as Lisbeth) needed clarification on why I had not responded to his question.  It seems her final thesis has been based on the finding of my passed work. Her conclusions were in direct conflict with the argument made by the man’s question during my lecture.  The discord would place her final project in jeopardy. 

I listened to her patiently knowing I would be unable to respond without first reviewing the lecture recordings.  I admonished myself once again. First for letting my mind wonder during the lecture and second for not following up with my gut feeling that the question would return to haunt me. Lisbeth seemed to think that my refusal to answer was an indication that I either disagreed with the nature of the man’s question or was avoiding the subject.  I guess I should have explained to her the real reason I did not respond, but something warned me not to. I quickly assured her I would provide information to her as soon as possible, but I needed time to assemble the research material to support my response.  She was not accepting of my answer and I could see she knew I was being elusive.  We remained staring at each other across my cluttered desk, waiting for the other to blink. When I continued to sit silent and did not give an indication of continuing the conversation, she nodded and left the office.

The first thing I did was track down the recordings of my lectures.  Luckily the audio/visual engineer is an acquaintance of mine and this search was quickly achieved. The rest of the day was spent scanning through the October data trying to retrieve the offending lecture.  After several fruitless hours I finally found the occurrence.  There I was, my silent form positioned at the lecture podium with a blank stare, lost somewhere within the colorful tapestry hanging across the hall. A tall thin man had risen from his seat, indicating that he had an inquiry for me.  When I did not acknowledge him after a few moment,  he proceeded with his question.

“Why, when all our research has focused on the functional capacity of the Anomaly, there has not been a deviation from the present focused research?  Why has your team been so adamant about including no references to the possibilities of an intelligent component in reference to the Anomaly? Why has the intelligence and purpose of the subject been ignored as an explanation for some observations? Why has no emphases been placed on the mounting evidence that the Anomaly has shown preference over some communities and not others?”

There it was! The thing I had been dreading.  A direct question I could not answer without lying straight out.  Although he did not mention the Flynn Foundation explicitly, the insinuation was there. I guess it was lucky that I did not acknowledge this question, lost somewhere between Earth and New London. It would have been difficult to respond without giving away the true nature of our current project. I believe even if I had tried to direct his question away as having no consequence to our current view of the subject,  it would have done more harm than my lack of response. Looking at the reaction of the young man on the recording,  I could see only confusion when I closed my lecture without even glancing his way.  And yes, there sitting several rows behind him was Lisbeth, but she did not have a confused look.  Her look was more deflation.  As if her whole world was collapsing and it all balanced on my lack of retort.

Now I will need to derive an answer for Lisbeth. If her thesis depends on the true nature of the Anomaly, and she needs an argument to pursue her conclusion that the Anomaly is a static object,  this question is indeed paramount.  Of course, in the end her thesis will be proved wrong by our current research,  but for now I need to keep her off that track.

I knew somehow this decision to conduct lectures would turn out to be a disaster.  I just need to do some damage control now.  Then I can move on to more fruitful endeavors.  One more lie and I hope to be done with the subterfuge. 

Love

Annalis

Turquoise water surrounds the solitary figure. Ripples propagate out in geometric designs, creating a mosaic of white and blue, intermingling with the natural oscillations produced by the wind. The figure rotates in the water, sending additional interference through the waves. Artificial meeting natural, creating patterns that propagate across the surface.

Suspended above the planet, the being watches the lone figure producing its artwork. The spectacle sends new concepts through the thought process of the watcher. New frequencies and new combinations emerge from deep vaults buried within its network. A new composition emerges, building off the initial activity below its position. A haunting melody echoes across space as the emissions are released. These new patterns mix with the waveforms already loosed from a previous song of the improviser. The universe vibrates to the patterns, mimicking the creation of the composer.

Dear Victoria,

Such a strange dream! I woke this morning and at once transcribed the vision into words. It was not possible to capture in meer characters the intense emotion this reverie evoked, let alone a description of the plethora of colors and sounds that were present. Rarely do I dream in such brilliance, but this time was one of those exceptions. My thoughts keep returning to you, wishing that when I turned, you would be there, treading water next to me in the aqua sea and pointing out the enormous ocean turtles as they glide below us. The dream was exquisite and I woke refreshed as has not occurred for many months. Rising from my bed, full of creative serum, ready to tackle the most difficult issues our work could throw at me.

After recording my nightly adventure, I spent the day diving into the final projections needed for the recording equipment adjustments. You will be preparing these units on the Phycodurus 8 once you arrive, but they will need to be balanced again when I arrive. These delicate adjustments will ensure that optimal output will be produced from our final stage of the project. This last compensation will have to be made to the sensors since they will have been operating already over a year in space observing the Anomaly. I now have the last piece of our puzzle and will be able to implement it when I reach the end of my impending journey. Feelings of intense calm accompany this accomplishment and with it the certainty that success of the final product is covenant.

I only hope the momentum continues to carry me through this last leg of my time on Earth. The clock seems to be slowing along with my recovery. I definitely was in need of this messenger last night. Let us hope it returns.

Love always,

Annalis

Completed project 25. The natural stone beads have a calming effect. Lava, snowflake quartz, malachite and smoky quartz beads.

Dear Victoria,

I convey this written account from our old quarters on the top floor of mother and father’s home. We have just returned from the ethereal pageant conducted in the old Globe Theater.  The entire production was choreographed to the music found in the lost transcripts of Leonardo Da Vinci.  Although I regret my inability to narrate this incredible experience in the style it deserves, I have attempted to do my utmost best to define the encounter.

-The stage is obscured as we take our seats.  We are positioned only a few rows back from the edge of the orchestra box. Mother is wearing one of her more elaborate creations, putting the rest of the clientele to shame.  Bronze satin cascades around her seated position, covering the floor beneath her feet in a shimmering pool, giving the illusion she is encircled by a lake of liquid metal.  I also sit adorned, choosing the dark blue waterfall adaption she produced years ago for one of my awards ceremonies. Father sits between us, debonair as always, in his dark tuxedo.

It is not a long wait before the house lights dim, announcing the imminent start of the production.  A hypnotic melody flows from the back of the domain just as the thin veil of curtains slowly retreats to reveal the stage.  A single figure sits on a levitating cumulus, holding a lyre tightly to its form. The music originates from his seated form, a lone human carrying the history of the world. The haunting melody increases in complexity as more figures slowly makes their appearance encircling the lone player.  Planetary bodies from our own solar system float above the stage surface, each accompanied by an allegorical figure suspended below. They sway to the music, creating a hypnotic dance across the eyes of the audience. 

Deep in the background, other celestial bodies begin to appear.  Constellations and galactic representations of distant neighbors frolic in the distance, hinting at the vastness of the cosmos.  Orion and the zodiacs light up the background, as though they are choruses accompanying the main players. The orchestra slowly joins the solitary lyrist, building the combinations of frequencies as each galactic body is introduced. There were furies and demons, elves and centaurs, each more elaborately adorned as they were added to the onstage entourage. It was done artistically, never once distracting from the incredible music, but complementing and emphasizing the intricacies’ flowing from the musicians.

Watching the incredible culmination of Da Vinci’s imagination, prancing about in front of this modern audience, I was temporarily transported back to 18th century Florence. I had once read a narrative of the production Da Vinci produced called The Masque of the Planets.  The interpretation of that moment in time was so perfectly depicted in front of my eyes it was hard to imagine I was anywhere but there. With great difficulty I brought myself back to the present, focusing my attention on the moment, once again in the 24th century.  

I had to remind myself more than once that these frolicking characters had been adorned by our mother.  Her talent has grown exponentially since the last production I experience from her.  I could see her glancing at me as each new character was introduced, trying to determine my reaction.  I do not believe she was disappointed since my delight was evident throughout the performance.

The only thing missing was you.  I caught myself multiple times reaching for your hand as some new wonder entered my sight,  but I came up empty handed.  I have always compared your genius to Leonardo’s.  Your ability to combine the artistic arts with scientific study and utilization was so like the description of Da Vinci’s genius. The performance solidifies my vision of your work with the Anomaly.  By using the process of combining the ethereal nature of the creature with your own scientific utility, will allow you to bring its influence to Earth. As a scientist I was drawn to the performance tonight as I never thought possible. The music called to my inner self, watching the melding of science and the artistic to create a vision both real and otherworldly.

We left the theater in a daze several hours later, feeling as if only a moment had passed, or maybe a lifetime. I only hope I have done justice to the experience.

My love to you,

Annalis

The dawn horizon is a deep magenta, foretelling of a damp day to come.  The desert is hushed with anticipation.  Holding its proverbial breath as it waits for the rising of the sun.  The aroma of coffee fills the camp, drifting in waves past my silent silhouetted form, as I stand at the edge of civilization gazing out at the arrival of a new day.  The anticipation of discovering new wonders fills my thoughts and I cradle my cup of energy, impatient to begin.

The sun pops its head above the Earths rim and the temperature begins to rise exponentially.  Removing the protective covers from the equipment to be utilized for the chosen tasks, the work for the day begins.

Hours of measurements and adjustments follow, blocking out any thought outside the scope of my work.  A distant rumble jolts me out of my isolation and I pull my gaze upwards away from my readings to study the sky above.  Another deep rumble echoes down the arroyo, sending shivers down my spine.  A flash of lightening exposes the scene, revealing a wall of water barreling down the once dry creek bed toward my solitary figure. The approach is quick and hits before there is time to escape to higher ground. The deluge engulfs me, carrying my helpless form as it moves through the once orderly camp. The remains of my work surround me, buffeting my limbs left and right as pieces of heavy equipment and implements of my research travel he deluge as it travels its course.   There is a new sound above the roar of the water.  I struggle to raise my head above the water level, just making out figures outlined along the upper bank shouting at my passing form.  Up ahead a new group appears as I speed forward, tossing an object directly into my unalterable path. I feel my body catch on something and I scramble to find any type of hold achievable. My hands recognize the texture of fishing net as my grip improves and the material becomes taut as the rescuers begin the arduous task of pulling me to safety.  The progress is slow as they cautiously direct my rescue without dislodging my precarious hold.  I am within a meter from the edge of the water when a piece of the flotsam traveling past me collides with my left side. Excruciating pain travels through every nerve of my body, sending my brain into overload.  My only functioning limb releases the life line and there is only pain.  Pain and then dark oblivion.

Dear Victoria,

Slowly the narrative of my accident is unfolding.  I have found it easier to relate it as an outsider looking in.  It somehow keeps the experience from enveloping me and sending my emotions back to that day. The state of my subconscious has improved so much over the last few months that I am being cautious in my recollections of that day, attempting to record the events, but not to immerse myself too deeply in the trauma. So it helps to look at it as writing a drama instead of something that almost took my life. I had forgotten my visions of the figures on the banks of the canyon. I cannot recall their faces, but the voices of my rescuers are etched into my memory.  

This is but a piece of the total recollection, but it is enough to give you an idea of how the re-creation is going. This is also allowing me to give a timeline to match the scanned documentation. It still amazes me that I survived, but even more that part of the equipment was salvaged.  I received a written message with one of the units shipped back.  It was from one of the rescuers.  It stated, “We made a great effort to recover your surviving equipment.  Since the only words we could get from you after your rescue was, ‘Where is my spectrometer? Where is my equipment?’ We determined that these pieces were of great importance to you.  We hope they are repairable and will once again server you purpose.”  It is strange how perceptive this group was.  Anomaly influence or pure coincidence?  It matters not! I have spent a great deal of time rebuilding the mostly intact pieces and I now have a mirror lab complete at the college.  There is still the tailoring to be done for the new geographic location, but this will be the bulk of my task in the coming months. I do not know if this would have been accomplished without the salvaged units and the recovered data the New Zealanders made possible.  I would have had to start from scratch and there is now not time for that before my departure for the Phycodurus.  I will always be grateful to my rescuers for what to them seemed a minor task compared to my survival.

Now that the lab is assembled I have decided that now is a good instance in my preparations to take a short break and visit our parents.  The travel restrictions have been lifted by my medical team and the next steps of the project will take me through the remainder of my time on Earth. Thus I will leave Oxford tomorrow and take the train south to our childhood home in London.  Our mother has been to Oxford a few times during my convalescence, but I have not seen father since your departure. He was never one for dealing well when one of us was sick as children and my accident was no exception.  Since my limb is now almost indistinguishable from my other arm, he should be more at ease in my presence. 

Mother has arranged an unsurpassable experience during my visit.  Because of her extensive contribution to the costumes used in the production, she has acquired opening night tickets to the exquisite performance of Da Vinci’s lost music. The pageant will be performed at the old Globe theatre on the backs of the Thames.  The only thing missing from this joyous occasion is you.  We both were ecstatic when these lost transcripts were discovered after being lost for centuries.  It was thought that Mr. Da Vinci never transcribed any of his scores.  The historians thought his music was lost forever.  Then we read last year of recovered notes and a single notebook hidden in a monastery in Milan, frequented by the artist.  Such a find! It has taken almost a year for the preparation of their unveiling to be completed.  The content of these manuscripts has been a closely guarded secret until this planned unveiling in London. In just a few days an incredible Passion play extravaganza will be introduced to the world. They are keeping with the tradition of the huge productions that Da Vinci once worked on himself as a young man. What would he think if he could view his music scores transformed into an epic production?

I will give you a full account of my visit in my next letter.  It will be impossible to give a suitable account of the experience, but I will try my best.  My only consolation for you not being able to experience this with me is the hope that on New London there will be a chance to experience something as phenomenal. I hope you are able to have a similar experience on New London during your time there.  That is my only consolation for your absence during this incredible occurrence.

Love always,

Annalis