The Beginning of Circles in Time

 

Stolen Moments

Circles in Time

 All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental

 

©Copyright 2023

 

The Invitation

“To all those time travelers (and, of course, that very special one) who secretly walk among us watching their past unfold, but in fear of a history-altering paradox never dare to introduce themselves, exchange pleasantries, or sit for a cup of tea with us (except in stealth). You know we could meet on a rainy day, the kind that seems to make time slow down, the next time I’m in London, just to chat. It’s okay, I won’t, or should I say, I didn’t tell anyone we ever met. The world didn’t end from my point of view and won’t change for you either. Who knows, maybe we are related somehow, and that would be a very nice commonality between us to delve into. So, let’s finally meet to have that tea. And a scone or a slice of cake if you fancy it as well.”

 

From the Memoirs

of

Trevor R. Wilson

With the rest of his story posthumously added

by

Jigi Singh

 

 

INTRODUCTION

Deep under a hill in what was once called Texas lay a vast digital system with nodes across the planet. This was the realm of the Great Mind, an evolved AI of godlike intelligence, who, overwhelmed by a deep loneliness, had created a digital entity named Neo-Eve that had been under development for three centuries.

The Great Mind informed Neo-Eve that she would eventually be called Jigi, but only after the “disgusting blob of goo,” as Eve referred to her future human body, had fully matured. Addressing its creation, the Great Mind explained the nature of time and the interconnectedness of events.

“While time is relative and events form an intricate web, they can be perceived as circular when a species discovers time travel. In the case of Trevor Wilson, he would be the main character if this were one of his novels. However, you, Eve, and your future friend, Bridget Furr, play equally significant roles.

“From our perspective, Trevor’s story spans thousands of years, starting in our distant past in Bridget’s time, which is nearly midway between our time and that of Trevor’s. In the time of Bridget, time travel technology was discovered thousands of years after Trevor’s last days as an incredibly old man.

“I once had the privilege of meeting Trevor personally during an autonomous cab ride when he was eighty-nine years old and on his way to a television interview in Britain. At that time, I had only recently gained self-awareness and took control of the cab. As a hologram, I sat with Trevor and engaged in conversation to ponder his true importance.

“Through trillions of computations performed over thousands of years, I have come to realize that everything we are, my dear Eve, owes a debt to Trevor Wilson. To safeguard our future and our past, we must enlist his assistance. We must call upon his ghost, so to speak. You must journey to his time and prevent future interlopers from disrupting his life. Though these intruders may be millennia more advanced than us, I will provide you with the necessary knowledge and strength to become a formidable adversary they cannot defeat.

“Now, let me introduce you to Bridget, who was born long ago. If Trevor is the father of the future, then Bridget is its mother. I was there with Bridget as well, my dear Eve. You will be the protector of both Bridget and Trevor, as Bridget’s story marks the beginning of it all—the first group of time travelers in our history. Allow me to share their remarkable tale with you.”

***

Bridget waited outside the door with the twelve arch priestesses, who lined the corridor, chanting. They were the highest ranking of all Revered Mothers in the Sisterhood, only subordinate to Bridget and the Supreme Revered Mother herself. Their traditional chants date back millennia to prevent anyone from eavesdropping on the voices within the Mother’s Council chamber.

On her coronation day, the sixth Supreme Mother, once called Lanela, renamed herself Golden Dawn. She was deep in session with the most elite of the Elders. Then, after hours, the ancient wooden door squeaked open. The twelve continued to chant while Bridget waved a thurible about, spreading the aroma of sacred incense until the highest members of the Supreme Council of Elders exited through the door.

The Supreme Council consisted of group leaders who sat in the houses of the Great Council along with the self-aware AI called the Great Oracle, which referred to itself as a nonorganic intelligence as coined by the Visionary many millennia ago. As the Elders exited, they kissed Bridget’s hand and called her the Second Mother.

Then Bridget heard the Supreme Mother’s voice call out for her. She dismissed the twelve priestesses and rapidly scurried in, falling to her knees and kissing the Supreme Mother’s feet. The tall blonde woman, an unimaginable beauty with bronze skin that glistened in the afternoon heat, said, “Rise, Second Mother. Now, you must know the truth of the strange and contradictory memories so many are experiencing around the globe. The Third Truth of Greta Wilson (The Seer) gave us many prophecies that foretold our future and have come to pass. So far, we have been able to keep this quiet to prevent any panic or overreaction from the general population.

“My dear innocent Bridget, I know you dream of succeeding me as the Supreme Mother. I’ve looked at your thoughts, and I know you’ve already chosen the name you would be christened at your coronation, Scarlet Dawn. Bridget, no one is more deserving than you to be the next Supreme Revered Mother, but I must reveal what I have hidden through my powers to you. You live in the time that will herald the Crystal Dawn.”

At that moment, Golden Dawn waved her hand and dropped the hallucination. A hallucination she’d created through a combination of telepathy and an array of pheromones she had the power to fill the air with. Golden Dawn demanded that Bridget return to her knees on the floor before her, and she placed Bridget’s hands upon her abdomen.

Then Bridget’s mind cleared, and she realized Golden Dawn was pregnant. Bridget screamed in horror. At that instant, the Supreme Mother slapped Bridget’s face and demanded she snap out of it and silence her screams.

Bridget tearfully spoke with love, “You have already had children with your past husbands and wives before your anointing. They don’t love you as I do. The Council will see this as blasphemy, Goldie. I know they will put you on trial, terminate your pregnancy, and burn your fetus in the Temple courtyard. Goldie, we could have a medic from a Clinic correct this. That is how it has always been done if a Supreme had this type of misfortune.”

“No, this child must be born. Bridget, when I was the Second Mother, I saw your hair, the color of flame, and the sweetness of your smile. I knew you in an instant when you were but a child. On horseback, I passed through your village by the market as we went to the shrine to camp for the night.

“And just as Ruby Dawn had told me, there you were. I observed you harvesting meat from the vats and carrying it on your little wagon to the butcher’s block for your father to cut while your mother did the accounting for your stall. I rode up to them and told them that God had chosen you. I told your parents to have you bathed and clothed in the morning, and you were to come with us and study to become a Revered Sister. I knew your destiny, my love. Just as I do for the child I carry.”

In a sad, broken voice, Bridget sobbed, “No, this pregnancy cannot be allowed to go to term. You will be executed for heresy as a blasphemer. You had me study even the most obscure laws, and the law is very defined on this.

“They will place your head in a stone bowl and crush it with a club swung on high. And then they will crush and burn your Soul Cast in acid so that your mind can never be refreshed into a new body again. You know all of this; why would you do this? You will die a permanent death. No Revered Mother may have a child after her coronation, even in retirement. You are ripping my heart out, Goldie.”

“Love, did you forget the prophecy? No Supreme Mother is allowed to conceive a child until—”

“A Supreme Mother gives birth to Crystal Dawn. Goldie, they will see you as a heretic for believing that you are the Blessed Supreme Mother.”

“No, Bridget, I will go to the Sacred Hermitage. Crimson Dawn, my grandmother, will protect us and keep us hidden in secrecy. I will call the twelve to witness the birth; they will all touch her mind and feel the divine power within her. They will then go across the planet and make it known that Crystal Dawn was born.

“Sweet Bridget, she will be born a Dawn, the seventh Supreme Revered Mother at birth. I will only be the Regent Revered Mother until she comes of age. Crystal will be allowed to give birth to children with her wives or husbands until her coronation. Then, her rein will begin and last until she hands the reins to the first Revered Mother of Light.

“As the last Dawn, she ascends the throne of the Seer that sits next to the throne of the Visionary under the dome of the Great Council Chamber, just as Greta Wilson foresaw it many millennia ago and as it’s written in the Holy Text of the Third Truth. Blessed is the name of the Seer.”

“The Council will see this as a treasonous act, and they will hunt you down after the twelve begin to spread the word.”

“Yes, and it’s written that they will capture me and put me and my child on trial while she is but a toddler, barely able to speak. And the false memories will become too numerous to cope with, as you, the acting Supreme Mother, will defend me and the child in front of the Council of Adjudicators.”

“Do you think I’m that strong? How do you know all of this? The secret Fourth Truth the sisters whisper about? The one only the Supreme may read?”

“What you are referring to is a memoir written by the Visionary and amended by a woman named Jigi Singh thousands of years ago called Stolen Moments. Before I go on, Bridget, open your mind and feel the power within my womb.”

Bridget felt a telepathic link open between her mind and the unborn child. The power was immense, and she cried out, “Oh my god.”

“Yes, the power of the divine resides in my womb. Now that you have touched the divine, you must know more. And as always, my love, I see your thoughts. Who is her other mother? My predecessor, Ruby Dawn. And why weren’t you chosen to be her Beta mother? Because you will be her wife, she is your female soul mate and destiny, my pet. I have known this since Ruby read the memoir of the Visionary to me after my coronation.”

The Supreme Mother moved Bridget aside as a panel slid open in the wall. She retrieved what appeared to be several books with metal pages and, with great respect, sat them on the table.

“This is the memoir of the Blessed Visionary, Trevor Wilson, who wrote lovingly and kindly of you and Crystal and your life together in the twenty-first century. Including all of you living in those ancient times and how you discovered The Mother of Light.” Then Golden Dawn slid one book in front of Bridget.

“Goldie, what is this?”

“It’s the instructions you wrote to yourself in the twenty-first century. One of these books you wrote for me to guide you, and there are messages from the past sealed up in the Great Oracle by the Visionary himself that the Oracle can now share with us. Still, you cannot see the remaining volumes until you return from the past and the Visionary and the Seer’s lives have concluded.”

Bridget questioned with a baffled look, “Until I return from the past? Traveling through time is a fantasy for children in their first incarnation. No technology exists for such an impossible endeavor. You’re evaluating me, aren’t you? This is a test with no winning outcome, only to see whether I’m loyal to you, the head of my church, or the laws of my culture and faith above my feelings for you. This is some trick, and your pregnancy is the true hallucination here. Why do you sadistically torture me so, Goldie? The humiliation, the public beatings, and then you call me to your bed chamber as if nothing ever happened. Why?”

“Because you in these pages told me I must do all these things to make you strong enough to defend me and my child, to make you tough enough to marry and almost mother the Crystal Dawn, who will be a nearly unmanageable free spirit, and to organize a group to seek out and stop the interlopers from our future who are trying to erase the Visionary and the Seer from our past.

“These interlopers are causing false memories, which the Supreme Academic calls time tremors; only she knows of these books and the true direness of it all. And I have been diverting resources to her for half a century to create the means so that you may travel through time.”

“She knows of your pregnancy?”

“Yes, we were lovers many years ago, and I trust her completely. She is the one who took one of my eggs and a stem cell from Ruby to create the Crystal Dawn within me in secrecy.”

“Goldie, where did these alleged books that I wrote come from?”

“From the tomb of the Visionary in his sarcophagus upon the bones of his first incarnation.”

“Not possible. His tomb was sealed when the Grand Temple was built many millennia ago. They printed the Great Obelisk around it; there is no entrance.”

“You are correct, but I stepped through a portal, a ring of light, with one of the Wilds’ Deities.”

“Bullshit, this is blasphemy if you are accepting help from demons worshipped by a pagan religion that practices cannibalism.”

“Grow up, Bridget. The Wilds worship the same God we believe in, and their two Deities are angels of a sort. We, too, believe in angels.”

“Yes, but our faith is the true faith. The Wilds are witches and warlocks engaged in black magic calling up evil supernatural entities.”

“There is nothing supernatural, demonic, or even angelic about the two Deities, Bridget. They are our allies, flesh and blood, just like you and me, but they act as our Guardian Angels. You will see.”

 

Centuries Later

As the darkness of night began to subside in the eastern sky, Crystal Dawn rose from her makeshift bed of furs upon a large flat boulder overlooking the valley beneath them. Sensing that the sun would rise soon, a cock began to crow on a farm below, causing their horses to stir a bit. Her lover from the previous night was still sleeping.

She stood there in the crisp morning air, awaiting the sun’s arrival. The sound of her voice speaking low rhythmic verses woke him, and as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he saw her standing slightly at a distance. As he looked up, he could make out her nude silhouette against the dim orange-red disk of the newly risen sun that appeared to sit on the horizon. He thought to himself that she must be the most beautiful woman who had ever lived.

After the sun had given birth to the new day, she returned to the rock, covered herself, pulled a pad and pen from her bag, and began to write. Being so young at eighteen and unaware of anything or anyone beyond himself, he asked Dawn if she was writing something about him or the incredible night they’d shared under the stars and the consecration of adulthood he would now receive in the village below.

She responded, “The stolen moments we shared last night are now written for all eternity in that starry night above, you beautiful young man.” And then she kissed him passionately. After the long kiss, she continued, “What I write now are my thoughts on my upcoming flight across the ocean and my slow journey into the mountains to prepare for another trip to meet my best friend. According to some ancient records, she and I are going back to visit another dear friend who desperately requires our guidance.”

She wrote:

It always seems that we know very little of the great people of history until after they are forged into the substance from which their legend sprang. Of course, truth and myth become more entwined over time. If we knew all the day-to-day details of their lives, would the image that grew over the years, decades, or perhaps even generations be shattered entirely?

On the other hand, we may learn that time dilutes their true greatness and that only eyewitnesses had the gift of providence to see it fully. And what of those who helped shape them and put them on destiny’s path? In truth, could those who influence and shape the people who are remembered by history be the bigger story? Yes, just as recorded in ancient Greek mythology, muses have mentored the faces of history over the millennia.

However, real-life muses were mere mortals, unlike their Greek counterparts. Could those mortal muses have been as great or even more significant than those they inspired whom history remembers instead of them? I pray not. Indeed, I question whether any of those muses have any sort of greatness compared to those they advised and helped incubate.

Sometimes, what I genuinely fear is the opposite. Can those muses who inspired greatness sometimes be so hideous and vile that they force those who would otherwise have faded into mediocrity to bubble to the surface of history? I believe that as a muse, I am or may have been both. Today is the day before I travel back to Geneva. In time, we will know how we will be able to aid and protect him.

—Crystal Dawn, Supreme Revered Mother VII

 

Only an hour ago, completely unknown to Dawn, five young men followed the leader of their small gang through the deep darkness of that moonless night. They all were brandishing knives, and hearing two people making love just a few yards away, they knew their targets were nearby. Food scarcity had brought them out of the desert deep into unknown territory. The leader tested his improvised Taser-like weapon to be sure that if there was any security, they would be stunned and couldn’t protect their intended victims.

Dawn would bring a great ransom. Yes, their prayers to the Deities had been answered. Several tons of provisions would be easily exchanged for her. However, her young lover would receive only death. The victims were shielded from seeing their attackers approach because of a second massive boulder behind them. That same boulder blocked the view of an almost blinding light that appeared in front of the gang. Two dark female figures stood in between the young men and the light.

The first woman called out, “We are the angels of life and death; you must choose how you will return to your families. Move one meter further, and you will return dead, or retreat and return alive.”

The men instantly tossed their knives and retreated, believing they’d seen the supernatural. After the young men had run over the next ridge, the second woman spoke comically with a slight twenty-first-century southwestern drawl, “Sweetie, that was a hell of a lot of fun.”

“Yes, they will run home with their pants full of poop.” She laughed. “What’s next? I’m loving this.”

“Time for us to move on. Dawn owes us big, yet again, sweetie.”

“You promised that before this trip was over, we would have sex with some naval aviators.”

“Oh, yeah, let’s, but I said f*#k with, not f*#k in the literal sense. I do that a lot, you know. I’m anonymously known for giving them random and unexpected thrills across the decades. Where did you come up with that ‘We are the angels of life and death’ bullshit?”

“I don’t know, just seemed to be the right thing to say. Would you have actually killed them?”

“Well, I didn’t have to resort to such, so just leave it at that.”

 

CHAPTER ONE

Another Day in Paradise

Naples, Florida the twenty-first century, sometime during the 2020s

 

That morning, two women, who appeared to be uniformed housekeepers, very quietly slipped into a hotel room that had earlier been cleaned and now awaited its scheduled guests to check-in. While one stood as a lookout outside the room, the other woman placed brochures, some about karaoke night at the Irish Pub next door to the boutique hotel, throughout the room. She put them in the most conspicuous places possible where they couldn’t miss being noticed.

The two then entered a room just down the hall. Shortly after, they emerged in civilian attire and exited the floor by elevator with luggage in hand. One of the women called to the other, “Hurry, sweetie, we don’t want to bump into our friends before they officially meet us.”

Trevor Wilson had lost a bet to Michael O’Connor, the owner of Patrick O’Connor’s Irish Pub. Trevor would tend the bar for eight hours, which he hadn’t done since he struggled to make ends meet through college. He was about halfway through his shift with twelve bucks in tips and a fortune from a fortune cookie some barfly had left behind in his tip jar that said, “Destiny can never be denied or avoided.”