“Much older than your dinosaurs,” Arak agreed. “And your disbelief is entirely understandable. That is why we go slowly with this introduction to Interterra. I don’t mean to belabor the point, but it is far easier to adapt to your present reality in stages.”
“That’s all well and good,” Richard announced. “But how about some proof for all this baloney. I’m starting to think this whole setup is an elaborate put-on, and frankly, I’m not interested in sitting here wasting time.”
Neither Donald nor Suzanne complained about Richard’s current interruption. Both were harboring similar thoughts although Suzanne certainly would not have worded her skepticism so rudely. Arak, however, was unfazed.
“All right,” Arak said patiently. “We will provide some proof that you can relate to your civilization’s history. Our civilization has been observing and recording the progress of your second-generation human civilization since the time of your evolution.”
“What do you mean exactly by second-generation human?” Suzanne asked.
“That will be apparent shortly,” Arak said. “First, let’s show you some interesting images. As I said, we have been observing your civilization’s progress, and until about fifty years ago we could do so at will. Since then your increasing technological sophistication has limited our surveillance to avoid detection. In fact, we have stopped using most of our old-fashioned exit ports, like the one used to admit you to Interterra or the one at Barsama, our sister city to the west. Both were ordered to be sealed with magma, but worker clone bureaucratic ineptitude has stalled the execution of the decree.”
“My god, you’re one long-winded dude,” Richard said. “Where’s the proof?”
“The cavern our submersible ended up in?” Suzanne questioned. “Was that what you call an exit port?”
“Exactly,” Arak said.
“Is it normally filled with seawater?” Suzanne asked.
“Correct again,” Arak said.
Suzanne turned to Perry. “No wonder Sea Mount Olympus was never picked up by Geosat. The seamount doesn’t have the mass to be sensed on a gravimeter.”
“Come on!” Richard complained. “Enough stalling. Let’s see the proof!”
“Okay, Richard,” Arak said patiently. “Why don’t you suggest some period in your history that you would care to observe from our reference files. The more ancient the better in order to make my point.”
Richard looked at Michael for help.
“How about gladiators,” Michael said. “Let’s see some Roman gladiators.”
“Gladiatorial combat could be seen,” Arak said reluctantly. “But such violent recordings are under strict censorship. To view them would require special dispensation by the Council of Elders. Perhaps another era would be more suitable.”
“This is goddamn ridiculous!” Richard voiced.
“Try to control yourself, sailor,” Donald snapped.
“Let me understand what you mean,” Suzanne said. “Are you suggesting that you have recordings of all of human history, and you want us to suggest some historical time so we can see some images of it?”
“Precisely,” Arak answered.
“How about the Middle Ages?” Suzanne said.
“That’s a rather large era,” Arak said. “Can you be more specific?”
“Okay,” Suzanne said. “How about fourteenth-century France.”
“That’s during the Hundred Years’ War,” Arak said without enthusiasm. “It’s curious even you, Dr. Newell, request images from such a violent time. But then again, you second-generation humans have had a violent record.”
“Show people at play, not war,” Suzanne said.
Arak touched the keypad on his console and then leaned forward to speak into a small microphone at its center. Almost immediately the room’s illumination dimmed, and the floor screen came alive with blurred images flashing by at an incredible speed. Captivated, everyone leaned over the low wall and watched.
Presently the images slowed, then stopped. The projected scene was crystal clear with natural coloring and perfect holographic three dimensions. It was of a small wheat field in the late summer from an altitude of about four or five hundred feet. A group of people had paused in their harvest activities. Their scythes were haphazardly strewn around several blankets on which a modest meal was spread. The audio was of summer cicadas buzzing intermittently.
“This is not interesting,” Arak said after a quick glance. “It’s not going to be proof of anything. Other than the peoples’ crude garments, there is no indication of the time frame. Let’s let the search recommence.”
Before anyone could respond the screen again blurred as thousands of images flashed by. It was dizzying to watch the rapid flickering, but soon it again slowed and then stopped.
“Ah, this is much better,” Arak exclaimed. Now the view was of a castle erected on a rocky prominence that was hosting a tournament of some kind. The vantage point was significantly higher than the previous scene. The coloration of the vegetation around the castle walls suggested midautumn. The courtyard was packed with boisterous people whose voices formed a muted murmur. Everyone was dressed in colorful medieval attire. Heraldic pennants snapped in the breeze. At either end of a long, low log fence running down the center of the courtyard, two knights were in the final preparations for a joust. Their colorfully caparisoned horses were facing each other, pawing with excitement.
“How are these pictures taken?” Perry asked. He was transfixed by the image.
“It’s a standard recording device,” Arak said.
“I mean from what vantage point?” Perry asked. “Some kind of helicopter?”
Arak and Sufa laughed. “Excuse our giggles,” Arak said. “A helicopter is your technology. Not ours. Besides, such a vehicle would be too intrusive. These images were taken by a small, silent, unmanned antigravity ship hovering at about twenty thousand feet.”
“Hey, Hollywood does this stuff all the time,” Richard said. “Big deal! This is not proof.”
“If this is a set it’s the most realistic one I’ve ever seen,” Suzanne said. She leaned closer. As far as she was concerned the detail was far more than Hollywood was capable of.
As they watched, the attendant pages of the armored knights stepped back, and the men-at-arms lowered their lances. With a crisp fanfare sounding, the two horses charged forward on opposites sides of the log fence. As they bore down on each other the cheering of the crowd mushroomed. Then, just before the horsemen made contact, the screen went blank. A moment later it reverted back to its initial phosphorescent blue. A message window popped up and said: “Scene censored. Apply to Council of Elders.”
“Damn!” Michael voiced. “I was getting into it. Who the hell won: the guy in green or the guy in red?”
“Richard’s right,” Donald said suddenly, ignoring Michael. “These scenes can be staged too easily.”
“Perhaps,” Arak said without taking the slightest offense. “But I can show you whatever you want. We wouldn’t be able to stage the full complement of first-generation history subject to your on-the-spot whim.”
“How about something more ancient?” Perry suggested. “How about Neolithic times in the same location where the castle was.”
“Clever idea!” Arak said. “I’ll plug in the coordinates without a specific time other than, say, prior to ten thousand years ago, and let the search engine see if there is an image in storage.”
The screen again came to life. Once again images flashed by. This time the flashing continued much longer.
Suzanne touched Perry’s arm. She leaned toward him when he turned to her. “I think we’re looking at real images,” she said.
“I do, too,” Perry said. “Can you imagine the technology involved!”
“I’m thinking less about the technology than the fact that this place is real,” Suzanne whispered. “We’re not dreaming all this.”