“But how is time a plain?”
“In fact, it is spherical, but we perceive it as a plain.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Imagine a bug, crawling on the surface of a balloon that is much, much bigger than the bug itself. For us, who observe from aside, the balloon is spherical, but for the bug it is an endlessly vast plain… This is the form of our Universe, while time and space, as Einstein proves, are inseparably connected and you cannot alter one without altering the other. Actually, time and space are one whole entity. In one plain everything went out to plan and the ship just took a walk along the line to the past, then came back to 2020. But after the space-time continuum was bended, the line of life goes to another plain, in the so called ‘unplanned events’. Accordingly, ‘a cone of bending’ is formed.” Hans turned the board at an angle of 45 degrees. “And, bum! – a new plain of events.”
The scientist was most of all amused by watching their faces, showing zero realization of the information received.
“Yes, actually everything is spherical”. The plump scientist was diligently using the marker to create a thick background for the sphere, forming on the board. “Both time and space… no matter how you look at it…”
“Hans, you are totally crazy, man. Does anybody understand something, because I totally don’t.”, Michael complained.
“I understand. So far, you’ve been explaining it very well, Hans. I just could not get it how the ship came to us in 2017.” Marcela had almost assimilated the scheme on the white board.
“The Cube”, Hans said.
“What about it?”
“It was by no means made on the bottom of the ocean or in the sands of a desert, at least not a desert on the Earth. Probably it has participated in the bending of the temporal line.”
“So, the submarine had an accident in the past, in 9861, it was manufactured in the future, in 2020, and is here with us in 2017 only because it took on board an alien cube, made of devil .knows what, with music playing from it.” Marcela summed all this up loudly, without having had such an intention. She was in confusion and reasoned without realizing that her thoughts were audible.
His eyes were closing.
Since Greg was found dead and John and Taylor had disappeared, the shifts became too hard. It was impossible for him with only three other men to cover the shifts of seven people.
He was falling asleep. He made an effort to stay awake, but his lids were heavy as lead.
Then he saw a flash in the darkness on the left!
Something was moving, probably someone’s watch, although the shining was too bright like coming from a table mirror.
He saw the pretty Romanian lady with sexy bottom to come out of the ammunition warehouse. She was carrying two bags, from which the barrels of several machine-guns were sticking out. She was walking slowly, seductively, as if she were dancing and inviting you to pinch her ass… Hell, what was she doing there? And how could she enter without him seeing her?
He was startled. He did not know whether he had napped for a second or for a few minutes. He was not sure if this was a dream or it was really happening.
If it was true, he had to report to the Major right away.
No, there was no way such a slender young woman to take out the heavy weapons out of the warehouse.
He looked at his watch. It was almost eleven. Someone would come to relieve him soon.
Ivanov bent down and started digging. He could not possibly go to Norman and ask him for a spade and he also wanted to avoid making noise by all means. He needed to go at least three feet deep in the base of the support tower. If he did not reach deep enough, this would be a failure.
An explosion in the air or at insufficient depth would just be fancy and too expensive fireworks. And he had not come here to organize festive events.
He had come to destroy the damned submarine, the damned Cube, the damned military base and to rub the Americans’ condescending noses. He did not have much time, since the storm was approaching. He need to place the explosives at six spots around the base. First, the watchtower, to ensure there would not be enemy fire from above. Then, the control room and the dormitories, and last – the ammunition warehouse. If by once pressing the button he could succeed blowing up the watchtower, the command room of the entire base and the military warehouse, they would not stand a chance. If there happened to be survivors, he knew he would find no problem to eliminate them himself. With his own hands and means. That boring scientist Sergey would only be an obstacle. He had no special instructions about him, but a true soldier like Colonel Ivanov was aware that in a dangerous operation there is always collateral damage. Sergey was just going to disappear.
The camel stopped.
Usually it was not scared of small snakes or mice, but this time it was stubborn and refused to make even a step forward. Poking in its hips or slashing with the whip were of no use.
The Bedouin dropped the reins and stepped forward in the darkness. His two companions got down from the animals and tried to illuminate the path before him with search-lights.
Out of nowhere a man and a woman appeared before them, looking rather unusual for the place. The man was plump, not very tall, with plaid jacket and was smoking a pipe. The woman was an attractive slim brunette with a white shirt under which her breasts were half-visible.
“Hey, you, what are you doing here?” the Bedouin called them in Arabic, then switched to English: “Are you lost, where are the others?”
Surprisingly for his weight the man made two quick jumps ahead and stuck the stem of his pipe in the Bedouin’s eye.
His two companions could not react, one took a gun out, but the woman was already all over him and bit hard his throat. A fountain of warm blood gushed and splashed on the ground.
The plump man raised his glance towards the third Arab, dashed at him, brought him to the ground and stuck his thumbs in the man’s eyes. The screams of the dying stopped after a few seconds and the dead silence of the desert engulfed in its embrace two retreating silhouettes.
The sand was pouring like a raging waterfall over their heads. It was like a rain of little pebbles, but thicker and hitting at each point. It was as if the devil was pouring all the sand in the desert on the punished sinners.
“Sergeant, close the windows!”
The Sergeant’s answer was carried away by the storm.
“Yes, Sir, but the canvas is torn and collects sand! We can’t lift it, Sir!”
The strong wind took the words some place high.
“A sand devil, Sir”, the soldier next to him added.
“What?! I didn’t know it was called this. A very appropriate name, by the way.”
The Sergeant caught the canvas and helped them cover the window with it.
It was the first time he saw a tornado.
A sand devil.
It was a fascinating phenomenon, but also ugly and scary.
Their eyes and mouths were full of sand. Sunglasses or scarfs did not help.
After they managed to find shelter in the dome next to the military warehouses, the Sergeant took down the scarf from his head and shook the sand from his hair.
“What is it, for god’s sake?”
“The locals call it ‘fasset el ‘afreet’ or ‘wind of ghosts’. It is formed when warm air climbs up in a pocket of cold air and whirls as a small tornado. “
“It really is a devil’s doing.”