out.
“Please call me Monty. May I call you Preston?”
“Yes, fine.”
“Tomorrow, the world will experience the worst solar storm in recorded history. The Event, as it will be known, will not only turn out the lights, but kill much of the world’s population.” Monty watched for Preston’s reaction: his face remained stoic, the statement eliciting none of the shock, or at least disbelief, Monty expected. “You don’t seem surprised.” The words were merely a verbalization of his suspicion that Preston somehow knew what was coming.
“You haven’t answered how you found out about Cicada and what you are doing here.” Preston’s tone now confirmed Monty’s suspicion. He knew already.
Monty opened his satchel and withdrew two stapled pages he had printed, each containing the imbedded screen-shots of the meticulous handwriting on a whiteboard: the message that sent them here. The first page said,
My name is Dr. Greg Mendelson. I am writing this for two reasons: first to warn you of an impending apocalypse that will hit you on June 28 th and second to give you the cure to Betsy Stoneridge’s cancer. You will find the formula for an experimental drug we have found to be 100% effective in all of our early tests against most forms of cancer.
I am not prone to flights of fancy, yet here I am, after being told that I would write this at this point in the future, to warn others in the past. Paradoxical improbabilities aside, I knew this to be real when I was told “Luxembourg1989”—my computer password—as the place and date I met my wife, now deceased from cancer .
A giant solar storm will cause mass deaths and collapse the world’s economies. After this, one of the few places of hope left will be Cicada, a place from which I received much of my grant funding for my pandemic research that led accidentally to my cancer research.
To all who read this:
Get the formula below to Dr. Valdez immediately, but have him bring his patient to a safe place where he can still produce this and administer it. Results will occur almost immediately, and a complete recovery can be expected within days, assuming there was not too much cellular damage to her other organs .
Preston flipped the page abruptly, his mouth slightly ajar. This, he didn’t expect.
You are to tell no one about this, even though you will be tempted to do so. You risk changing what has already occurred. And although it may mean you will save a few people temporarily, they will ultimately die anyway because there is no escaping what is to come. BEWARE! There are also enemies about, who would kill you to get this info. So protect yourselves and stay in hiding and on June 27th, the day before the Event, present yourselves to Preston at Cicada (38 32 48.55N & 104 52 30.00W). Tell him “Stephanie has blue eyes” and he will let you in .
Preston looked up from the page with a what-the-hell ? gaze that burnt holes into Monty, before returning to reading.
Then show him this message. Tell him your qualifications and he should let you stay. Finally, when I arrive at Cicada, with my invitation, seven days later, show me this message so that I’ll be convinced to write it.
To Dr. Valdez, here is the formula:
One part: C27H29NO11 to 4 parts: C17H26O4 administered in doses of 500 milligrams once per day for two weeks .
Preston flipped back to the first page and read the whole message again. He thought for a moment before looking up at Monty. “How did you come by this information?”
“This is the part that will be hard to believe.”
Preston snorted. “That’s probably an understatement. Go ahead.”
“Well, my friend invented a machine that creates a controlled time slip, allowing him to monitor and get data from the future, and”—Monty hesitated, then continued—“and allowing travel forward to that future point, through the time slip.”
“So where is this Dr. Ron?” Preston asked and then answered his
“Please call me Monty. May I call you Preston?”
“Yes, fine.”
“Tomorrow, the world will experience the worst solar storm in recorded history. The Event, as it will be known, will not only turn out the lights, but kill much of the world’s population.” Monty watched for Preston’s reaction: his face remained stoic, the statement eliciting none of the shock, or at least disbelief, Monty expected. “You don’t seem surprised.” The words were merely a verbalization of his suspicion that Preston somehow knew what was coming.
“You haven’t answered how you found out about Cicada and what you are doing here.” Preston’s tone now confirmed Monty’s suspicion. He knew already.
Monty opened his satchel and withdrew two stapled pages he had printed, each containing the imbedded screen-shots of the meticulous handwriting on a whiteboard: the message that sent them here. The first page said,
My name is Dr. Greg Mendelson. I am writing this for two reasons: first to warn you of an impending apocalypse that will hit you on June 28 th and second to give you the cure to Betsy Stoneridge’s cancer. You will find the formula for an experimental drug we have found to be 100% effective in all of our early tests against most forms of cancer.
I am not prone to flights of fancy, yet here I am, after being told that I would write this at this point in the future, to warn others in the past. Paradoxical improbabilities aside, I knew this to be real when I was told “Luxembourg1989”—my computer password—as the place and date I met my wife, now deceased from cancer .
A giant solar storm will cause mass deaths and collapse the world’s economies. After this, one of the few places of hope left will be Cicada, a place from which I received much of my grant funding for my pandemic research that led accidentally to my cancer research.
To all who read this:
Get the formula below to Dr. Valdez immediately, but have him bring his patient to a safe place where he can still produce this and administer it. Results will occur almost immediately, and a complete recovery can be expected within days, assuming there was not too much cellular damage to her other organs .
Preston flipped the page abruptly, his mouth slightly ajar. This, he didn’t expect.
You are to tell no one about this, even though you will be tempted to do so. You risk changing what has already occurred. And although it may mean you will save a few people temporarily, they will ultimately die anyway because there is no escaping what is to come. BEWARE! There are also enemies about, who would kill you to get this info. So protect yourselves and stay in hiding and on June 27th, the day before the Event, present yourselves to Preston at Cicada (38 32 48.55N & 104 52 30.00W). Tell him “Stephanie has blue eyes” and he will let you in .
Preston looked up from the page with a what-the-hell ? gaze that burnt holes into Monty, before returning to reading.
Then show him this message. Tell him your qualifications and he should let you stay. Finally, when I arrive at Cicada, with my invitation, seven days later, show me this message so that I’ll be convinced to write it.
To Dr. Valdez, here is the formula:
One part: C27H29NO11 to 4 parts: C17H26O4 administered in doses of 500 milligrams once per day for two weeks .
Preston flipped back to the first page and read the whole message again. He thought for a moment before looking up at Monty. “How did you come by this information?”
“This is the part that will be hard to believe.”
Preston snorted. “That’s probably an understatement. Go ahead.”
“Well, my friend invented a machine that creates a controlled time slip, allowing him to monitor and get data from the future, and”—Monty hesitated, then continued—“and allowing travel forward to that future point, through the time slip.”
“So where is this Dr. Ron?” Preston asked and then answered his
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