Shades of Gray

This is a fictional story I have been working on...This is just an unedited, first, rough draft...

Prologue

(About 150,000 years ago…)

The alien looked down at his mud-smeared fingers; long, delicate, blue gray appendages that could weave intricate designs in whatever medium he chose. Today he was making more humans, HIS humans. His colleagues were underachievers in his eyes with no vision and no courage. HIS humans would be taught to think of HIM, and give HIM power through their attention.

As soon as his colleagues had discovered that humans produced the same energies as them (though on a lesser scale) through thought, they had quickly separated themselves from the humans to avoid becoming ‘parasitic’ and dependent on the energies put forth. There was also talk of allowing the new species to develop on its own with no interference from the scientists. The alien thought this was a colossal waste of resources.

Quietly, he had sequestered himself in a jungle as far away from the other scientists as he could safely manage and began making his own humans. He would teach them to worship him and obey his rules. He was fashioning them from his own DNA but they were far inferior, so why not use their energy to fuel his own psionic abilities? He had noted a ten fold increase in his and the other scientists abilities with the other humans. All the humans had to do was say a scientists name and focus their attention on them and their psionic powers had increased; Several humans together gave the scientist nearly unlimited powers.

The alien looked at the naked mud covered forms of the male and female before him. They would not understand the complexities of cloning and gene splicing so he would tell them they were made from the earth. He would wake the male first and when the time was right, he would wake the female and give her to the male. The male would be grateful and indebted to him. The matriarchs would definitely not approve.

The alien touched the male’s heart and head with his delicate fingers and transferred the spark of life, a small trickle of his own life-force into the male. The human’s chest quivered and then began to rise and fall with regular respirations. His eyes opened and the alien smiled.

“Hello Adam, I am God and I made you in my image…”

Chapter One

Colors fade, and all I am left with are shades of gray. It all started out innocently enough; two people out to have a good time. Where did we go wrong? We messed with things we had no right to mess with. Now, we are left with…. This. To understand “this” I have to take you back to the beginning.

About six months ago I got a job with SETI. In case you didn’t know, that stands for the Search for Extra Terrestrial Intelligence. I was not a big believer in intelligent life on other planets, I thought it was possible but hell, I am not a big believer in intelligent life on this planet!

I am a computer Hardware Engineer and Technician. I design and build computer hardware like chips, keyboards, drives etc and I also repair broken circuitry and diagnose hardware issues. I can build one mean computer. I am not too shabby with software design either.

When I got to SETI New England, their new observatory, slash Laboratory, slash communications center on Castle Mountain in Moultonboro New Hampshire, I thought most of the people there were pretty freakin’ strange. They walked around with this superior look on their faces that said, “I know something you don’t.”

The only person I took a liking to right away was Dakota. He was the facilities all around handy man and maintenance guy. He mowed the lawns, emptied the garbage, ordered supplies, fixed leaky roofs, you get the idea. He lived in a small log cabin at the far end of the 1250-acre SETI NE grounds and rode to the facility every day on his jacked up dirt bike. That bike screams, I mean it is fast. I am sure we broke a few land speed records on that thing!

Anyway, Dakota and I hit it off right away. I suppose it helped that he’s hot, I mean Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow hot! He has long black hair and blue-green eyes like the ocean off the coast of Jamaica. In the summer his skin is the color of coffee with a bit of cream. The best part is he knows it but does not care.

I am getting ahead of myself so let me back up again. Spring was just a warm smell in the chilled air when I received the phone call. This chick, Sheila Mason, says she is from the SETI program and they were searching for the best and brightest in the computer fields. She told me that my name kept coming up. Of course it did, I told her, I am the best and brightest. Sheila made me an offer I could not refuse. A hundred grand a year, free room and board and an unlimited operating budget to maintain, repair and create computer systems for SETI. I could make my own hours, come and go as I pleased and best of all, I was the boss of my division!

The SETI program had just received a multi-billion dollar bequest from some eccentric recluse who came from old family money. I guess he was the end of the line and couldn’t stand the idea of not passing on his superior genes. He got himself frozen and left most of his fortune to SETI in the hopes that they would find E.T.. Evidently, the rich snob hoped E.T would be able to bring him back to life and fix his little infertility problem so that he could make lots of little eccentric heirs.

What this bequest meant is that SETI was able to expand. There are now six facilities in various stages of completion. There are two in the U.S. and one each in Canada, Mexico, Russia and Australia. There is talk, or was talk, of six more facilities to be built in various places around the globe. One was going to be Hawaii another Jamaica- that’s where I wanted to be!

My trip to SETI-NE was uneventful; a two-and a half hour car ride got me from Marlborough Massachusetts, where I had been working, to the new SETI facility. The first thing I noticed about SETI-NE was the peacefulness of the natural surroundings. The SETI people had been very careful to preserve the natural environment as much as possible. Most of the facility was underground, except for some living quarters, the visitors building and satellite arrays.

I was brought inside, fed lunch, given a tour of the Mother Ship or MS (as the staff called the main facility) and then left to myself until dinner, when I would be formally introduced to the entire staff. My quarters were located in a log cabin about a hundred feet behind the visitors building. I could get to MS by going into the basement and following a tunnel, which brought me into the computer lab.

Access to all buildings, except for the visitor’s center, was granted by key card. Each key card was preprogrammed with the owners ‘access level’ and determined where a person could and could not go on the facility. I would find out later that Dakota refused to use a key card on his own living quarters and that fact would later save our lives, but I am getting ahead of myself again.

I spent most of my first day wandering the grounds and visitors center. I had just gone into MS when the announcement for a general assembly sounded over the hidden wall speakers. I followed the map Sheila had given me and was soon in the cafeteria. The recreation rooms, indoor/outdoor pool and cafeteria were all above ground in the visitor’s center. These areas were accessible to the public tours and general staff of the facility.

I found a seat near the back and sat down. I barely noticed the odd stares sent my way, I was used to being looked at like a lab specimen. Sheila stepped to the front of the caf. As soon as the room quieted, she announced my arrival and asked me to come up. I stood and walked up the isle to whispers, giggles and gasps. I am a tall woman of five ten, I weigh one hundred fifty pounds of solid muscle; had purple spiked hair, green eyes, multiple piercings and tattoos.

As I stood in front of the room I wondered what thoughts could possibly be going through all these name dropping, IQ spouting, obsessive compulsive, geeklitists snob’s minds. Sheila held up her hand and as the room quieted she recited my pedigree. At least that is what it felt like. She told everyone about my graduating high school two years early, college education and graduating MIT as class valedictorian. She went on to describe my illustrious career designing and building computers for musicians, the government and private sector businesses.

I had pioneered research into crystal storage and had almost accomplished my goals when funding ran out and I had to return to a nine to five job. I still wear a necklace with a small replica crystal skull and round crystal chip. On the chip is my most successful experiment. I stored all of my research notes on one, quarter inch crystal sphere. No one knew this but me.

So there I am, standing in front of about 35 people and Dakota walks in. I did not know his name at the time but he had the beginnings of a tan and a dimpled smile that screamed of mischief. He took one look at me standing up there looking all awkward and yelled out,

“Great hair!”

Everyone in the room laughed and I yelled back, “Don’t get used to it, next week it will be a different color!”

“Just as long as it ain’t chartreuse, I hate that color!”

I laughed and everyone around me laughed. I introduced myself as Spike said I was looking forward to working with everyone, blah, blah, blah…

After the introduction was done I grabbed some dinner and was looking for a place to sit when I heard a familiar voice.

“Hey pincushion, over here!”

It was Dakota, he had this big toothy grin and a sparkle in his eye that was all trouble. I went and sat with him.

“The name is Spike.”

“Your parents not like you or what?”

I laughed. “Spike is my nickname genius.”

“Ohhhhh, I see.” Dakota never stopped smiling. “So what’s your name? I refuse to call you a dog’s name.”

I had just taken a sip of water and nearly choked on it. “What do you mean a dog’s name?”

“I had a dog named Spike, you are not a dog so I won’t call you a dog’s name.”

I smiled at the backward compliment. “My sixties-throwback, love-in, hippy parents named me Jasmine, but I prefer Jaz.”

“Jasmine it is. Actually probably will call you Jaz, it’s shorter and I’m not very smart you know.”

That was just the first of many conversations, meals and the beginning of a great friendship.