Project J (20 page)

Chapter 36:
 
Tamara Stays

Tamara turned in a report on her audit of the Chronodyne facility.
 
It said nothing of Project J, and attributed all the misuse of the Machine to one employee using it for personal gain.

Normally, Tamara would have returned for reassignment, but she wanted so to learn more that she drew upon some of the vacation time she had coming to stay at the site and continue working with Dr. Myers.
 
Fielding and the others accepted her as part of their team, Myers even going so far as to ask if she might be hired on.
 
Jesus seemed to prefer working with her, even with the language difficulties.

A strict policy of not having any single person alone with Jesus was put into effect.
 
It was unlikely that it would be perfect, but it was a good attempt at protecting him.
 
It was the accepted idea that there was a single person within the project who had tried to sabotage it.
 
Until they found out who that was, caution was the watchword of the day.

All was going smoothly, and no one noticed the slight signs of change in one of the team members.

Tamara was the one who pushed the idea that Jesus should be allowed more freedom, even if it meant security problems.
 
She argued that the man had been confined like a prisoner for weeks, constrained to the courtyard and a couple indoor rooms, and should be allowed to see more of the world.

It was almost like watching your child’s first visit to Disneyland or the zoo.
 
There were so many things that were new to Jesus.
 
It was as if he were discovering a whole new world, as, indeed, he was.

At first, he was allowed outside the Project J building for short periods, accompanied by Dr. Myers and Tamara.
 
The first time he saw a car being driven, he was amazed, so Tamara arranged for him to be given a ride.
 
It was only around a couple buildings, and he was filled with wonder that something could move without animals.

Then they introduced him to CD players and music.
 
Not that he had not known of music, but even the simplest pieces of modern music were far beyond anything he had ever heard.
 
They were careful to not overwhelm him with too much, and kept his CD collection to carefully selected music.
 
He seemed to love classical music so long as it was melodic.

After a few days of sunshine, another summer storm moved in, curtailing his walks outside the building.
 
Jesus was in his room, taking an after lunch nap.
 
Tamara was in Dr. Myers’ office, writing some notes about a small talk she had had with Jesus that morning.
 
She had asked him about who was present during the Crucifixion.
 
Did he notice his mother watching?
 
And who else did he recognize?

She suggested that they could use the Machine’s viewing capabilities to simply look at the scene, but Myers laughed at the idea and asked her if she could recognize the people there.
 
They had figured no way to get sounds from the past, only vision.
 
They discussed, for a while, letting Jesus see a recording of the scene, but decided it might be too much for him.
 
So they settled for asking him questions.

That morning meeting, as did most of the meetings, included a lot of time answering questions of his own.
 
There were times that his inquires could simply not be answered.
 
For example, when he wanted to know what had become of Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus.
 
But on the whole he seemed to be accepting what they could tell him.

Afterwards, in a debriefing that had become a standard part of their routine, Tamara asked how hard it would be to get some time on the Machine.

Myers told her, “I believe Dr. Stryker has stated that the Machine’s usage was to be very limited and under much stricter control.
 
Any time on the Machine would have to be approved by him.
 
What did you have in mind?”

“Well,” she said slowly, “why couldn’t we use the Machine to make a recording of the Crucifixion, but only of the spectators?
 
Keep the viewer trained away from the crosses?”

“I guess that would be possible.
 
Ah, you’re thinking that then we can show them to Jesus and he can identify the people.
 
That would clear up a lot of controversy about who was there.”

“Yes.
 
Once again, the Gospels are contradictory, or at least incomplete.”

“Well, let’s ask the good doctor,” Myers said with a smile.
 
“Worst he would do is say no.”

* * * * *

“No!”

Stryker was adamant about it.
 
“I do not want you using the Machine to play more games with Jesus.
 
You’ve created enough of a headache for me already.”

Myers only smiled faintly.
 
Tamara wanted to argue with him about the historical value of the information gained, but was only forming the argument in her head when Myers spoke quietly.
 
“That is your prerogative, of course.
 
But you do agree that since we have Jesus here, shouldn’t we learn as much from him as possible?”

“I wish you could send him back, but that’s not possible.
 
Yes, I guess learning about history is part of our main goal.”

“Jesus asked about what happened after his death,” Myers went on.
 
“Particularly, he wanted to know about his wife, Mary Magdalene as we call her, and his mother.
 
Also, some of his friends and his children.
 
If we can use the Machine to help him in this respect, it would make learning other things from him much easier.
 
I think he would trust us more and be more cooperative.”

Stryker only glared at the older man.
 
The longer he stared, the more his expression faded from anger to resignation.

Myers cleverly sank the hook in.
 
“What man wouldn’t want to know about his children?”

“All right, I’ll authorize some time.
 
But if the spooks come in, you immediately cease and vacate the Machine for their use.”

“Don’t we always?” Myers said with a smile.

“And, for Heaven’s sake, don’t let them know what you’re looking at!”

Fifteen minutes later they were talking to the operator, and ten minutes after that, the Machine’s viewer was powered up and reaching backward in time almost two thousand years.

“By the way,” Myers told Tamara as the Machine began probing in the past, “did you know that we’ve isolated the date of his Crucifixion.
 
It was in CE 30.
 
And he was thirty-four years old at the time.
 
The New Testament was a little vague about that also.
 
And Josephus.
 
He seemed to have his time scale mixed up also.”

The screen before them cleared from the dancing but meaningless color streaks it had been displaying, and a scene formed.
 
“I think I’ve got it,” said the operator, a friendly young man named Jacques Bretel.
 
“Basically, it’s the same coordinates as you used to bring him back the first time.”

“That’s right,” Myers agreed.
 
“But this time we want the scene to be on the spectators.
 
I’d like you to get a close up of their faces, if possible.
 
Keep the recording going; I’ll edit it later.”

“You still haven’t let Jesus see his own death?” Jacques asked as he adjusted dials on the massive console.

“No, and we’re not going to.
 
Jesus has been through so much shock, why add to it by showing him the grisly way he died?”

“Guess you’re right.
 
Okay, I’m coming up on the sequence where the soldiers put him up.”

Tamara stared in fascination at the images on the screen.
 
It was a barren landscape around the dozen or so posts set into the ground.
 
A ravine ran along behind the posts, and the area was littered with small rocks and weeds.
 
In the distance, behind the ravine, some trees could be seen.
 
A group of soldiers were standing around one post.
 
When one of them moved, Tamara could see the man lying on the ground.
 
With a shock she recognized the Jesus she knew.
 
But this was a different man.
 
His back and sides were streaked with blood.
 
There were bruises on his arms and legs from mistreatment at the hands of the soldiers.
 
He looked only half aware of what was going on, and his eyes often closed.

One soldier was holding Jesus’ arm out to the side.
 
Under it was a beam of wood, crude cut and flat.
 
Another soldier placed a large iron spike against the upturned wrist and immediately pounded on it with a large wooden mallet.
 
Jesus cried out, jerking his head up.
 
The soldier pounded again, driving the spike deep into the arm and the wood behind it.
 
A third strike and he was done.
 
Only the spike’s flattened head was visible against the tanned skin of his arm.

The soldiers shifted around and one’s back blocked the view of Jesus’ head.
 
But she could see his other arm being pulled out to the side and held against the wooden beam.
 
In eerie silence she saw the spike being placed and then pounded into his flesh.
 
The hand jerked into a claw and trembled.
 
Watching this cruelty, she felt sick inside.

Four of the soldiers lifted the length of wood and placed it into a notch cut into the post.
 
Jesus’ feet hung down very close to the ground.
 
Kneeling soldiers gathered his feet together, placed them on a small peg set into the post, and bound them to the post with rope.
 
Stepping back, the two of them stood there for a moment, gazing upon the hanging man.
 
Another was standing behind the cross, lashing rope around the crosspiece and his wrists near the spike.

“That’s to make sure that the spikes won’t pull out,” Myers told her quietly.

It was then that Tamara saw, in the background to the left, another man positioned in the same manner on another cross.
 
His head was bowed but his chest was rising and falling as he gasped for air.
 
Jesus was also breathing heavily, pain written in ever line of his face.
 
Tamara’s heart ached at the sight.
 
One of the soldiers tore the last of his clothing away, leaving him naked to the world.

“Nudity was shaming to the Romans,” Myers said.
 
“So they made sure that those being crucified would suffer that shame.”

The soldiers were busy with a third man.
 
He was also bloody and battered, but he was fighting the soldiers as they forced him down onto the crosspiece.
 
The watchers could see him screaming.
 
His body writhed in agony as the spikes were being pounded in.
 
He was still screaming as they lifted him up on his post.
 
He even tried to kick out with bare feet at the soldiers.
 
Quickly they had him secured.
 
They had done this many times before.

For a time, the soldiers stood back, perhaps admiring their handiwork or maybe contemplating life and death.

“I’ve seen this three times now,” Jacques said, “and it still chokes me up.”

Tamara silently agreed.
 
It was the most dramatic, powerful images she had ever seen.
 
A tear trickled down her cheek.

“Okay, I overshot what we wanted,” Jacques said as he began adjusting the controls.
 
“Now I’ll get those people standing around for you.”

* * * * *

“That is my mother.”

The words were barely audible as Jesus said them.