Regression

REGRESSION

BOOK ONE OF THE
INFINION SERIES

KATHY BELL

Text © 2009 Kathy Bell

All rights reserved. No part of
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permission of the publisher.

The characters and events
portrayed in this book are fictitious, any similarity to real
persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Northern Sanctum Press, Ontario,
Canada

Bell, Kathy, 1971-
Regression / Kathy Bell. – 1st Smashwords edition
ISBN 978-0-9812896-1-8
Print ISBN 978-0-9812896-0-1

Northern Sanctum Press, 2009

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Other works on Smashwords by Kathy
Bell

Evolussion

Front
Matter

Table of
Contents

End
Notes

PROLOGUE

Journal of Doctor Nicholas Weaver

July 27, 98 Post Impact

To perform the
regression requires almost 70 exajoules. The amount of power
consumed by humans during one year when we were at the peak of our
civilization. Such incredible discharges of energy are virtually
impossible to achieve. Meteor impacts, megathrust earthquakes, or a
blast of 17 gigatons of TNT might approximate the power. Not simple
to orchestrate. It is both to my horror and to my advantage such an
instance occurs November 11, 2011, providing thirty times the force
required. The phenomenon precipitates the need for the regression
while also providing the means to complete it. What tragic
irony.

“
No, Daddy. Want Mommy.”

Daniel Davies shook his head,
grimacing at his wife as she reached for the struggling
toddler.

Adya smiled. “Poor Daddy.” She
winked over the head of the little blonde girl. “You just don’t
measure up.”

“
Ouch.” He buckled the
last of their children into the van before rounding to the driver’s
side window. “I’ll see you in a bit; Jim wants me to help him put
the equipment away.” Leaning in, he kissed her, and then strode
toward the ivy-covered stone building still surrounded by people in
uniforms.

“
Bye, honey.” Adya
turned and smiled over the seatback at the young ones. “You were
all very well behaved for the memorial service; thank you.” Singing
in chorus to “One Tin Soldier” on the radio with a clear, sweet
voice, she drove toward her mother’s house.

Twelve year old Serina leaned
forward from the middle passenger seat. “Why do we have to sit
through that each year?”

“
Your
great-grandfathers fought in both wars. We owe it to their memories
and to−”

“
Blah, blah, blah,
you’ve said it all before.”

“
Serina, don’t
interrupt me. It’s a sign of respect to attend the Remembrance Day
activities at the cenotaph. People sacrificed their lives to allow
us to be there today.”