Tesla's Signal (16 page)

Richer than Morgan?
The idea had its appeal.  
If I had Morgan's millions, I could complete my tower at Wardenclyffe and bring all my dreams to life.
As he chewed the tender steak, Niko indulged the fantasy. He imagined himself sitting at Morgan's gigantic desk while old J. P. stood there begging for a loan.
Hmm!
After putting Morgan in his place, Niko could retire to his suite at the Waldorf, put on his tailored suit and take his accustomed private table.
Eighteen napkins please, waiter, to polish the silver. The number must be divisible by three.
 

“It all sounds too good to be true.” He tried to focus on the situation. “I'm not so trusting as I used to be. I have been cheated and swindled with empty promises. Reduced to a laughingstock.”

Shelia laughed. “Now now, calm down. Trust me, fella—the Angels appreciate your true worth. It sure was your lucky day when they picked up your signal. ”

“Mmm,” he said, spearing a morsel of meat. “This steak is exquisite. Who would have thought Martians could cook so well?”

“Tomorrow it'll be even better. Wait till you see what they can do with lobster. Well, actually one of the disciples does the cooking,” she admitted, with a little laugh. “Angels don't need to eat. More wine, Nicky?”

“I do believe I will.” A rosy glow enveloped him. All was right with the world.

***

“K'va Tes'laa, come with us, please.”

Niko stood up, rubbing his eyes. Was it day or night? How much time had gone by...what had happened after the dinner with Shelia? There seemed to be gaps in his memory. Perhaps he was getting sick. Was it the lighter gravity, or the ship's atmosphere? Or perhaps it was the cuff he wore...

But on second thought...why did it matter? He felt too contented to worry.

“As you are an elite specimen of your kind, we are going to show you the Technology Cache,” Science Specialist Z'duun told him.

“Yes sirs, that sounds interesting. Let us proceed.” Yes, what was there to worry about? Great cuisine, a lovely woman keeping him company, aliens who respected him—and advanced technology to study! Things were certainly looking up for Nikola.

Z'duun and his assistants led Niko down a white corridor. The closed, featureless passage did not frighten him; in fact his happiness grew with every step. The anticipation of discovery and learning had always been one of his greatest pleasures. But more than that...he felt enveloped in a wash of tranquility: as if he were a child in his mother's embrace, floating in a warm pool, gazing into a serene sky...all of that and more.

Where was this feeling coming from? A trace chemical in the ship's atmosphere? The cuff...did it contain some sort of frequency generator, that resonated with a natural frequency of the brain? Scientists knew that the brain's activity was electrical in nature.

He ran his finger over it, wondering, c
ould this little device be a transmitter...?
But he soon lost interest in the question. The feeling was so pleasant that the
why
and
how
it didn't seem to matter. All that mattered was that these Martians were wise and benevolent, and that the future of the world would be bright, as he had always dreamed.

The corridor spiraled downward until it ended in a smooth white barrier. Niko's escort pressed several buttons and the barrier slid away, to reveal a warehouse-sized room filled with wondrous and mysterious objects.

“This is the Technology Cache,” said Z'duun. “Replicators, transmutors, morph vector, prodoxine accelerators...” Pointing to each one, the alien scientist reeled off a lot more words which were gibberish to Niko. So he just gazed at it all in bewilderment. Great tall pylons that seemed to fade into nothingness. Webs of light that writhed like snakes. Spheres, knobs, glowing screens... more wonders than Niko had ever conceived of.

What is it all for?
What do these machines
do?
The objects appeared so different from each other: a seemingly random assortment, like items in a pawn shop. He was reminded of his wealthy patrons, people like J. P.
Morgan, who traveled around the world and collected exotic souvenirs.

One of them caught his eye—it resembled a circular desk fan with about 15 crumpled blades. He reached for it, and as his fingers came close, he experienced a burning sensation.

“No!” Z'duun grabbed his arm and pulled it back. “Not until you are trained.”

Feeling like a punished child, Niko contented himself with looking at the object. He studied every device in his field of vision, soaking up the details and storing it in his prodigious memory. “You must have very advanced knowledge. Your scientists made all of this?”

“We have recruited scientists from many worlds.”

A whole universe of scientists!
“Where are they all? I'd like to talk to them.” The room appeared empty. He saw none of the clutter of a working lab, no half-finished experiments, no piles of notes.

“They have all proved inadequate. We have chosen you to take their place. You are to become our chief scientist.”

“Chief scientist!” Niko could barely contain his elation. A week ago he had been discarded like trash. Today he was being handed a prestigious position by advanced beings from another planet!
Take that, Morgan!
“You'll teach me how these devices work?”

“That will be up to
you,
K'va Tes'laa. You will study these devices and learn how to use them to aid us in our Mission.”

“You don't know what these machines are? Then how did you get them?” Immediately he wished he hadn't asked. Something in the Martians' body posture changed, and Niko had the feeling he had displeased them. “Well then...” he changed the subject. “Tell me more about your Mission, if you would be so kind.”

“Our mission is to visit other worlds,” Z'duun said, “eliminating war and unhappiness. Now we have chosen
you,
K'va Tes'laa
,
to help us bring blessing to your race.”

There it was again, that word
blessing.
“Will you teach us to generate clean energy, help us eliminate poverty and hunger?”

“We will gift your species with happiness and bliss.”

Niko wondered if there was some translation problem. They said they came to help the human race, but they offered no specifics, except words like
bliss
and
blessing
. What did they mean by that?

Well, apparently they were influencing his emotions in a certain way. He turned to the armband, stared at its swirling surface. If he put it close to his head, he could sense the activation of certain frequencies which interfered with the clarity of his thoughts and the sharpness of his will. The device's vibrations bathed his brain in a pleasant, mindless glow. If this continued he would be reduced to a thumb-sucking infant. Was this their idea of 'happiness and bliss'?  

The third Martian, the one with the camera helmet attachment, spoke up. “Those who are fortunate enough to come under our patronage, attain with us a holy and blissful unity which is life's greatest gift.”

“Excuse me, sirs...” Niko put a hand to his forehead, trying to concentrate. “What sort of 'patronage' do you have in mind?”

“We have observed your world for several of your years,” Z'duun said. “We have seen that you are a violent and unhappy race. Humans desperately need the guidance of the U'jaan Sky Voyagers, or as we are known to some of you,
the Angels.”
 

Niko wrapped his arms around his middle and tried to focus his thoughts. “Sirs, I appreciate your concern for humanity, but you must understand something...we're creatures of free will. We need to learn and progress. We're not simply animals to lie around in mindless bliss.”

The third Martian moved up so close that Niko got a whiff of sharp, pungent scent. “Poor misguided creature. Your fellow humans will soon be begging for the wise leadership of the U'jaan Sky Voyagers.”

“Your aid will be of great benefit to your fellow creatures,” Z'duun said. “And as one of our voluntary servants, you will be handsomely
rewarded. In addition, you will retain that 'free will' that you mentioned.”

Niko put his hands over his ears. Whatever the bracelet was doing, its power seemed to be increasing. He actually had to struggle to figure out their meaning. “What are you saying? Is the rest of humanity to be...” to be
slaves,
he wanted to say. But something about his hosts' attitude frightened him into silence.

“I'm sorry...I'm having trouble collecting my thoughts.” He began clawing at the bracelet. “This doesn't agree with me. Could you please take it off?” His fear increased when he realized he couldn't budge it. It seemed to have grafted itself to his skin.

The third Martian grasped his hand. “Do not try to remove it. It will remain until you receive the implant.”

“Implant?
What implant?”
The Angel Jewel,
the woman had said.
So I can always hear their commands.

His skin prickled with alarm, which was quickly suppressed by the calming waves emanating from the bracelet.

“Sirs.” He mustered every ounce of will to face the tall visitors. “I appreciate your generous offer to help our planet, but...” the effort of speaking, and even thinking, was like pushing against a waterfall. “But...I'm not sure that it's the best thing for us.” He searched for polite words. “I cannot accept your proposal until I have had more time to consider, and discuss it with the leaders of my species. Could you please take me back to Earth?”
 

Martian Three grasped him by the arm. “Stubborn creature! There is nothing to discuss. No species rejects the wise and noble U'jaan!”

The alien did something with a belt device. Niko tried to move, and found he was paralyzed. Helpless, he cried out as he felt himself being sucked into a great well of darkness.

***

He awoke to find himself once more in the presence of Shelia the Chosen Vessel. She sat next to him on a plush divan, wearing a filmy nightgown that concealed very little of her creamy skin.

“Oh, Nicky,” she murmured. “What's this I hear about you acting like a fool—refusing the gifts of our Angel Masters?”

He tried to think straight. Now the aliens were
Masters?
“I
don't think humanity needs their 'gifts'. How can I get out of here and go home?”  

“Oh, don't be silly. The Angels are wise and smart. They know what's best.”

He scowled. “I'm not so sure.”

She burst out laughing. “Oh, Nicky, Nicky. How dumb can you be? Why would anyone throw away this great opportunity?” She moved closer, pressing her firm hips against him.

“I'm not...” he put a hand to his forehead, trying to focus. “I wouldn't sell out humanity for selfish gain.”

“Why? What did the human race ever do for you? Hmm?”

What did
... now there was a good question. What
did
they do for him indeed! “Not very much,” he admitted. “Blacklisted me, and threw me out on the street like a beggar.” Perhaps Shelia had a point.

“Ah.” A sly grin stole over Shelia's red lips. “I see. The world's treated you wrong—gave you the shaft.” She reached over to the table and poured a glass of whiskey. “Well, sweetheart, when you join with the Angels, you can have revenge on everyone who's done you dirt.”

Revenge.
He stroked his mustache and thought about all the people who had wronged him over the years. Thomas Edison: he'd like to see that scoundrel kicked out in the street—and that thief Marconi, too! That bastard Kirk and the bigger thug who had hired him, and all the arrogant rich folks who had given him the bum's rush.

She held the whiskey to his lips and he sucked it down. The drink went right to his head...no, it was that silvery pendant she wore, and the cuff on his wrist, all of them emitting that bliss frequency. “It sounds great, but still...Miss Shelia, tell me the truth. Exactly what do these Martians have in mind? So far I've heard nothing but pie-in-the-sky promises. There's got to be a catch, right?”

Shelia sighed in exasperation. “Look, Nicky, there's three options. You can join the elite servants like myself, be worshiped by the whole world and sail the stars like a god. You can be a wise guy, play games and try to fool the Angels, and then they'll have to fix your brain—it's called
conditioning.
You wouldn't like that.”

“And what's the third option?”

“Never mind. You done with that wine? C'mon, let's get acquainted.” Shelia began to ruffle his hair with red-painted fingertips.
Stop touching me
, he wanted to say, but he could not get the words out.