Chapter 1

If we are to survive in this crowded state on this small rock in space, prejudice must become a memory, as slavery is now a memory, as the genocidal horrors of World War II are now but a memory. I understand the prejudice of man, but I cannot condone it. My hope is that this Journal will one day be used to teach humanity more about itself, and hopefully, through that knowledge, humanity will learn to be at peace with itself and all parts of the human race.

Each person is an animal, flesh and blood, and the same basic instincts that are found in the animal kingdom are found in each person as well. These survival instincts create the feelings of me and mine before you and yours. Indeed such human genetic programming is what causes an individual to place his or her own wellbeing before that of others. Survival instincts give one the feeling that he or she is smarter, faster, stronger, wiser, and more deserving.

If humanity is to become truly civilized, we must understand the animal who demands survival to the point of gathering more than one could ever use, so that person will never need. Indeed it is this excessiveness we call greed that almost eliminated humanity, and I fear that humanity would not survive a second round of what it has seen.

An era of growth should be our goal. An era to meet the needs of the flesh and move beyond those needs.

Excerpt from the Journal of Migel Guido

Our Second Start

by Carlos Juarez

* * * *

Migel stared about his messy garage, illuminated only by the dim overhead light bulb. There was barely enough room for one full-sized car, let alone all the equipment for his experiments.

He shoved his hand back through his hair and tried to shake off the sensation that he was about to begin some kind of weird karmic adventure. Hell, an adventure was the last thing he needed.

He frowned and shook his head, then paced about the narrow space, stopping now and then to finger pieces of dismantled machines. How had he ever managed to talk himself into doing these experiments, anyway? Deep in his heart, he knew he’d never succeed even if he unraveled the secrets of certain magnetic phenomenon, most of which had a true conspiratorial nature—

Trying to play God, that’s what he was trying to do. Sheer folly.

He kicked at a metal bucket as his gaze traveled along the east wall. The shelves lining the wall were cluttered with the junk of dismantled machines. He shifted his head to the right. Stretching the length of the north wall was his worktable covered with scattered notes and customized equipment, sophisticated but lacking any aesthetic quality.

His shoulders slumped as he recalled all his years of research and study leading to theories that could only be proven through experimentation. Hah! Experimentation in this cramped, unlikely lab?

Migel smoothed back his hair and inched closer to the note-strewn table. Who was he trying to fool? Himself or his colleagues? “Face it,” he said aloud, “the real reason you’re doing these experiments here instead of in a properly equipped lab is because you’re hiding.” He lowered his head into his palms and stood there for several moments until the sound of crickets carping outside caught his attention.

He heaved a deep sigh, then turned and strode toward the garage door, reflecting on his nagging need to keep these experiments secret. He absolutely could not draw attention to himself. No matter what happened, no one could know.

As he neared the building’s exit, he stopped for a moment at the spot where the original designers had intended an entrance for a car. He ran his hand over the well built, half sanded antique oak table. In the center of the table sat an almost spherical machine fitted with powerful magnets and hand-wound coils in strange configurations. Listening to the machine whine its unique tune, he watched the magnets and coils dance around their respective axes.

Stepping back, Migel stood in the middle of the garage and noticed a green glowing presence just beneath the machine. The strange effect started spreading outward across the tabletop. Wait, Migel thought. It’s the table itself! The table was turning an eerie pale green, and he could see right through it. He was fascinated, but only for a few seconds. As the effect continued to spread, he realized it could soon engulf the entire garage.

He sucked in his breath. He didn’t dare go near it. In desperation, he grabbed a broom handle to reach the machine’s main switch. As the handle entered the machine’s field of influence, it, too, turned green and translucent. He took another deep breath. The machine’s effect was too far spread.

Migel knew he couldn’t reach the machine without stepping into the field. Next to the garage door, the breaker box was also out of his reach.

Startled, he realized that by this time the effect had reached the garage door. He could see through it, and on the other side he saw his wife Rachel.

Aghast, Rachel shouted, “What have you done to my table!”

Migel started grabbing objects from the shelves and throwing them at the machine’s main switch. “Get out of here, Rachel!” he demanded. He noticed that some of the objects he threw just passed right through the table and the garage door beyond. It was as though the table and door weren’t even there.

While Migel hurled objects madly at his creation, he heard Rachel enter the side door.

“Rachel, get out until I can shut this thing off!”

She picked up a small transformer and flung it at the machine. It hit the switch dead on and cut the power.

“With an arm like that, you should be in the majors,” Migel stated through quick breaths.

“Don’t flatter me. You’re supposed to be refinishing that table, not turning it into some ghostly object.”

“Not now, Rachel. I need to check a few things.” He noticed the garage door turning back to normal. The effect seemed to be collapsing. He just hoped it didn’t leave behind some odd side effect.

“I don’t understand, Migel. What are you doing out here?”

Migel noticed an odd display on his oscilloscope. “I’ll explain in a minute. Right now I need to make sure everything’s okay.” His gaze never left the o-scope. It displayed a pulsating signal at seventy-five kilohertz. “It’s a radio signal,” he muttered. “But why seventy-five k-hertz?” He noticed the signal’s amplitude diminished as the effect continued to collapse. “I’d rather you go back in the house, Rachel.”

“Is everything okay yet?” she asked.

“Yeah, I think so. Everything’s okay. You go on inside. Carlos is supposed to be coming by here. I’ll be in in a few minutes.”

Just then they heard the sound of Carlos’ clunker pulling into the driveway.

“Or maybe you’ll be more than a few minutes,” Rachel snipped and then stepped outside to let Carlos know Migel was in the garage.

“Hey man, wazup with my favorite physics professor?” Carlos asked.

“What do you mean?” Migel replied unconvincingly.

“Rachel had a strange look on her face.”

“Oh, that. She saw something that I need to show you...” Migel paused. “I did it, Carlos.”

“No way. You mean the artificial gravity thing?”

“Yeah, but there’s a couple of odd side effects I need your help with.”

“Okay, let’s get on it,” Carlos exclaimed. He hopped back as though dancing a jig, then said, “You did it! You’re my hero!”

“Perhaps, but I’d never got it working without the circuitry you built. Let’s start by relocating this switch.”

They re-wired the experiment’s main power switch to a more distant location.

“Now watch,” Migel commanded.

He turned on the device and pointed to the o-scope.

“Where’s that coming from?” Carlos queried.

“Seventy-five kilohertz.”

“Man, it’s strong.” Carlos scratched his chin. “It must be a resonant interaction between the coils and the circuitry.”

“Look," Migel said, pointing at the table.

Carlos momentarily froze at the sight of the table’s translucent green appearance. “What is that?”

“I have no idea…” Migel replied, “…yet.” He shut off the experiment.

“Hey!” Carlos exclaimed. “What are you doing? I need to probe and find out why we’re getting that radio signal.”

“No way. I’m not letting anyone near it until we understand what causes that side effect. We have a lot to figure out before we worry about a stray radio signal.”

“Who’s that?” Carlos asked when he heard a car pull up at the end of the driveway.

They went out to greet the visitor. Migel could tell from the uniform that he was a naval officer.

“How may I help you?” Migel asked.

“Good evening. I’m Commander Billings; Naval Intelligence. I need to know what you have going on in that garage.”

Migel noticed what looked like a technician standing at the front of the car with some type of tester, or perhaps a detection device. “Why do you need to know?”

“Pardon my abrupt manners. I’ve been tracing down a radio signal for the last two hours, and it’s got me a bit frustrated.”

Carlos stepped up. “You can’t search that garage without a warrant.”

“Carlos,” Migel scolded, and then turned to Commander Billings. “College kids and their rights. Look, it’s just a private experiment with coils and such. We only discovered the radio signal ourselves a few minutes ago.”

“Yeah, I thought it was something mechanical,” Billings replied. “We’ve been getting a carrier with no discernable data. Do you mind if I take a look?”

“Migel?” Carlos questioned.

“It’s okay, Carlos,” Migel reassured, without taking his eyes off of the Commander. “I’ll have to ask you to keep your questions to a minimum and keep what you see confidential. We’re building a new invention in there that we might be able to patent. Therefore, I can’t tell you much about it.”

“Hmmm, I see,” Billings commented.

Migel led him into the garage. He immediately pulled the power connection in case Billings got the bright idea to turn it on. “As you can see, Commander, it’s not designed as a transmitter. In fact, the radio signal is an anomaly we have to resolve.”

Billings had enough experience to know when someone was hiding something. It could just be the invention, but he felt the need to check out Migel’s background anyway. “Well, Migel… That’s your name, right?”

“Yes,” Migel replied.

“And I’ll need your last names for my report.”

“What report?” Carlos inquired.

With his pen in hand, Billings leaned on the oak table. “Look, gentlemen, let’s not make this any harder than it is. The radio frequency that your invention broadcasts overlaps with frequencies we use to communicate with submarines. Now technically what you’ve done is an FCC violation—”

“Okay, okay,” Migel interrupted. “My last name is Sanchez and his is Juarez.”

“Now see how easy that was,” Billings taunted as he wrote down their names. “I don’t want to be an ass about all of this, but I’m responsible for making sure our communications aren’t interfered with. You boys are going to have to find a way to stop or block that signal. Understand?”

“We will, sir,” Migel assured.

Billings looked around the garage. “You know, if you had a metal garage door instead of a wooden one, it may have been enough to kill the signal. I suggest that you make some kind of grounded metal shield around the device to squelch any radio emissions it might produce.”

“I know how to squelch a radio signal,” Carlos snapped.

“I’m sure you do, son,” Billings calmly replied. “Well, I can see that I’ve overstayed my welcome here. Just stay off my airwaves and I’ll stay out of your hair.”

Migel reassured Billings that the problem would be solved and then saw him on his way.

* * * *

Billings grabbed the cold brass doorknob of the fifth floor office where he’d been ordered to report.

“Come in, come in,” Mr. Jones enticed. “That must be the information on the Migel Sanchez case. Just set your material here on my desk.”

“Yes. Admiral Schmotcher said I should bring this to you,” Billings answered.

“Ahh, Admiral Schmotcher. How is the old man?”

“Just fine.”

“Now, this is all of the information. Yes? No copies or backups anywhere?”

“As per my orders.”

“Fine. You may go.”

“Pardon me?”

“You can go back to your base now. I’ll handle it from here.”

Billings hesitated. Who is this guy? He knew that was a question he was now determined to answer. “But I figured—”

“No buts! Forget about Migel Sanchez and go track a whale, or whatever it is you do. Or must I contact the Admiral myself to see how he is?”

Billings left without a word. He would definitely be learning more about Mr. Jones.

“Now let’s see,” Mr. Jones muttered as his office door shut behind Billings. “Where’s Migel’s phone number?”

* * * *

“It’s for you,” Rachel said as she handed the phone to Migel.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Migel. This is Mr. Jones. That’s all I go by; just Mr. Jones, but you have many names. Don’t you, Migel?”

“What?”

“Or should I call you Rico? Or Samuel perhaps?”

Migel froze. This must have something to do with that visit from the Navy, he thought.

“Are you still there?”

“What do you want?”

“Just a meeting at say… The Museum of Science around ten tonight?”

“But the museum is closed at that time.”

“Yes, so it is. Now listen, Migel. I would like to keep this between us. I’d rather not involve your friends or family. Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, I hear you. I’ll be there.” Migel hung up the phone before Mr. Jones could say anymore. “Like hell I’ll be there,” he muttered.

* * * *

Migel sat on the sofa, contemplating his situation. The prior year had become one of the most eventful in his long life. For three decades he had worked for and dreamed of a way to produce artificial gravity without centrifugal forces. Any odd phenomenon that related to or involved magnetic fields became his passion. He knew that unraveling these secrets would reveal the nature of gravitational forces. This year he had realized his dream of producing artificial gravity. With this new technology he could see far reaching applications, like a controlled fusion reactor.

The concept was simple. That he knew. A focused gravitational field with the strength of a star’s core could produce tremendous amounts of energy with relatively minute amounts of matter. It was failsafe too, since the gravitational field that created the reactions would also contain their explosive forces. He could harness a piece of the Sun. If only…

Migel reached his hand to turn on a lamp. If the gravity was lost, he realized the reactions would stop, leaving only a high energy plasma that could be dealt with. He felt a smile widen his lips and he took a deep breath. In fact, he reasoned, it was feasible that the simplicity of these fusion-reactor generators could easily make fossil fuels obsolete.

He stirred on the chair and ran his fingers through his hair. Migel knew there was a glitch. Stopping the flow of fossil fuels would be a threat to the survival of many wealthy and powerful individuals. This type of infringement coupled with my top-secret nature explains the troubles upon me.

He gave a start as Rachel walked into the living room. “He’s here,” she said nervously, “I just heard him drive up.”

Migel could sense her concern for him. “Don’t worry, Rachel, I can trust Carlos.”

“I know he’s your former student and your best friend, but I’m just worried about how he’ll respond.”

“Not just my best friend, Rachel. In less than a year, we’ve become more like brothers.”

“I’ve never understood how two close friends, both who are of Hispanic origin, have never learned to speak Spanish. I’ve also never really understood what draws you two so close together, but that’s none of my—”

“He seems determined to involve himself in my problems,” Migel interrupted. Maybe my only alternative is to reveal my true nature to Carlos and sever our friendship and then pull one of my disappearing acts, he mused as Rachel turned on more lamps. “Hopefully he’ll hate me for the rest of his life. It’s the best thing that could happen to him.”

“He could never hate you and you know it. Still, he is apt to react poorly. What mystifies me is that you’ve always said Carlos’ remarkable engineering skills in electronics and mechanics complements your creative mind. Now you’re saying he’d be better off hating you the rest of his life.”

Migel just smiled at her. “We’ll conquer this trouble together, even if we are apart.”

Rachel’s lower lip quivered. “In seven years, we’ve never been apart more than a day.”

Migel silently watched her check herself in the mirror, pressing her hands against her belly. When Carlos’ footsteps sounded on the front porch, they answered the door together.

“Come in, Carlos,” Migel welcomed him.

“Where’s the rug rat,” Carlos asked.

“You mean our Labrador or our five-year-old?”

“I mean Charlie, your son. I enjoy wrestling around with him more than with your dog. That Lab’s too strong for me,” Carlos joked.

“Charlie’s been over at a friend’s house all day, playing,” Rachel responded.

“So how’s the pregnancy going?” Carlos asked Rachel.

“As well as can be expected,” she answered with a smile. “Only two more months till delivery date.”

“Something’s up,” Carlos stated. “I can see it in your faces.”

“You two take a seat,” Rachel said. “I need to go pick up Charlie. I’ll be back in thirty minutes or so.”

Carlos sat on the couch. Migel sat in the adjacent lounge chair.

“Carlos, you need to forget you ever knew me,” Migel bluntly stated.

“Pardon?”

“Carlos, I’m in trouble; life threatening trouble. I don’t want you involved.” Migel realized his words were curt, but he couldn’t think of a better way to break the news to his friend.

“I don’t understand. What do you mean: life threatening?”

“I believe there are people who don’t want my invention to become public.” Migel stood. “Scratch that. I KNOW there are some powerful people who don’t want my invention to become public.”

Carlos watched as Migel paced, back and forth, back and forth, in front of the coffee table.

Moments later, Migel took several deep breaths, then stood very still. “Carlos, you’re my best friend. In all my years, I’ve never met anyone like you. I want you to know I would never intentionally hurt you, and if I’ve kept anything from you, it was to protect you.” Sensing that Carlos had put up his defenses, Migel knew he’d have to come right out and say it, or he’d be talking around it all night.

“Carlos, I am what some people would call ‘immortal’.” Migel waited for a response. “On top of that, I have a pretty good idea that Naval Intelligence and other armed services people are after me.”

After a few seconds, Carlos shook his head. A look of total bewilderment crossed his face as he lowered himself onto the couch. “What did you say?”

“Carlos, I might appear to be in my mid twenties, but I’m one hundred nine years old.”

Total silence pervaded the room.

Then Carlos wrinkled his brow, stifled a grin, and stared right at Migel. “I understand. I guess I should tell you that I’m really Hercules.” He reared back, placed his hands on his head, and laughed.

Migel understood Carlos’ skepticism. Rejecting the unusual was an instinct everyone shared. “It’s not a joke, Carlos. I really am one hundred nine years old.”

As Carlos stopped laughing, Migel could feel the fear and mistrust building.

“How about Rachel? Is she your age?”

“Carlos, as far as I know, I’m the only person on Earth who’s like this,” Migel added.

“The only person like what? What makes you like this?”

Carlos’ defenses were back in place, and Migel could sense anger too. Migel knew that Carlos’ father had used his law practice to engage in legal, but unethical activities. As Carlos’ mentor, Migel realized he wasn’t helping Carlos’ faith in leadership.

“Carlos, I’m still the same man you’ve always known.” Suddenly, Migel sensed Carlos was near panic.

Carlos abruptly stood. “Know you. Know you! I don’t know you. YOU’RE A FREAK!” He walked over to the front door and then turned to point at Migel. “You are a freak, Man!” Carlos walked out onto the porch. He stood there as if wanting to leave, but unable to. Then he whirled and marched back into the room.

“I need some more details on this story you’re feeding me, Migel. Just why in the hell do you think the armed services people would be after you and the Naval Intelligence and God knows who else? You sound paranoid.”

“Carlos, the last time I’ve seen this much trouble, the Army used me as a lab rat. But at least back then I knew who my enemy was, even if I was ignorant of the evil that could come from the so called Armed Services. Now that I’m aware of their capacities, I know that my present identity as Migel Sanchez will be tied to my previous lives as Samuel Perez, Rico Tamez, and my birth name, Migel Guido. Furthermore, they probably already know I was the same Rico Tamez they’d experimented on during World War II. I worry that they’ve probably developed more excruciating tests with the advancement of technology.” Migel clenched his fists to his sides. “I think their interest in me is more out of fear than anything else. My abilities could be labeled as super-human…that’s threatening to normal humans. That’s probably why they used me as a lab rat—”

“What kind of tests did they do on you back in World War II? I mean this needs to be exposed—”

The sound of a car door slamming, punctuated by laughter and small feet running toward the porch, halted Carlos’ words.

“Let’s not talk about this in front of Rachel and Charlie, please, Carlos,” Migel pleaded. “I’m going to take her and Charlie to my brother’s to stay while I—”

“Hi, Dad,” Charlie said as he bounded in the front door, followed by Rachel.

Carlos made an effort to compose himself, but he was still obviously visibly shaken. He smiled and lifted Charlie into his arms.

“What’s wrong, Carlos?” Rachel asked.

“Carlos has a bad headache and has to get back,” Migel explained.

Ruffling Charlie’s hair, Carlos placed the child back on the ground, then lowered his eyes. “I do have a bad headache. Just snuck up on me a little while ago. I need to get back.” He started for the door, averting his eyes from Rachel.

“You want a Tylenol, Carlos?” Rachel asked.

“No thanks. See you later.” Carlos strode out the door, patted the Labrador’s back, and headed for his car.

“What was that all about?” Rachel asked Migel.

“I told him my age and I told him what’s going on with Jones and Billings… It hit him kind of hard. He’s angry and shocked and…”

“Let me talk to him,” Rachel pleaded as she started toward the door.

“No, just let him go. It’s the best thing for him. You’ll be at your brother’s, I’ll be gone somewhere...hiding, and he won’t be involved.”

“It’s not the best thing for him. He can’t possibly absorb everything you told him and you know it. If we just disappear, he’ll live with guilt and worry for the rest of his life.”

Migel knew she was right. He and Carlos were too close to suddenly separate in anger. It would scar them both.

When Migel didn’t respond, she opened the front door. “You wait right there. Put Charlie to bed. I’m going over to Carlos’ apartment and try to set things right with him.”

Rachel rarely took charge. Usually she was content to sit in the background and observe, but Migel knew she’d jump into a snake pit to help someone else, especially to help him. He shook his head as he realized what he was jeopardizing with those experiments that seemed so unimportant now.

* * * *

Rachel closed her car door and strode toward Carlos’ apartment. A crescent moon was peeping over the trees, casting a wan light through the shadows.

Leaning at his open front door, Carlos wanted to stay resolute, but he knew Rachel would stand in front of him until he recognized her presence. When he finally glanced up at her, she just smiled. Carlos felt his defenses melting.

“Carlos, you have to understand that Migel can’t help the way he is, you know; never aging, yet watching those he loves age and die around him. You have such a beautifully normal life. How can you understand his pain?” She placed her hand on his arm. “Just ask yourself: ‘Do I love him?’ Seven years ago I had to answer yes to that question, and I believe you’ll find it’s the only answer you can give, too.” She watched as his face appeared to relax.

“He would have told you eventually; you have to realize that.” She sighed, gathered her courage to continue. “He knew you weren’t ready, and I still don’t understand why he chose to tell you now.”

Carlos peered into her face. “Because he needs me. Come on, get back in your car. I’m going back over to your house now and talk to him.” Without a second thought, Carlos grabbed his cell phone, retrieved his keys, locked his front door, and walked to his car in the apartment parking lot. In his own determined and sometimes blundering way, he was set on solving Migel’s problems.

* * * *

When Carlos paused in the doorway, Migel knew he’d been forgiven.

“I never wanted to lie, you know,” Migel said to break the ice. “I just never had a reason to tell you.”

“You know, everyone at the university always said you looked too young to be a professor. I should tell them you’re actually too old to be a professor.” Carlos hesitated and scuffed his foot on the doormat. “I’m sorry I called you a freak, Migel.”

“I am a freak, but I’m a good freak.”

All Carlos could say was, “How?” He followed Migel into the kitchen.

“I have as many questions as you do...probably more since I’ve had more time to think about it.” Migel pulled out a chair and sat down. “I don’t know how. I was born of normal parents, if you call an Italian mother and a Mexican father normal, that is.”

“But you told me your mother was Mexican.”

“When you change identities as often as I have, you learn not to tell everyone the truth about your past. For instance, my father didn’t die in a car accident. In fact, there were few cars around when he died. He actually died saving his infant son from a house fire.”

“And you were that infant son,” Carlos added.

“Yes, and that’s when my mother discovered my uncommon nature. You see, the nursery was on the second floor. By the time my father had picked me up, his clothes had already caught fire. So, in a desperate act, he threw my infant body from the window in hopes that the bushes below would break my fall. Mamma said he missed the bushes and I hit solid ground instead. As a result, I was not only severely burned, but I also had several broken bones.

“Everyone was amazed at how quickly and completely I healed. In about four weeks, there wasn’t even a scar from the burns, and some were third degree. That was enough to convince the town’s people that I was a devil child, so they drove my mother out of Texas.”

Migel got up and walked over to where he’d left his tea.

“Is that why you’re so paranoid?” Carlos asked. “Maybe these people you fear are less dangerous than you think.”

Open mouth, insert foot, Migel thought. “Carlos, how can you say that, when you have no idea what’s going on?”

“Then tell me more about it, maybe I can help.”

“No!” Migel said emphatically. “I only explained my true nature to help you understand why you should stay out of this.”

“But—”

“No buts,” Migel interrupted. “It’s bad enough that Rachel and Charlie’s lives are in danger. I won’t have you involved, and if I have to, I’ll call the police to drag you away.”

They argued more about the matter, but Migel was immovable. Carlos stayed awhile to visit, and then said his good-byes to Migel and Rachel.

Migel felt he’d just robbed Carlos of his right to happiness. Carlos had said many times how he felt that Migel and Rachel were like the good family he never had. Now the good times they’d all known were being disrupted by the cold slap of reality’s hand on their faces. Migel was angry with himself for allowing this good life to slip through his fingers. He’d traded this peaceful existence for an invention that he felt would most likely end up in some obscure government file cabinet.