Chapter One - Reunion

The hunting knife plunged into Wakely Karris’s stomach. Her lips moved to form a scream. Wide, probing eyes found her assailant for an instant. Her mouth opened, quivering, as if to ask, "My old friend, why?"

The muscle-bound man with short cropped blonde hair, jeans and a white t-shirt, pushed her back with his left hand while wrenching the knife out with his right hand.

Wakely strained to reach the wound, but her weak hands failed to stem the spurting crimson blood. Her body twisted and fell forward onto the terrazzo floor. A sickening crack resounded as her head hit the unforgiving slate.

She lay unmoving, face down in a pool of blood. Her right arm was outstretched above her head.

As if in answer to her silent plea, her assailant stood above her, glaring. The knife, still gripped firmly in his right hand, dripped with the blood that had given Wakely eighty-nine years of an extraordinary life in the Alpha Group longevity experiment. "Hilliard’s experiment must not survive. You are my first sacrifice!" he snarled.

He snapped his eyes shut. "O Lord, I call to you; come quickly to me. Hear my voice when I call to you; may my prayer be set before you like incense, may the lifting up of my hands be like the evening sacrifice. Set a guard over my mouth, O Lord; keep watch over the door of my lips. Let not my heart be drawn to what is evil, to take part in wicked deeds with men who are evildoers; let me not eat of their delicacies."

Wakely Karris always knew persecution might find her as a member of the Church of Abraham (CHOFA). Many of her friends in this radically pacifistic faith had already made the ultimate sacrifice, killed as they placed themselves directly in harm’s way in numerous conflicts across the globe. Her church, her way of life, her calm and steady commitment helping the unfortunate in the ever-dangerous Middle East--all were lightning rods to attract trouble, violence, death. But she still could never have fathomed why, in the middle of the 21st century, she would die at the hands of one of the oldest human beings on Earth--a kindred spirit in the most radical experiment humankind had ever known.

Chapter Two - Running Legs

Nate Kristopher’s effortless strides across the southern English countryside served as literal confirmation of the power of the Alpha Group’s longevity experiment. He was born in 1968, making him ninety-one years old.

From the light rail passengers to the drivers of hybrid autos, all observed a youthful Caucasian male in khaki running shorts and a white T-shirt. Nate was tall and thin; some would call him bony, a term he detested as a kid. He did however like the nickname that had stuck with him since childhood: Skip. Short dark brown hair covered his head except for a slowly receding hairline. He had a slightly flattened nose with intense hazel eyes. His lengthy runner’s legs were lightly tanned.

Beside him on the road towards Glastonshire ran Dugan, his robot, commonly called a CCR. This artificial intelligence, in the form of a collie-Labrador mix with tawny brown and white fur, had no trouble keeping up with his owner’s quick pace. Dugan was part sophisticated intelligence, part protector, and, if the truth be known, a full-time best-friend.

Nate’s vitals were instantly downloaded into the dataport computer installed inside the bone behind his left ear. Nanochips implanted next to his eyes served as a nearly invisible computer monitor, enabling easy reading of the information coming across his visual field. All sensors confirmed his physical functioning was that of a man in his mid-twenties. Even after six decades of possessing a seemingly immortal body, he was always secretly thrilled each time he ran—but not today.

Nate glanced at the forest on his right and cringed. Once-hardy sycamores and oaks lay barren, even in late spring, their trunks slowly being consumed by moss. Meanwhile, new species dotted the landscape, their green buds basking in the warmth of spring. Cedars, argans, and oriental sweet gums, native to the Mediterranean, now dotted the landscape of southern England. He turned his head to the other side of the road. An open patch of field revealed a farmer tending a crop by hand.

He stared in disbelief. "Dugan! Scan the field to my left. Confirm if the plants are grapevines."

"Yes." Dugan’s voice rang crisply into Nate’s dataport, which was powered in part by kinetic activity. "This particular variety," replied the CCR, "is called Muscadet, and produces a dry white wine historically grown in the Loire Valley in central France. These vines are six years old and will produce wine in about--"

"Enough, Dugan," Nate interrupted his chatty cyber friend. Recalling humanity’s half-hearted efforts over the past half-century to stop global warming, even in the face of overwhelming scientific evidence, always evinced a bitterness inside him.

"New security information concerning you," said the computer companion robot in a firm, evenly paced dialogue that Nate programmed with a pleasant tenor voice.

Nate ignored the warning, still caught up in his angry reverie. Millions had heeded the call to limit their carbon footprint, to make substantial sacrifices in their lifestyles. To halt global warming, everyone had to get on board. But millions remained in stubborn defiance and denial about the scientific truths about the earth’s environment.

However, Nate Kristopher was convinced that, just as the scientists in the Global Diversity and Sustainability Project (GDSP) had predicted in the 2020’s, global warming was not the true threat to humanity. Human civilization was struggling, but was adapting to life on a hotter planet. He knew that global warming only set the table for the ice age that would follow. He shivered and thought morosely, And in less than ten years, if nothing changes, the End-Date ice age will destroy it all. If I can only get the world to listen to the Global Diversity report…one more time.

"Skip!" said the CCR insistently.

"Sorry, Dugan." His melancholic review was successfully interrupted.

"I am picking up increased Net chatter on several pre-programmed security channels. There are frequent mentions of the Church of Abraham and--"

"So what’s new about that?" Nate was used to threats against CHOFA in the years since he joined the fast growing religion.

"This time your name is mentioned."

Chapter Three – Change of Plans

Methodically, Herschel Hatton went to work. He glanced out the window of Wakely’s tiny apartment. The neighborhood lay in a silent slumber. He found some computer mini-files in the bedroom. He shuddered when he saw her bed--pillows and bed sheets still awry. Then he downloaded as much information as possible onto a disc he pulled from his pocket.

With another furtive look through the curtain, he was ready to go. The twinkling lights of mid-21st century Jerusalem looked much as they had for the past two thousand years, except for several communications towers blinking steadily above the city.

Re-entering the kitchen, he bent over the lifeless body. Her blood was already becoming coagulated and stiff. He inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and slowly exhaled. His senses tingled with anticipation; the events of the past twenty-four hours had changed everything. There were sixteen; now there are fifteen. That was too easy. Won’t Skip just love my surprise?

Carefully swiping blood off the floor with his index finger, he wrote on the cold, hard floor beside her, “90” and “10”. Placing the hunting knife down at her side, he pulled off his blood-stained gloves and deposited them in a plastic sack.

Chapter Four – A New Kind of Religion

Dugan’s report had unsettled Nate. He glanced around, feeling two pursuers on his heels. He increased his running pace, but they were gaining, ever steadily, until they finally overtook him. First were the spiritual issues which had been dogging him, especially of late.

And despite a desperate long, hard-charging sprint, he failed to elude the second pursuer as well. Wobbly, weak legs finally forced him into a stiff, halting walk. He still couldn’t fathom the loss of his friend Wakely. With hands on his hips, he leaned over, fighting off dry heaves.

Panting hard, he was suddenly reliving that morning’s conversation with Sister Mariah. She had asked him to serve on a committee to address an emergent crisis in the Church of Abraham. Father Abraham, a Super Intelligent Life Force, had declared that it visited the Earth via a wormhole. Thousands upon thousands of light years were quickly and efficiently crossed using this space-time feature. However, human science had recently reached the conclusion that the actual existence of wormholes was extremely unlikely.

"There’s no wormhole problem for me," Nate had told her. His words had bounced around the stone walls and wooden floors of the hilltop chapel, a re-creation of a medieval castle. Sister Mariah’s office was in the northeast turret, and overlooked the magnificent, ancient pillars of Stonehenge a kilometer away to the north.

"It is a problem," she had insisted, "and no amount of wishing will make it go away." Sister Mariah was a middle-aged--in normal human terms--woman of Jamaican descent. She had been seated in a straight-backed wooden chair. Stained glass windows graced the rounded room, save for the large square window that faced northward.

She wore a traditional Jamaican head wrap, deep lavender in color, and below it lie thick black hair with speckles of gray. Above her high cheekbones and slightly broad nose were delightfully playful brown eyes. Her smooth dark skin usually cradled a ready and engaging smile. But today Nate noted none of that. Instead she spoke through tightly pursed lips hiding any pretension of a smile.

She was dressed in a plush lavender robe that reached to the floor. This seamless garment symbolized all that the Church of Abraham advocated: the Seamlessness Principle of Non-Violence.

The human race will survive, so said Father Abraham, only if all violence against humans by humans was eliminated. There were no exceptions for the Church of Abraham believer; no abortion, no euthanasia, no participation in war or with those who profited from killing, not even a pretense of violence against humans. But a CHOFA believer did not stand idly by merely spouting pacifist ideology. Instead church members actively helped to protect others in danger and laid down their lives if necessary to fulfill these principles.

Sister Mariah continued, "Our founder, Sister Sarah, asserted that Father Abraham visits the Earth not by supernatural means, but via a wormhole that exists within the physical universe."

"So why can’t we just accept it on faith that the wormhole exists? Why search for proof?" Nate sat on a well-worn couch directly in front of her, but he had felt anything but comfortable.

"I understand your fears and concerns. Those very issues about physical proof drove you away from Christianity, didn't it?"

It seemed as if she could peer into his soul with uncanny accuracy. CHOFA’s elders had chosen wisely when they selected Sister Mariah to replace their founder, Sister Sarah (who was the former astronaut, Winifred Bakila). Yet even Sister Mariah didn’t know about Nate’s Alpha Group past.

"That’s true," he reluctantly admitted. Nate had left the Christian faith in the 2020s when credible evidence was uncovered that Jesus had survived his crucifixion, and had gone on to marry, father children and had finally died when the Romans sacked Jerusalem in 70 AD. Nate was well aware of science’s rude and incessant trampling on the tenets of other religious faiths. Historical analysis had cast severe doubt on Hinduism while archeological finds did the same for Islam.

Nate had earned a reputation at the Center as a questioner. Somehow his persistence never seemed to bother Sister Mariah. Or perhaps her patient eyes graciously concealed any disgruntlement. He had not been an easy convert to all tenets of the Church of Abraham, but once he had accepted the Seamlessness Principle, he had embraced it wholeheartedly. And after he had put his life on the line in the midst of armed conflicts in Argentina and Borneo, and had witnessed the transforming power of non-violence, he had become a true believer in radical pacifism. Still, he wondered if non-violence would be practical and efficacious in all conflicts across all situations. Nate continued, "As the End-Date approaches--"

"Ah, your favorite topic," she said with a teasing smile. "Perhaps someday we’ll address where we’ll move in case England freezes over."

"My concern is," he repeated, trying to keep his focus, "if the predicted ice age comes, the world will need our guiding principles even more. Shouldn’t we be focusing our energies onto that instead of diverting precious resources to proving whether a wormhole exists to transport Father Abraham? If the Father says it exists then surely it must."

She paused and gazed deeply into his steady, unblinking eyes. "I’ve seen that look before, my son; this passion about the End-Date. The Father has sensed your restlessness and His plans will soon carry you away from the Center. I beseech you to continue serving Him with your heart, soul, and mind. Our church is not just a new religion but is also a new kind of religion."

"A new kind of religion?"

"Yes," she had replied. "We promote full integration of science and spirituality. The Church of Abraham is evolving even as humanity evolves."

"Yeah. Humanity is proving to be quite stubborn and non-evolving," replied Nate.

"Yes," Sister Mariah agreed with a sigh. "When we don’t live as the Father directs, we all suffer."

"May I ask one more question about the End-Date?"

She nodded thoughtfully, again taking his persistence in stride.

"If the End-Date ice age occurs, hopefully CHOFA’s non-violent principles will be fully embraced by enough people to avoid chaos and war. I envision that our members would be promoted to higher levels of power in a post End-Date world. But I worry about the total rejection of force being applicable in absolutely every situation. How are church members going to handle violence and unrest, respond directly to crime, and set policies for law enforcement?"

Sister Mariah replied in a tone brimming with confidence in Father Abraham’s inter-galactic truth. "By the same methods we have always done so; by laying down our lives and by not taking up arms or committing violence. I do not doubt that the Father’s Seamlessness Principle will work in even the most complicated of situations."

Nate frowned. "But the death rate of our members is substantially higher when confronting gang violence and terrorism. I’m deeply committed to avoiding force, but I understand that the definition of force has been debated among church members. I’ve also read studies showing the use of non-lethal weapons to be highly effective at quelling--"

Sister Mariah’s eyes lit up with passion. "NEVER! We are never to use weapons of any kind nor will CHOFA ever condone or endorse their use. I’m well aware of some members debating on how to incorporate limited use of non-lethal weaponry into our missions. But even a non-lethal gun is still a gun, and force is force. Father Abraham is very clear: no force or violence will ever be used by a church member."

"But,” he protested, “what if--"

"Nate," she interrupted firmly. "You will have to trust Father Abraham’s non-violent principles. He asks us to be faithful to those principles even when it doesn’t make sense to the world. When I said the church is evolving, I did not mean any compromise of the Seamlessness Principle. The Father has said non-violence is a constant, unifying, necessary instrument which has worked across untold galaxies and civilizations. Those principles will never change."

For the first time since accepting the Seamlessness Principle years earlier, Nate struggled to accept the totality of her words. Although convinced his recent acquisition of a non-lethal PPD, a personal protective device, which Dugan carried for emergencies, didn’t compromise his faith, now was not the time to reveal this to Sister Mariah.

She gazed sternly at him, pondering the words of one of her most faithful adherents. "You don’t doubt Father Abraham, you doubt the efficacy of the Seamlessness Principle. How long has it been since you served as a peace emissary in a war zone?"

"My last service was in Borneo about two years ago,”"answered Nate.

"Yes. I see. Perhaps when your journey is over and you return here to the Center, we’ll need to talk. It may be time for you to serve in another--" An insistent beep suddenly sounded in her ear mike. "Pardon me, I have a priority call." She clicked a button on her wrist band. "Yes," she said to a concealed mike. The creases in her face grew more pronounced. "I see. Uh-huh. I understand. Any motives? Okay. Thank you."

Slowly she walked to the window. With left hand outstretched, she gracefully touched each finger to the corresponding ones on the right hand. Slowly she folded them together, then opened her palms heavenward and simultaneously glanced upwards; the sign of CHOFA. "Take her into your keeping, Father. Eyes open, face to the sky."

With a quick glance toward Nate, she sighed. She returned her gaze to the window and began the somber assessment. "It’s curious, my son. An unusual death of one of our members in Jerusalem."

"Oh?" His mind flashed through pictures of his many friends serving the church there.

"Hmm. She wasn’t an active peace emissary, no active zone of conflict. I’d always thought Jerusalem was safer these days. A single murder…in her home…gruesome." She shivered.

His heart raced. Could it be?

As if reading his mind, she continued. "Her name is Wakely Karris. She worked with sexually exploited women."

He froze in fear. Wakely! Father Abraham! No!

"Friends?" she asked, noting his pained expression.

It was such an innocent but logical question. Yet Sister Mariah could never begin to appreciate the depths of pain now buffeting him. "Uh-huh," was all he could muster. How could this have happened? After sixty years! I know she still practiced the safety protocols that Hilliard taught us. Had she let her guard down? If so, why? Oh, Wakely!

Struggling to his feet, he had joined her at the window. The leaden weight felt in the pit of his stomach had told him something more disturbing. These things happen, yes. They just don’t happen to one of us. "Yes, I know her, um, quite well." As he finished making the sign of CHOFA, Sister Mariah had put her arm around him. He had needed her support, for at that moment he felt as weary as if he had just completed a marathon.

Knees somewhat steadier now, he began a slow trot. The towering stone monuments of Stonehenge quickly approached. He’d always loved the ancient, ethereal feel of Stonehenge. It reminded him how his decades-long search for spiritual fulfillment ended in 2048 when he had heard the former astronaut Winifred Bakila speak. She called herself Sister Sarah, and her transforming story of her near-death experience and encounter with Father Abraham had profoundly resonated with him.

Nate was convinced that the Father’s visit with Winifred Bakila was authentic. What else besides a super technological intervention from this super being could explain her return from brain death following hours floating in a lifeless space vessel? This rock-solid assurance of how the universe operated powered Nate’s life. A super technological being billions of years old, revealing himself to lesser creatures at a critical time in their development, the integration of science and spirituality; this was an enlightened faith that excited millions of people, and, Nate hoped , would save humanity.

During late night worship services, he always delighted in the brilliant, star-strewn sky, which seemed to stretch all the way to Andromeda, Father Abraham’s home. Gotta get a hold of myself! But the wormhole …and Wakely. Help me to accept your will, Father.

Sweat mixed with tears welled up in his eyes as he fought for control of his emotions. Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he looked upward, steadying his vision toward Andromeda. The Church of Abraham’s prayer ritual was distinctive and symbolic. The fingers of his left hand united with those of his right, symbolizing the goal of uniting the ten main spiritual traditions of humanity. With his eyes open to reality, Nate stretched out his arms in a peaceful, trusting-the-universe stance. The palms of his hands were turned up, ready to be the vessel of Father Abraham’s galactic project to save humanity from self-destruction. Father, what is the implication if science proves the wormhole to be impossible? Forgive me for placing our science above yours. And grant me the courage to face the new journey you have placed before Dugan and me. Let it be so. Eyes open and face to the sky.

He wanted to run hard once more, but even his genetically-enhanced legs didn’t have that kind of stamina.

Dugan interrupted his ruminations. "I have located the source of the attempted security breach."

"Yes."

"It appears to be from Gideon’s Army."

"Origination?"

"Jerusalem."

"I don’t like the sound of that. That’s just too coincidental." At that moment Nate’s safety zone completely vanished. He dropped to the ground beside Dugan, staring into the soft eyes of his cyberfriend.

For a number of months he and Dugan had been uncovering information that could change his life and many others, information about his past, about the Alpha Group, about the state of the world. Research/reflection/relaxation time was over. Time, in fact, was now the enemy. He had to act, and act quickly. Despite the wormhole dilemma and a creeping seed of doubt about the viability of non-violence, he was determined to go wherever Father Abraham led him.

With one hand he gently cupped the CCRs snout, and with the other, lovingly stroked his head of tawny fur. "Where’d you say Campbell Devereaux is?"

"New York City."

"New York?"

"Manhattan, to be specific."

"Book us a ticket on a hovercraft, via Iceland and Newfoundland, for New York City." He once again made the sign of CHOFA. I just hope Manhattan is safer than Jerusalem.

Chapter Five – Jerusalem Encounter

Herschel had 'bumped' into her at midday at a café next to a park in the Old City. They were after all two of just sixteen specially chosen people to carry out Mitchell Hilliard’s longevity experiment. Even after a communication cutoff of nearly thirty years, this bond was instantaneous.

Over lunch Anastasia Mullins, who now went by the name of Wakely Karris, told him about her activities of the last three decades. She married then divorced, and had no children. She converted to Islam. A law degree followed. Boredom with that led to an extended trip around the world and eventually to a spiritual crisis. A friend introduced Wakely to the Church of Abraham (CHOFA), an exciting new religious faith inspired in the 2030s by the powerful visions of Mars astronaut Winifred Bakila. The past three years Wakely helped run a CHOFA mission in Jerusalem that helped women escape from the international sex-slave trade.

Millions of people had joined CHOFA since Winifred Bakila asserted in 2038 that she had been visited by a super technological being from the Andromeda Galaxy. This highly advanced entity, proclaimed Bakila, had regularly visited the Earth via a space-time phenomenon called a wormhole. The initial visit was with the patriarch Abraham in 1889 BC, and culminated with his visit to Bakila, who had changed her name to Sister Sarah. Father Abraham, as the entity was called, helped Sister Sarah form the tenets of the Church of Abraham: selfless devotion, equality of all religions, and radical pacifism.

CHOFA’s message of peace and reconciliation in a world growing more violent resonated profoundly with those disillusioned by mainstream religions. Many thousands of CHOFA members had been sent into the midst of wars and altered the political destiny of nations with the blood they shed for radical pacifism. Thousands had died to proclaim Father Abraham’s message that total adherence to non-violence was necessary for the human race to survive.

Wakely’s commitment to CHOFA was as unwavering as Herschel’s own radical faith. Yet she represented everything he was passionately against. Hoping to hide his disdain for her contemptible beliefs, Herschel concentrated on how the woman in front of him didn’t look one day past thirty. In fact, she looked exactly as she had fifty years ago.

"Please call me Annie like you used to." Wakely’s long, brown hair flowed down nearly to her waist while her green eyes sparkled with anticipation of what her old friend Browning Watts would say. "So what’s my old friend been up to?" she said leaning forward, elbows on the edge of the tiny table. A tiny wisp of a warm midday breeze danced through her hair.

What to tell an old friend? Herschel was ruthlessly methodical in personality and habits, as attested to when he was a hit man for Gideon’s Army, but he had given little thought to this moment. Sure, he’d wanted to see Anastasia/Wakely, but that wasn’t his main reason for coming to Jerusalem. So what do you tell an old friend you may not ever see again? He mouthed the obvious things, like his current profession of ag engineer. And he got through discussing his faith in Christianity, carefully avoiding the radical aspects. When he said he was single, he noticed that old familiar twinkle in her eye.

He forced out a weak smile, mentally recalculating whether it had been a good idea to look her up. His eyes melted into hers…and the old fantasy, like a match being struck, was lit. Just maybe... she and I…

Staring into his blue eyes, she tried to avoid looking downward at his well-chiseled body. Expelling her breath, she closed her eyes and vowed to maintain her pledge of celibacy. They had had a brief fling with each other in the Alpha Group’s early days, but it had ended, if not badly, at least awkwardly.

"I’ve been keeping up with a number of"—she glanced briefly around, observing the other lunch patrons—"you know, our other, um, colleagues."

"Really? Well, good for you."

"Yeah. It’s been fun to share in the lives of some pretty special people, you know? In fact, I spoke with Marisol just last night. Hey! Maybe you’d like to call her? I’m sure she’d love to hear from you."

Through the years of forced Alpha Group meetings and further experimentation Herschel had had enough of them all--but Anastasia/Wakely was different. "Um," he fumbled, "I...ah…maybe later. I’m content just to see you." He reached across the table and patted her arm.

While well aware of Herschel’s distaste for socializing with the Alpha Group, she found it disconcerting that he would reject it outright. Her smile disappeared. "Brown—Herschel—are you doing okay? I mean, really okay?" She shifted positions in her seat as her leg brushed cozily against his under the table.

He didn’t back away from her warmth. Anastasia could always see right through him. “Yes,” he blurted out, not even convincing himself. "Just preoccupied, that’s all. You know, the ag tech business isn’t what it used to be. Anyway, between you and me, I’ve got hundreds of years to try to figure it out, right?"

They stared silently at each other, scanning the other’s face. Then she giggled. "No wrinkles yet, right?"

It was an inside joke only sixteen lucky humans could understand; the only ninety-somethings who could say that. She mopped up the last piece of hard bread with olive oil and then paid the bill on the table computer port.

He needed to go, finding his fingers nervously drumming on the table. He had done what he wanted to do, to see her. Now one more task beckoned. But his instincts overrode his plan. "Could I, ah. Is it possible to…"

Wakely needed to go too. She was late for work as it was. She was flooded with memories of that one passionate night fifty years before with Browning/ Herschel. Her plans caved in to her instincts as well. "Yes," she said with a suggestive smile. "How about we start with supper, tonight, say 6 o’clock? I make the city’s best falafel."

Herschel sighed contently and pulled himself closer to Wakely. "Good food always gets me in the mood." Both of them had discovered that one of the benefits of the Alpha Group was a more intense, prolonged sexual response.

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