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THE HEIGHTS 
(PASSAGES IN TIME Episode 4)
by Alan C. McD

How old are you?

How old.......?

Under eighteen....?

Well, go somewhere else. And no peeking while you adjust your browser.

OKAY THEN....

Now we’ve got rid of them, here we go...

THE STORY SO FAR:
Read The Awakening, The Laying Of Claim and The Confidence Of Lovers, all
archived. Because it’s far too complicated to go into here.

COMMENTS WELCOME

And onward.......

TORONTO, CANADA, OCTOBER 2000  

“Baby”, Holak told Sarah. “You are some fuck.”

Sarah glared at him. He confused her, because he looked like Gunther, who had
just made love to her so consummately well whilst she was sharing the body of
1930s nightclub singer Lucy Bennett, but the serious demeanour had gone. Holak
seemed altogether frivolous. And frivolous seemed entirely the wrong state of
mind at present. 

The fact that he was naked didn’t help either.

“What the hell is going on?”, she demanded. “Who the hell sent that note?”

The note in question had been delivered into her hands, as Lucy, by Lucy’s
landlord. It had arrived in an envelope just moments before she and Holak had
been wrenched out of the timestream. And whilst the envelope had been
addressed to Lucy, the note inside had made reference to Sarah, and to
Loranna, the individual who Sarah understood to be her alternate, and alien
persona.

“Arturo sent it”, Holak replied lightly. “Who else?”

“I’m aware that it was Arturo’s handwriting”, Sarah answered impatiently. “But
Arturo wouldn’t know Loranna. He wouldn’t know me. And he certainly wouldn’t
know that I was part of Lucy.”

“But Arturo may not have acted alone, perhaps”, Holak teased. “Arturo, like
Lucy, might have been carrying a visitor. Isn’t that possible?”

“Who?”, Sarah pressed. “One of us?”

Melira interrupted. “Hardly, Loranna. Where would be the gain? But someone
from our world? One of the Restorers? Yes, quite possibly.”

The restorers.....? 

Of course. The restorers. Sarah remembered. Just a little. But enough to
terrify her.

“They believed that Kotee had already damaged time”, she recalled. “And they
thought that... that by killing him in a time before he was born, they could
ensure that he never came into existence.”

“A ridiculous notion, as you know”, Melira confirmed, “because it ignores the
proven Law of Paradox. But yes. That is what they believe. They are fanatics.
Think back, Loranna. It was the Restorers who destroyed our ship.”

Sarah struggled with the concept. The concept of destruction. Because it had
been so very long ago....

She had been Loranna then. Only Loranna.

Kotee....

Yes, Kotee...

Kotee had been fascinated with earth from the moment he saw it. And so, if
truth be known, had Loranna. The planet was so like Revisia in climate, and
its people, at such an early stage of development, were a blank slate. What
would they become? Would they be explorers? Would they be wise? Or would they
destroy themselves? Clearly they had the brain capacity to do the first or
second, but they also had a reckless, violent streak which could lead them to
the third.

Kotee, of course, had the tools to answer the question immediately, and by
general agreement the machine was put into operation. The Revisians explored
the life of earth and its people in detail, sometimes doing so individually,
sometimes in groups, many Revisians discovering favourite times and places and
people, lingering as invisible observers and recorders. 

On this first occasion, the available timespan was deliberately limited to ten
thousand years, all of it allocated to the past. Travel into the future was
still a more complex process, and the crew wished to indulge curiosity without
the risk of a power overload. For her part, Loranna had discovered a
particular interest in twentieth century England, because at that point the
people were clearly on the verge of a major cultural leap, a leap which would
either take them forward or into the abyss.

On regrouping, notes were compared, and the decision was made to access more
of the future of the newly discovered world. Ten lucky individuals would be
selected, and there was much discussion as to who these individuals should be.

Those discussions had not been concluded when the Restorers had attacked.

The assault had been perfectly timed and vicious. The meeting deck had rocked
as the first salvo of wild ion torpedoes penetrated the hull, opening two
thirds of the ship up to the vacuum of space.

Loranna remembered a time when Kotee had thought that the Restorers, led by
his brother Rava, were harmless cranks. But well before the ship had left, it
had become obvious that Kara had influential support. He was already gathering
a crew of his own, was building a private ship, and had stated his intention
to hunt Kotee down and destroy the danger he represented.

Rava and his fellow restorers believed that the actions of Kotee would pollute
the future no matter how far away from the homeworld he travelled, that he
would bring home information which would be acted upon by scientists and
explorers. Loranna believed the truth to be that Rava was jealous of his more
brilliant elder brother, but whatever his motivation, the man was a fanatic.

Kotee had remained unconcerned, confident that Rava had no means of tracking
the group. They would have a substantial start, and Rava would be searching
blind. Eventually, he would give up.

Clearly, Loranna recalled thinking as the ship reverberated under her feet,
Rava had been favoured with extraordinary luck.

Fire, by then, was raging through the ship where the vacuum of space had not
claimed supremacy. She knew that one more volley would finish them.

“Separation five”, she had screamed. “It’s the only way.”

Kotee had shot her a startled glance. Then realisation had dawned. The
realisation that she was right.

And regretfully, he had nodded.

The Revisians had moved immediately into a circle, had joined hands. Urgently,
helping one another if they could, each had hunted within, had sought out his
or her own individual life force.

And had quickly and without hesitation severed the chain which connected that
force to their flesh.

That life force, that essence, that spirit was, of course, saved. Which was
the whole point of the enterprise. But the physical bodies of the crew burned
to ashes in the great crash which followed, the crash which had blinded the
man from earth who stood by the river and watched it happen. 

There had been no joy, therefore, in the escape. The Revisians had known that
the possibility of their regaining a physical body which was entirely their
own again was remote. The likelihood was that they would never see their
families again.

Separation five was essentially an educational tool, used in Revisian schools
to teach children to hone the psychic ability of transference which was a tool
only available to the planet’s young. In essence, it enabled the under
thirties to see life through another’s eyes. After the age of thirty, the gift
was lost.

In schools, the purpose of separation five was to allow children to see life
through older eyes. It was widely recognised as an invaluable teaching
technique, allowing the passive entry of the user into the mind of a willing
tutor, a mind far more developed and wise than their own. Revisians believed
that in this way their children learned responsibility, understanding and
increased their knowledge a hundredfold. And there was no risk, because it was
always easy for those in charge to summon their travelling pupils back.

The belief was that the powers were an evolutionary “leg up”, and that clever
evolution dictated their disappearance at thirty, thus avoiding the
possibility that those near to death might seek to prolong their existence,
even passively, in a younger host. Loranna thought this theory possibly true,
but the biological cut off by no means succeeded in eliminating all of the
abuses of transference. She had once attended an underground club which
specialised in offering transferers vicarious experiences, ranging from
illicit sex to the moment of death. Such experimentation was of course illegal
and punishable by the medical deprivation of the offender’s abilities, but it
was widespread nonetheless.

Many Revisians believed that it was impossible to estimate just how many
people, without their knowledge, were carrying more than one life force within
them. Certainly famous people were probably thus afflicted, because an
enormous number of youngsters were found dead in circumstances of starvation,
and it didn’t take a genius to guess that the physical bodies of these
unfortunates had encountered death by neglect.

The use of separation five had been agreed in advance amongst the crew, all of
whom were under thirty, as a last resort. There had been no expectation that
the last resort would ever be visited.

The plan was simple and horrifying. Separation five worked best if aimed at
the subject with whom the transferer had most recently experienced a
telepathic contact, however minimal. And the observation techniques employed
by the crew in their forays into the timestream had required a light form of
such contact. It was theoretically possible that even without the aid of the
machine, the Revisians could take up unconscious existence within the last
earth being they had observed.

The result would be that the life forces of the crew would be dissipated
throughout earth’s history. It wasn’t an ideal situation. Neither, however,
was it intended to be permanent.

Because naturally, there was a recovery plan.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t a very good one.

Kotee had observed that one of the few reliable constants amongst the races of
the universe which he had studied was the need for copulation. And in the act
of copulation, fluids were always exchanged. Fluid had long been recognised on
Kotee’s world as the most suitable carriers of psychic energy, and it was not
a difficult conversion to ensure that separation five transfers always
involved new coding for the new biological host, establishing that the mixing
of fluids from two occupied entities would enable communication between the
occupants.

The master stroke was the creation of the Home.

The Home was an extension of the time device, powered by similar principles
and fuelled by psychic energy. It was placed as a precautionary measure on the
surface of planets prior to exploration, and keyed to operate for seven days
every two hundred years. If, when it operated, Revisian life forces were
located on the planet, all power would be allocated towards enabling the
nearest such life force in time and space to attain temporary awareness and
control of its host.

The gamble was that at such a time, more than one life force would be
operative, and that the sexes of the hosts would differ. So that one could
seek out the other if geography permitted and the mixing of fluids could
occur.

If that mixing did occur, then the physical link would release one of the life
forces more fundamentally, enabling the operation of the time travelling
functions of the Home. Hopefully, the operator would then track down
psychically and release the others one by one. Whoever that operator was, he
or she would remain the only one capable of effecting such releases, the only
one capable of entering another, temporary host, but would be able to call on
the mental strength of the others. 

As the numbers of the released grew, so therefore would the power of the Home.

Temporary hosts were needed because each release would require a new mixing.
The task of the operator, therefore, was to transfer into an individual likely
to copulate with the host for the subject Revisian. And as the Revisians were
collected, they would naturally gather within the hunter’s host - in this case
Sarah. 

It was believed that so many Revisians inside one host might be able to fully
control the host in the host’s own time. Then, if the technology could be
assembled, the home planet could be contacted and help brought in. If they got
that far, Kotee’s idea was that he would build another time machine, and with
that time machine he would travel back to a time before the disaster. To
square the circle, the Revisians would occupy themselves, and prevent the
disaster from ever happening.

The scheme was, of course, ridiculously complex. Any number of things could go
wrong, and much of it was theory. In particular, one glaring problem resulted
from the limited abilities of the Home.

Kotee could not predict how many time transfers the Home would be able to
fuel. Power could not be allocated to survey the lifetime of any host for a
verifiable sexual contact. For that reason, once a host had been discovered,
the likelihood of a copulation had to be theorised from observation. Even
travelling ahead just a little in order to ensure that such a copulation did
take place was an unsafe use of precious energy, energy which had already been
reduced because of previous, abortive attempts to unite the Revisians.

Matters were complicated further by the factors which had to surround a
successful copulation. It had to be the first between the hosts, because the
reaction could only be fuelled by a novel exchange of fluids. And it had to
involve the transmission of semen into the vagina. Anal or oral sex was
valueless in the context of the rescue.

Judgement was therefore vital. Although when entering a new body Loranna was
able to imprint a biological imperative, was able to create an attraction in
her host for her target, all control was lost thereafter, and much depended on
the preliminary evaluation. This unpredictability was the rock upon which all
previous attempts had foundered. 

And now it seemed there was an additional problem. By some means, the
Restorers had infiltrated the time stream, and were hell bent on ensuring that
the unification failed.

“How have they done this?” Both Sarah and Loranna asked the question, because
they were now a dual entity. By now, Loranna’s character and many of her
memories were as much to the fore as Sarah’s own.

“Kotee’s technology is available to those with a high enough security
clearance”, Melira said. “Perhaps they brought the equipment needed to
interfere with them. Or more likely, knowing that we escaped when they
destroyed our ship, they returned for it. Either way, be assured. They will do
what they can to stop us.”

“But they’ll be limited”, Holak reminded, “just as we are limited. Like us,
they won’t be able to fully control a host. They can only influence, by the
messages they input at the time of joining.”

“Are you sure of that?”, Melira challenged. “Arturo wrote a note. That implies
full control.”

Holak thought about that. “I may be wrong”, he conceded. “If Kotee’s theory
that multiple transfer may allow control of the host is true, then I suppose
we may be facing a conscious enemy. Yes. An enemy who can observe our activity
in time. An enemy who perhaps is observing us even now.”

“And who after any transfer would take over the person must likely to
frustrate our intentions”, Melira presumed.

“Precisely”, Holak agreed.

Sarah was horrified. Because for both parts of her, the consequences of
failure were sickening. As Loranna, she would never see her lover again. As
Sarah, she would return to her boring life as a cheap prostitute.

Voicing one of Loranna’s more positive thoughts, she said, “I doubt they’re
watching us now. Penetrating the Home should be impossible. But they may be
aware of our route.”

“Ah, Loranna”, Holak said cheerily. “Glad to have you fully with us at last.”

“It’s possible”, Sarah pressed on, “that they observed the last attempt at
unification. Tracked it, but couldn’t react quickly enough to intervene. And
now, they are simply presuming that we’ll take the same route again. That
we’ll first free those we know we can free. The way of least resistance, and
least power drain.”

“In which case”, Melira interpreted, “we have to change the route.”

“Logical, but dangerous”, Holak stated. “We do have to consider the energy
difficulty.”

“It’s a tough call”, Sarah conceded. “I wasn’t trained as a strategist. None
of us were.”

Holak’s face lit up, advertising an idea. “But Viara was”, he replied. “And we
know where to find him. If we went for Viara now, we could gain a couple of
things. A change in direction to wrong foot our pursuers. And the best
tactical mind we have any kind of access to.”

It was a brilliant notion. Sarah nodded. “Let’s do it.”

Melira was more cautious. “It won’t be easy. I know we’ve identified a
situation for Viara, but the copulation isn’t a certainty. We’ve tried three
times, and failed twice.”

“Not this time”, Sarah said confidently. “I’ll make sure. I know how important
this is.”

Melira nodded, clearly accepting the commitment from the twentieth century
earth girl as honestly meant. “We have to do it, Holak”, she said. “I don’t
see another choice.”

“Neither do I”, Holak agreed. “Alright then. You go for it, Loranna. And we’ll
support you from here. There are only two of us, but we’ll give you what
strength we can. Remind you subconsciously from time to time, if we can, of
your purpose.”

The plan lightened Sarah’s burden a little “If you really want to help,
Holak”, she said, “you can start by imagining yourself some clothing.”

With a shrug, Holak did just that, creating something mainly yellow and wholly
revolting.

The travellers arrived at their new destination swiftly. Sarah was even more
fascinated than she’d been on previous recoveries, because she would see, for
the first time, her planet’s future. Only a little way into it, but the future
nonetheless.

“Toronto, Canada”, Melira announced as the debris of time melted away. “The
year by earth reckoning is 2000. The month is October. And we stand in front
of the Quest Building.”

The Quest Building. Sarah studied it, and murmured surprise.

It was quite the most impressive construction she had ever seen. Fashioned
from concrete and glass, it soared above her, disappearing into the low lying
clouds. Straight sided. Uncompromising. Massive.

It was some time before she could bring herself to look towards the base of
the structure. When she did, she noticed that the entrance was busy, obscured
by a melee of people. 

Flash cameras flashed. Cars pulled up at the kerb in sequence, disgorging
people she recognised. Jack Nicholson. Demi Moore. Bill Clinton. There was
rather a lot of handshaking.

“A new skyscraper”, Sarah presumed.

“The biggest in the world”, Holak confirmed. “In celebration of the
millennium. This one doesn’t so much scrape the sky as wave to it on the way
past.”

“And obviously it’s the opening ceremony”, Sarah said. “Judging by the rash of
celebrities.”

“Anybody who is anybody”, Holak judged.

“So I must get to be somebody famous, then?”, Sarah suggested, suddenly
intrigued and a little excited.

“Famous in his field, yes”, Melira said. “But not a film star or pop star, I’m
afraid. You get to be the man who built this thing. Dominic Vachon. Who is....
oh, yes. Over there.”

Sarah followed Melira’s indication and noted a man in his late thirties. He
was quite good looking in a hawkish, Dustin Hoffman sort of way, but his
attractiveness was tempered for her by his stature. He was no more than five
feet seven inches tall, she estimated. And that might have been a generous
assessment.

“He’s a dwarf”, she commented unkindly.

But a suave dwarf, she realised. He was immaculately groomed, and his dinner
suit was tailored by a genius.

She watched him for a while. He was employed entirely in gladhanding the
guests. Clint Eastwood arrived. Tony Blair. Melanie Griffith. Al Gore. Elton
John.

The starstruck phase passed, and she returned to matters at hand. “And
Viara?”, she queried.

“He’ll be along any minute”, Holak said. “These, by the way, are the last of
the official guests.”

She watched Vachon see Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman into one of the three
lifts at the rear of the elaborately decorated central lobby. “The party’s
upstairs”, she presumed.

“The top floor”, Holak confirmed. “Where else? Now watch. Here comes our
target. Dominic’s private guest.”

A woman appeared in the lobby. She was absolutely gorgeous. A black cocktail
dress moulded around a luscious figure. A fountain of flame red hair spilled
down the back of it. Long shapely legs encased in sheer black nylon stockings
were supported by black stiletto heels. Her face was healthy and captivating,
pink cheeked, full lipped. Her wide brown eyes sparkled, supporting her lovely
smile.

“She’s six inches taller than him”, Sarah commented.

“Opposites attract”, Holak responded lightly.

The woman walked across to Vachon and kissed him. She had to bend slightly. He
had to stand on tiptoe.

Sarah giggled. “So Viara was watching her before the Separation”, she
supposed. “Well, I can’t say I blame him.”

“You know Viara”, Holak replied. “He always had exquisite taste. And not a
great deal of interest in history.”

Sarah found a memory of Loranna’s which confirmed this, and nodded. “Yes”, she
said. “You’re right. So who is this vision, then?”

“Her name’s Alice Edwards”, Holak advised. “American. Journalist and news
presenter. For the cable networks. Dominic’s been trying to get into her
knickers for the last week. And she’s slightly interested, because she likes
the smell of money, but she’s not stricken. She went on a dinner date with him
two nights ago. He didn’t get any further than a kiss on the way home in the
limo.”

“And we want that to change today”, Sarah stated, settling on her task.

“We do”, Holak said. “But we have a problem here. You see, Alice is rather
smitten by Peter Gabriel. The rock star. And Peter Gabriel is upstairs right
now. On the one occasion we won this one, Dominic managed to keep her away
from Gabriel all night, and later, when the guests had gone, she found it in
her heart to let him fuck her on a table in the restaurant. Mainly because she
got a kick out of taking cock while looking out over the city. And from the
risk of discovery. She gets off on things like that.”

“And when we failed?”, Sarah enquired.

“When we failed”, Holak said bleakly, “let’s just suppose that Peter Gabriel
didn’t.”

“Okay”, Sarah said, steeled for the challenge. “I’ve got the picture. Let’s go
for two out of four.”

“Do it, and good luck”, Melira encouraged. 

“I know the stakes”, Sarah assured. And then she moved forward, entered
Dominic Vachon with ease. 

This time, though, she approached the connection without needing to
concentrate on building the sexual attraction, because there was no need.
Dominic was obsessed enough. Instead, she concentrated on the need to avoid a
certain rock star.

The transition proceeded. For a moment, she was Loranna, and Sarah, and
Dominic.

Then, for another moment, she was Loranna and Dominic. And in that moment, the
support of Holak and Melira was a flaming guide, made her believe that against
all logic she might actually maintain a conscious presence.

Then the belief was gone, and Loranna was gone. 

She was Dominic. Dominic alone.

And as Dominic, she had led the lovely Alice outside for a moment. 

No, he had. Dominic had. He had led her outside....

Never mind. Let it be. It wasn’t important.

Alice was important. His lust for her was important.

She was looking up, studied his handiwork. He followed her gaze, and the
height of his own tower made him feel dizzy. 

The thought occured to him that it went beyond the notion of a skyscraper. It
speared the sky, penetrated it. Waved to it on the way past. The thought was
an odd one, and he wondered where it had come from.

“How many floors?”, Alice asked.

He loved that voice, so deep and sexy. “I’ve forgotten”, he lied. “Hundreds.”

“Are there only three lifts inside?”, she queried. “It doesn’t seem enough.”

He turned to study her. The wind was playing in her hair, teasing her dress to
mould more tightly against her body. She was breathtaking. Nobody could have
constructed her. His building couldn’t hope to compare. “There are four lifts
in total”, he said. “And I thought you might like to be the first to ride in
the fourth.”

“Lifts don’t do a lot for me”, she observed dubiously.

“This one might”, he suggested. “It’s over there.”

She followed his pointing finger, and he was pleased to note her surprise when
she saw the exterior lift, his piece de resistance, the lift which ran on
three rails up the front right hand corner of the building.

“You’ll get to see the whole city”, he advertised. “And make a grand entrance.
Impress the big stars. Including Peter Gabriel. What could be better?”

“What about the weather?”, Alice wondered. “Is it safe?”

Dominic understood her concern. Thunder had rumbled twice in the last five
minutes, preceded by sheet lightening. “Absolutely”, he assured her. “Safe,
but atmospheric.”

“Okay then, builder man”, Alice confirmed. “I’m game.”

Dominic led her to the corner of the building, made the lift live with his
electronic key. 

The doors fizzed open and the couple entered.

The lift, including the doors, floor and ceiling, was constructed of toughened
glass. There was a row of seats along the back wall. Once the doors closed,
the wind and rain were entirely cut off, and a luxurious warmth spread into
Dominic’s bones. “Here we go”, he said, “ready or not”, and he pressed the
keypad again.

The lift started to rise, very slowly. Dominic had limited its speed not for
safety reasons, but so that its passengers could enjoy the view at leisure.

Alice ignored the chairs, remaining at the front to watch the city spread out
before her. Dominic came to stand by her.

The thunderstorm seemed to be increasing in force, and Alice’s posture
stiffened at a particularly impressive flash of lightning. Dominic had been
honest when he had told her that she need have no concerns, because the tower
was better protected against lightning than any building ever constructed. But
he understood her uneasiness. Fear of heights and fear of foul weather were
standard human phobias.

Already, though, she was relaxing. He guessed that she was studying the lights
of the metropolis, the moving headlights of the cars which already seemed
smaller than ants.

“It’s amazing”, she breathed.

“Yes”, he said. “It is.” He risked letting an arm fall around her slender
waist. Thrillingly, she didn’t resist.

“How long is the ride?”, she asked him.

“Bored already?”, he teased. “It didn’t stay amazing for long.”

“I don’t want it to stop”, she said. “That’s why I’m asking.”

He tried to read her, and noted that her eyes seemed moist. Gazing into them,
his cock stirred like a disturbed snake. 

The realisation that he should kiss her came fully formed.

And he was about to do exactly that when the lift shuddered to a sudden halt.

To her credit, Alice didn’t panic. She merely observed him quizzically.

“I don’t know”, he said, answering the unspoken question. “It isn’t the storm,
so it must be a mechanical fault. But I find that hard to believe. This
equipment’s been tested and retested. In all conditions.”

The notion at the back of his mind, the notion that he dared not utter, was
sabotage. It seemed impossible, and he could not conceive of any individual or
organisation with motive, but the thought nagged at him. The thought, and a
name....

Restorers....

What the hell...?

“We have a problem, don’t we?”, Alice suggested. “Because nobody knows we’re
here.”

“You don’t have a mobile”, Dominic presumed. surprised. He had expected her to
be equipped with all conceivable rich girl gadgets.

Alice shrugged. “Sorry.”

Dominic nodded glumly. “Never mind. It won’t be long, anyway. After all, they
can’t really inaugurate the building without the guy who built it. And when
they start looking, they’ll see that the lift isn’t at ground level. Ten
minutes, maybe. Half an hour tops.”

Alice returned her gaze to the magnificent view. “I don’t mind”, she said.
“They can take their time for me.”

He looked out with her. 

The city, perhaps eight hundred feet beneath them, looked like a model
village. Rain lashed against the glass, but its fury was impotent.

CONTINUED



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