Date: Mon, 31 May 93 03:54:44 MDT From: tperreau@banshee.VLA.NRAO.EDU (Bill'n'Opus'96) Message-Id: <9305310954.AA01341@banshee.vla.nrao.edu> To: alt-ql-creative@cisco.com Subject: REPOST -- Future Perfect -- Part 1 Oops. I made a mistake! That's what I get for not proofreading! The year that Sam is in is 1023, not 1033. I also corrected a couple of inconsistancies. Sorry! Future Perfect Part I "... When Dr. Sam Beckett made his astonishing leap and began his linear time travel experiment, it spawned a multitude of parallel universi all similar, but different... "...The very creation of Project Quantum Leap mandated a more accurate tracking and control system...the logical conclusion was Monitor..." Excerpts from The Mission of Temporal Monitor (Internal Use Only) Temporal Index: September 17, 1999 Spatial Co-ordernates: 107 degrees West, 34 degrees North, Terra (Very Large Array Radiotelescope Facility) The huge antennas, twenty seven in all, turned in unison, slewing towards the newly discovered supernova in the constellation of Taurus. It was the find of a half century, rivaling SN1986 in the Large Magellanic Cloud, a sister galaxy to our own, or SN1993J in the galaxy of M81. The antennas stopped slewing and began tracking the object, one of the closest near Earth supernovas to happen since the Crab Nebula explosion in 1064 AD. The white antennas shimmered in the late afternoon heat, dishes straining to hear the faint signal, litte more than noise actually, above the background hiss of the universe itself. Slowly, the data was gathered as the antennas tracked the object, covering fifteen degrees an hour as the earth rotated first towards, then away from the supernova. SN1999Tauri, though, had more surprises than the typical supernova. Temporal Index: No reference available Spatial Co-ordernates: No reference available First there came the tingling, then the feeling of icy fingers running down his spine. Within a blink of an eye, Sam's world changed once again. The first thing that he noticed was the light. It was a milky, watery light. At first, he thought that he was back in the eastern US. Then he saw that it was the glass in the windows that was causing the light to turn milky. Windows that was formed of small pieces, bound to- gether with lead. Tall, thin windows. Church windows. Sam then followed the flow of the window to the stonework. Rough, undressed. No plaster or woodwork around at all. Sam then realized that he was at the nave of the church. A book sat in front of him, he looked at it. The page was filled with color; swirls of reds, yellows, greens, and blues. He followed the swirls with his eyes, and he thought that it was familiar. He had seen something like this before. Sam looked down at his clothing. Simple homespun linen, undyed but clean. Bare feet on icy stone. An equally simple belt of leather, tanned, but that was all Sam could say for it. "Father, the benediction," a man whispered by Sam in a language that was Sam knew was not english, but he understood him. Sam looked at the man. "Oh, yes. Sorry." Sam held up his hand and made the sign of the Cross. "Amen," Sam said. Several of the men looked about, confused. Obviously, Sam made a mistake. "Benedictus Domine," the man who spoke to Sam announced. "Amen." "Amen," the group of men replied automatically, and they began to file out. Sam noticed that they all wore the same garment that he did, a simple linen tunic. No footwear to be seen. They walked out of the church in single file, not speaking, not lifting their eyes from the ground. The man to Sam's left closed the book, and lifting it to his lips, he kissed it reverently. The other man did so, and held out the book to Sam. Sam took it and kissed the book, the scent of leather and parchment filling his nose. He handed the book back, which was placed into a small wooded box and bound shut. Sam walked out of the church. He looked around. A large mound was off to his left. He could hear the ocean, and smell the salt in the wind that teased his hair. He could also faintly hear the sound of sheep in the distance. It was cool, but not uncomfortablly so. "Father, we must prepare for Thorfinn," the man who had spoken to Sam before walked up to him. "He will be here soon." "Who?" The man looked at Sam with a puzzled expression. "Thorfinn Ravensfeeder, Father. His ships are bringing the moarmers. Remember?" "Uh, no. I'm afraid that it slipped my mind." The man sighed as if he had been through this more than once before. He patted Sam on the shoulder. "No matter, Father. I will take care of the arrangements. You will be conducting the services?" "Uh, yes. Whose?" "Duncan, Father. The king? He is to be buried in the Rellig Oran," the man indicated the huge green mound. "Ah. Yes. Duncan, the king. Rellig Oran. Right." Sam's mind raced. He had read about this -- the book, Duncan. "There will be the election of the new king, of course." "Of course," Sam parroted. "Who...do you think will be...elected?" "MacBeth. Duncan's bastard son Malcolm will never claim the throne of Scotland as long as MacBeth is alive." Sam's gut froze. "MacBeth?" He looked around. A stone church, small huts of sod. A small island off the coast of another island. A book of colors...Kells...the Book of Kells... "Humor me. What year is this?" The man smiled in a patronizing way. "The year is 1023, Father; and before you ask, you are the Abbot of Iona, head of the Church of Scotland." "Oh, boy..." Sam said to the elements.