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As Buck wandered through the vast expanse of the incredible graveyard/city, his eyes were drawn to a magnificent stone fountain situated right in its center. Surrounded by ancient buildings, it seemed to have been forgotten amidst the solemn atmosphere. However, as if awakened by some unseen force, the fountain suddenly came to life before Buck's very eyes.
At first, he hadn't even noticed it, so absorbed was he in the haunting beauty of his surroundings. But then, as if guided by an invisible hand, his gaze was irresistibly drawn towards the fountain. And there it was – water gushing forth from its weathered stone spout with a steady and rhythmic flow.
The soft, gentle rippling sounds emanating from the source captivated him and the girl, pulling them in with an irresistible force. In stark contrast to the sterile, clinical environment of the white stone city, where everything seemed devoid of life and emotion, they found solace in this simple pleasure. Nova eagerly lapped at the fluid as if she had been deprived of water for days, her thirst unquenchable. Buck, on the other hand, savored each sip more deliberately, taking his time to fully appreciate the sensation coursing through his veins. As he reached a point of contentment, he straightened up and observed Nova intently. She continued to drink without restraint, her insatiable desire for more fueling her actions. Buck's gaze never wavered from her as he pondered what drove her relentless thirst and wondered if it mirrored something deeper within himself.
And then, as if driven by an unseen force, he acted with a chilling determination. Without a moment's hesitation or any semblance of conscious thought, his hands instinctively descended toward Nova's delicate neck. With a swift and calculated motion, he firmly grasped her throat, his fingers tightening around her pale skin. The pool surrounding the magnificent stone fountain became witness to this sudden and sinister act as he forcefully submerged her head beneath its shimmering surface.
Nova had a sudden jolt, causing her body to spasm uncontrollably. In response, Buck firmly grasped her, his hands sinking into the tender flesh of her neck. With no mercy, he relentlessly applied pressure, bearing down on her.
The water rippled and shimmered, creating a mesmerizing display of reflections that seemed to stretch on endlessly. Each ripple shattered into a million smaller ripples, almost as if the water was creating its own version of unreality.
With a fierce determination, Buck tightened his grip, refusing to let go. Nova, overwhelmed with panic and desperation, spluttered and struggled against his relentless hold. Every fiber of her being was consumed by the overwhelming urge to fight back, to resist the suffocating grasp that threatened to engulf her. She fought with every ounce of strength she had left in her, desperately gasping for air as if she were drowning in a sea of despair.
Through a dim haze, Buck saw his own reflection in the agitated waters. Two reflections, really. One of them being an insane parody of his own face. A mask, depicting some intense struggle of mental combat between some outer and inner force over which he had no conscious control. He continued to hold the girl's head below the surface of the fountain pool.
His other face mocked back at him, the face full of pity, horror, and astonishment, distorted into the visage of some strange monster - a demented, rabid animal with bared teeth and glaring eyes. Buck's mentality rocked into chaos as the outer force commanded him, "Put my hands around her throat. Hold her head down in the water until she dies."
The inner force was fighting back with a desperate plea: "Take my hands off her throat. Get out of my head!" Buck groaned, mingling a gasp and a grunt, as both forces locked for possession of his soul. With his hands still clasped about the girl's neck, Buck's voice tore savagely from his throat. "Take—put my hands off—round her throat... hold her... throat... get out of my head... down in the water... till she..." his voice rose in a roar of sound, "DIES!"
The struggle intensified as the two opposing forces battled for control. Buck's grip tightened around the girl's neck, his fingers digging into her flesh. The inner force screamed for release, pleading to be freed from this violent act. It fought against the darkness that had consumed Buck's mind, desperately trying to regain control.
"Let go!" the inner force cried out, its voice filled with anguish and desperation. "Release her!"
He wrenched his hands from her throat with a Herculean effort, reeling away from her. For a terrible moment, he swayed on his feet, dumbly staring. He felt an appalled sense of horror. Nova came up from the pool, splashing, choking, and gagging. She sagged against the stone circular side of the fountain, goggling at him with mingled terror and amazement. Buck fought himself not to approach her. The war in his mind was still raging. Kill her. Don't kill her. He shook his head like a confused dog, fighting the outer pressures that wanted to push him towards her, destruction bound. But Nova remained motionless, mutely staring at him.
Buck's lips barely moved.
"Nova, keep away from her throat...her bare throat in the water until you get out...." His hand came up in a wild wave. As if pushing something away from himself. He stopped up his ears with both hands. "Get out!" he raged at the silence all around them. "GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"
He backed away from the girl frantically, her mouth hanging open as she stared up at him. Pushing out with both hands again, he watched as the fountain—and Nova—receded before his eyes. In a sudden jolt, his shoulders made contact with something solid.
Huge double doors, abruptly behind him, loomed large and mysterious. A faded, chipped sign above the doors proclaimed: ST. PATRICK'S CATHEDRAL. Oddly, they were unlocked. Buck's athletic figure swung the doors open. He forced himself back over a dim threshold, glad of anything that would keep him from harming himself or his two robot friends. Nova grew smaller in his erratic vision. He stopped, only for a second, to call back to Nova. The girl stepped toward him.
"Wait for me---" Buck whispered, his voice barely audible amidst the chaos that surrounded him. He could feel the forces of darkness closing in, threatening to consume him entirely. But he couldn't let go, not yet.
"Nova---!" he cried out desperately, his words laced with a mixture of fear and determination. His brain felt like it was on fire, every synapse ablaze with a maddening intensity. The image of the girl he loved wavered before his eyes as if she too was being swallowed by the malevolent forces that sought to claim him.
The beautiful animal girl disappeared from view.
Buck hung exhausted against the curved metal door grips on the inside and fought to catch his breath. For a long moment, he wrestled with his inner and outer wills. Then he quietened. The strange fit had momentarily passed. He sucked air into his lungs and shuddered. Then he pulled himself erect once more. Turning, he surveyed the interior of this building he had fled into as a sanctuary from insanity.
The unrealities again ruled, even here, in the cathedral. In direct contrast to the bright white glare, there was only blessed gloom. Buck's eyes roved quickly, searching for any sign of life amidst the shadows.
He saw a row of wooden pews flanking a great arched nave. There was a threshold up front, past the choir stalls, beyond the pews. He saw a prie-dieu directly below a high altar of some kind. Buck blinked in the occult semidarkness.
There was a man standing on the sacred threshold upfront.
A white-robed, white-hooded apparition, kneeling in homage or religious fealty of some kind. A figure as still as any statue. The figure had not moved when the great doors had slammed shut. Buck, for all his dazed condition, recognized in that tiny unimportant fact a universal truth and oddity: Weren't all cathedral doors open to devotees? Why wasn't this one?
Buck watched the hooded figure, not daring to breathe. Or even speak. The hush of the place was emotionally demoralizing.
The hood lifted upward, the robed arms spread out like bat wings and a sonorous voice suddenly intoned: "I reveal my Inmost Self unto my God!" The voice rang with the clarity and persuasion of unshakable faith and belief. Ardley found his eyes ranging upward, following the direction of the stentorian declaration.
Slowly, from the space of darkness above the high altar, an eerie light appeared. Growing, expanding, as if on a rheostat; the gloom transformed from dim illumination to a full, blazing intensity. The outflung arms of the hooded figure held in a posture of crucifixion. And utter adoration.
Buck saw what the new light held, and to his dismay, it wasn't an image of God or even a strange, unknown pagan god. Instead, it revealed something far more sinister. The hooded figure's exhortations were not for any divine being but for the ultimate blasphemy itself.
Something mounted and enthroned, positioned with all the care and reverence of any highly esteemed religious curio, emerged a Twentieth-Century Atom Bomb. This awe-inspiring creation, meticulously crafted and delicately poised, demanded both fear and admiration. Like an ancient relic of immense power, it stood as a testament to humanity's scientific prowess and its potential for destruction. The bomb's presence evoked a sense of trepidation, reminding Buck of the delicate balance between progress and catastrophe that defined his world.
Perfectly preserved and slung, like some great inverted cross, between two supporting brackets of hammered gold, it hung from the arched nave in all its illuminated wonder. On one of its impressive steel fins, there were stenciled the two Greek letters: ALPHA and OMEGA. The First and the Last.
Without warning, John materialized before Buck, his ethereal form shimmering with an otherworldly glow. Buck turned to John, never so glad to see him as he was now. "What the hell is that horrible thing doing in a church, John?" His wracked whisper was alien to his own ears as if someone else were doing the talking.
"The people you are about to meet worship it as a god," John started, his voice filled with both urgency and solemnity. "That is the doomsday bomb, the very object you were tasked to search for. But what happens next is not within your control or mine; it lies solely in the hands of fate."
Buck's heart sank as he absorbed John's words. He had come so far, faced countless dangers, and overcome insurmountable odds to reach this moment. Yet now, it seemed that his ultimate goal was slipping away from him, beyond his grasp.
John continued, his voice steady but tinged with empathy. "You see, Buck, this bomb possesses unimaginable power - power that could reshape worlds or bring about their destruction. It is not a weapon to be taken lightly or wielded by just anyone."
Buck nodded slowly, understanding. And then John de-materialized, leaving him alone with the strange, robed figure, and the A-bomb on the prie-dieu.
A tiny scratch of sound came on the door behind him. Back to the barrier, Buck suddenly drew taut. The scratching continued. He shut his eyes. "Nova?" The scratching burbled into a flurry of sounds. Buck slid both hands into the door grips, blocking the portals with his body, his muscles congealing into lead. He didn't budge. "Keep away, Nova," he whispered urgently to the door. "Keep away from me---and from here..."
But the tapping had become almost a crescendo, punctuated with fist-pounding and low moans of appeal. Buck tightened his resolve; perspiration broke out on his forehead. He couldn't let the girl in here, no matter what happened. The hooded figure on the dais had turned, its gaze piercing through the gloom.
An ornate panel at his side, with three jeweled buttons of emerald, topaz, and ruby set into the top of the prie-dieu, as pressed, caught Buck's attention. He saw Nova's attempts to get in had been heard by the figure. Rising to its full height, the figure made another gesture that startled Buck. At that moment, he somehow knew with a strange sense of comprehension that what he was witnessing was the Sign of the Bomb.
In an act of supreme sacrilege, the figure made an inverted Sign of the Cross. With a vertical downward gesture, it depicted the body of the Bomb, followed by two lateral gestures to indicate the fins at its base. It was a sign from Hell itself, defiling the sacred space of the cathedral.
As if in response to this profane act, the entire cathedral suddenly flooded with new light. The once dimly lit interior now glowed with an ethereal radiance, illuminating every corner and crevice. The brilliance seemed to emanate from within as if a divine presence had been awakened by this blasphemous display.
The juxtaposition of darkness and light created an eerie atmosphere within the hallowed walls. It was as though opposing forces were engaged in a cosmic battle for dominance - one representing destruction and desecration, while the other symbolized hope and transcendence.
Even as Nova continued to pound away, the hooded figure came down from the dais and stalked towards Buck huddled at the doors of the strange place of worship. And when the pounding stopped, with Buck blinking in the sudden fresh glare of illumination, the hooded figure advanced like a specter. Buck wondered at the silence beyond the door He started to open it, then checked himself to confront the advancing figure. Nova was forgotten.
The hood framed a face of startling purity, and as the man drew closer and halted, staring at Buck, Buck stared back. He assumed that the man was the verger of this strange cathedral, but beyond that, the appearance of the face before him was astounding.
The man was tall, of an indecipherable age, but his face was one of great beauty. Unwrinkled sink, as smooth as marble, deep-set luminous eyes in shadowed sockets, with the barest accentuation of the lip line, which somehow makes a man or a woman look sexy. The man's mouth seemed to speak. To say something. But Buck heard nothing, orally.
"What did you say?" Buck asked fiercely, frightened again. The verger had said nothing. He merely stood there, regarding Buck. "What do you mean, there's no point?" Buck answered the unspoken words he heard in his own brain, worried about the implications. "Will they hurt her?"
Again, the verger's lips didn't move, but Buck could sense the weight of his unspoken words. "Maybe not physically," Buck agreed, gesturing towards his own head, "But you guys can hurt here." He tapped his temple gently. "I know." The verger's silent message reached Buck, merging their thoughts into a profound understanding.
"Yes, it's gone now," Buck answered, but outside... Suddenly he twitched, a great spasm taking hold of him. His eyes leaped as he exclaimed, "Your lips don't move. Your lips don't move...but I can hear...no, not hear—I mean I know what you're thinking."
The fixed grin left the verger's face as Buck nodded and said, "I saw nothing. You were in darkness."
The verger spoke again, silently, and Buck's heart skipped a beat. He looked quickly over his shoulder, his mind racing to stay calm and keep pace with this new-found unreality. As he turned, his eyes widened in surprise at the sight of two men who had appeared at the double doors behind him. Unarmed, yet strangely alien and enigmatically marble-faced, they seemed like denizens of this strange and terrible city. Without a word, they reached out and lightly touched Buck's elbows with their fingertips of velvet-textured hands.
The verger spoke again, silently, his words echoing in the vast cathedral. "All right, all right," he muttered, his voice barely audible. He offered no resistance as he was led out of the sacred space, his mind unable to comprehend what was happening. The verger remained rooted to the spot, a shadowy figure with an inscrutable presence. However, a worried gleam now flickered in his deep-set luminous eyes.
As the verger stepped outside, he scanned the surroundings anxiously, searching for any sign of Nova. But beyond the imposing doors of the cathedral, there was no trace of her presence.
But at the stone fountain, capering in the awful white glare of the city's atmosphere, were a dozen or more children of many races and ages. Their squeals of pleasure sounded grotesque in the daylight. Buck restrained a shudder. The children had ringed the fountain, romping in a dancing circle, their voices gaily blending in a terrible refrain:
Ring-a-ring o' neutrons
A pocket of positrons
A fission! A fission!
We all fall down!
On the last word, they spilled backward, forming a star shape and lay deathly still. Like some dreadful parody of an old Busby Berkeley musical dance routine from one of the old Warner Brothers movies of the '30s. Buck shuddered again, remembering---it was just a game, wasn't it? But....
The silent guards egged him on, courteously almost, gently prodding his elbows again. Buck kept on moving. The playing children were soon lost somewhere behind him. The ghastly white complex of the metropolis engaged all of his attention. The tomblike buildings jutting sheer from the barren earth. The all-encompassing glare of white and cold daylight. Dimly he could hear the echoing words of the playing children as they picked up yet another chorus of the deadly song. It sounded like something they had learned by rote. A Child's Garden of Verses set to the meaning and reality of a terrible code of destruction and doom. Armageddon set to Mother Goose!
The verger spoke again, silently, his mind racing with horrifying thoughts. He had no idea where Nova was or what they might have done with her.--- whoever they were.
In his torn-apart and stressed intellect, he was no longer able to make any judgments or solve any mental problems. His whole universe of consciousness and stable thinking was awry; he had lost all sense of rhythm, balance, and common sense. He was only hurtlingly aware of one great truth: he had fled from the mockery of the Apes into something perhaps twice as alien, a dozen times more hazardous.
Meaning—he had jumped from the frying pan directly into the fire, just like Taylor had. It was too early to tell if Taylor's situation was similar to his own. John, however, would not provide any information. He simply didn't know and might never find out.
Blindly, obediently, he suffered himself to be led by the marble-faced guards to another part of this Crazy House forest, all the while wishing and hoping with every fiber of his being that the girl was all right. His thoughts were consumed by the well-being of Wilma Deering, Aerrum, and everybody else.
Safe, unharmed, and untouched by the madness that seemed to surround him on all sides, he had become accustomed to the sheer glare of lunacy, which had ingrained itself into his waking reflexes and responses. Not even H.G. Wells at his wildest, nor Jules Verne, had dared conceive of a civilization dedicated to the Bomb.
Safe. This, indeed, was a journey into the Absurd and the terribly frightening. For he knew that he was somewhere on Fifth Avenue and the vaulted building he had just left was St. Patrick's Cathedral!
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"Colonel Rollins, do your systems check out for touchdown?" Zyrax radioed.
"Everything's running beautifully, Captain," Rollins replied. "We're fifteen minutes away from landing. How about you?"
"No problem, Colonel. We've handled this before."
"I can imagine," he chuckled. "Signing off for now. Talk to you again once we're on the ground to coordinate our strategy."
"Agreed. We'll monitor to stay connected," Rollins said, switching off the transmitter.
Brent's incredulous look remained unchanged after twelve hours of non-stop communication between Icarus II and the Inner City shuttle.
"Brent," he said firmly, "Enough with that 'future shock' expression. Focus on your tasks."
"I apologize, Skipper," Brent replied, shaking his head. "It's just that after..." He trailed off, shuddering.
Rollins nodded grimly and motioned Fowler over. 'Gentlemen,' he said, 'The last twelve hours have been tough. We've learned that the Earth of the 25th Century has gone completely insane. The how and when are unknown until we're on the ground. But already, I have an idea of what we'll be contemplating upon completing the mission and returning to the 20th Century."
Brent and Fowler exchanged knowing nods, understanding the unspoken thoughts between them. Rollins emphasized the significance of gathering evidence and information about this unfamiliar Earth. However, he reminded them that despite this new priority, their main objective remained finding Taylor and the rest of their team.
His fellow astronauts nodded in agreement.
"Good," Rollins said, turning to the control panel. "Now let's land this thing."
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As Wilma Deering ventured through the jungle surrounding Ape City, she comes across a cornfield that catches her attention. As she explores further, she discovers several intriguing things nearby:
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3. Records Archive Building: Deep within the jungle, Wilma discovers a surprisingly intact building that appears to have withstood the test of time. This structure piques her curiosity as it seems like it could hold valuable information. As Wilma cautiously enters the building, she can't help but wonder what secrets and treasures might be hidden within its walls.
All their records regarding what happened during the 20th century to bring Earth to the point where it presently stood were all but nonexistent. What could these fragments of the old newspapers tell Wilma about the war besides the date?553Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaGIVbJLTZw
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Apparently, in January 1998, four hundred and ninety-four years ago, there was a nuclear war between the two superpowers that decimated more than half the planet. New York miraculously escaped total destruction because the missiles aimed there missed their targets and landed more than thirty miles to the east, out in what was now known as Anarchia.
From what she was able to piece together from what little information she was getting from this ancient records archive, the multiple missile impacts all over the world, in addition to high levels of radiation poisoning, also caused a number of geological and meteorological catastrophes to take place in the years afterward. Tidal waves, earthquakes. Over the centuries, the aftershocks triggered by the nuclear war had totally altered the natural topography of this part of the country. Creating mountains and desert out of areas that had once been sea-level flatland. And simultaneously, those areas to the west of New York City that had not been as affected transformed over time into jungles and forests.
The temple was small and austere, its humble presence contrasting with the grandeur of Ape City that sprawled around it. Positioned precisely in the center of the bustling metropolis, it held a significant place in the hearts of its inhabitants. Within its walls, there was no ornate altar or elaborate decorations; instead, a sense of simplicity prevailed.
Unbeknownst to the residents of Ape City, Aeurrum the Oan hovered silently within the temple's sacred space. His ethereal form remained invisible to mortal eyes, yet his presence was palpable in every corner of the chamber. Aeurrum possessed a unique ability - he could transmit these vivid images and experiences directly to the Inner City through his miniature communication device known as a mini-comm.
As the Great Ape stood tall, clutching his ancient book, the images of this extraordinary sight were being transmitted to a massive screen in the control room of the Computer Council. Dr. Huer, a renowned scientist and leader of the council, watched intently as the scene unfolded before him.
Dr. Huer furrowed his brow, contemplating the implications of what he was witnessing. He spoke with a mix of curiosity and skepticism, "This is truly remarkable, isn't it? To think that an entire civilization of apes has existed unbeknownst to us for all these years. It challenges our understanding of evolution and raises profound questions about our place in the universe."
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