A Piece of Paper (The Empire and the Constitution)

(Constitution of the United States)

Some time ago, I wrote a piece outlining some of the worst excesses of the Bush era; replete with executive orders and 'Acts' allowing for the suspension of basic civil rights and liberties guaranteed by the Constitution, the original commentary amazed me.

I was called a 'traitor' by some, who simply didn't see that abrogating the Constitution wasn't going to make us any more secure - in fact, the opposite was the likely outcome.

Today, I'm going to distill some things which are far more frightening than the Military Commissions Act - but I'm going to offer a caveat here, as well: Many of the things which I've researched for this post have been co-opted by several conspiracy-theory sites, and embellished with a lot of outright nonsense. While some of the people running these sites were the first to break some of this news, the overall value of the material gets diluted when it winds up posted in this manner. Where possible, I'll 'out' these questionable sites, as well.

There's a lot of linked-reading here. I'd encourage you to click on the links and do the reading yourself - it's all here; no need to take my word for it.

(I'm spelling out a dark future. If you want something lighter, go here).

____________________________________

Toward a New America

I don't need to tell you that America is at a crossroads.

On the 11th of September, 2001, a new generation of Americans learned that the oceans on either side of our country did not provide adequate borders against attack. This attack took a form which, while speculated, was dismissed as impossible. While the parallels with Pearl Harbor are both ample and evident, there are more than several parallels to the responses which were taken by our government. Some of these responses have been in process for many years; others were undertaken only recently. All are direct threats to the civil liberties of anyone living in America, and should be understood in that light.

What to do? I'm beyond that now; we all are. It will do not good to rant about the facts; you already know them: (1) More people voted for "American Idol" than voted in the Presidential election; (2) most Americans can't find Ohio on a map, let alone places like Iraq and Afghanistan; (3) education results-by-test are dismal, and falling; (4) real productivity from the American economy has fallen every year for at least a decade; (5) the U.S. currency [dollar] has fallen in value every year for fifteen years, and is now worth 23% less than it was in '95.

With both our national will and economy in retreat, the potential for widespread civil unrest looms large. It's on this topic that I'm going to focus, today.


The Curious Case of Camp Grayling

Camp Grayling is a mixed-use training facility in upper Michigan. It's been used by the Michigan National Guard and by other branches of the U.S. military for decades now, due to its size and the ability to conduct fairly large-scale exercises.

Of late, construction activity has increased at Camp Grayling - in fact, over $16M was authorized for 'barracks replacement' at the camp, which has raised eyebrows both locally and through several watchdog-groups, for reasons which are clarified, below.

H.R. 645 - The National Emergency Centers Establishment Act

With no press or media attention, the new Congress introduced a bill on the 22nd of January this year, calling for the establishment of 'no fewer than six "emergency centers" on military installations'.

The requirements?

Each 'center' must be "(1) located in close proximity to a transportation corridor; (2) located in a State with a high level or threat of disaster related activities; and (3) located near a major metropolitan center." (Note: "transportation corridor" appears to be defined as a rail facility and either an internal air-traffic facility or nearby airport).

What we're really seeing here is the militarization of FEMA disaster facilities. The reasons - if you're willing to connect the dots - will become clear.

(The full text of H.R. 645 is here). (Camp Grayling has surfaced as being on a 'short list' of facilities. As stated in the bill, the final list will be prepared within 90 days - which means that by April, we'll know where these six centers will be located.)


REX '84 and FEMA - Knowing The Tiger By Its Stripes

In 1984, the Reagan administration authorized a project called REX '84 - it was a plan to test the government's ability to detain large numbers of people during civil unrest or national emergency.

Part of this plan was to 'militarize' FEMA - the Federal Emergency-Management Agency - and to implement a joint-exercise between all branches of the military, as well as state and local agencies. Part of this exercise was the creation and implementation of a sub-plan or 'exercise plan' - which was to guarantee the continuity of government.

Co-incident with REX '84 is another plan, Operation Garden Plot, which is a joint military/government plan to control widespread civil unrest in America - using the military against the people of the United States.

Hand in glove with REX '84 and its successors and Operation Garden Plot is Directive 51, which was signed by President Bush in 2007. Carrying the weight of law (but without passage by Congress), Directive 51 gives the President the power to execute procedures for the 'continuity of the Federal government' in the event of 'any incident, regardless of location, that results in extraordinary levels of mass casualties, damage, or disruption severely affecting the U.S. population, infrastructure, environment, economy, or government functions.' The 'incidents' themselves are left undefined - in fact, any 'incident' at all which could vaguely be described as 'disruption' could be used to invoke this Directive.


(This is likely why FEMA was unresponsive during the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina - as their new 'job' under Homeland Security aegis is now to keep order and detain people - not provide humanitarian aid).

The 'tiger' has been 'outed' - we now see his stripes. It follows that we need to know how dangerous he is....


Posse Comitatus

Through all this, you're probably asking, "Wait - I remember a law which prevents all this. What is it, exactly?" That law is called the "Posse Comitatus Act", and it was a direct response to the use of the military as an occupation force in the Southern states after the Civil War. In brief, it holds that the military may not be used within the borders of the United States for purposes of putting down civil unrest. This was tested in 2006 by the temporary (later repealed) passage of the National Defense Authorization Act (President Bush wanted the military to have the power to take control of a region in the event of national emergency.)

The Posse Comitatus Act, while under near-constant threat, has never been repealed. Here, however, you can read why a U.S. Army major feels that Posse Comitatus is a myth. (This appears, by the way, to be the prevailing thought within red-staters and the military in general.)

Regardless of the proscription against the use of the military within our borders, in October of 2008, the U.S. Army deployed the 3rd Infrantry's 1st Brigade Combat Team within its Northern Command for that very purpose - for the control of civil insurrection and 'terrorism'. (The plans for their use are here.) 


Building the Camps - Detention for Some; Free Labor for the Government:

The plans are in place.

You might ask, however, "Wait -- they can't just build entire camps without a lot of money being spent - how do they plan to build these camps and get ready to detain anyone? And why? I mean - what's the problem here, anyway?"

Turns out that Kellogg, Brown and Root - the construction subsidiary of Halliburton, Inc. - has been contracted for $385M to build detention camps in America.

The people who'll be placed in these camps?

Everyone from 'illegal aliens' to 'subversives'.

Unfortunately, it gets worse.


Operation Endgame:

In 2003, the Department of Homeland Security released its 'response' to illegal immigration -- Operation Endgame. Endgame, along with Operation Garden Plot and REX '84, would allow the government to round up everyone in the United States who was declared an 'illegal alien' (remember, you can have your citizenship revoked - and thus declared an 'illegal alien' - under two of the Presidential Directives issued during the Bush Administration).

The actual document for Operation Endgame is here.)

That's right, folks -- from now on, and as we speak, there really IS an American Gulag. It's being built right under your nose, at locations which for matters of 'national security', the government is not willing to disclose. One more thing. If the military wants -- they can use you for free labor. The plans are here, if you'd care to read them.)


Connecting the Dots....

Once the facts are in front of us, it's not a huge leap to see where they lead.

America is in the middle of the worst financial crisis in eighty years; perhaps the largest ever. We have created a situation since the end of World War II which has polarized the one region which provides over 80% of our energy, and which has lead to a direct attack on our country - not by a nation, but by a faceless group of people who could strike again, at any time.

Our government has responded not with defense, but with planned and actual repression.

Disagree with that government, and you run the risk of censorship, imprisonment, and forced labor.

In a republic, the test of leadership is not the strength of its measures, but the strength of its resolve. The events of the past several years have brought out the very worst in our government.

The nation is headed for a showdown -- perhaps even a civil war, based not on ideology, but the collapse of the economy (think Albania, in the '90s').

Absent the very thing the government seems prepared to prevent - widespread civil unrest - there appears to be very little we can do to effect material change.

The facts are here. While a direct cause-and-effect link is slippery, there's enough here to give anyone pause.  What you do with these facts is largely is up to you, but I'm seriously considering all options.

I'll admit - this sounds like a conspiracy-theory gone wild. It's straight out of 'Seven Days in May', or another political thriller. The problem is, we can't turn off the tube or put the book down and go back to our lives. This time, it's real.


Again - don't say I didn't warn you....

Obama; Bernacke and the Recovery

(German woman, burning Weimar Reichsmarks - 1930's)

The economics of what faces us are nothing less than staggering, as we limp along through the beginnings of what I believe will be called the Second Great Depression.

Since 1978, we have allowed our government to deregulate our banking system - this means that there's no government-oversight for loans, reserves, or much else.

The 'miracle' of the economic recoveries from the twin recessions of the early '80's and early '90's was a near-300% increase in the national debt. (No, it wasn't 'trickle-down economics' - Reagan and Bush literally printed the money, by virtue of selling American debt-paper to the Chinese and the east Indians).
 

The U.S. currency is now worth 23% less than it was in 1995.


These three alone are bad enough - but it gets worse.

The 'Perfect Storm' I mentioned yesterday - the deregulation of the banks, coupled with low interest-rates -- allowed the banks to write loans to anyone, for anything. We should understand that money has no value unless it's 'working' - that is, unless it's put in the hands of people who use it to generate more wealth. However, with no regulation, we allowed the banks to shove all of this 'new' money into the hands of some pretty irresponsible people - mortgage 'brokers' (who, two weeks before were teaching High School social-studies, or working in a computer store); securities 'traders' (who promptly used it to buy 'derivatives' and other worthless paper) - along with a lot of other similarly-behaved people who are outside the purview of this post.

The result was that we allowed them to create a 'bubble' -- actually, several of them -- mainly in housing and securities - as all of this money went chasing obvious places for a quick-turn and a profit for the people who were doing the 'pushing'.

Loan officers everywhere operated on the same morals as 1960's-era drug-pushers -and the whole country was addicted to artificially-cheap money.

A few of us said it couldn't last. We were shouted down.

By the time the cracks started to appear in the plaster toward the middle of '06, it was already too late to do much about it. When the bubble began to burst in the most-oversold regions of the country, the train had left the station for good.

Now, we're in a bad way.

How bad?

-- The United States is, for all intents and purposes, a colony of China and east India. We sell them raw materials (and money which, ironically, we borrowed from them in the first place) and import finished goods.

-- The unfunded liabilities of the United States (amounts promised by the government to the people in the form of transfer payments like Social Security, Medicare, and the like), now exceed $60 trillion dollars - this is an amount which can, in the view of Lawrence Kotlikoff, a Federal Reserve economist and professor of economics at Boston University, never be paid. (His actual statement is that the U.S. is 'actuarially bankrupt'. His full article is here).

-- Total public and private debt is now 300% of our GDP - half again as high as it was in 1929.

-- 10,000 homes go into foreclosure every day.

-- 20,000 jobs are lost every day.

Put another way, the U.S. no longer exercises any control over its financial affairs. With Hillary Clinton going to China to beg them to fund Obama's bailout as her first official trip overseas, a clear message was sent to those who cared to see it -- without Chinese money, the U.S. economy cannot be revived. The twin collapse of housing and employment is a self-reinforcing act. Without jobs, foreclosures increase - without production, jobs cannot be created. The only trend, at least for now and absent any miracles - is down.
Where does this all end?

First, Obama's efforts in shoving more borrowed money at the economy is akin to fighting a fire with gasoline. Lowering interest rates in the face of what we now see is probably the worst thing the Fed could have done - but Bernacke studied the Great Depression, and is eager to use his theories to prove himself right.

There are larger forces at work here, however, than the Federal Reserve and Obama's efforts to bail out industries.

The forces we should really study are the ones which caused the problem in the first place. You see, America is facing its very own "Weimar Moment" (in the words of author Robert Freeman - his recent article is here - and while I don't agree with all of his conclusions, there are some which bear scrutiny).

First, the basic tenets of Neoconservatism - -that the free-market is sacred, and that those who run those segments of the market which deal with finance are operating in the best interest of everyone - are bogus.

We've learned that when government (1) deregulates banking, and (2) lowers interest rates, the people who are charged with loaning the money will do so not responsibly, but in a manner which generates short term profits and which leads to 'bubbles' in the economic fabric. They make money. Everyone else suffers eventually. (This, by the way, is the real reason why AIG, GM, BofA and so many others are requiring 'bailouts').

Secondly, we've learned that when the people exercise their last remaining right - the vote - our choices are limited by a political machine which is also self-perpetuating.

Thirdly, we've learned that the party and philosophy which was ousted will not go gently - they'll do everything they can to prevent the success of those who were elected (if you believe that's not true, just go visit some of the Neocon and right-wing 'groups' on any of the social-services like Facebook and Multiply, or elsewhere on the 'net).

Insanity, I'm told, is doing the same thing and expecting different results. We're in the process of doing that, right now. I'd only point out some things before we get too carried away:

-- Obama is a man. He's not the Savior-in-Chief. He's not going to be able to put the toothpaste back in the tube.

-- What we're seeing here is a lot of pet-theories being skewered by ugly facts; a whole batch of paradigms shifting without a clutch -- I'll say it here -- the bailouts will not work; if they are 'successful' at all, they will only be successful in taking the problem and shifting it forward another decade or two, just as we did in '01.

-- Unless we take our 'medicine' now, curing the 'disease' will be that much worse, further on. Debt doesn't go away. It just adds interest.

-- The old axiom is true - once you're in a hole, stop digging. (This is going to mean that we look at what caused the problem - cease the activity - and put forces in place to prevent it from happening again.

That's going to mean re-regulating the banks and reining-in the securities-traders and other suchlike who got us here in the first place).

This process will take years. There is no quick fix. There will be massive upheaval in every facet of American life - everyone will wind up moving down a notch in one form or another; there will be large numbers of everything, from furniture to cars to housing - going unsold for years and perhaps even decades.

We might also, if we're not careful, wind up with that Most Ugly of Outcomes - a change of government.

Neocon fascism isn't dead, folks. Not by a long shot. Remember Rush Limbaugh -- "I hope he fails", in reference to Obama - and remember that subverting the Weimar government was how Hitler came to power.

This would probably lead to a REAL war (not like the sideshow in Iraq).


Don't say I didn't warn you.....

Lux Perpetua - Lux Lucis Quod Verum (The Light and the Truth - Conclusion)

“Doctor. You need to tell me what to do here. I’m rather – out of my jurisdiction – and there’s the matter of why we came….” Knudson’s words trailed off.

“Give us a few minutes alone, will you?,” said Jamieson.

Knudson stepped from the anteroom into Kelso’s ‘office’ – which was actually a study. There were homemade instruments, crude by modern standards – but which had never been seen before that time. Knudson recognized a microscope, lovingly hand-made, plus a small telescope, some sort of circular instrument with a pointer, several small maps as well as other written documents.

In the anteroom, Jamieson and Kelso settled down for some third-century wine and bread.

“If it helps at all, I’m sorry, Jamieson.” Kelso was looking at his old friend in a new light now – one which had literally been humbled by centuries.

“It’s good to see you again,” said Jamieson. He meant it.

“So – I’m assuming you brought that – fellow - back here to ‘arrest’ me?”

“At the time, yes, I did. Seeing you here, though – and what you’re doing…”

“How’s your shoulder?”

“Better,” said Jamieson, slowly moving his arm around by way of proof. “There are some things I can’t do from now on, but I’ll do all right.”

“I’ve invented the telescope, you know. So far, I’ve been able to prove to them that the light from the moon doesn’t originate from there – something about seeing light and shadow for the first time which makes for a pretty convincing argument.”

“Larry – those people across town – are putting together a monstrous sort of new ‘religion’ – and they’ll come looking for people like you, because truth and light are a threat. Why stay? Why wait for the knock on the door?”, said Jamieson.

“Are there not people knocking on doors in your time, for things not terribly unrelated? How many people died a hundred years ago, relative to where we both originated, based on their ethnic background, or whether one side or another said they were ‘terrorists’?”

“Yes, but dear Doctor Kelso – do I have to remind you of the root cause of all of that nonsense? You’ll have to fly in the face of something you’ve sworn not to oppose or change! And this time, there’s no Constitution – either original, or 2018 Reformed – they’ll burn you at the stake or crucify you for opposing them. The notion of separating religion and government is a bad idea to these people!”

Kelso paused. “I don’t suppose you’ve thought that I might actually be happy here?”

“I came here to arrest you. Now, I’m considering it more of a ‘rescue’. What you’re doing here is marvelous – but how long do you think the Governor of this province can keep you safe, once their ‘Church’ levies a charge of heresy?”

“It’s a risk I’ll take to see them with running water, proper sanitation, and steam power. I’m working on giving them electricity. The collegium is fascinated with my experiments in physics. The place is dynamic again; they’re not just reciting the things they learned so many years ago. Did you know that they had an entire copy of Galen’s writings on medicine, gathering dust? Of course you didn’t – you couldn’t. My point, though, is that there’s real accomplishment going on here along with the learning.”

Jamieson reflected on his friend. His hair was wild now; the result of no ‘proper’ barbers in this time – but Kelso was as reinvested in himself as he’d ever been.

‘Rehabilitiate: To reinvest with new standards and dignity.’ Jamieson remembered that definition as he watched his friend sip some wine, eat some bread, and sit in the half-light of afternoon which was filtering through the clerestory windows.

“You can take me back, Doctor Jamieson – but you’ll have a hard time explaining all of this in court. I doubt they’ll know how to deal with it.”

“You can relax. I’m not going to take you back. But you have to answer me a question: Why Nicaea? And, while I’m at it – why did you set the machine for a fifty-year future-relative return?”

Kelso smiled. “You see, in the three years – which seems like a lifetime, depending on your point of view - -that I’ve been here, I’ve learned a few things I didn’t count on.”

He continued, “I came here to prove to the world that ‘Jesus’ was a real person. I came back in time to settle myself and make myself useful, in a position which would give me access to the council to come and go, learning what I could. Instead, I learned that what’s been going on over there for over a year is a truly a free-for-all. They can’t even agree on the name of the person who lived three-hundred-odd years ago; what he did; where he was even born. You were right – there were no contemporaneous records. What comes out of that council is going to be invention; the literal creation of a character which will then be ‘sold’ to everyone in the Western world.”

He continued, “I wanted to find proof – real proof, you see – and return, of a time when the people involved – including you – were either very, very old or dead. At the time, I’d figured my information would trump any remaining ‘charges’.”

“Crisis of faith, eh?” Jamieson smiled at the irony of it.

“You could say that. I still believe there’s a universal force – but it’s patent and clear now that no one person or group of people know what that is.”

“Welcome to agnosticism, Doctor Kelso!” Jamieson began to laugh.

Jamieson continued. “The ironic thing here is that if there was ‘rehabilitation’ to be done, you’ve done it yourself, by the passing of time and the work you’ve accomplished, even at the expense of exposing yourself to great danger. You’ve learned a lot – and so have I.”

Knudson entered the room again. “What’s it gonna be, guys?” He looked impatient.

“Doctor Kelso isn’t coming back, Detective, and I’m not going to press the issue.”

Knudson looked first at Jamieson, then at Kelso. “We’ve come to take you home, Doctor Kelso.”

Kelso paused; smiled, then spoke.


“I am home, Detective.”


_____________


Kelso and Jamieson said their good-byes; Kelso had a meeting ‘near the time they changed the guard’ (time being reckoned far differently in third-century Nicaea); he had to go, or he’d lose the light (light also being measured differently); he shook Jamieson’s hand warmly, they took each other’s measure one last time, and Kelso left; his pace dynamic and his purpose a bit of a mystery.


“Why did you let him go, Doctor?” Knudson was confused and frustrated – as well as suddenly realizing his distance from anything he could call ‘home’, himself.


“Because there are some things which should never change. I learned that in a dream. There are also some which should - I learned that, here.” He paused, then turned to Knudson.

"I wonder what we'll find - when we're home?"

Jamieson pressed the first button; a grey cloud appeared in front of them. He pressed the second; the cloud turned to blue.


Together, they stepped into the light....

Lux Perpetua - Lux Lucis Quod Verum (The Light and the Truth - Pt. II)

The next steps Knudson and Jamieson took were on a street in a Roman city. Knudson’s first comment was earthy, and to the point.

“Shit”, he exclaimed, gagging. “This place stinks!”

Jamieson laughed. It wasn’t quite like his dream, but close. The city smelled like several kinds of ordure; animal, human, and – other things, not quite recognized.

There were other absent smells – ozone; auto exhaust; mechanical smells were not present at all.


It wasn’t long before they were noticed – this time, it was by a late-Empire legionary.

“Salve; civis!”

To Knudsen, in a low voice, Jamieson said “You’d better let me do the talking, Detective.”

“With pleasure.”

“Salve; Centurion!” Jamieson went on to ask about lodgings for proper citizens; the centurion directed them to a domus for traveling government officials, which Jamieson and Knudson appeared to be. Jamieson proffered a carefully-forged document under the Emperor’s seal – something which a centurion wasn’t likely to question.

He didn’t. Instead, he sent them on their way.

“Where are we going, Doctor?”

“Other side of town; it appears we happened into a rather poor market-section of Nicaea. Government buildings aren’t far from the lake.”

Arriving at the government lodging, Jamieson showed the innkeeper his credentials and offered to pay up front – which was accepted. They were shown to the baths, and then to their room, by a servant who might have been eighteen on a good day.

Dinner was as Jamieson expected - but he had to apologize for his friend’s ‘rough manners’, and show him how proper Romans dined. Jamieson asked one of his couch-company about the Council.

“You must see a lot of strange types come through.”

“Do we! Odd sorts from Pannonia; hairy fellows from Gaul – all of them bent on proving one thing-religious or another. Be happy to get my trading done and get out of this place.”

“We’ve been afield for some weeks – how is the governor?”, asked Jamieson.

“Busy, as always. I’ll be lucky to see him in a week; meantime I just keep spending money in this place.” The trader seemed unhappy. ‘Business travel’, thought Jamieson. ‘The same, the world – and time – over.’

They learned, however, that the Governor had recently – within the past year or so - sponsored a strange fellow who was looking for a magisterial appointment – that is to say, introductions to the local collegium. Jamieson bet it was Kelso.

The trader’s description of the man – and his odd Latin – all but confirmed it.

Motioning to Knudsen, after explaining that he had no Greek or Latin, Jamieson began a low conversation with him after leaving the dining-room. “It’s Kelso, all right. He’s wangled himself a commission as an educator. Chances are he’ll also be working on things for the Governor. Time enough for that tomorrow. Tonight, let’s get some sleep.”

This was an idea of which Knudsen approved. Their room was Spartan, but clean, and the bedding didn’t smell, which was a wonderful thing, on balance.


Morning came soon – they both had a hard time sleeping, as there simply wasn’t any sound – the city, for all its importance, simply buttoned-up at night and that was that. Still sodden with sleep, Jamieson dragged himself out of bed when the light woke him. He woke Knudson shortly after.

Breakfast was simple – bread and water, with a little wine in it. Thus fortified, they went looking for the government buildings.

As in their own time, the government-complex wasn’t hard to find – they just went looking for the largest group of buildings, and walked to the courtyard where they saw men en toga, milling about; obviously awaiting their time.

“So what do we do? Walk up and ask for ‘Kelso’?”, said Detective Knudson.

“In my case, that’s exactly what’s going to happen,” said Jamieson – which he proceeded to do, to the shock of the Detective.

“And what is your business with the magister?”, said the clerk behind the desk. While Jamieson thought of how to tell him that he had visitors from a very long distance, and that their business was very urgent, he said, “This man is detached from the garrison at Rome. Here is our letter of transit and introduction, under the Emperor’s seal. We are here to question magister Kelso.”

The bluff worked – clerks being clerks the world (and time) over; the greater fear was of losing their job; the ‘right’ thing, when viewed from that light, was heavily nuanced.

As Jamieson and Knudson walked behind the clerk into Kelso’s – office? – the clerk greeted Kelso, and left the two men in his office. He was gone before Kelso looked up; eyes wide, a look of terror beginning to cross his face.

Jamieson couldn’t resist.

“I’m back!”


Knudsen walked up behind him after circling him just out of vision’s range. Grasping him firmly by the arm, he said, “Doctor Kelso – come with me, please.”

Knudson’s grasp left little room for argument; he’d practiced his ‘trade’ well over the years, and it showed. He walked Doctor Kelso quickly to an anteroom, followed by Jamieson.

Kelso turned white.

“Did you think I was going to just leave you to your own devices, Kelso?”

“I – I thought I’d – killed you.” Saying it – in English – made it seem final.

“Well, you didn’t. What on earth do you think you’re doing here? You don’t speak Latin well; you don’t speak Greek – how on earth did you manage to get along?

“Magister?”

A young man, obviously a servant, had ducked his head into the anteroom. Kelso answered him in halting Latin; stating he’d be along shortly.

Jamieson’s eyes grew wide. Kelso didn’t wait for the question. He just smiled.

“I’ve convinced them that I’m a scholar. Wasn’t hard. I now have a ‘position’ of sorts with the local governor. Here, I specialize in teaching ‘natural history’ – it’s what passes for physics here – and I’ve shown them a thing or two. Sanitation will come here, one way or another; I’ve also convinced them that boiling water the drinking water is a good way to stay healthy.”

“I’m here to take you back to stand trial for--” Knudson’s words were cut off by Kelso’s voice, louder this time.

“You’re doing nothing of the kind.” His voice startled both Knudson and Jamieson.

Continuing, he said, “Here, I’m respected. Back ‘home’ – as you call it – I was this man’s glorified servant, after teaching him for years,” pointing at Jamieson as he spoke.

After that slight had soaked in, he continued. “I’ve helped these people clean up their water supply; I’ve built them a small steam-engine, and I’m thinking we’ll fit one to a ship soon – it’ll be the easiest thing to do. Think of how it’ll affect trade!”

Jamieson’s eyes grew wider.

“You see, you were right, Jamieson, but for the wrong reasons. You don’t need to alter their beliefs – just help make their lives better.”

Jamieson almost forgot where he was; for a moment, it was as if he were still in his living-room, sharing a bottle of wine.

That sounded like a good idea, actually. Jamieson asked if he could bring the servant back, and with him some bread and wine.

This accomplished, the three men sat in Kelso’s reception room and talked. It turned out that Kelso had ideas of his own.

“I’ve convinced them – some crude optics helped; I suppose I’m now the father of the microscope – that there are a lot of bad things which people can’t see. As a result, this will be the first Roman city to have a true sanitation system outside of Rome itself – and by edict, flush-toilets will wind up in every block as well as public ones in every quarter.”

He continued, “Do you know they’re arguing across town about what goes in the Bible, and what gets left out? I attended one of the meetings; it was a free-for-all. Jamieson; you were right. Religion is a problem – but you’re wrong regarding the solution.”

Jamieson listened again; it was as if he was back in class at the university; Kelso’s voice carrying the room as in the old days.

“The answer is education, Jamieson – not destruction. Destroy their religion; these people will create something else – and who knows what it will be. Give them knowledge, and – well, you know the rest of that proverb.”


Jamieson saw what Kelso had done here – and began to feel something he hadn’t felt for a while – empathy.


(Next - The Light and the Truth - Conclusion)

Lux Perpetua -- Lux Lucis Quod Verum (The Light and the Truth)

(Six months later; relative)

Detective Knudson looked at Dr. Jamieson.

“You look like laundry,” he said.

Jamieson laughed. “We both do, Detective. Not to worry. Where we’re going, everyone else does, too.”

It had taken Jamieson another three months to figure out where Kelso had gone. The probes he’d sent to the actual coordinates had returned damaged, or had sent back images of destruction. Jamieson had thought Kelso might encrypt his coordinates – and it turned out he was right. They’d’ve died had they gone where the probes materialized.

Triple-encryption was not easy to break – but it didn’t take them forever, nor did they give up on it. Jamieson had ‘friends’ in places which Detective Knudson could only imagine, and they’d been more than helpful in helping Jamieson with his math.

“We’re sure of this?”

“Yes; Detective – quite sure. Dirty trick; that – but Kelso’s about to learn a few things – starting with the fact that I’m pretty smart, too.”

“Why did he go back, Doctor?” Detective Knudson was still trying to get his mind around things.

“I believe he went back because he wanted to prove something. He’s trying to prove it to me, really – but I think he’s trying to prove it to himself, also. Regardless, I’ve got 80% use of my right arm for life, and that means I’m going to go back and help you get this fellow. He’s no longer my friend. I want that understood.”

Jamieson stood; walked to the panel and checked some figures on the display. “We’ve got another twenty minutes before the array is charged; did you want some coffee? Last we’ll get for a while.” Jamieson motioned to the coffee-maker at the far wall in the lab.

“Thanks, Doctor.” Knudson was still fiddling with his Roman clothing.

Returning with two cups of hot brew, Jamieson continued. “Kelso’s an odd one – but many tell me that I am, too. He doesn’t appreciate my views on nearly everything – especially this project.”


“So, what got you at odds, anyway?”


“A dog”, said Jamieson.

“I thought it was the whole morality of this – thing here.”

“In the beginning, it was. I never mentioned the dog. I sent my dog back to medaeval France. I fetched him back a few months later. Kelso was disgusted with me.

He continued, “I’d talked about going back and actually changing the root-problem with the rest of the world – pollution; war; all of it. Kelso wasn’t having anything to do with it – so he shot me.”

“You’d actually change the past?” Knudson looked alarmed.

“Yes. I’d change the past. Look at where you are right now. You’re sitting in a lab that’s air conditioned against ozone. It’s March, but you drove your car to work today behind triple UV-protected glass – and your office has the same. Fedoras are back – because no one leaves a protected structure without a hat.”

Knudson began to see the truth of it.

“You eat hydroponically-grown vegetables, because the dirt-grown variety gave up almost eighty years ago. Tell me – when was the last time you heard a songbird?”

“I don’t remember,” said Knudson.

“My point exactly. Your children will know them only from books, video, or holography. What do you suppose caused all this?”

Knudson just shook his head, silently.

“Religion, Detective. It was religion. It’s the only force powerful enough to sustain this sort of thing.”

Jamieson continued. “You see, Detective, while governments in Europe tried to sort themselves out, it was really the power of the Church which held sway. We were told to conquer the earth and subdue it – and we did. The religions of the western world told us to reproduce – and now there are too many of us. They told us that we were better than everyone – so we set about ‘proving’ that in countless wars. Governments simply do not hold that kind of power – because, as I explained to Doctor Kelso, while a government can order an eighteen-year-old into battle, he won’t fight – not unless he believes to a certainty that he’ll go to a ‘better place’ if he dies for that order.”

“You were – going back – to…” Knudson’s words trailed off as he contemplated the enormity of the thing.

“Yes. I’d sent the dog to prove I could. I was going to send myself to prove that I was right – because I was going to change the historical points at which we began to destroy the world. There’s only one problem with it.”

“And what’s that, Doctor?” Knudson was now enthralled with the potential of the thing; with the idea….

“Kelso was right,” said Jamieson.

Knudson tried to pick up the trail here; tried to find an angle. “So, you were going to go back – and do what? Kill the Pope, or something?”

Jamieson laughed. “No, not at all. Actually, the Pope isn’t the problem – but no matter. Kelso was right. I could change things – perhaps even solve the problem – but people have the right to be fools.”

“How did you reach that conclusion?”, said Knudson.

“It wasn’t from anything he did. It was from a dream I had while everyone was busy trying to save my life.”

“By the way,” said Knudson. “Why are we going back three years after he arrives?”

“To give him time to settle in – knowing Kelso, he’ll be pretty resourceful; besides – someone with his knowledge will find a way to get useful - and if he does that, he’ll be visible. Prevents our looking for a needle in a very strange haystack.”

Knudson’s head was spinning – perhaps from what he’d just been told; perhaps from the rarefied air in the lab, or from what they were about to do – but he quickly refocused himself.”

“Look – I don’t care what you do afterward. All I care about is that you help me bring Kelso back. That’s why I’m here.”

“I’ll help you bring him back, Detective. You can count on that.”

Almost on cue, the reminder-alarm chimed. Everything was ready.

Jamieson stood, and walked to the panel. “Detective, would you come here, please?” Knudson stood, and walked to the panel beside Jamieson.

“I’m going to press this button here, then this one. You’ll see a grey cloud form; then a blue one. Walk beside me through the blue cloud – on the other side is our destination.”

Knudson laughed. “Y’know – I’ve never asked where we were going in these get-ups.”

Jamieson pressed the second button; the cloud shifted from grey to iridescent blue.


“A place called Nicaea,” he said, as they walked back to the blue cloud, and vanished.

(Next - The Light and the Truth - II)

Lux Perpetua - Lex Legis Finium (Statute of Limitation)

“I’m confused, Doctor Jamieson.” Detective Knudson was standing at Jamieson’s bedside a week later, still with his notepad; still puzzled.

Jamieson awoke from a half-sleep. His shoulderblade was knitting up well, but he’d never go through a metal-detector again – and since the PDA (patient-delivered anaesthetic) hadn’t yet taken full effect that morning, he had this dull ache in his shoulder and back.

“Look”, he began. “I have a hole in my back, and my shoulderblade looks like a cowpattie after a heatwave. I’ve got a golf-ball sized hole in my chest. They both hurt like hell. So sit down tell me what’s on your mind, or shut up and get out – but do one or the other, before the morphine kicks in.”

Knudson didn’t argue. He saw the pain in the other man’s eyes.

“Doctor, my confusion stems from the fact that Doctor Kelso could also, it seems, come back any time he chose – am I right?”

“Yes – and no. Remember those coordinates in the machine?”

“Well, yes.” Knudson waited, patiently.

“They’re the only ‘absolute’ in the equation, so to speak. We know exactly when he’s coming back.”

“And that’s my other question, Doctor – I waited until now to ask you, because I thought your mind would be clearer. Why would he choose a date fifty years in the future?”

“Because he was taking the same gamble that I would have, Detective. The gamble that the machine would still be here – and that the heat would have died down. You see, he meant for me to die – not wind up here.”

“But there’s no statute of limitations on murder, Doctor Jamieson.”

“Yes – but how many cases have you seen in the news – someone escapes from prison fifty years earlier for a heinous murder – and they’re found living in a suburban neighborhood after having gone straight; married, raised a family--”

Knudson cut him off. “But they didn’t use time machines to do it!” He realized how surreal that comment sounded – but there were many things which he was struggling to absorb about this case.

“No, they didn’t. But still – how many of those cases have resulted in a commutation-of-sentence?”

“Most”, admitted Knudson, albeit reluctantly.

“Q.E.D.”, said Jamieson, his voice a bit slurred. Morphine –

“So, you’re saying that we have to wait fifty years to catch this guy?”

“No, Detective. You don’t.”

“Why is that, Doctor?”

“Because you and I are going back – to catch - -that sumbitch--”

Jamieson drifted to sleep. Knudson’s eyes were wide.

“I see”, he thought. “I see.”


(Next: The Light and the Truth....)

Lux Perpetua -- Totus Vicis Obvius Universitas (All The Time In The World)

The next time Jamieson awoke, he wasn’t fighting the effects of anaesthetic. The nurse fetched a police-detective, who was just down the hall.

“Dr. Jamieson?”

“Yeah,” said Jamieson, still sodden with sleep.

“I’m Detective Knudson of the Seattle P.D.” Knudson showed Jamieson a badge, which he didn’t bother to read – it wouldn’t have been any use, anyway, and this Knudson-fellow couldn’t have gotten past the door unless he’d been secured at the front-desk, anyhow.

“I suppose you want to know why Kelso shot me.”

“That’d be a good first step. Next, I’d like you to tell me where we can find him.”

Jamieson laughed – and winced; his shoulder reminding him that a 9MM had shattered his shoulderblade a few hours before. He was still trying to recover from the dream, also.

“Kelso’s likely in plain sight. Not one to do this sort of thing – he’s probably home, waiting for you, if he’s anywhere. Maybe down by the water, watching the tugs come through the locks, or up at Seattle Center, wishing for the Future We Never Had. Have you tried his office?” Jamieson was starting to feel something else – irritation and anger.

“Dr. Jamieson, that’s the odd thing. We’ve looked everywhere – and I mean everywhere. Dr. Kelso is gone. Not just missing – gone. We were sort of wondering if you knew if he had any enemies – because his wallet, keys – everything, in fact – are right where he left them.”

“That son-of-a-bitch,” muttered Jamieson.

“Come again?’, said Knudson.

“That son-of-a-BITCH!” This time, Jamieson was forceful; shouting almost. “He went and DID it!”

The nurse was there by this time; gently restraining Jamieson, who could go nowhere in any event.

“Now, Doctor,” she said, the last word coming hard for her – she viewed Jamieson as not-really-doctors; not the kind she respected, anyway – “You’ll pull your stitches; that collarbone is held together with wire and pins, and you’ll be lucky to use your arm in six months, let alone any time soon.”

Jamieson sank back to the pillow, realizing his position was hopeless.

Knudson continued, “We spoke to one of your colleagues, a fellow named Andrew--”

“Carlson Andrew, yes”, said Jamieson, impatient now.

“Well, Dr. Andrew told me some pretty interesting things about your work over at the University,” said Knudson.

“Go on.” Jamieson’s voice was flat. Either the detective knew, in which case he’d have to explain everything (to the chagrin of his backers, who wanted the technology for themselves), or he didn’t, in which case he had a pretty good idea what his next move would be -- in a day; six months; ten years – it didn’t matter….

“Yes. Andrew told me you were working on a – time machine.” Detective Knudsen could barely hold his snicker-smile from his face.

Jamieson paused. “What the hell”, he thought. “Might as well see what his face does next.”

“That’s correct, Detective.”

Knudson’s smirk froze, then turned to stone. “You are kidding, right?”

“No, Detective. I’m not.” Jamieson was equally stoic.

“Christ!”, said Knudson. “You mean that Dr. Kelso—“ he flipped through his notes, “—could have used this thing and disappeared like--” He let his words freeze in midair; colder than the turn of the conversation.

“Yes”, said Jamieson, locking eyes with Detective Knudson. “He could.”

Knudson got up and quickly walked out the door. Jamieson could hear muffled conversation between he and the nurse; voices getting louder as both sides stood their ground.

Knudson walked back in with Dr. Noyes.

“We have to find a way to get you on your feet, and quickly”, said Knudson.

Jamieson chuckled.

“What could be funny now?”, said Knudson.

“You don’t understand. At all.” Jamieson allowed the smile to ease from his face, then said, “Detective, tear a piece of paper out of your notebook there.”

Knudson did so. “What do you want me to do with it?”

“Sit.” Jamieson nodded to the seats at the side of his bed. Dr. Noyes sat beside Detective Knudson.

“What you’re holding is a graphic representation of the universal-timeline, Detective. What my ‘machine’ does is very simple – it creates two points, both in space and time. One is here-and-now; the other is then-and-there.”

He waited for Knudson and Noyes to grasp this, then continued. “Now, take your pen. Make a mark at any point on the paper. Then, make another mark at any other point.”

Knudson did so; then looked intently at Jamieson.

“Now, hold the paper together until the two points meet.”

Knudson did so, his eyes widening. “We ‘jump’ at that point, Detective. And, before you ask the question – yes – it really is that simple.”

“That explains the use of electricity by your facility,” said Knudson.

“I can see you’ve done some of your homework well, Detective. Now, I’m going to give you some very clear instructions. I want you to write these down; read them back to me, then go find Dr. Andrew to help you.” He spent the next half-hour instructing Detective Knudson in the operation of the machine.

“Now, I’m going to tell you something else. Listen carefully, because I will only say this once.” He paused to allow the words to sink in.

“There are some people who have funded this operation who would be very, very disappointed in what I’ve just done. For that reason, the information I’ve just given you must never leave this room in your case, Doctor, and must never go any farther than Andrew, in your case, Detective. If you do, everyone in this room will be dead in a week, and likely your families as well. Do you understand?”

Detective Knudson froze, then nodded, slowly.

“Good. Now, go find Andrew, and come back when you have finished.”

Knudson didn’t like being told what to do by a civilian. He started to object; Jamieson cut him off.

“Detective – I can appreciate your situation – you’re usually in charge of such things. Let me quite assure you that this is far beyond your pay-grade and far beyond your scope of authority. Please just do as I’ve requested, and then come right back here. I’ll assure you’ll see then that I’m cooperating fully, and then some, with your investigation.”

Suddenly tired, Jamieson relaxed fully on his pillow. In a moment he was asleep.

About an hour later, he was nudged awake by the detective.

“Dr. Andrew and I obtained what you wanted. It’s here.” Knudson placed a piece of paper in front of Jamieson’s face to read.

“Pull that back about four inches, will you?”, said Jamieson. Focusing, he read the numbers on the page, along with some other data. He smiled.

“What is this, Doctor Jamieson?”

“It’s the proof I needed, Detective.”

“Suppose you tell me what I need to know, Doctor?”

“Detective, that information is proof that the machine was used, as I had intended to use it, although to a different location and different point in time. It’s proof that Dr. Kelso was the one who used it, and it’s proof that you will never find Dr. Kelso unless you are fully willing to wait for me to heal.”

“We don’t have that kind of time, Doctor. He could be anywhere.”

Jamieson laughed. His face told Jamieson that Knudson couldn’t see what was funny at all.

“Detective, remember my little paper-analogy about time travel?”

“Yeah, and?”

“Dear Dr. Kelso forgot one thing. He forgot to erase his coordinates. That means he intends to come back. That also means he’s left the relative equivalent of a paper-trail – because it works both ways; what he can find, we can use.”

Jamieson continued, as if in a classroom. “You see, it’s all relative. He could be gone half a lifetime – but the absolutes are still in the machine. We can go find him, right where he materialized, a moment after he does so. We can even show up five minutes beforehand and have the handcuffs ready, or whatever you folks do nowadays.”

He finished, half-laughing, “No, Detective – we don’t have to rush. If this shoulder takes six months to heal properly, we have six months.”


“We have all the time in the world.”

(Next - Statute of Limitations...)