The Aeolian Master - Book One - Revival HTML version

maybe they've known about this complex all along."
"Nonsense." stated the Galaef in a low voice. "There are only two ways into this complex, and they've been
guarded from the moment they were constructed." A flush of anger left his face. "You better think of
something more reasonable," he said in a quieter tone.
The three of them stood staring for a moment at the indicator. They were each lost in a different reality,
thoughts in space and imagination turning slowly searching for answers.
Finally, Dr. Riker turned and walked back to the chamber. "There is another possibility," he said. "It may be
that there is more truth to the myth than we realize. There is something about this man," he continued as he
looked into the chamber. "I'm not much for intuitiveness, but every time I gaze at this man I want to shudder."
The Galaef walked over to the chamber. "You're making too much out of this." He looked into the chamber.
"This man is certainly not . . ." The Galaef stopped talking and looked as if he were forcing himself not to
shudder. “He is certainly not a God,” he finally managed to say.
Ben joined the other two men by the chamber. "There's one way to find out."
The Galaef exploded out of his stupor. “"That's right." He looked at Dr. Riker. "How long will it take to
bring him back to consciousness?" he asked with an authoritative tone.
The doctor thought a moment. "If we treat this man as if he has been under for over six hundred years, then
it will probably take in excess of two months." The doctor drifted off as if he were talking to himself. "We will
have to slowly increase the magnitude and frequency of voltage potentials. As this is done we will substitute air
for the suspending liquid, and at the same time increase his heart beat. This will create a demand for ATP. A
low concentration of glucose will then be injected into his circulatory system. If the concentration is too high
the shock could halt all life functions," he paused for a moment. "The entire operation will be controlled by
computers, of course."
"Of course," repeated the Galaef. He looked down at the man in the chamber. "I'm putting you in charge,
Dr. Riker. You will have full authorization to acquire all the manpower and equipment you will need.
Professor Hillar will act as your assistant and advisor as you bring this man back to consciousness.” There
seemed to be a hint of excitement in his voice. “And then we can ask him the appropriate questions.” He
looked at Dr. Riker. “Begin the operation right away, and keep me informed."
Ben glanced down at the man in the chamber. “You know,” he started, before the Galaef could leave the
room, “the myth states that the Aeolian Master destroyed the inhabitants of Earth by the billions.” Ben raised
his head and looked at the Galaef, “You don’t suppose we’re bringing a monster back to life?”
“Ridiculous,” replied the Galaef with a barely detectable nervousness in his voice. He turned and walked out
of the room.
The dim, white light from the handbeams cast eerie shadows from the debris lying about the large tunnel,
creating black, irregular figures on the walls and conjuring up vile monstrosities ready to pounce upon the
unsuspecting. The imaginary figures of the unknown extended past the lights and danced into the darkness of
the night.
The stench of rat droppings, decaying railroad ties, and orange fungus wafted on the stale air and filled their
nostrils with an unpleasant sewer-like odor. A long time ago, the walkway beneath their feet, being made of
CPT plastic, had been bright and shiny. Now there were several inches of dirt packed onto its surface with
clumps of slimy fungus growing here and there. Cracks could be seen in the walls. Broken lights and their
fixtures, no longer working, protruded from the ceiling. The three sets of tracks, five feet below the walkway,
which once carried subway trains into and under the city, were eroded and rusty with some of the rails being
askew on the ties.
The two figures, in a stealthy motion, moved cautiously, but hurriedly along the left side of the tunnel. The
faint echoes from their footsteps ricocheted off the walls—they quickly diminished and were lost in the
distance. Once the woman thought she heard a noise from behind. She grasped her brother's arm and voiced
her concern. They stopped to listen, but they heard nothing, so they moved on.
After awhile her brother halted their progress, took the cigar out of his mouth, and said in a whispered voice,
"He should be just ahead."