The Traveler

A black cat approached Lundquist and he scratched behind the animal’s ears. “That’s the theory at least, in a very simplified form. And I had the theory in my mind when I went to hear a lecture in New York given by a monk from Tibet. I’m sitting there, listening to him talk about the six different realms of Buddhist cosmology, and I realize that he’s describing the branes-the different dimensions and the barriers that separate them. But there’s one crucial difference: my associates at Princeton can’t conceive of going to these different places. For a Traveler, it’s quite possible. The body can’t do it, but the Light within us can.”

Lundquist leaned back in his chair and smiled at his guests. “This connection between spirituality and physics made me view science in a new way. Right now we’re smashing atoms and ripping apart chromosomes. We’re going to the bottom of the ocean and looking up into space. But we’re not really investigating the region within our skull except in the most superficial way. People are using MRI machines and CAT scans to view the brain, but it’s all very small and physiological. No one seems to realize how immense consciousness really is. It ties us to the rest of the universe.”

Richardson glanced around the room and saw a tabby cat sitting on a leather folder crammed with sheets of stained paper. Trying not to alarm Lundquist, he stood up and took a few steps toward the table. “So you started your experiment?”

“Yes. First, at Princeton. Then I retired and moved here to save money. Remember, I’m a chemist, not a physicist. So I decided to search for a substance that would break our Light free of our body.”

“And you came up with a formula…”

“It’s not a cake recipe.” Lundquist sounded annoyed. “3B3 is a living thing. A new strain of bacterium. When you swallow the liquid solution, it’s absorbed into your nervous system.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“I’ve taken it dozens of times. And I can still remember to take out my garbage cans on Thursday and pay my electric bill.”

The tabby cat purred and walked over to Richardson when he reached the table. “And 3B3 allows you to see different realms?”

“No. It’s a failure. You can swallow all you want, but it won’t turn you into a Traveler. The journey is very short, a brief contact instead of a real landing. You stay long enough to get one or two images, then you have to leave.”

Richardson opened the folder and glanced at the stained graphs and scribbled notes. “What if we took your bacterium and gave it to someone?”

“Be my guest. Some of it is in the petri dish right in front of you. But you’d be wasting your time. As I told you, it doesn’t work. That’s why I started giving it away to this young man named Pius Romero who used to shovel the snow off my driveway. I thought that perhaps there was something wrong with my own consciousness. Perhaps other people could take 3B3 and cross over to another place. But it wasn’t me. Whenever Pius comes back for more, I insist that he give me a full report. People have visions of another world, but they can’t remain.”

Richardson picked up the petri dish on the table. A blue-green bacterium was growing in a graceful curve on the agar solution. “This is it?”

“Yes. The failure. Go back to the Brethren and tell them to check into a monastery. Pray. Meditate. Study the Bible, the Koran, or the Kabbalah. There’s no quick way to escape our shabby little world.”

“But what if a Traveler took 3B3?” Richardson asked. “It would start him on the journey, then he could finish on his own.”

Dr. Lundquist leaned forward and Richardson thought that the old man might jump out of the chair. “That’s an interesting idea,” he said. “But aren’t all the Travelers dead? The Brethren have spent a great deal of money slaughtering them. But who knows? Maybe you can find one hiding out in Madagascar or Kathmandu.”

“We’ve found a cooperative Traveler.”

“And you’re using him?”

Richardson nodded.

“I can’t believe it. Why are the Brethren doing this?”

Richardson picked up the folder and the petri dish. “This is a wonderful discovery, Dr. Lundquist. I just want you to know that.”

“I’m not looking for compliments. Just an explanation. Why have the Brethren changed their strategy?”

Boone approached the table and spoke with a soft voice, “Is that what we came for, Doctor?”

“I think so.”

“We’re not coming back. You better be sure.”

“This is all we need. Listen, I don’t want anything negative happening to Dr. Lundquist.”

“Of course, Doctor. I understand how you feel. He’s not a criminal like Pius Romero.” Boone placed a gentle hand on Richardson’s shoulder and guided him to the doorway. “Go back to the car and wait. I need to explain our security concerns to Dr. Lundquist. It won’t take long.”