Time Anon

In the book

Josh had not survived a life of excitement simply to inordinately leave it and be at peace in a past he was not inherently aware of. Yet he was drawn, as a mesmerized moth, to be able to accommodate that desire and fortunately, enough, of a future society’s desire for them to return to and for some reason, modify that past. Adjust it as necessary was the mandate and adapt its impact on an Alien Guardian’s society that would come. He was not sure what that past did mean to him or them, but in the days before Stevenson sent him on a phenomenal journey with Patricia O’Shea, it seemed clear that there was a pre-destiny awaiting him. Somehow, the mysterious aliens had known for some time of his dream. Was it implanted? Stevenson must have cleverly groomed Josh Merlin for the task before him with the meticulous care that was the hallmark of the superior Travelers. Travelers that had come back from the future to create a path for man and his precious habitation. The path would ultimately lead to a home for that celestial gathering of ethereal yet brilliant intelligentsia. An intelligence which used ‘Travelers’ for Time travel and ‘Guardians’ for guidance. Now trusted, Josh was to become a Traveler. Ireland was the goal.

In the book

Merlin jumped and was clear as he scattered himself upon the small rock platform that was the only place to get onto the Skellig. The flimsy curragh pulled away strongly so that they would clear the next wave set that could leave them under the fierce undertow of the cliff side. Waving a heartfelt goodbye to the departing men, Merlin climbed the stone case as it wound its way up the windy rock. The climb was at such a sharp angle that any backward moment might tumble him into a boiling sea below. No hand holds existed, for whoever carved the first steps, must have had feet of a goat and wanted to cut and leave the precarious perch as soon as possible, he reasoned. The climb at first rose sharply, winding around a rocky pinnacle until Merlin found himself leaving the prevailing wind and finally coming to a leveled spot where a small stone hut was built into a tight cleft in the rock-face of the mountain. No one appeared in it, so Merlin climbed further, the dizzying height aggravated by wheeling gulls that screeched and dove into his path trying to taunt him to wave at them and drop to an angry ocean below. He smiled at their beguiling flight and whistled to them in friendship. Suddenly they understood and rode the wind alongside him now, hovering almost motionless and appearing to be showing him the way. Soon a wedge-like plateau appeared with a multiple of small huts sat pitched defiantly together. Their contrariness being that they hung vertically over the precipitous cliff, defying the wind and height in a dogmatic display of man’s mind over matter. These humble hovels could not, and would not, plunge into the maelstrom below. Suddenly, a solitary figure appeared from one of the small doorways. He held a clutch of tattered volumes in his arms as if to protect his frail-looking body from the elements with an embracing and secret intent. Obviously a scholar, he seemed to radiate protection with knowledge, for such men, incessantly bound books to their bosoms as if to shield their self-indulged frailness from unseen and harsh realities of the inanity of man.

In the book

“The time, about 10th century. The place; a cave carved out of rock brutalized by an Ice Age that occurred merely a few thousands of years past. Unobtrusive, the hide-away sat deep under an isle of huge bay rock, on the South coast of Ireland. The unnoticeable site had deep meaning to history, but its tale was hidden well by fragments of time long past. An entrance was smothered into a rocky shore line that ran adjacent to the bay, its opening covered with some cluttered timbers and rocks that possibly had made an abode for some primitives once. Deep in the pit of the cave, a glistening patina object of strange design lay amid a collection of debris. On close inspection, the object was a concoction of man-made manufacture.”

In the book

“A 21st century world has uncovered Travelers in Time among them. A society from far ahead has sent men back to enhance their own coming world of the future. Recalling the ‘Cry Wolf” syndrome with the UFO threat, contemporary societies have stubbornly refused to fully acknowledge that there can be any such aliens. It bodes well for the Travelers for they move almost with impunity among the lot of man, unfettered by a world’s science that could reveal the Traveler’s presence, yet hesitate being too prudent. The Traveler’s aim; change the world’s destiny to suite the world of the ‘Godh’.”

In the book

A question has always beleaguered man. What would he do if thrust back in time? Would he have learned the simple basics of 21st century physics? Would he be able to show how to build a simple generator or a useful water pump? Might he, as the early Egyptians were able, build a building without laser transits? If confronted by intelligent but ignorant neighbors could he crudely talk of things such as radio waves and how to send or receive them? These are but mere basics of our time. Could the dilettante “masters of the universe” from our schools show how to start a civilizatio