Prologue:
The story below is based on true events; I show no proof and
offer no other explanation that this is true. All I can say is this was not an ordinary
day in my life; if you do not believe I have nothing to prove if you do then
be forewarned.
My Name is Jack Heart. Five-nine, medium build (leaning toward the large side), I have a shock
of thick black curls (which I despise but cannot get rid of), and deep green
eyes. I am not exactly in the best shape, somewhat of a gut, but layered below
that is a decent muscle mass.
In my line of work, there does call for the occasional heavy
lifting, but most is using my mind. Yes, I am a tech geek, not the glamorous of
jobs. No international intrigue,
archeological escapades, or saving the earth from possible asteroid
attack. Plain old “Did you try
turning off then on again…”
Of course, there is a lot more to it than that, but for most computer users, the IT department is kept in a closet until
their computer won't boot or they forget the password to their email account.
I work for a tech consultant service that provides external
IT support for various businesses.
At our corporate offices, I mainly keep to myself; however, there is this one girl who works in the QA department that I sometimes go out
of my way to say hello to and carry a conversation or two. For weeks I have been trying to work up the
nerves to ask her out, but I always fall short.
Her name is Allison Andrews; I mention her because, in the next adventure, our fates will intertwine.
I could start by saying, “My story begins…” but that does not
make sense because, in retrospect, my story began at conception; however, for this mundane tech, whose life revolves around the continuity of technology
in the business…
My adventure began….
1.0: The Looking Glass
I was called to a high school, one of many who contracted my
services, with a network-wide outage.
Half the campus could not log in, and the other half lost access to their files.
Thankfully this involved little human interaction, an
obvious server issue that needed mainly access to their remote Data Center.
A Data Center is a large chilled room that
contains all of the building's network equipment, including switches, routers,
internet/telephony, and, of course,e their servers.
This site uses our company’s latest technology, the HWM3500, with a quantum drive and a 6500 TerraHtz crystal processor. This server's self-contained power supply can
run 24/7 for 300 years before running out of power. The secret is the miniature particle
accelerator.
I entered the dark room and flipped the switch immediately
to the right of the door. The lights
would not come on. The room was
unusually dark, except for a shimmering bluish glow from
the far corner.
I say ‘unusually dark’ because even with the lights out, a
Data Center glows with thousands of tiny rays radiating from the various
network equipment. Green, red, amber,
solid, and blinking like a home decorated with Christmas lights.
Out of curiosity and the fact that it was the only apparent
power in the room, I approached the bluish glow, which reminded me of an
aquarium, one of those large ones you can find in SatWorld, where you enter a cave-like structure to view the myriad of fish.
To get to it, I needed to navigate around the server racks occupying the center of the
room. The glow emanated from the northeast corner where the HWM3500s are housed. However, instead of seeing the servers, the
view of the entire corner is obscured by a large scene.
Floor-to-ceiling appeared to be a poster of a large
alley crowded with pedestrians. The sign wavered like a banner in a slight breeze and was framed by that eerie
bluish glow.
As I moved closer, my eyes started to play tricks on me; the people
in the poster were moving, at first slightly, then more prominent. The large group scattered around this ally was not going anywhere but just loitering about. Some in groups of three or four, others just
mulling about alone.
They were dressed in old-style ‘refugee’ type garments. Rough woolens, the men were caps, and the
women’s heads were covered with a light shawl tied under the chin, indicative of how one would think immigrants dressed back in the early 20th
century.
I stood at the threshold of this living image in awe of the expansive
detail involved. The scene was so realistic;
it was almost as if I could step right into this work of art.
And I did.
1.2: Stepping Through
A siren sounded none like I have ever heard. Forceful shouts
of angry men filled my ears.
The sudden intrusion of movement and noise jolted me from
the trance that the image in the Data Center put me in. Back to my senses, I quickly turned around to
step back through the ‘portal?’ but was greeted by a large brick wall.
Jostled by a man in all white darting by, I turned back
around to assess my current environment.
Instead of an alleyway originally that to be, I was in a
large square courtyard surrounded by red brick apartment buildings. In the middle of each of the four walls was an
alleyway leading to the streets the front of each building was
facing.
Blocking each exit was an ambulance; I knew it was an
ambulance by the red cross centered over a large white circle painted on the
back; Because these did not look like the ambulances of the 21st
century. They resembled a large
Model-T Ford with a truck cargo hold on the rear.
With a better view of my surroundings, you know, being in
the poster, I estimated about 200 of those immigrant men and women huddled
about. Throughout the crowd were about a
dozen men dressed in white, most likely medics, attending to someone
here or there.
Along the perimeter and mainly flanking the exits were
uniformed men carrying large rifles.
Some were standing at attention others were herding the men and women to
the center of the courtyard.
Finally, at the rear of the ambulances were what I thought to
be nurses. Dressed all in white, wearing that
funny nurse’s cap and skirts, these were not the nurses of the
modern hospital.
Interestingly enough, I never thought I was on some
movie set or reenactment; my gut told me this was the real deal, and I was
no longer in proverbial Kansas.
This group all shared a common trait, maybe a race; they appeared to be Jewish, and although I am not an expert on racial attributes, the Star
of David patches they were sporting pretty much gave this away. The scene was
reminiscent of familiarity; I could not put my finger on it, possibly something
I had seen in a movie at some point. Their clothing was drab; besides the star-shaped patches, they bore no décor. I can safely say that these people
were being held against their will.
I made my way slowly through the crowd to not catch the soldiers' attention. Of course, to
go along with the early 20th-century theme, the soldiers were as well
garbed in uniforms, although they did not appear to be American. Even from this distance, I could tell the patches
on their sleeves were certainly not the US flag; I needed to move closer to make it out.
A hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me about. To my astonishment, it was one of the
medics. He quickly put a finger to his
mouth and shook his head, signaling me not to speak.
I noticed he was holding something under his left arm. I believe it was a newspaper he was using to
fuel one of the trash can fires that were randomly lit throughout the open
space to keep some of the unfortunate warm.
I gestured toward it, looking over my shoulder; he indiscreetly
handed me the wad of paper. I smoothed
out one sheet before I was a copy of the New York Times, dated July 2nd, 1943.
It was not the date that donated to my sudden loss of composer but the title
of the article contained within the page:
Nazis Occupy New
York
After what seemed like hours, but only several seconds
passed, I was knocked back to reality (if it can be called that) when the man
in white yanked the page out of my hand and quickly tossed it into the fire. He then grabbed my head and examined my eyes as one of the soldiers walked by.
Holding my right eye open with his thumbs, it widened even
more when I glanced at the swastika affixed to the soldier’s uniform. Glancing about, I noticed the faded patch
of the Star of David on one of the men’s chests, warming himself by the nearby
fire.
That is when I heard a lady scream from the other end
of the courtyard. It was so alien, except for the sound of feet shuffling and the occasional sob, the
ambiance was fairly quiet.
The scream sounded again; this time, it said very
familiar. I craned my head to the
source and spotted two soldiers dragging a woman into the alley leading to
the street. I immediately recognized
her.
Remember in the prologue; I mentioned a certain young lady in
the Quality Assurance department that I fancied? Well, she was, wearing the same dress I
admired in the office that morning before heading out to the job site.
Allison was flanked by two of the soldiers, one holding her
arm and dragging her off, the other shoving people out of the way so they could pass.
To be Continued…
