Announcing the "Writers Guild of Free Republic"

I'll lead by example: Here is the second draft of Chapters 1-4 of a novel co-authored by myself and piytar.

The working title is "Dimensions of Essence"

CHAPTER ONE: The Fight

“Have you lost your damned mind?!”

Mark drew his wrist across his mouth and quickly looked at the smear of blood on his shirt sleeve. He watched, warily, as he and Jason slowly circled one another. Jason was utterly expressionless, Mark noticed, as they both prepared to continue their fight.

Jason said nothing in response, but instead lunged forward again with another attack. Mark was not a large man, not like Jason, but he had taken martial arts classes and was skilled enough to ward off Jason’s punches. Mark refused to attack – Jason was his best friend of twenty years! -- but he was capable of at least defending himself.

After two or three more unsuccessful attacks by Jason, the men separated, both breathing heavily. Jason spoke up: “I will have your fiancée. Give up, Mark.”

Mark slowly backed away from his former friend. “Jason! What has gotten into you, what the hell are you talking about, ‘You will have my fiancée’? That’s some pretty crazy shit!”

Jason’s face still showed no emotion. He apparently realized that he was not going to defeat Mark in a fight, because he allowed Mark to back away and slowly lowered his arms. He repeated, in an emotionless voice, “I will have your fiancée.”

And with that, Jason turned and walked away and down the stairs.

Mark stood there, listening to Jason’s steps becoming more distant. Why would his best friend of slightly over twenty years have lured him to this private place, where he could launch this entirely unprovoked attack? And what was this insane talk of ‘having my fiancée’, he asked himself. Something was very different about Jason. Something sinister.

He waited in the dusk for ten minutes, partly to ensure that Jason was really gone and partly to compose himself. He slowly descended the stairs of the abandoned building, scanning for his friend-turned-adversary at every step. He made it to his car, entered it and locked the doors. He sat there for a moment, considering the events of the last hour. Jason had made some lame excuse to get him alone in the abandoned two-story building – something about acquiring the building and opening a restaurant on the first floor, and would Mark be interested in going into the venture with him. Jason had acquired the keys to the building from a real estate agent, and they would look over the site together.

Mark had little interest in investing in a restaurant with his old friend, not since his incredible opportunity to be part of the team that would initiate First Contact with the Aliens so long ago… but out of courtesy to his dearest friend, he was willing to put in an appearance and humor the man a little.

Well, that was a mistake, he thought. He’d wait a day and contact Jason on his cell phone and find out what the hell was going on.

He started his car and drove the short distance to his home. He exited his car, scanned the area around his house, and walked to the door. I really need to get a gun, he thought, although even after the unprovoked attack he’d still be hard-pressed to shoot his long-time friend. Nonetheless, now that he was somewhat famous for leading the First Contact team, various fanatics, fans, and other people might seek him out for whatever reason. Better safe than sorry, right?

When he entered his house, his beautiful fiancée Sarah looked up from her computer and called out cheerily, “Hi honey!” Her face fell as she saw his swollen lip and the smear of blood on his cheek. “What happened to you?”

“You wouldn’t believe this shit if I told you. Jason attacked me for no reason. Well, there was a reason, but it was completely crazy.”

“But… what? I thought…” she started.

“I know. Listen, let me clean up, and we’ll talk.”

He turned and entered the bathroom. He took off his bloodied shirt and inspected his image in the mirror. Not too bad, he thought, as he washed the blood from his face. Perhaps those years of martial training had actually paid off.

CHAPTER TWO: The Phone Call

The rest of the night was uneventful. He explained what Jason had done, and what he had said. Sarah was aghast at Jason’s actions, of course, and reassured her fiance that she would never date Jason… especially after what he had just done.

Jason was a larger man than Mark, classically handsome, and with a fit body. Mark, who was not nearly as handsome, and was somewhat shorter, was always grateful that Sarah found something she loved about him. She was an amazingly good looking woman, with the face of a supermodel and a body to match. She was intelligent and very sweet, too. A real catch.

Previous to Mark’s involvement in the First Contact team– a decade or so before – governments of several nations began admitting that they had contact with something unusual. Unidentified objects were tracked on radar, executing maneuvers that were impossible to achieve with our technology and our understanding of physics. These objects would hover without any evidence of propulsion, change directions at rates that would tear apart any normal aircraft, and accelerate to incredible speeds without creating a sonic boom. They appeared to be luminous, often displaying multiple colors in every imaginable configuration. The public was interested, and some saw these admissions as proof of what they had suspected over several decades – that we were repeatedly visited by otherworldly entities. Yet, for the most part, the general population shrugged off the reports, regarding them as either hoaxes perpetrated by the government, or something that had a more pedestrian explanation.

Still, more than one government reported that the objects seemed particularly interested in nuclear installations and armaments, and also seemed to investigate conventional military units, ships, and bases. They didn’t appear around population centers with too much regularity, but occasionally, they would be seen there as well. The United States government convened hearings on the phenomenon and issued reports that were inconclusive, stating that whatever these things were, they didn’t appear to be Terran in origin.

About three months prior to Mark’s involvement, glowing disks appeared over every major capital of nearly every nation in the world. At the District of Colombia, Beijing, Moscow, Paris, Berlin (and many more) these stationary, glowing disks appeared over Capital Buildings simultaneously and across the globe.

The world erupted in chaos when these numerous disks simultaneously appeared over so many capitals. Almost every nation went into a high state of military readiness. Around Washington, D.C., top of the line Stealth fighters circled continuously, buzzing like angry hornets. A steel ring of M1A2 tanks circled the area like a circle of armored Roman gladiators. Both portable and silo-based nuclear missiles silently targeted the position, the men that controlled them deciding that the sacrifice of the nation’s capital was an acceptable loss. Thankfully, the disks were inactive and stationary, and cooler heads prevailed. No offensive action was taken.

However, the population of every nation exploded into panic. There were runs on banks. Global stock markets lost more than eighty percent of their value as people rushed to liquidate their financial holdings in favor of physical goods. Gold, bullets, guns, food, water… it did not matter. Those things became the new currency.

Grocery stores were cleaned out of every product, sometimes by purchases, sometimes by looting. Traditional religions saw vast increases in worshipers, and cult religions popped up all over. Many religions called this the ‘End of Times’. Fire-breathing Baptist ministers called this the beginning of Armageddon, and quoted passages in Revelations continuously. Huge crowds filled with the fanatics and the hopeful, the zealots and the curious, attempted to converged on the area under the disks.. They were stopped at perimeters the governments established. They excluded people from getting too close to the phenomenon, claiming danger or national security, or whatever excuse worked. News outlets churned out copy, with the wildest conspiracy theories appearing alongside more sober scientific analysis.

Instruments of every kind were trained on the disks. Researchers of every kind recorded and analyzed the results of their probes. Nothing harmful was coming out of these disks, which remained white and impassive. No radiation, no ‘death rays’, no spaceships emerged. The disks remained motionless and inactive.

Finally, the disks appeared to activate, flashing black dots, colored lights and geometric forms in a seemingly-random fashion. The entire world held its breath. The disks did not move. They did not attack. They simply kept flashing their lights.

Mark remembered when he was invited to be a part of the First Contact team. The time was three years earlier – thirty-eight months ago, to be exact -- that he received a call from someone claiming that the Secretary of State wished to talk to him.

“Doctor Rappaport? Please stay on the line.”

A few moments passed.

“Doctor Rappaport. This is Secretary Tom Hanover. You are, no doubt, aware of the odd UFO’s hovering over everyone’s capital cities?”

“Well yes, Secretary,” Mark responded, somewhat irritated at the question. That was all the internet, news programs, and newspapers could talk about.

“Well sir, we are forming a team to try to decode the signals that are being emitted from these UFO’s. You are one of the leading experts in language and linguistics throughout the entire world. We would love to have you lead a group that we call the ‘First Contact’ team.”

He paused. The enormity of this invitation impacted him like a hammer to the temple. Composing himself, he responded.

“I’d love to be part of this team. We’d need to make some arrang-”

Hanover interrupted: “Already done, Doctor. I’ve contacted your university, and they have granted you sabbatical leave for as long as you need. We have arranged accommodations for you here in D.C. We’ve even purchased an airline ticket for you, which will come by express courier tomorrow morning. First class, of course. You’d be flying out of Hartfield-Jackson about 11:00 AM, Wednesday, that’s tomorrow. That is, if you accept.”

“Of course! This is an amazing opportunity, Secretary. I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good,” Hanover said. “You’d, of course, lead the project.”

“I’m impressed with your confidence in me. I won’t let you down!” Mark internally cringed. He sounded to himself less like a seasoned professional and more like a nervous fifteen-year-old on a first date.

“I know you won’t, Doctor Rappaport. You’ll come alone. Leave any family behind.”

Mark’s brow furrowed. “Sir, I want to bring my fiancée.”

The Secretary responded: “Not possible. We do not allow anyone to accompany individuals who work for us in this sort of capacity.”

“In this case, sir…no dice. That’s a deal breaker. I want her with me, she is a very important part of my life. She supports me. She’s my entire support network. I mean it, sir. That would a deal breaker.”

Hanover scoffed, obviously exasperated. “Unfortunately, you are the very best linguistic expert on the globe. How many languages do you speak?”

“Fluently? Sixty-two. One hundred forty-seven, conversationally.”

“Damn.... yeah, you’re our guy. I’ll see what I can do.”

The line went dead, and Mark stood there, a million thoughts racing through his head. He touched his hair. The top of his head actually felt hot. He carefully – even reverently – put the phone in his jacket pocket. He sat down heavily.

Sarah always granted privacy during phone calls, and she came into the living room when she heard Mark stop talking. “What was that about, honey?” she asked, curiously.

“I’m going to Washington, D.C. for a while. I’m heading up a team called First Contact. We’re going to make contact with whoever or whatever sent these disks to us, if we can. Apparently some sort of signals are coming out of the disks, I don’t have any more information then that.”

“Um… wow...?”, she responded. “Am I coming?”

“I don’t know. I’ll find out tomorrow, I guess. You’d have to leave your job, you know.”

“Not a problem. I hated that place.”

Mark was able to detect she was lying, but, pausing for a fraction of a second, he chose not to acknowledge it. Sarah, as usual, seemed supportive of anything he decided.

“Ok. I’m going to get packing. You too, in case you can come. The plane ticket – or tickets – will be here tomorrow morning.”

When the courier brought the envelope the next morning, there were two plane tickets in it.

CHAPTER THREE: The Secretary

Mark grabbed their luggage off of the baggage claim carousel. It had been a short flight, air travel from Atlanta to the Ronald Reagan airport in D.C. doesn’t take too long. He and Sarah followed the signs marked “Ground Transportation” and started to walk towards the exit doors. They were met by two men in suits, obviously Secret Service, since both of them had the characteristic white communications earbuds.

“You are Doctor Mark Rappaport?”

”I am.”

“May I see some credentials? Passport, driver’s license, any official government documentation will do.”

Mark and Sarah both produced their licenses. One of the agents scanned each license with a handheld device. The device beeped; the agent seemed satisfied.

Handing the licenses back, the agent said, “Please, this way, sir,”. He gestured to exit doors. “We have a vehicle waiting for you.”

All four people walked out the doors, and the agents guided the doctor and his fiancée to a black Escalade with thick windows. They all entered the vehicle, one of them took the drivers seat, and the SUV rolled out of the pickup area, escorted by two police officers on motorcycles, their emergency lights flashing.

Mark looked out the window as they were driving, and caught a glimpse of the luminous disk hovering in the sky. The sight of it took his breath away. It was one thing to see the disk on television, but to see it in person was an entirely different experience. It was much smaller than he had thought it would be, but far brighter.

The streets were devoid of their usual population, replaced instead by sporadic clusters of researchers tending their equipment. New scaffolding was stretching from an unseen point to the disk. It was not completed.

“Where are we going?” asked Mark.

“The State Department. The Harry S. Truman building.” answered the agent who was seated with them, in the back.

It was a very short ride, less than ten minutes. Several guards met the entourage at the entrance to the State Department building, and Mark exited, climbed the stairs to the entrance, and entered. There, the Secretary of State, Tom Hanover, was waiting for them.

“Doctor Mark Rappaport. A pleasure to meet you.” The Secretary grabbed Mark’s hand and pumped vigorously, giving him a hearty handshake. “Come with me,” he said.

They entered an elevator, and Mark said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you too, sir.”

“We have certain national security forms we must have you sign before we proceed. Confidential Disclosure Agreements and the like. You understand.”

“Of course, sir.”

The elevator doors opened, and while they walked to the Secretary’s office, he continued: “You’ll be an employee of the State Department.” The Secretary escorted Mark into the office. They both sat down.

“Ok, Doctor Rappaport….”

“Call me Mark,” he interrupted.

“Mark. We will, of course, oversee your communication with the Aliens once you establish a language protocol. We don’t want any mistakes or incidents.”

“Absolutely,” nodded Mark.

The next twenty minutes was spent filling out security forms, nondisclosure agreements, and an application for and Eyes Only security designation. The Secretary explained where he’d be staying, how he’d be transported back and forth to the contact site. Then, when everything was signed, they began talking about the particulars.

“So, we are enclosing the disk in a structure that will hide it from public view. You’ll be working inside this building. While the building will have some amenities such as places to sleep, clean up, exercise rooms, and etcetera.. Most of you will be cooped up in there for months, with very rare – but regular -- breaks. We don’t want any of you to go stir-crazy. In general, you will be restricted to the building twenty-four, seven, but you will get some off-time to go to your individual safe-houses. Oh, and one important thing…..”

“Yes…?”

“We allowed you to bring your girlfriend… or is it fiancée? Whatever. We made an exception for you. We couldn’t risk you refusing this assignment. Your… Sarah, is it?... She obviously knows why you are here. However -- and I cannot stress this enough – you are not to share a single detail of your team’s findings. You have signed some documents to this effect. Any sharing of any details is a felony offense. Do I make myself clear?”

He nodded at the Secretary.

“.. and your safe house is bugged. Wired for sound. That’s how we’ll make sure.”

After a pause, he continued, “It will take two more days to complete the structure. The disk, itself… well, it seems to change color in various places. We don’t know what it means. That’s where you come in. That’s really all we know so far. The colors, and that the disk remains stationary. Any questions?”

“Yes, one, sir. Why the Department of State? Why not the Department of Defense, or NASA, or somebody like that?”

“Well, State deals with diplomatic relations with other parties… and if you don’t consider this the most important diplomatic relation in the history of mankind…..” He let his voice trail off.

“I get it. That makes sense.”

Hanover picked up his phone. “Let’s get our guests to their accommodations.”, he said into the receiver.

Two different agents entered, gestured for Mark to follow, and they made their way back to the Escalade. Entering the vehicle, he stole a glance at Sarah. She had apprehension and just a little fear in her eyes, but he met her gaze with a steady, confident look, trying to convey without words that everything was going to be alright. Truth be told, he felt an exhilaration, a feeling of anticipation, an expectation of great things and great discoveries to come.

Within fifteen minutes, they pulled into driveway of the nondescript, government-owned safe house.

CHAPTER FOUR: The Team

The three days passed slowly, but this morning was the day. Mark could scarcely contain himself during the ride to the First Contact site. When they arrived, he saw several armed soldiers guarding the entrance to elevator to the scaffolding. After presenting his credentials, he was permitted to enter the elevator.

At the top of the elevator, there was a landing and an entrance to the enclosure. Mark noted that the hastily-erected building screened the entire hovering disk from public view. He went through another manned checkpoint, and entered the building.

There, he was met by a small group of people: The Secretary of State, a few individuals he could not identify, and five other people who he guessed would be his teammates. Their composition varied, three men and two women. One of the women was black and somewhat young, appearing to be in her early thirties, and one of the men was clearly of asian descent, and he seemed to be in his fifties. Of the remaining, there were two white men, seemingly in their forties, and a white woman in her late twenties.

“Ah! Doctor Rappaport You’ve arrived. Excellent,” noted the Secretary. “Allow me to introduce you to your team. This is your teammate, Larry Kaminski, who is a skilled linguist, like you.” He pointed to one of the white men.

“Glad to have you on our team,” said Mark, shaking Larry’s hand.

“And this is Stan Parker, one of the most renowned physicists in our country. You would likely recognize the title of several of the books he’s written,” and the Secretary pointed out the second white man.

“A pleasure to meet you,” and Mark extended his hand.

“Why yes, it is. A pleasure...to meet me,” grinned Stan, and took his hand, shaking it vigorously/

“This,” continued Secretary Hanover, “is Lashika Abedayo. She is a renowned physicist and a professor at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute.”

“You seem to be young for a full professorship,” said Mark, and shook her hand.

“I completed my baccalaureate at the age of fifteen,” she said, with just the slightest hint of pride.

The Secretary then gestured to the white woman. “This is Angie Kinsey, one of the premier theoretical mathematicians in our country.”

Mark and Angie shook hands, Angie smiling weakly.

“And finally,” concluded the Secretary, “This is Yichen Zhang, an extremely gifted mathematician in his own right.” Yichen and Mark shook hands. “This is your team, Doctor Rappaport. I wish you the very best of luck. These are some of the most brilliant minds in America.”

The Secretary gave a quick tour of the facility. “These are your living quarters,” pointing to an open door that led to a corridor of rooms. “There are rooms for rest and for sleeping, and to the right is a stocked kitchen… but we will be bringing you prepared meals should you wish. There are bathrooms and shower facilities to the left of the corridor. They are unisex, so please arrange your schedules among yourselves.”

“One important point: For the most part, only Doctor Rappaport will be permitted to leave regularly, once you begin. He will be bringing me verbal reports in person, and of course, we will monitor your progress remotely. We’ll give the rest of you occasional breaks, of course, permitting you to leave for short durations… but as a rule, you’ll all be staying here” the Secretary noted. “The door to the left has a variety of rooms for exercise and entertainment. We all need some down time. The door directly in front of you admits you into the room where the disk is. If you wish, please get started immediately. We have been recording what the disk has been presenting since it’s arrival. It has paused its signaling for a few days now. You might want to review the recordings”, he finished, gesturing to an array of computers and rather large monitors.

And with that, he and his entourage left via the elevator.

Mark began. “Okay, folks, I feel honored to lead this team. However, please know, I consider us all equals, and I want everyone to feel free to challenge any assumption, any fact we feel we have established. Anything. Don’t hold back. This is only going to be successful if we all operate like that. Now, let’s get to work. Has anyone actually been in the containment room with the disk?”

They looked at one another. No one offered any comment.

“Well,” said Mark, “Let’s have a look.”

“It’s locked. We don’t have access yet.” commented Larry.

“Why not?” demanded Mark.

“I don’t know. Maybe the suits want us to really understand the recorded messages first. They said that they’d open the containment room after we had some success with those, first.” He gestured at the bank of computers.

Mark added, “They also mentioned to me that they wanted to review any outgoing messages.”

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