For the next hour and a half, Jonah and the rest of the assembled group were given a basic overview on the state of mankind in this strange and new time and place. The span of over 2500 years of human history was condensed to the simple phrase “The history of mankind is steeped in blood.” Jonah found this pronouncement very telling, especially as he learned that, over the centuries while mankind gained much in the way of science, technology, and other wonders, war was always an ever-present force in some form or another. Dr. Wallace had stepped down from the podium and taken a seat in a corner facing the group, seemingly staring into space, occasionally glancing around the room at those present. Instead, the device in Jonah’s ear spoke directly to him, in a strange, metallic voice. Along with this, the display window at the front of the room would show images, some of which moved and some which were static. Jonah was briefly pondering what sorcery made this possible, when the device in his ear paused its recitation of 25th Century history and chirruped at him with the voice of a tin cricket.
“Magic is not real. All of what you see is possible through science.”
Jonah looked around the room, puzzled. Had this infernal device actually read his thoughts and fashioned this response?
“The Universal Neuroadaptive Cortex Linkup, or UNCL, is a technology platform that does monitor, decode, analyze and supplement human brain patterns, providing information retrieval and transfer functions.”
Jonah rubbed his forehead, baffled by this, but also somehow had a strange awareness of what he was being told. He also noticed that the device was now only using German words and phrases for approximately half of what it said, and had been mixing in a nearly equal portion of Latin, and small snatches of Norse and Saxony dialects that Jonah could comprehend. It had also periodically supplemented this with translations of words and phrases in Unified Basic English, the common tongue of this new era. He thought for a moment of the rare opportunity he’d had for someone to read him the Gospel of Mark, and the Gift of Tongues. This device was something of that miracle, he thought. Has man reached a state to rival God?
His thoughts were pushed aside as the history lesson concluded, and a new section of information was presented regarding the military and social structure of this era, and the expectations of him and his new comrades. It expanded briefly on the nature of the Kovian Syndicate and the threat it presented, touching on an incident where they laid siege to a human colony and committed terrible acts until repelled by the Terran Starforce, the name for the unified military of mankind on its various worlds. It also explained that they were now Temporal Conscripts, an experimental program to supplement the standing force of this vast army against an even more behemoth force. Even across a dozen worlds in both the Sol system, mankind’s origin point, where Mother Earth lay, as well as those circling neighboring stars, the number of people born could not outpace the numbers lost against the enemy, and so they had been plucked from history, moments from death, and granted the option of a second chance. The device in Jonah’s ear stressed that this was optional, going so far as to say that those who did not wish to serve would not be judged harshly, and could be returned to their original time, but with full understanding that the outcome of their old life would not be changed, so as not to contaminate history. Those who wished this would be offered time to consider their choice, and make peace in whatever way they wished.
As all of this was being relayed to the group, Jonah noticed the man in front of him, Komitsu, tense slightly, as if seriously considering this option. After a few moments, however, he relaxed back into his seat, folding his arms in front of him resolutely. Jonah was not entirely surprised by this, but did not need to put as much thought into the choice. He would stay, not out of any sense of duty or obligation to these people who had plucked him from an anonymous grave in a far extant battlefield, but the simple realization that he was already dead, by history’s reckoning. This, all of this, was just a form of Purgatory, constructed by man to serve as penance for his old life. That, at least, is what he told himself to keep him from rushing headlong back into his own demise.
As the training presentation continued, it outlined the following weeks for these new recruits. The score or so in this group would soon join a larger unit of nearly one thousand conscripts taken from throughout human history. It cautioned that adjustment to the myriad cultures, dialects and backgrounds would be potentially arduous for some, and informed that additional support would be available to those who required it. Jonah was intrigued by this notion, and wondered just how much mankind might have changed throughout the ages that such support would be needed.
The presentation then informed the new conscripts that they would next be processed for final conscription, which involved a standard grooming regimen that they would be expected to adhere to for the duration of training. Following that, they would join the rest of their division for mealtime and a short break, before entering the next step of their training. Finally, the viewscreen at the front of the room dimmed and faded out of view, and the ambient light in the room which had been fairly dim before, brightened considerably. Dr. Wallace was standing now, and the door he had entered through had opened.
“Those of you with any questions can speak with me for a moment, if you like,” the doctor said, smiling faintly in a calm, reassuring way. “The rest of you may continue through the door this way. Your UNCLs will provide additional instructions. From all of us in the Terran Federation, I wish to offer my thanks.”
The men and women in the room stood. Some of them murmured among themselves with those they had been seated near. Jonah stood as well, appreciating that this bizarre meeting had not gone longer. Though his seat had been plush and quite comfortable, being seated for so long had made his rump sore, and now that he was standing one of his legs had started pins and needles, as the blood flowed back in. He shifted and stretched a bit more, surveying the others around him. Some had approached the Doctor, who chatted with them and also showed them something on a flat, square device he held in his hands, which, from a distance, Jonah could just barely see functioned like the viewscreen on the wall, showing images and script. The UNCL chirruped.
“The advent of the movable-type printing press, in 1440, allowed for literacy and the written word to flourish throughout Europe and surrounding areas, and led to the eventual Renaissance over the next century. Literacy is a common skill in the now. You will be taught to read multiple languages as part of your training.”
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Jonah was flummoxed by this revelation. He had grown up poor, and never had any chance to truly learn to read. He could recognize certain Latin phrases, but never actually learned to read from a scroll or book like the monks and nobility could. Emboldened, he allowed his internal monologue to address the UNCL directly.
“What else might I learn?”
Instantly, the mechanical voice responded.
“Modern combat techniques, basic and advanced mathematics, including physics, geometry, and trigonometry. Spoken languages in addition to the written word, across multiple dialects both ancient and modern. Modern sciences, including biology, psychology, chemistry, and modern technologies, including full utilization of the Mark II UNCL platform.”
Jonah was so transfixed by what he was hearing that he was shocked when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Whirling around, he was startled to see it was Grossman, with the ghastly mechanical arm.
“Hey,” he said, flatly. “Any clues on how to shut this thing off?” He pointed to his ear, and the UNCL that was seated there. “It’s really starting to piss me off.”
Jonah shrugged. “Mine is working fine, honestly. I’m quite amazed by what it can do.”
Grossman pulled a face. “Yeah, it’s clever, sure… I take it you’re from quite a ways back, judging by the wild man look.”
Jonah wasn’t sure how to take this. Then he realized that, apart from Grossman, whose hair was unruly, but still cut short and only a small beard on his chin, Jonah himself had hair past his shoulders, and a beard reaching down his chest. The long march had not permitted proper grooming. He chuckled.
“Ja, I suppose you’re right. I was taken from the march of Peter the Hermit, at the Battle of Civetot.”
Grossman’s brow dropped, and he looked baffled for a moment. He waited, and pointed to his ear to indicate the UNCL's exposition, and then after a moment, comprehension appeared on his features.
“First Crusade? Yeah… I bet that was rough. All this is probably a helluva head trip for you, right?”
Jonah pondered these words, as the UNCL slipped a few contextual bits to aid his comprehension regarding the peculiar verbiage of this highly bizarre new acquaintance.
“It’s certainly beyond anything I could imagine,” he conceded. “I did actually think I was in Heaven, for a moment. I guess that makes me a dummkopf.”
“If that’s the case, then we’ve all been made fools of,” Grossman muttered darkly. “I mean, I guess I was fried either way, when you look at it. But, my brothers on the Dragovich…”
He trailed off, and broke his gaze with Jonah, not looking at anything in particular and Jonah realized that he was fighting back tears and couldn’t allow himself to show it. Jonah, steeling himself slightly, reached out and put a hand on the other man’s shoulder, slightly unnerved by how close his hand was to the border between flesh and steel.
“Your brothers died well if they died in battle,” he was borrowing words that had been given to him, a hundred thousand lifetimes ago. He paused, and then looked over at the doctor. He realized that many of the others had left the room, and Wallace was observing this odd duo. When he saw that Jonah had noticed him, he nodded his head slightly, that same calm smile playing about his lower face.
“We could talk with that doctor,” Jonah contemplated aloud. “He may be able to help you.”
“What makes you think?” Grossman shrugged his hand away, and looked back at Jonah. There were no tears, but instead a hollow, dead look in his gray eyes.
“He seems like a good man, to me,” Jonah said. “I’ve lost comrades and men I called brothers. I can only tell you how I dealt with it. How you deal with your loss is what you must discover yourself, perhaps with God’s help, if that suits you. This is how I was taught to be a man. Maybe it is an old and outdated way. The doctor may know more about what happened to them.”
“What does it matter what happened to them?” Grossman’s voice had risen, but only slightly. “Knowing about it doesn’t change it. Maybe I should go back and let it all go…”
Jonah stopped for a minute. He was at a loss for how to help this broken man. The bubble of pity in him welled greater and he rubbed the back of his neck reflectively. How does a man reconcile such loss and tragedy? Such a question had been posed of wise men and prophets throughout his own history, and likely beyond to the present. He sighed and dropped his hand. The UNCL in his ear had no answers to give.
“Grossman is your family name, yes? What is your christened name?”
“You mean my first name? It’s Levi.”
Jonah recognized this as a Biblical name, but couldn’t remember what exactly that Levi was known for. He stowed away this information, if only for his own curiosity. The UNCL chirruped.
“This unit is currently paused while in conversation mode, but requested information can be retrieved at your earliest convenience.”
Jonah half-acknowledged this internally, and continued to focus on Levi.
“That is a good, decent name,” he said, smiling. “I am Jonah of the Schmidt family in Strasburg. Or, so I was, anyway.”
“No shit,” said Levi, and Jonah was awed to see a smile crack the stony expression. “Like Jonah and the Whale? What are the odds?”
“Well, yes, I was told that story often growing up,” Jonah’s own smile broadened. “I suppose I really am in the belly of a beast, now. We both are. The question is, what do we do? I say we fight our way out. Not against men, but against these monsters they say want to kill us. Are you with me?” He extended a hand.
Levi eyed Jonah curiously for a moment, considering him. He sighed and nodded, a slightly manic grin playing around his eyes and mouth. He reached out with his hand of flesh and took Johan’s, giving it a single firm shake.
“Fuck it, who wants to live forever, anyway?” he said, winking at Jonah roguishly. “Might as well fuck some shit up in the process.”