A World Without Secrets (6 page)

"This is a window in space," I finally said aloud, as if saying it would help me accept the evidence of my own eyes. "It might even be…"

I walked to the image without finishing the sentence and pressed the square that brought up a keypad reading of 2014. I hesitated for just a second, then entered the number 1004. Almost instantly, I was looking at a forest.

"Idiot! You went too far," I said reproachfully.

As I changed the number to 1904, the image changed to one that showed people dressed in turn-of-the-century clothes as horse-drawn carriages passed by my house. The street was paved with cobblestones, and my building looked brand new. I grabbed another beer from the refrigerator and chugged it down even faster than the first, then sat down to contemplate this discovery.

"It's not a window in space— it's a window in time," I said breathlessly as I stared at the image on the device. "This is worth
millions.
Maybe
hundreds
of millions.
Billions!
My money problems are over. I'll be able to start my own publishing company and never again face the heartbreak of a rejection letter."

Then the realities began to sink in and I started hyperventilating again.

"My God," I said aloud as I jumped up and began to pace madly around my small kitchen. If anybody learned about this, I'd be dead. The government agencies involved in spying and collecting information would
kill
to get their hands on this, and no crime syndicate would hesitate to kill me for it because
they
needed to prevent the government from learning secrets such as where all the skeletons were buried— literally. And it wouldn't be limited to the U.S. Government.
Any
government would kill to possess this. Hell, any politician would kill for this. They'd be able to spy on their opponents in order to learn of scandals that could lead to defeat in an election, or simply to learn the opponent's strategy so they could develop a counter strategy. For that matter, any big corporation would kill to own a device that allowed them to spy on their competition. And wealthy individuals would also kill to possess this, either to spy on others or keep others from spying on them. Then a new thought struck me. Why would it be limited to wealthy people? Everyone had secrets they didn't want others to learn. And what if someone got their hands on this, duplicated the hardware, and turned them out like iPads? A device like this meant no more secrets, anywhere, anytime, ever again. It would throw the entire world into chaos.

We're not ready for a world without secrets. Oh yeah, oh yeah, I'm dead. And someone already knows I have this.

I stopped pacing and ran to the bedroom again for a look outside. There was still no one in sight other than the normal street traffic.

"So where are they?" I mumbled to myself nervously. "Why haven't they come? Why aren't they breaking down my door to get it back? Why have they let me
live
this long?"

I returned to my kitchen and paced frantically as I considered my options. I decided I had just two. I could either destroy the device and get rid of whatever was left or keep it and live in fear for as long as I had it. I knew that if I was smart, I would do as the two emails had advised. I would destroy the viewer before someone destroyed me to get it. But while it was easy to say 'destroy it,' it was not so easy to actually do it. How could anyone simply destroy the greatest technological wonder of all time? How could I deprive mankind of all the benefits it offered? Yet, how could I prevent mankind from abusing the power of the device and destroying itself? On a personal level, how could I own it and stay alive?

I finally plopped heavily into the chair, my decision made.

I grinned wryly as I said aloud, "I can't tell anybody about this if I want to survive. How about that, Colton? You've just found the greatest technological wonder of the world, and you can't tell anyone about it. You can't even write about it because someone might put two and two together."

I had to refocus my mind, so I reached out to the viewer and entered 2060 into the year keypad. The image changed to static.

"Does that mean I can't see the future or that there will
be
no future because the world has destroyed itself?"

Changing the year to 2020 presented a similar screen of static, so I reset it to the present year and changed the month value to the next month. Static still filled the screen. Lastly I changed the time on the keypad to just two minutes ahead. Again, only static filled the viewer. Either the world came to an end in one minute or I couldn't see into the future, only the past and present.

"Guess I won't be getting rich through the stock market, at the track or by winning the lottery."

As the present caught up to the time I'd entered into the keypad, an image suddenly materialized on the viewer. I was again seeing the scene outside my apartment building. I slowly adjusted the numbers on the keypad and the event window moved into my house and right into my kitchen. I watched myself adjusting the viewer until I could pinpoint exactly where the event window was located. Then I stood up and walked through that point in the kitchen. I neither felt nor even sensed anything as the image went dark when my body encountered the unseen window. As I passed beyond the window location, the original image, sans my body, reappeared.

"No one will ever have a clue that someone is watching them," I said aloud. "Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. The government would kill me or even wipe out the entire City of New York in an instant to get their hands on this."

I felt better for having made my decision, but I wondered if I would ever feel safe again. I hoped I didn't become like the neurotic conspiracy theorists who lived in a constant state of paranoia, but being aware of the danger, I wondered if there was any way to avoid it.

* * *

Over the next day and a half, I hardly left the kitchen. Only several quick bathroom breaks and the need for reference books took me briefly away from the device. I learned I could prepare food and eat while never missing a second of viewing time. The wonders offered by the viewer tugged at me as cocaine must tug at an addict. Using my World Atlas software and history books to determine the coordinates and dates, I watched as Christopher Columbus reached the New World for the first time. He was obviously anxious to be the first to step ashore, but history never recorded that as he leapt from a small boat, a wave struck him from behind. It caused him to trip on his cape, or perhaps his sword, and fall into the surf. Three of his men jumped in to pick him up as the rest howled with laughter until he glared at them. He looked more like a drowned rat than a conquering hero as he scrambled ashore and claimed the land for the King and Queen of
España
.

I next watched the horrifying destruction of Pompeii and the abhorrent deaths in the Coliseum in Rome. I watched as Hannibal crossed the Alps and Napoleon was defeated at Waterloo. I saw Washington crossing the partially frozen Delaware and Chicago burn in the Great Fire. I could almost feel the tremors from the earthquake of 1906 that destroyed much of San Francisco, and I watched from the stage in Ford's Theater as President Abraham Lincoln was assassinated.

I was so caught up in viewing both the celebrated and horrendous moments of history that it was a full day before I thought to view the important moments in my own history. I began by watching my birth. To tell the truth, it was a little disgusting. Okay, it was a lot disgusting. That was my
mother
, after all. I loved her dearly, so seeing the pain my birth imposed came with great anguish. However, those feelings were washed away the instant it was over and I saw the wide smile on her face as the nurse placed me in her arms.

I moved on to my first birthday party after that. It had occurred long before I was able to understand and remember such events, so I had no recollection of it, although I recognized the family kitchen. I did remember my first day at school, but not how completely dorky I looked. Of course, in my defense, all the other kids looked just as bad.

Then I searched for and finally found images of my first kiss with someone other than a relative. I remembered it well enough but not the exact date it had happened. Susan Clarkson looked scared to death, and I hadn't known she hadn't shut her eyes the entire time.

Over the next few hours I looked at family and friends through good times and bad, but I left a key event for last. Two years after I had graduated from college, my folks were in Northern California on vacation. They died on a highway when a tractor trailer slammed into their rented car. I had never received any information beyond the official accident report, which simply stated that the truck had hit them from behind and run up over the car, crushing them just before the car erupted into flames, and the two vehicles then impacted a slow-moving truck just ahead of my parents' car.

Through tear-filled eyes I was able to finally ascertain that my dad was in no way responsible. He and my mom were caught in a fog that limited visibility to mere feet. Dad was driving at an appropriate speed, but the driver of the tractor trailer coming up behind him was driving much too fast for road conditions and was solely responsible for the accident. I felt no sorrow that he also died in the tragedy, although I was sad for his family.

I watched the accident over and over again from every angle until I could no longer bear to see it again.

I finally turned the viewer off and used a napkin to dry my eyes and face, but I just couldn't leave the device off. I had to see more. I couldn't stand to watch my folks die again, but there were other important moments in history I wanted to see.

Through further experimentation with the viewer, I learned that I could mark a subject or object by touching any of the three squares that changed colors and then touching the screen to indicate what I wished to mark. The viewer would then follow whoever or whatever was tagged until I again turned the square to black. It eliminated the coordinate adjustment effort normally required to follow a subject, and I could just sit back and watch as I would a television set. By using more than one square to mark different people, I could then jump to times when the tagged individuals got together again by activating both or all three squares. To cancel the assignment for any individual or object, I had only to touch the square three times in a row within five seconds. Learning that the viewer had intelligent features far beyond those I'd previously discovered made the term viewer seem overly simplistic. I needed a more descriptive name for it, but nothing seemed appropriate. So for the time being, I would simply refer to it as a gizmo.

After some thirty-six hours of almost non-stop viewing, my eyes were bloodshot and I could barely keep them open. I finally bowed to the inevitable and turned off the gizmo, sleeping for almost fourteen hours.

* * *

When I was once again rested and alert, I resisted the urge to turn on the gizmo. Instead, I turned to my computer and diligently began to apply myself to answering the emails that had accumulated. As usual, there was nothing from the publishers to whom I'd submitted my manuscripts, but I had a lot of mail from friends and fans to answer. I expected to see something from the mysterious emailer who knew I had the gizmo, but there was nothing new. I would have loved to open a dialog with the sender. Aside from wanting to know how he or she was able to send messages without leaving a routing path, I wanted to know where the gizmo came from. Moreover, I wanted to discover why I should fear for my safety if I kept the gizmo but never told anyone. Since discovering the secrets of the device, I hadn't seriously contemplated its destruction. What's more, the failure of anyone to show up to demand the return of the viewer had emboldened me. I felt that since I had found it lying in the street it was mine now.

"Finder's keepers," I said aloud. "For anyone who might be listening, it's mine now and I'm keeping it."

With my email answered, my attention naturally returned to the gizmo. I knew I would have to strictly regulate the hours I used it because I could easily park myself in front of it and never leave except to prepare food and use the bathroom. But since I wasn't independently wealthy, I had to make a living. That meant getting back to the story I had begun. It all seemed so utterly trivial now after having personally witnessed the greatest moments in history, but I had little choice. It was either that or trying to find a regular job.

* * *

I managed to direct my efforts back into my former routine and limit my viewing to just four hours each evening. Fearing that someone might come into the house to take the gizmo, I began to fold it up after each use and store it in a small cardboard box that had formerly held pocket stick-matches. The matchbox was the most innocuous container I could find in my apartment. At night, it sat on my dresser with my spare change, but during the day it was always in my pocket. Someone finding a blank piece of folded paper in a matchbox shouldn't pay it any mind, unless they knew what they were looking for. I wished I could write something on the page that would make it appear even more innocent, but I had to play the hand I was dealt.

I had spent hours trying to figure a way to make money with the device, but so far I had drawn a blank, other than possibly writing history books. But since I hadn't had any luck getting published so far, I wondered what chance I might have writing history books that would frequently dispute universally accepted writings. As far as I could determine, I was the only person alive who really knew what happened to Judge Joseph Force Crater on that day in 1930 when he stepped into a waiting taxicab and was never heard from again. Books had been published that claimed to document what really happened, but they didn't have a clue. And who would ever believe me if I identified the gunman on the grassy knoll in Dallas, or what really happened to Princess Anastasia of Russia on the night the Bolsheviks murdered Tsar Nicholas II, his family, doctor, and several servants.

I knew I could learn secrets and then blackmail people and companies, but that could be very dangerous in addition to being illegal and amoral. I also ruled out corporate espionage. Again, it was dangerous and illegal. I could use the device to learn corporate secrets and then trade with insider information, but if I had much success I would quickly come under the scrutiny of the SEC and other regulatory agencies. Using the gizmo, I could follow missing treasure ships until they sank and learn their locations, but it required a huge investment and much time to recover treasure from the sea floor even when knowing exactly where it was. I also thought about possibly tracking down the Lost Dutchman mine in Arizona, but again that would take more money and time than I had. I remembered how large the reward had been for Osama bin Laden, but trying to bring such heavyweight criminals to justice would bring me under the scrutiny of the FBI, CIA, NSA, and a dozen super-secret federal organizations and military units.