This is another tale of the Kennedy Space Center's multiverses, both in the distant past and the far future.
Follow ghosts, demons, gods, AIs, tourists, DNA experiments, vamps, and witches as they travel the multiverse only to discover their interconnections as allies and enemies across an endless history or future.
Every story is the true story.
Savants of Kennedy Space Center, a cohesive team
Her parents were insufferable.
Father addressed her with his usual delicate languishment and softly whispered, "No dating. Severe bite wounds can cause infection, hemorrhaging, shock, and eventual death."
She blushed in the darkened gymnasium, surprised at her father's objections.
Of course, Father could see her flush, as well that her blush drew the hungry attention of the other hybrids like her.
She could feel their complex quantum-body system sonar sending sound waves into people and objects, not just echolocation.
Ophelia could even see the hybrid males, faint "redshift" searching for her; their light signals stretched or "shifted" into redder wavelengths as they searched.
The O-Negative search, her girlfriends always giggled; the male hybrids only had one thing on their minds. And their thermal infrared vision had just seen her blush in the dim light.
Of course, they would. I am a beacon in the gymnasium.
"No dating," said her father. "The hybrids have incredibly powerful jaws and teeth. What if your friend thinks you're getting a little too close? Your pheromones are strong. They could accidentally sever your arm."
Ophelia, silently listening, timed her protest, "Father, it's not dating. Only talking." And flirting, of course. "Those boys have been in the free world. I just want their take on how the human normals treat us hybrids."
"You mean like the video feed you watch daily, seeing the interactions yourself?"
Her father, savant, warrior poet, and statesman for the captured Vamps and hybrid offspring, could not be defeated in any contest of logic.
I am your daughter.
She permitted her nimble tongue no rest. In any and all contests, when your opponent is off balance, you foot sweep them to the mat. Stabbing would work the same.
"Can you not tell me of Emily?" said Ophelia, twisting the subject.
She had only recently learned of Father's discarded mistress, who had given birth to a daughter, a girl half-ling who had been awarded the name of Emily.
Her father exclaimed in expiration, "Vampire Rabies! Only my daughter can trip me up! Would ye have me weep at this clan gathering?"
In a fury, her father blended into a hunting pattern of camouflage that matched the block walls of the VAB.
He lowered his voice to a hissing whisper of confidence laced with pain. "Thissss has to remain in a state of maximum secrecy. The knowledge of your sister has infaust and complex auguries that you are not yet ready for. Love can be lamentable, with almost infinite tears."
He saw his amazing daughter harden her eyelids in concentration and knew she had just mathematically determined that, technically, tears were not infinite.
My daughter, you do not yet know the pain that comes with the tears. They are infinite. No math formula would measure the pain, and the daily video feed would not show submerged pain.
"The matter is settled anyway; tomorrow is your day of integration with the human normals; you will find they are no different than your other classmates-good, bad, odd, indifferent; mostly, the norms just stink from their unpropitious overuse of soap."
Ophelia knew she had lost the battle at the words, "Can I date?"
"I follow your word, father," said Ophelia, "But I heard they repeat sinister quotations of Bram Stroker."
Father and daughter fell into a hug and shook with laughter while in the shadows, jealous hybrids plied them with thermal infrared vision.
Classroom
"Iridescent blue, the psychoactive body wash! Spelling? Yes, if you insist on using the archaic word Magic. Spelling and Spells are the same! Have you paid attention at all? The information is in chapter One of Mars Exo-biology. Spelling, like pure math, is not a fixed-action pattern. The universe does not care what we call it or the prescribed rules we assign it," said the Professor.
"When you say or write "spelling," it is not the arrangement of abstract symbols in a vain attempt to express or relay critical data between inbound spacecraft and Mars stations or an attempt at coherent thinking after exceeding the legal levels of a psychoactive body wash?"
The Professor gave me a wickedly unfair inspection from top to bottom and turned to the student sitting near me.
"Mr. Marc17 is not your futile attempt to impress the vamp-hybrid beside you with your texting. Is that not spelling?"
I believe your finger pattern typed 'He's crazy---?--"
I winced.
"Was I correct in reading Marcus17's finger motion?" asked the Professor.
I nodded in confirmation, and the class snickered.
"Silence! Of course, I am crazy; how else to comprehend the math of orbital mechanics or understand how habitable worlds might emerge around gas-giant planets? While at the same time understanding the leaking of others or DNA from other timelines or that rouge AI Fred?
Math and Spells work, and symbology is the most effective method to cast spells. Both can predict future events in a random world.
Bad luck or love, telemetry, whatever. The poetry of life, cast wisely."
Marc17 was embarrassed; he had been trying to impress the beautiful hybrid. He flushed crimson, and she noted the blush, the nonverbal communication from before the ice ages.
There was a wisp of a Mona-Lisa-type smile from the vamp, and she hid it artfully.
"Why does spelling work in conjunction with pure science?" asked the Professor, his tail wagged in irritation. This class was the best of the human-normals-clones and vamp-hybrids and the first class to be integrated for the colonization of Mars.
"Today's subject matter? The size of the universe often defies its own rules and logic. Infinity is a bitch."
The Professor walked back and forth in front of his students.
"Do not be intimated by this subject. Instead, place yourself, open your mind to the beauty of your favorite spiral arm; it is far too large for your gifted minds or even the illegal self-aware AIs to comprehend; therefore enjoy the majestic splendor and wonder.
Our understanding of the size of the universe at one time was +0.00000-0.00000. Yes, of course, I removed an infinite amount of zeros so I could leave class with some sanity. Well, back up, did I not say that I am crazy?
The up-to-date, real-time estimate is that the universe has expanded to +0.00000 and -0.00000 and will continue to expand."
The Professor stopped to inspect his class; at least one of the students was feverishly working her berry-pad.
The savant hybrid Ophelia was typing furiously for the actual size of the universe- a number that was never constant.
"You should stop," said the Professor.
In the brains of the very smartest, from all of the ages and timelines, had attempted in vain to measure the word infinity- the proper name for the universe could be interchanged with the word God.
"Got it! she said.
Her berry-pad flashed carmine in an overloaded death flash, and Ophelia fell sideways into a seizure.
Marc17 caught her before her head hit the floor and cradled her head so it would not require skull fracture trepanning.
Where had those thoughts come from?
Ophelia slowly became aware she had been placed back in her chair. A medic nodded, "We gave you a shot." said the medic, a blonde beauty who winked at the clone Marc17 and hurried out of the classroom.
The Professor was speaking,
"The universe is growing, expanding at the edges, absolute time continues, relativeness of the time dimensions cannot stop, creating more and more dimensions."
In the infinity of the timelines, the very fact that in some alternate, distantly past, future timeline, your essence, life force, even the dust mote of a single DNA strand lying on a broken tombstone is enough to affect and attract the relativeness of the time dimensions and therefore a .000001+/- chance of meeting yourself in another dimension, another timeline.
That is a considerable number."
The Professor watched the medic give a clandestine thumbs-up before departing.
"My Ophelia, you are back with us! Bravo! We replaced your berry pad with one with an intact microprocessor. We should let you know our techs were astounded by the salvaged information.
"Bravo, my dear!" said the Professor, who gave a standing ovation to Ophelia, followed by the rest of the class. No better event could have forged the hybrids and human-normals clones into a cohesive team.
Other tails of the Space Center:
Vampires of Kennedy Space Center
Demons of Kennedy Space Center
Demons of Kennedy Space Center, corpus callosotomy
Ghosts of Kennedy Space Center
Dreams of Kennedy Space Center
Aliens of Kennedy Space Center
Director of Kennedy Space Center
Hitchhikers of Kennedy Space Center
Witches of Kennedy Space Center
Cave Bears of Kennedy Space Center
Chimeras of Kennedy Space Center
Gods of Kennedy Space Center and the Nile
Dinosaurs of Kennedy Space Center
Kayakers of Kennedy Space Center
Remembering Kennedy Space Center
Shadows of Kennedy Space Center
Starman of Kennedy Space Center
Gate Jumpers of Kennedy Space Center
Allies of Kennedy Space Center (Pt 2 of Gate Jumpers
Savants of Kennedy Space Center
Gene Splicers of Kennedy Space Center
State Security of Kennedy Space Center
Rescuers of Kennedy Space Center
Ferals of Kennedy Space Center
Return HOME from Savants of Kennedy Space Center page
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Author Bruce Ryba at Kennedy Space Center Launch Pad 39B & Artemis 1. "We are going to the Moon!"
Author's discussion (that's me) on You Tube of a book review on Amazon
For the video versions of information, please check out my YouTube Channel (Turkeys, Flintknapping, dive stories etc.)
My fictional series/stories on Florida history:
Freedoms Quest (book one)
Struggle for the northern frontier and other lost tales of old Florida.
Available on Amazon
Desperate times call for bold action.
In a desperate move to retain Florida and protect the treasure-laden galleons on their dangerous return journey to Europe, the King of Spain issues a royal decree offering refuge to all English slaves who escape Florida and pick up a musket to defend the coquina walls of Saint Augustine.
In another bold gamble, the King offers refuge to the dissatisfied Indian nations of the southeast who will take up arms against the English.
Clans, traumatized by war and disease, cross the Spanish Frontier to settle the cattle-rich land and burned missions of Florida.
Follow the descendants of the conquistador Louis Castillo in remote Spanish Florida, a wild and swept by diseases, hurricanes, and northern invasions.
Book Two: Available on Amazon!