The Monsters Are Due On Maple Street - 1. Chapter 1

What the heck Caleb thought to himself, reading science fiction was the last thing he’d chose to do as he put The Chronicles of Malvern down. Give him history or American literature any day Given the choice; he’d rather deposit a big fat sloppy tongue infused kiss smack dab in the middle of Mary Sue Cartwright's pie eating gobbler.

And what was up with the weird dreams lately, the last freaking place he’d be found would be in a library…and the clothes, no one since Woodstock would be caught dead wearing that shit. It was bad enough the shirt looked like it was cut from some poor granny’s quilt…but fringes? And then there were the pants, or were they someone’s painting tarp from the Wizard of Oz set. Christ…stick a ten-gallon hat on his head and he’d be a psychedelic Roy Rodgers!

Placing the book on his nightstand Caleb wondered why the book was so addictive. As a lark, he’d picked up the book while he was killing an hour or so at the weekend flea market waiting for his parents to finally to come home to supper with his younger brother Zeke.

~~~

He had been looking for nothing special, perhaps something he could pick up on the cheap for his brother’s birthday. Zeke was a gamer and nearly addicted to and collected old board games, games of skill and strategy. Spotting what appeared to be a first or early edition of the game Risk, he moved closer to the table it was on. The box looked to be in mint condition however there was a book covering the price tag. Once he had touched the book with his hand, a spark of static electricity traveled up his arm and faded away.

“That’s a great board game you got their son, it will never need batteries and you don’t have to plug it in either, it’s a game for the ages and world domination. Tell you what son, I’ll let you have both the game and the book for fifteen dollars”.

Never one to pass up a chance to bargain Caleb offered a fiver and they settled on ten bucks.

The book reminded himself of his shyness, so hard to overcome, partially due to the stunning realization of his sexual preferences, a death sentence here in the deep south if he were outed, to the fact he seemed to be the least conversant in social situations. Caleb lived in fear of being found out. Books and schoolwork were his refuge.

He wished he could be like the Crown Prince, so brave knowing his differences could unleash havoc and potentially destroy the world he lived in, however he really identified with Kalob the boy who was destined or so it seemed to marry the prince. It seemed for every chapter he read there were so many more to go.

At first, he was stunned that he found a book with homosexual themes and wasn’t sure about bringing it home, he knew there would be hell to pay if his parents ever found it. On arriving home with both the book and the game he was unable for some reason to throw the book away or hide it, leaving both on his desk before going down to supper.

It was Zeke’s 13^th birthday and he hadn’t a chance to wrap the game and asked him to come up to his room completely forgetting the book. Once the brothers were in Caleb’s bedroom, he handed Zeke the first edition of the board game Risk.

Zeke was thrilled and grabbed his brother in a bear hug, letting him go he spotted the book, “Hey, what’s this?” he asked, sending Caleb into momentary shock. “Looks like a cool book”, as he opened it. “It’s all gibberish but some pretty far out pictures though”. Tossing the book back to his brother, “I didn’t know you were into science fiction, you gonna cut out the pictures and hang ‘em on your wall”?

Opening the book back up Caleb noticed as he quickly opened it up that for a brief instant, it was just as his brother described it, the words were in a language he had never seen and then became legible. Handing the open book back to his brother he pointed out an illustration on one page. On the other page was a description of Crown Prince’s palace. Once the book was in his brother’s hands, the words became indecipherable.

Once the brothers were finished and Zeke went to show off his present, Caleb climbed out of his bedroom window and made his way out to the garage roof. Something he found himself doing more often the more he read the book. Somewhere out there he liked to think was his prince, the one who would carry him away.

~~~

Three months earlier….

“You summoned me sire?” asked Councilor Harmon as he entered Crown Prince Simka’s library. The Councilor looked on with affection for the young man seated on the table in the middle of the room. As his illness progressed the Crown Prince often would be found exactly where he currently was.

“I’ve found him Councilor, right here, see for yourself, he’s right here!” The Crown Prince was pointing at one of the several crystal globes revolving around him. “He’s right there hiding in plain sight!”

Councilor Harmon leaned over to look at the crystalline globe, it was one of sixteen, each one representing one of the known parallel dimensions. The hard part he reminded himself, was finding a parallel dimension that had evolved life on par with theirs. Each parallel dimension featured the same solar system and yet most, if not all, had differing timelines and states of evolution.

He shuddered at their last failed attempt to find the match the Crown Prince so desperately needed if he were to stave off that which ailed him. Together they were in a race against time. Fifteen years ago, a male baby, the possessor of the desperately needed genetic key, of one of sixteen identical was planted in this parallel dimension unknowingly in a host uterus, his brothers in the remaining dimensions. All in hope that one of the fifteen would be the match so urgently needed.

While Circadians were long lived Councilor Harmon knew their lifespans would stretch over several millennia. Like any mammalian species, there were various and sundry ways their lives could end. He had served the Royal family faithfully, he had been councilor to the Crown Prince’s great, great grandfather. While not of Circadian decent in this dimension, he was a Circadian from the 11^th parallel dimension. That dimension held so much promise, his match so long ago was within the bounds of tolerance at 94%. Councilor Harmon wasn’t a fool, he hadn’t survived these thousands of years without understanding palace intrigue.

Someone wanted to see the Crown Prince die.

Wistfully gazing upon his charge, the Crown Prince, he wondered just how much time was left, that the boy was ill was not in doubt. What was in question was time, a universal truth across all known parallel dimensions. This boy was a favorite, an amalgamation of what was best of his ancestors and therein lay the rub. Selective (in)breeding not only brought out the best but inherently magnified imperfect traits. There was time, just. There could only be this last effort. So many variables were coming into play, last but not least, was the compatibility, could…would the boys ignite the spark?

Councilor Harmon looked deeply into the globe that represented the 12^th dimension, it was backward but further along than the other remaining dimensions. While their technology had advanced to allow rudimentary efforts in satellite technology, space flight was just in in its infancy. They had yet to master internal divisions, questions of power, subservience, and faith. The world economy was a series of competing centers in a constant struggle to outdo one another rather than work for the common good.

Manufactures desecrated the fragile environment to produce various and sundry items that would eventually end up in landfills. An over reliance on carbon-based fuels pumped poison deep into their atmosphere. The inhabitants except for a derided few, were blissfully unaware of the ecological disasters awaiting them. Their oceans the wellspring of life, were slowly choking on the billions of tons of refuse pumped into them.

Unaware of the tottering financial collapse that was soon due, that an economy built on credit would and will eventually collapse on itself. Pharmaceuticals grew to massive proportions as the world spun widely out of whack. Humanity was poisoning itself with their despoliation of the planet. Miracle drugs costing billions were devised only to see newer drugs to combat the side effects; heart failure, don’t take if you are allergic, bloating, gas, and oily discharge. While the rest of the dimension would survive, time was running out from self-inflicted wounds.

Political factions rent progress nearly impossible as entranced financial centers only looked out for themselves. Three major religions, while sprung from the same source, were engaged in constant warfare, draining, and depleting precious human capital and technology while devising newer and better ways of extermination. Schisms were found within the different faiths, with so many internal sects, not only were they at war with others but amongst themselves as well.

It seemed time was relative after all.

Was the boy a match, what were his toxicity levels? There would be intensive lessons, a week of total immersion in his culture, a background to create and above all…deniable plausibility. The Crown Prince would simply have to go on a ‘retreat’. Far away from prying eyes and his Uncle Bordon, the regent until Crown Prince Sikma reached the age of majority on his 18^th birthday.

There was little love lost between the Crown Prince and his uncle the regent and much less for Todar, Bordon’s son. Todar, a couple of years older made no effort to hide his disdain for his cousin, a sick puny weakling who seemed all but one foot in the afterlife.

Bordon became the regent upon the death of Simka’s father some ten years prior just after his fifth birthday. His mother, a noblewoman of high esteem from one of the oldest families, entered a forced life of contemplation after the state funeral. The monastery, The Sacred Order of the Mother was cloistered. Once you entered and took the sacred vows and admitted you were committed for life. No one ever left. Cut off from the world, others paid little attention to a cloister of virgins shepherded by a foolish old woman. Located in the foothills of the Orgin Mountains, little was known, only that the outer gates opened two times a year for ‘trading days’ on the spring and fall solstices.

The monastery was completely self-sufficient, it produced in abundance all sorts of highly desirable things. Highly prized were their wines, jelly’s, and jams. Their lace was of the highest standards and to have a lace table cloth or window curtain was a status symbol of the highest order. The same could be said for their wool, as highly prized as any of the other items. Their glassware graced the finest tables, their ceramics as well. Their book bindery was highly sought after and while authorship was not their forte, they did produce a sacred book, The Chronicles of Malvern.

Everything produced and sold by the Sacred Order of the Mother was in great demand and the profit allowed the Order the ability to furnish a clandestine network of agents who procured the very best in technology. Technology that allowed the Order to know much more than thought.

Those who dismissed the Order as a bunch of old, dried up women…did so at their peril.

Councilor Harmon stood by as the learning pod functioned, connected to the great libraries of the 12^th dimension, the program was geared towards instructing the Crown Prince in the typical life of a fifteen-year-old teenager living one block over from Maple Street, deep in the backwoods of southern Florida circa 1969.

His ‘family’; mother Sue-Ellen, father Roberto and Sprog the family dog were already in place. Sue-Ellen was a very happy homemaker, married to Roberto a former and highly decorated marine who served with distinction in World War 2 in the Italian Campaign. His skill in his parent’s native language, was paramount in many of the battels as the allies marched northward. Sprog on the other hand was an amalgamation of several breeds, truly a mutt and affectionally referred to as the original Heinz 57 Variety dog.

Time was running out, Simka was coming of age and his illness steadily progressing and the change would most likely kill him. Everything was riding on this last hope, his last chance at a match. Time was running out for The House of Godson.

As the learning pod concluded its program the health pod would replace those functions’ and begin its work. While Circadians were immune to the various and sundry illness of the other fifteen dimensions, the 12^th dimension posed several problems due to the overwhelming pollution general toxicity of the human inhabitants. In the Crown Prince’s state this was not an insurmountable problem, time was needed to gradually adjust his body chemistry to allow a successful immersion into the 12^th dimension.

Councilor Harmon only allowed the entire operation to move forward out of duty, a duty that would require his presence alongside the Crown Prince. He would be the kindly widowed grandfather; they would leave two days after returning to the palace from the discreetly hidden laboratory they were currently occupying. What wasn’t known was the lab was an Order construct that would quickly revert to the veterinarian offices, or that Councilor Harmon was one of the most reliable of agents, a network that spanned the other dimensions as it served and protected the remaining fifteen. That they had lost one was infuriating beyond belief, the highest crime possible, one conducted to ensure the fall of the noble House of Godson. While the perpetrators were known, the proof was elusive.

It would however, not remain so.

After finishing the health scans there was but one last examination to be conducted, this would be done in the strictest of confidences and privacy. Councilor Harmon’s thousands of years of service to the royal family uniquely placed him in his service to the House of Godson to conduct this exam.

There were several factors to be considered, primary was the health of the Crown Prince and his physical development. The illness, if it could be called that, was unique. An issue not seen in Councilor Harmon’s lifetime. In fact, mention of this condition was only alluded to in the oldest of tomes in the family’s extensive library. It had taken several years after the birth of the Crown Prince for Councilor Harmon to find the correct medical test. If it hadn’t been for the assistance of the Order who possessed the only known other medical reference on the subject, Councilor Harmon would not have known what to look for and where to look.

Buried under years of collections, the text was finally found. The task was enormous for every book, text or journal published; the first copy was reserved for the House of Godson. Unknown to but a select few the Order would also obtain a copy. The issue now was to conduct the invasive physical examination. Since birth the Crown Prince displayed certain characteristics, traits if you knew what you were looking for. It had long been prophesied that a child would be born to one of the Noble Houses. This child would be unlike any other and it would be through this child that the future of the Circadians would be ensured. That this child would bring new genetic material, refreshing tired bloodlines.

After tens of thousands of years of relative peace and prosperity, some of the Noble Houses were chafing, demanding exploitation of the lesser fifteen remaining parallel dimensions. They were especially eager to exploit some of the lesser developed, identical planets barely registering on the evolutionary scales. The loss of the Crown Prince’s father and the Regency of his Uncle Bordon only exacerbated the tenuous political situation.

At birth, all Circadians through a quirk of evolutionary development, much like the humans of the 12^th dimension underwent sexual determination while in fetal development. The overwhelmingly majority of children born were sorted before birth. In the 12^th dimension perhaps 0.05% to 1.0% of children born were intersex or hermaphrodite, outwardly displaying physical traits of both sexes. Such was not the case with Circadians. The sequestered evolutionary development over the tens of thousands of years simply precluded, ruled out that variation. Circadian pregnancies, carrying a child to term, were subject to a multitude of internal checks. Inevitably the mother’s body would sense a deviation and self-abort, in some rare cases a child would be born but not last the first week. These cases were less than a thousandth of the percentages found in the 12^th dimension.

All of this weighed on Councilor Harmon’s mind as he prepared to begin the examination of the Crown Prince. The images from the health scan left little doubt, it was imperative if the future was to be ensured that close examination confirm the results. If the whispers from his contacts within the Order were correct the Crown Prince would be the anomaly prophesied.

Naked, Crown Prince Simka lay on the examination table and not for the first time. There was no issue to the exams as Councilor Harmon had been a part of his life since his earliest memories. There was nothing he hadn’t seen, as a youngster scampering naked in the family quarters to his confidant as his body matured into a young adult. When puberty hit and hormonal surges wracked and rent his psyche, he was his trusted confidant, the councilor who guided him with wise words of wisdom and simple logic. In many ways Councilor Harmon was more than a stand in for the father he so sorely missed. Crown Prince Simka knew he was different after all, living in the royal court precluded any notion of normalcy, except for those times he was able to elude his handlers. Much to the delight of the common Circadian as the young child would run naked through the streets of the capitol after giving what he could to the less fortunate.

His life was scripted, organized into various daily functions interspersed with the various high holy days. He was a product to be displayed, shopped, and weighed to see if he measured up in the matrimonial stakes. He was a desirable commodity simply because…he was heir to the throne.

Still in stasis after coming out of the health pod the physical component began while the scans downloaded onto the Councilors files. From an overall outward appearance, the Crown Prince was a typical average fifteen-year-old boy. There was no overt distinguishing marks or blemishes, he was in proportion to his height, obviously his resemblance tended more towards his father, his eyes however were clearly his mothers. While he could be impetuous there was always thought behind his actions.

Slightly above average in musculature and strength, belied a gentleness of his soul. Perceptively he was quick, possessed a nimble mind unlike is cousin Todar, a brute, the two were as different as night and day. Councilor Harmon rued the day Bordon was born. The difference between the cousins were not uniquely limited, they were passed down from their fathers.

From behind the health pod softly issued a series of beeps indicating the scans were complete. Beginning, Councilor Harmon checked the Crown Prince’s ears, eyes, nose, teeth, and throat. Lungs were listened to; pulse was taken from the sleeping boy. Reflexes checked and weight noted. An examination of his genitalia turned no outward surprises up. Everything was average in size and weight. The concerns were with the perineum and the lower end of the alimentary canal and the biological construct taking place.

What the examination uncovered confirmed Councilor Harmon’s worst suspicions.

“Your reports were clean and concise Councilor and from my observations it is evident you’ve left nothing out”. Mother Superior noted dryly. “The child…my son, somehow survived my womb and has grown to be a fine, healthy strapping young man”, she further noted with a hint of exasperation “who just so happens to be a throwback, something not seen as far back as we can trace our lineage over the countless millennia, an evolutionary miracle”.

“Your son”, Councilor Harmon responded testily “Your son, need I remind you is a living, breathing Circadian. I need not remind you he is what stands between us and the abyss your brother-in-law would plunge us into. It is imperative and with the greatest of urgency we finish what we started’’.

“The Order has not placed anyone in another dimension since the birth of the child. I do not know what foolishness led you to believe and yet convince me, that the placing of those children in the other dimensions, all in the foolish hope that one of them would be the insurance policy that would protect us from Bordon and his plans”.

“It’s really quite simple Mother Superior…the child…your son for lack of better words, has a condition. Based on our physiology if we leave it untreated, chose to ignore it…it will kill him. I need not remind you what the consequences would be, we are allies in this and our future and the protection of the remaining fifteen dimensions we need to act and quickly”!

“And all of the evidence to the contrary we need to find among the remaining fourteen dimensions a suitable mate for the child…”.

“Your son, your highness…your son will perish if we don’t. The die has been cast; we face a crisis unknown since the Wars of Unification”.

“Do not try to tell me my place” the countess replied quite angrily, “The loss of my husband was all the proof I required, just how safe do you think I would be outside these walls if I were to reclaim my throne”?

“The time is coming…Bordon is ready to make a move” Councilor Harmon continued, reverting back to his diplomatic mode, “if and I mean if…we are to stave off at least delay by a few weeks, we need to send the Crown Prince to the 12^th dimension and away from Bordon’s prying eyes. Bordon’s no fool…he knows something is up. It seems Todar’s around the palace every few days or so”.

“What of the Celestial Globes and Library, what plans have you for that”? Inquired the Mother Superior.

“You may find it presumptuous of me, but they are on the way your highness, we can’t risk leaving it in the palace living quarters. They should be here tomorrow. With Bordon ready to make his move we can’t risk letting him get his hands on it.”

“It won’t do any good once Bordon finds out it’s here, what’s to stop him from turning his wrath towards us”?

“Bordon has always thought himself to be the cleverest of all of us, he forgets that pride goeth before the fall. He has underestimated your popularity, the popularity of the Order, the popularity of your son and the good works you do. While the Noble Houses may have forgotten, overlooked this place, your ‘friends’ keep the pulse of the populace.” Simply put Councilor Harmon continued, “Once Bordon makes his move the seeds of his downfall will be sowed. We simply need to hang on and let nature take its course.”

With a sigh of finality Mother Superior relented, “My son will never find love in the arms of a woman but will have a male for a mate, something unheard of for a couple of hundred thousand years, that Simka is the one who will bear the children of the prophesy. How is this possible?”

“The pains your son has been feeling since the onset of puberty were worrisome, that we could find no cause or cure”. Continuing the Councilor explained, “The only way we Circadians could survive the earliest days of our evolutionary history were to be both male and female. Natural selection was a determining factor based on the need at that time. Somehow a biological trigger was flipped within the scant population centers and in doing so ensured that procreation would take place”.

Explaining further the Councilor continued, “At first we thought it was an issue with the Crown Prince’s prostate or lower alimentary canal. The initial scans were confusing early on, it wasn’t till puberty fully set in that the biological changes were picked up. We aren’t sure what was the trigger was, but Crown Prince’s transformation will be completed soon, we simply cannot stop the process without great risk.”

“Just above the anus, a biological reconstruction is working in the perineum, rudimentary reproductive organs are forming and within weeks the transformation will be complete. For all intents and purposes and the tests we have run, also indicate the wrong match of a mate could possibly prove to be fatal as well”.

“From the old texts you have supplied and those in the Royal Library we can ascertain that from body chemistry and pheromones, these unique individuals have built in olfactory sensors that naturally weed out incompatible mates”.

“For more than a millennium we have tried seeding the other dimensions without any success, all to combat the results of our racial purity laws. Despite all our knowledge and technology, we have diluted our genetic pool to the point where our evolutionary background is reasserting itself. Already there are signs in the densely populated southern continent that many more mothers are self-aborting and the numbers of new born children not surviving the first month”.

“We fear the latest generation of seedlings may also carry this regressive trait and if a match is to be found it would have to be among one of the remaining fourteen. The best remaining match from an evolutionary perspective would be the male child from the 12^th dimension. All of the others are not as far along the path of development, culture, knowledge and reason.”

Looking askance at Councilor Harmon and acerbically pointing out, “You are aware of the dangers of bringing that child here, I assume you are also aware of the tremendous cost and drain on planetary resources you are suggesting we undertake. What if after all this effort we fail, don’t have a match…what then? What do we do with that child? If I understand you correctly, we are at the beginning of this conundrum, why the urgency, the expediency you are suggesting?”

“Your reverence, I beg we look at this further. We know your brother-in-law is planning his move with some of the minor noble houses. Hoping that as his alliances grow with the promises of cheap and easy profits, he will amass from the destruction of other planets in the remaining dimensions, he will have built a powerbase to destroy the House of Godson”.

“As to the drain on resources and expense I propose that we send the Crown Prince to the 12^th dimension, if you agree to allow this, events have been set in motion to ensure the Crown Prince’s security. If we are correct in our initial scans and assessments, there is better that an 90% chance of a match. At the least we bring him back and try another dimension. If the boys are a not match, we can try to synthesize, hopefully at no harm to the child, a vaccination to arrest the genetic malformations until we better understand the issue we face”.

“Let me leave you with one last warning, if we do nothing, we ensure the de-evolution of our species!”

“You ask much of us Councilor Harmon, to step into political events spiraling out of control, to face down our genetic regression at great cost in resources and fundamentally change the development of our next generations”.

“You and your family have been with us since dimensional transport was possible, you have served us well and nobly, protected the House of Godson from all enemies, often at your peril. Your dedication is without peer and for that we are and remain appreciative and grateful, we owe you much”.

“Our informants tell us Bordon is closer than ever to making his move, I doubt you have the year even a month would be fortuitous, most likely two weeks at best. The drain on our resources will not go unnoticed, we can obscure and delay but eventually our part will come out and be known amongst the Noble Houses. There is much fear of Bordon and several of the major houses are and remain uneasy. Information will have to be carefully and with the utmost caution shared as the time is right.”

“Once the Celestial Globes and Library are safely established you will bring my son here. He will depart and return from here and there will be no argument on this…he will return along with his mate, once events are known we risk much leaving him behind. I give you one week from today.”

On leaving the monastery and approaching the royal quarters Councilor Harmon’s security apparatus blared that the royal palace was under assault.