CYOA: “The Omega Constant” – Part 4

You may or may not get the impression I’m getting in over my head with this one. I do, but I’m confident in my ability to tread water as long as people are waving me in to the shore (nice metaphor, there). Anyway, I said when I started these that they may be used as a means for me to formulate ideas and use them as rough outlines for future stories, which I think is what I’m doing here. What I see in my head as I formulate this is a novel. But don’t let that discourage you from voting… your choices will matter and potentially take the story in different directions.

Some of the scientific stuff in this one may be way implausible or totally impossible. I’ll ask you to bear with me and, in the future, if and when I develop this more, I’ll be sure to do more research. Other than that, I’m always interested in constructive criticism, or things you noticed or think would have made the story better.

And as always, if this is your first visit, part 1, part 2, and part 3 should be read before this.

***

You hesitate, then shuffle a bit in your seat. Unsure of what you just heard, you are dumbfounded. “Sorry, did you say… a bomb?”

“Nuclear bomb.” Channing nods but has a smug look.

“Ah,” you start to catch on. “I see. Clever, clever. Testing my unconditional loyalty, huh? Well, I suppose I’ll have to—“

“—no, this is not a test.” He grabs the bag from Beth and opens it. He reaches in, and pulls out a rectangular box about the size of his palm. He gently opens it, and a small tube filled with blue liquid falls out. He handles it carefully. “This is real.”

“Stop playing with him,” Beth says as she checks the progression of her bloody nose. “It’s not a real nuclear bomb,” she tells him.

“The reaction is nuclear, and it’s a bomb,” Channing says. “I never said it would do any damage.”

You nod. “What do you mean?”

“Do you accept the position?”

“I do.”

“Instead of uranium, we’ll use this,” he studies it carefully, holding it up to the window and letting the light shine through it. “It doesn’t have a scientific name so in the interim we’ve been calling it the Treble Clef to our… little symphony.”

“We like music,” Beth says, and Channing looks at her.

“Anyway, when you split an atom of this stuff,” he explains, “energy is released, but it’s much different than if you had used uranium, as in a traditional nuclear bomb.”

“Wow,” you suddenly come to your senses, and even shake your head as if to clear it. “I knew Omega Integrity was a leader in scientific innovation, but not this. I hope this doesn’t affect anything, but I have no idea what you’re talking about, and I’m a little embarrassed because I have a great sense of humor, but can’t tell if you’re joking or not about… well, detonating a bomb over the city.”

“I shouldn’t be so dramatic,” Channing says. “I’m sorry. It’s not a bomb in the conventional sense, but the reaction is quite explosive. And since we’ll be doing it from a safe altitude, there should be no casualties.”

“I still don’t understand what it is you’re talking about, though. And why am I so special? I’m literally the guy off the street, why are you so willing to pay me half a million dollars to join your team?”

Beth, Channing, and the two strangers exchange glances, and after an awkward silence you apologize, then mutter, “just wondering,” as if dropping it and prodding for an answer all at the same time.

“You are a…” Channing pauses, and sighs. “…match. Something we’re looking for. I was bullshitting you just as much as you were bullshitting me during our first meeting. You’re actually quite prominent on the Omega map, and, well, have been in our sights for some time.”

“Today only made that much clearer,” Beth chimes in, finally content that her nose has stopped bleeding. She tucks the bloody cloth into a trash receptacle under her seat and one of the strangers hands her another clean one, moist in order to wipe her face clean.

The male stranger on the opposite end of your seat finally talks. “You have no idea what it was that you chased down in the park. The fact that you caught up with it is…”

“…incredible,” the female speaks.

You suddenly realize your quick pulse has returned, and there is a steady pulsing in your ears. You put out your hands in mock surrender. “Okay. I’m getting more and more weirded out by the minute.”

“It’ll get worse. But I suppose we are being unnecessarily cryptic,” Channing admits. “I’ll put it quite simply: you are an Omega constant in the golden ratio.”

He smiles, as if that makes things clearer for you.

You bury your face in your hands.

“Well, in a manner of speaking,” Beth adds.

“Are you familiar with the golden ratio?” Channing asks.

You look up, and rest your elbows on your knees. “No. I’m not.”

“The golden ratio, essentially, is the blueprint for everything. It is in… everything. Anything that is aesthetically pleasing in our world—and even those that are not, because aesthetics are very subjective—can be analyzed and measured in terms of the golden ratio.”

“The ratio is one point six one eight.” Beth says.

“Thank you,” Channing waves her away. “Look, our reality was created according to that ratio. But it is breaking down. Reality is breaking down. We don’t know it, because it’s all we’ve ever known, since it’s happening at such a slow pace. But this,” he energetically gestures his hands around the limo, “is not the reality that existed at the beginning of our creation, and it’s our company’s primary goal to restore that reality. We plan to do that by using certain components of the ratio… the pure constants that are still around in everyday life, that, when used properly, can help to give the ratio the structure it needs to sustain itself. At least, for another billion years or so.”

“And I’m one of these… constants?”

“You.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have an answer to that question. All I can offer you is something you already know… you feel something when you run, don’t you?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know.”

Channing nods. “You feel it. Beth does, too. You are both runners, and…” he glances at Beth, and invites her to finish his thought.

“We get the runners high, that rush of adrenaline, right?” She says. “But you know that feeling that you get when you go beyond that? That doesn’t happen to everyone.”

You nod, remembering your track days at college. The first time it happened, you collapsed. Your team mates surrounded you and convinced you it was exhaustion and you had passed out. Going back to your dorm, though, and confirming your physical reaction with the results in the front of your shorts, you knew something else had happened. So you ran with passion. Not just for the incredible physical release but the feeling of utter serenity, peace, and…

“When you run, you speak to God,” Channing says.

You stifle an involuntary laugh.

Beth gets up and moves into the space next to you. You try to maintain eye contact but find it difficult. “Let us take you to our Music Room,” she says, and puts a hand on your knee. “It’s a room we have at HQ that has been restored according to the ratio, thanks to people like us. I think everything will become much, much clearer.”

Everyone is silent for a moment, and you can feel their stares burning into you. The limo stops at a red light. You feel an urge to jump out, to get away from these people. But at the same time, a part of you is lured to them, eager to know if what they are saying is true, and even if it’s not—just what the hell they are talking about.

“Out of curiosity,” you finally say, very slowly, “if I had declined your offer, would you really have just let me walk away?”

Channing nods. “Of course. Though we would have shot you in the back.”

You look around. “Again, I have a great sense of humor, but I’m reading dead here.”

“I’m only kidding. If you declined, we would have sent you on your way.” Channing relaxes back into his chair. “But good luck dealing with the police and the Shadow Being you chased into the park… which has you marked now, by the way.”

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