Chapter 26 Time Seed Fragment
What is that? Rick thought, pushing himself to his feet. He felt a strange compulsion to investigate. He approached the old well, bending down to examine the source of the smoke. It wasn't actually burning; there was no heat, no scent of char. It was simply… emanating.
As he walked around the house, he noticed other colors. A faint grayish smoke drifted from a sturdy wooden bench near the porch. A lighter, almost white smoke shimmered from the newly polished windows of the second story. He touched one of the new brick walls, and a faint light gray mist rose from his fingertips.
A peculiar pattern began to emerge in his mind. The older the object, the darker the smoke. The ancient well and iron gate, clearly centuries old, emitted black. The weathered wooden bench gave off gray. The newer bricks and pristine windows, barely a few weeks or months old, produced white or very light gray.
So, the color of the smoke depends on the age of the object? He mused, a chilling realization dawning on him. Is this… some kind of temporal residue?
He continued his strange investigation, his eyes scanning every detail of his surroundings. Then, he saw it. From the side of one of the metal fence posts, an old, rusted piece of iron that separated his property from the vacant lot next door, a vibrant, almost impossibly bright stream of multicolored smoke was swirling. It pulsed with hues of emerald green, sapphire blue, ruby red, and a shimmering gold, all intertwined and swirling like a tiny, contained aurora.
This was different. This wasn't the slow, steady emanation of age. This was active, vibrant, and incredibly out of place. His curiosity overriding his lingering headache, Rick knelt beside the fence post. The multicolored smoke seemed to be emanating from a specific spot, just beneath the soil line. He began to dig with his bare hands, the earth surprisingly soft and yielding.
Within moments, his fingers brushed against something hard and smooth. He pulled it out, wiping away the clinging soil. It was a black-colored, dried-up seed, about the size and shape of a large walnut, its surface intricately ridged and textured, almost like petrified wood. The multicolored smoke swirled more intensely around it, as if released from its confinement.
Rick hesitated. This was bizarre beyond anything he had experienced, even with his time-traveling dreams. This seed, emitting vibrant, impossible colors, felt ancient and powerful. Should he touch it? What if it was dangerous?
His analytical mind warred with his inherent curiosity. He had already gone back in time through dreams; what else could possibly surprise him? With a deep breath, he decided. He extended his hand, his fingers trembling slightly, and gently touched the black seed.
…
The world dissolved into a blinding flash of pure, incandescent white light. The ground beneath his feet vanished. The sounds of the city, the chirping of birds, the distant hum of traffic – all faded into an absolute, deafening silence. Rick felt no sense of falling, no disorientation, just an instant transition from his lawn to an entirely new, ethereal realm.
He stood in a boundless, luminous white space. Everywhere he looked, a soft, ethereal white smoke swirled and danced, like a perpetually shifting cloud. It wasn't thick or suffocating, but rather light and airy, creating an otherworldly, dreamlike atmosphere.
Not too far in front of him, perhaps twenty feet away, stood a figure. It was blurred, indistinct, as if viewed through a shimmering veil of gray smoke. The outlines were human, but no specific features were discernible. It was a silhouette cloaked in mist, radiating a strange, ancient energy.
A voice, not heard with his ears but resonating directly within his mind, spoke. It was genderless, ageless, a symphony of whispers and echoes.
"Welcome, Rick Lane."
Rick blinked, trying to focus on the blurred figure. "Who… who are you? Where am I?"
The smoky figure seemed to shift, a ripple in the gray mist. "I am Aebum. A fragment. A remnant. And you, Rick Lane, are in a space between spaces. A connection point."
Aebum? The name felt ancient, profound. "A fragment of what?" Rick asked, his voice sounding small and disoriented in the vast silence.
"Of the time seed," Aebum replied, the internal voice unwavering. "The very essence of temporal flow, solidified. For millennia, I have existed on this planet, dormant, waiting. Waiting for the one who could perceive me."
Rick's mind raced, connecting the dots. "The seed… the one I found by the fence post? That's you?"
"A part of me," Aebum confirmed. "My physical vessel. And yes, it is through my influence that you have been able to dream yourself back to your past."
A wave of understanding, mixed with a chilling sense of awe, washed over Rick. So, it wasn't just some random neurological anomaly or a peculiar side effect of stress. There was a direct, tangible cause.
"And the smoke? The colors?" Rick asked, remembering the black, gray, and white mists he had seen around his house.
"Ah, the temporal emanations," Aebum mused, the smoky figure seeming to ripple with amusement. "They are the visible manifestations of time's passage upon objects. All things, living or inanimate, shed temporal energy. The newer an object, the fainter and whiter the emanation. As time accrues, the energy darkens, becoming gray, then black for the truly ancient. You, Rick Lane, have now awakened to a higher perception. You can see the flow of time itself."
Rick felt a shiver run down his spine, despite the lack of temperature in this white space. He could see time? It was a power he hadn't asked for, one that felt both incredible and terrifying. He hesitated, fear bubbling in his gut. This was all too much. Time travel, temporal emanations, a sentient time seed… it was beyond the realm of his wildest imagination. He wanted to reject it, to dismiss it as a hallucination brought on by his headache. But the vividness, the clarity of Aebum's voice in his mind, the sheer impossibility of his situation, told him otherwise.
After a long moment of internal struggle, Rick took a deep breath. He had faced down corporate raiders, rebuilt a restaurant empire from scratch, and navigated the treacherous waters of his past. He could handle this. He had to. He had accepted the reality of his dreams. He would accept this, too.
"Okay," Rick said, his voice stronger now, a hint of his inherent resolve returning. "So, you're Aebum, the time seed, and you're the reason I can go back to the past. And now I can see temporal emanations." He paused. "Can you… Can you extend the time I spend in the past?" The question was bold, urgent. His time in the past was precious, every minute a chance to change his destiny, to save Jenny.
Aebum's form seemed to coalesce slightly, the gray smoke swirling more intently. "That is possible, Rick Lane. But there is a condition. A task."
Rick braced himself. "What is it?"
"For millennia," Aebum's voice echoed, "I have been dormant, unseen. You are the first. And for that, you have been chosen. My physical form, the seed you hold, requires a place to thrive, to gather and disseminate the temporal energies. You must create a garden, Rick Lane. A place of growth and life. The larger the garden, the more conducive it will be to my purpose. And in the very center of this garden, you must plant my seed body."
Rick listened, his mind racing. A garden? That was it? After all this, a garden seemed almost ridiculously simple. But he understood the implications. A living, growing space, a conduit for life and energy.
"If you fulfill this task," Aebum continued, a faint resonance of approval in its voice, "if you dedicate yourself to the cultivation of this temporal garden, then I will grant you double the time you currently spend in your past. For every hour you sleep, you will experience two hours in your dreams. And if your garden truly flourishes, more may become possible."
Double the time! The prospect ignited a powerful surge of elation within Rick. This wasn't just a bizarre encounter; it was an opportunity, a lifeline. With double the time, he could accomplish so much more, delve deeper into the past, ensure a brighter future for Jenny and his family. The fear he had felt moments ago was replaced by a surging tide of determination.
"Consider it done, Senior," Rick declared, his voice firm and resolute. "I will create the most magnificent garden you have ever seen."
…
Rick found himself back on the lawn, the black, walnut-like seed still clutched firmly in his hand. The multicolored smoke, though still faintly emanating from it, was less intense now, as if satisfied. He looked at the empty plot of land just beside his old ancestral home. It was a substantial piece of land, currently overgrown with weeds and sparse patches of dry grass. In his "original" timeline, his family had always talked about building an apartment complex on this plot, a way to generate extra income. But for some inexplicable reason, despite the plans and discussions, they had never proceeded. Year after year, the land remained undeveloped.
Now, a conjecture began to form in Rick's mind. Could Aebum have been influencing that? Had the dormant time seed, for millennia, subtly deterred any major construction on the land where it was destined to be planted? It was a wild thought, but given everything he had just experienced, it seemed entirely plausible. The universe, or perhaps time itself, was subtly guiding events.
With newfound purpose, Rick wasted no time. He immediately began making calls. By mid-afternoon, a small crew of local laborers, recommended by his trusted foreman from one of his restaurant construction projects, arrived at the old house. They looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and deference, knowing he was "the rich Mr. Lane."
"We need to till this entire plot," Rick instructed, sweeping his arm across the overgrown land. "Deep tilling. And I want several truckloads of loamy soil delivered."
The foreman, a grizzled man named Mr. Tony, raised an eyebrow. "Loamy soil, Mr. Lane? That'll be quite expensive. The mountain soil here, it's mostly limestone. Good for some things, but not much else."
"I know, Mr. Tony," Rick replied, a knowing glint in his eye. He remembered his horticulture classes from university, a fleeting interest he'd pursued before his business empire consumed his time. Limestone soil was indeed common near the foothills of the mountain where his old house stood. It was alkaline and often poor in organic matter. Loamy soil, on the other hand, was a balanced mix of sand, silt, and clay, rich in nutrients and ideal for plant growth. Rick's plan was to combine the two. "We'll mix the loamy soil with the existing limestone. We want to create a rich, mineral-infused soil. Think of it as a custom blend for a very special garden."
Mr. Tony shrugged, clearly accustomed to the eccentricities of the wealthy. "As you wish, Mr. Lane."
For the rest of the day, the empty plot transformed into a hive of activity. The roar of a small tiller filled the air, churned earth releasing a rich, earthy scent. Trucks rumbled in, dumping piles of dark, crumbly loamy soil. The laborers, sweating under the afternoon sun, worked diligently, mixing the two soil types, creating a dark, rich foundation for the future garden. Rick, despite his fine clothes, even rolled up his sleeves and helped, feeling a primal satisfaction as he worked the earth. He envisioned a vibrant garden, teeming with life, where Aebum could thrive.
By late afternoon, the plot was meticulously tilled, a wide expanse of rich, dark earth ready for planting. Rick stood back, admiring their work, a sense of accomplishment swelling in his chest. He felt tired, a good kind of tired, the ache of physical labor a welcome contrast to the mental strain of his temporal adventures.
He went home, the black seed carefully wrapped in a clean cloth. Before he retired for the night, he found a sturdy terracotta pot. He filled it with a generous amount of the newly acquired loamy soil, patting it down gently. He then carefully placed the black seed in the center of the pot, just beneath the surface, before adding a final layer of soil. He gave it a small amount of water.
"Sleep well, Aebum," Rick murmured, a strange sense of companionship settling over him. He knew this was just a temporary home for the seed, but it was a beginning. He placed the pot on his bedside table, within easy reach, a silent promise to the ancient entity.
He finally collapsed into bed, his body heavy with fatigue, his mind alight with anticipation. He closed his eyes, eager for his next journey back in time, eager to see the double time Aebum had promised.