Prologue

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     In a future plausibly distant, yet close enough for events to be close to heart, a pivotal moment transpired. Groups of physicists from the CERN Institute in Switzerland and the U.S.-based Fermi Labs published a paper proving that negative mass and energy can be created and maintained over time. Elusive and complex physical concepts, whose natures are known to precious few, and explanations would require far more pages than are bound within this book in our hands. Therefore, we’ll give up trying in advance.

     These discoveries’ ramifications are which hold significance, and in those we shall focus. In his genius, Albert Einstein himself realized long ago that the expanse of reality itself bends at the presence of immense mass. For an object close to such a behemoth, time itself would slow. Theories by then considered marginal, surmised that under opposite conditions – proximity to large enough Negative Mass – time would quicken its pace. Alas, these scientific secrets are far beyond my grasp, so I advise those wise among us to await this future and uncover its meaning themselves.

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  Physicists conducted experiments, validating the feasibility of Temporal Acceleration and broadening the foundations of human knowledge. Thus, inevitably, as is always throughout history, knowledge became common inheritance to all. Engineers and inventors translated a new reality into machinery and inventions, upon which entrepreneurs and Venture Capital fund managers swooped.

    These new insights into the very fabric of the universe enabled the construction of complexes where time flowed faster than in the outside world. Hours in accelerated meeting rooms wasted but fleeting minutes in real-time. Technology conglomerates seized the opportunity to drastically reduce the time from new product development initiation to sales launch.

 Those whose time was accelerated demanded adequate compensation for the days, weeks, and sometimes more lost compared to “Normal time”. But the extensive gains reaped by corporations dwarfed any such compensation. Entire office complexes and factories were enclosed beneath acceleration Domes. This business arms race quickly propelled coverage of entire cities. Small, densely populated nations held a decisive edge in this race. Israel, as a stellar example, capped its cities with an array of domes from desert to plateau, and from the mountain to the sea.

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   Earth's climate, severely unbalanced during the 20th century, was unleashed. Barring military transport, sailing the seas and oceans ceased entirely, and likewise, flight outside the domes. Transportation between nations and continents burrowed underground, in a vast bullet train network.

   Capricious natural disasters became routine and frequent. Humanity was struck severely, requiring all its genius to survive. The climate upheaval brought forth an eruption of resource wars, but also a burst of hope. Even the two-century-old conflict over the Holy Land dissipated when confronted with the horrors unleashed by nature.

   At the dawn of extensive coverage, two intriguing and seemingly contradictory phenomena emerged. Firstly, the time acceleration field caused the adjacent air temperature to plummet near absolute zero. Moisture in the nearby air froze into icy blankets that accumulated to vast surfaces.

    The second revelation showed that once reaching a critical size, on the boundary of the time acceleration “bubble”, energy oscillated wildly between positive and negative at a staggering frequency. As a result, when solid matter touched the field, its constituent molecules were torn asunder to atoms and Ions[1], releasing massive radiation. The combination of these phenomena caused an immense torrent of gamma radiation into the field and away.

    Advances in materials science allowed the Domes to progress from sunlight-to-electricity conversion to superiorly efficient gamma radiation converters. The constant disintegration on the field surface caused a constant upward thrust, sending a ceaseless cascade of icy sheets plummeting to the ground. Soon were their waters harvested to benefit the enclosed domains.

    Sprawling cities, whose darker footprint once contributed to environmental heating, now donned vast blankets of snowy whiteness that reflected sunlight into space. This extraordinary phenomenon, christened "the Chill", immediately affected the climate. In just a few years, global warming has slowed down. Climate patterns found their rhythm once more but held no sway over the sprawling Domes' inhabitants.

 

[1] Ion – an atom carrying a positive or negative electrical charge.

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Introduction

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Four years after the Peace War

Spring 2074, Out-time / Summer 2481, In-time

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The Seam – Passage between Dan Arcology & Tel Aviv

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   Alon exits the terminal, entering the lengthy approach tunnel. The twin doors at the tunnel's exit seem to expel him into a dense, freezing mist. The Chill gusts assault him. Despite the thick sweater, he shivers. “Forgot the wool hat again. Same mistake every time!" he grumbles to himself. "So what if we're in the Middle East, late spring? It doesn't matter here."

   Alon clutches the safety rail and follows as sunlight brightens around. The air warms swiftly, clings to skin in moist stickiness, making shedding clothing layers challenging. The hum of drones, sealing around the link between the access tunnel and the terminal, resonates behind him.

   When the construction is complete, months from now, the bothersome fog will be of little consequence. A few vacant shops down the road, a changing room awaits to accommodate Out-Side visitor’s needs. Alon stows his warm attire in a locker, dons shorts and a light cotton shirt, and is off on his way.

    Ficus-microcarpa fruits are decaying to a soggy pulp, rendering the pavements treacherously dangerous. Half walking, half slipping, Alon curses the planners of Tel Aviv for this choice to shade the city. Eradication attempts of the tiny wasps, responsible for fruit ripening, have failed. In Tel Aviv, the Ficus and the wasps thrive. Climate shifts have transformed it from a Mediterranean city into a rainy subtropical one.

    The routine farewell to his family, on the other side of time, makes him feel much older than his forty-five years. ‘They call me multi-pops, even though I’m a complete stranger to them. How well can one even know a person, meeting for an hour each time? Once a week by Out–time, once every three years by In-time?’

    To combat melancholy, Alon turns to his routine ceremony - a Falafel meal and a glass of lemonade, at the ancient street corner stand. Afterward, he’ll stroll along the longer path, by the beach, to the market square in the city’s north. The memorial service for those lost in the Gathering starts in a few hours, and there are still things to arrange.

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   "...He who creates peace in his celestial heights, may he create peace for us and for all of Israel; And say, Amen."

Tens of Thousands of voices resonate back an ancient prayer of hope. The spiritual leader bows his head and exits the small stage to the left. Alon, the unofficial ceremony's host, retakes the lectern with wandering thoughts. ‘They’re not here for me. Not because of me either, but at least with me. My responsibility.’ The crowd, his people all, alleviates at least for a while the deep gnawing futility in him.

    Before him, a multitude of faces portray sorrow, and here and there, handkerchiefs dab tears of remembrance. Far aside stand the dissenters, waving Israeli flags in which the Star of David has been replaced by symbols of protest. Here, a broken clock, there the number 168, bound by a red circle, crossed out with a thick line.

    "Next week will be marked under the Kippah, in mourning and celebration, 533 years of revival. Our brethren bear for us the official burden of remembrance. The Holocaust and Revolt, Israel’s military campaigns and hostilities against our nation, climate disasters, and the memory of rebirth – our Independence Day. We were left to carry a different memory in hearts.

    Eight years ago, twelve million souls were wrenched from our personal lives. Our children, siblings, parents. Entire family trees. Some – compelled reluctantly, longing for a future possible only under the Kippah. Others - fearing horrendous destruction by the climate disasters. Some unwillingly, abducted in their bodies.

    Babies and children, loved ones, parents and siblings, childhood friends and lifelong companions, neighbors, and colleagues. All of them - the Gathering Generation – completed, within a few years, entire lifespans before our yearning eyes. Our lives trees uprooted from us. Replanted to flourish beyond our reach, far from our hearts.

     We, the fallen seeds, remained in the soil of hastily torn roots. But seeds sprout, and take root. We cultivated a grove of memory and vitality for the nation's glory. Young, but vibrant. Sparse, yet fruitful. As long as sense prevails in us, we shall never cease growing. We shall never cease remembering. My neighbors, siblings, loved ones - a day will come, and our world will be restored. There will be no need for the domes, and we’ll unite as one great forest. The people of Israel live on."

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Eight years after the Peach War

Summer 2078, Out-time / Winter 3160, In-time

 

The Tel Aviv Seam - visitors center

 

    "Children, what is the Out-Side Administration?"

Small, enthusiastic hands shoot up. The teacher specifically chooses a hesitant girl. "Hannah? What do you say?"

The girl hesitates. "Is this the little bit left of Israel that is not under the Kippah[1]?"

"Exactly," answers Alon instead of the teachers and comfortably lounges in an armchair. Alon maintains continuous eye contact with the children seated in front of him, as part of an educational tour to The Seam.

   "Good morning, everybody. I'm Alon Alleyn, a scientist and The Out-Side Administrator. We’re at the administration’s offices – The Seam. Who will tell us a bit about the Kippah?"

The children eye each other and the floor, a little embarrassed. it's not every day one meets the one in charge of all of Outside Israel. Several fingers are raised, elbow in palm. Alon gestures to one of the students and invites her to answer.

"They live really fast in there, and for them a year takes only two days of ours." A petite third grader, with hair deliberately short and wild, answers.

   "You keep the Kippah machines from breaking down," Adds a fourth-grade kid, adorned with long curled sideburns and a huge yarmulke. "In-Side Israel makes sure we have what we need and are healthy, so we can be farmers here and study Torah!"

"Not just Torah," Oranit, the teacher, joins in. "But everything we want to do. Art, creation, thought, sports."

"It covers from sea to the sea and from the mountain to the desert!" The boy sings a well-known verse.

    "And why aren't we with them? Why are we stuck here?"

The question strikes his heart right at the open wound, at the point that does not heal. Naturally, it will be asked by a defiant, captivating, and energetic girl. As was his Ya’m, already at age two. Alon shakes off the pain and smiles at the children.

    "Because we can't live there. As you’ve learned, we on The Out-Side must not undergo time acceleration. Our bodies and minds won't last. Now, who's going to tell us what's special and different about how we live today, compared to before the Kippah? Yes, you in the cool purple hat. What’s your name?"

    Face flushed from the compliment, a fifth-grader stands up and answers with a formal expression. "I'm Hof[2]. We don't make a big deal of how people want to live. If you don't disturb anyone, do whatever you want. The Kippah provides what you need to live well, and those who wish grow whatever they feel like in the square."

     "Very true, Hof. But there is more."

A grown-up-looking girl raises a finger. "My dads say that once only girls could give birth. How strange."

"And once in order to talk to computers, you had to write to them, and they didn't even talk back at all," adds another girl.

    Alon nods. "And cars couldn't fly, and the sea on our shores was warm and not covered in ice, and a lot of other strange things that the teachers will teach you. Now we will say goodbye. IT’s a pleasure that you came, and I hope you enjoy the rest of the tour. Yours are impressive minds, and I didn't expect anything less."

    Oranit and Yulia call the children and gather them into groups. The principal and leader of the elementary class approach Alon.

"Judith, it's always delightful when you come by. The children are charming."

"Thank you," replies the veteran educator. "We love bringing them here."

"How many children does your school have this year?"

    "Seventy-three, Alon. About twelve per class. Next year, only eight children were enrolled in first grade."

Judith adds, in a whisper meant for his ear only. "We are an extinct breed, no doubt. Considering that we’re a futureless breed as well, maybe it's better that way."

Alon nods, in sadness mixed with resignation. "Have a good day, Judith. I have to go on to the families room, just let me say goodbye to the children and the teachers."

 

[1] Kippah – Yarmulke, Hebrew. Brimless head cover worn by secular Jewish men, adherence to faith requirement of head coverage. The Israeli Time acceleration dome was nicknamed 'the Kippah'.

[2] Hof – Beach, Hebrew.

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The Peace War

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Spring 2070, Out-time / Spring 2135, In-time

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The Kippa – Dan Arcology – Department of Defense complex

 

   Negev Shar'abi, the fifty-second Israeli Defense Forces (IDF) Chief of Staff, reviews maps and intelligence assessments. In his eyes[אI1] , the country's borders are shrouded in red tactical signs, their colossal numbers threatening. Their malicious intentions are clear and well-known. Their venomous whispers echo in his imagination, imbued with pleasure and anticipation of incoming destruction. "Israel is weak. Its meagre forces cannot withstand our might. Our time has come!"

Hundreds of meters below the Israeli Defense Forces headquarters, the atmosphere is tense.

    Operators lie in their stations. Juniors circling the outer rim, with seniority increasing towards the center. Straight passages divide the sections, allowing for swift shift changes. In one station, a fresh operator sits and interfaces with the control recliner. The back automatically fully reclines to alleviate the physical strain of the long shift.

  Control recliners seem to absorb military personnel, monitoring their physical condition. At their request, the chairs shift position to ease an aching shoulder or a stiff back. Suddenly, a voice cuts through the silence. "Chair, back rub. Yes – there." Within his mind, a command immediately sounds. "Silence over on the net!"

"Sorry, Ma'am, my mistake," the embarrassed voice responds in kind.

 

    Negev allows his concentration to fade for a moment, his thoughts to drift away in the more felt than heard mechanical hum. The murmur hovers in the room and changes slowly as recliners add and subtract from it. The operators eyes are shut, and their brains are feverishly working. The hum assists in reaching deep concentration. All are linked to the systems by a neural connection,  implanted under the skin at the base of the skull.

    Commands and readiness confirmation requests flow from their minds to the Edge Units. The replies generate a current tactical view, which the link projects directly to the operator’s brain’s visual cortex[1]. Every team surveys the sector under its responsibility as if from the same pair of eyes. As rank increases, so does the information resolution. The Israeli border shimmers with a sequence of green dots, symbolizing the Edge Units.

    ‘The plan is good and will succeed. Wait! What about… NO. I missed nothing. We’re ready.’ Finally, the long-awaited report flashes in the Chief of Staff's mind. ‘All positions are locked and charged, Sir, and awaiting command.’ Readiness gauges above each unit display present full power but herald nothing of the impending future. The armed forces leader commands, by voice rather than thought, as protocol dictates. "Chiefs of Staff – provide current situation report. Climate Command?"

    The Aluf[2] responds immediately, his deep voice resonating through the war room. "The arctic front in the northern sector worsens, continuously producing thunderstorms and twenty lightning strikes per minute. Glaciers block the Gibraltar Straits. The barometric high-pressure system over Jordan causes temperatures around 50 degrees Celsius from the Sea of Galilee to Eilat. Sandstorms ten kilometers high prevent flight."

    "Navy, your turn."

"Sir, the Gibraltar Straits closure prevents surface naval access to the Mediterranean." The Aluf speaks with composed determination. "We lost track of the two Iranian submarines previously spotted north of Cyprus. The threat level is low. Sea conditions prevent rising to launch depth. The Egyptians prevented enemy access by blocking the Tiran Straits and the Gulf of Suez. The Saudis repelled the Iranian aircraft carrier groups south of the Red Sea, which are now anchored outside Aden's port."

    "Air and space."

"Extremely poor visibility throughout the airspace." A laconic female voice replies. "Over a hundred thousand missile launches from the Iranian Empire were detected, of various types. Most were destroyed midair by lightning or crashed. The domes sustained ten thousand impacts, causing no damage. Seven hostile combat satellites were destroyed, and our spaceborne defense & interception arrays are at full alert."

    "Southern Command."

"South here. All survivors of the commando units that crashed yesterday due to sandstorms were located. Military police have arrested a hundred prisoners, and the wounded are receiving care. Thank god – no casualties among our forces."

   "Esteemed General Nazem? Ah’lan wa’sah’lan[3], and we’re honored by your presence."

"Ah’lein and greetings from the Rais, General Shar'abi. The Preventive Security Service of the State of Palestine has apprehended hundreds of enemy agents and collaborating traitors. Our armed forces hold defensive positions along the eastern border, guarding your rear. There is no sign of enemy movements. Insha’Allah[4], and be’ez’rat ha’shem[5], we’ll be victorious!"

    The last to report is the Northern Command Chief. "First reconnaissance units will breach within minutes the Rocks line in the Golan Heights. It appears the Empire is launching a major offensive, with all nine divisions that advanced through Syria. Thus far, the deception is working."

   The Chief of Staff rises from the command recliner and straightens his uniform. Despite the Chief’s reports, the fist clenching his heart does not let go. One mistake, missing a seemingly insignificant bit of information, would mean a calamity. His gazes about, eyes scanning, and his mind transmits a call to attention. The neural link immediately informs all on-call forces throughout the country. The command room bustles with commotion as its occupants rise. All eyes hang upon the high commander, the IDF's might embodied.

    Rav-Aluf[6] Shar'abi’s piercing gaze surveys his people at length and declares, "The time has come. Our actions today will determine the nation's and homeland’s fate. We shall reshape the Middle East for eons to come. I know each one of you is doing your utmost. I am proud to serve with you and grateful for the privilege to lead you. Now, we await the assault."

 

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    The waiting prolongs, stretching to eternity. Shifts change as time passes. Finally, twenty Out hours, nearly forty In days since the attack began, the word arrive. The enemy’s main forces are crossing the Rocks line in the southern Golan Heights. The Chief of Staff awakens from fitful rest in his chambers at the Pit - the IDF's war bunker complex.

   The anxious countenance of the war-room commander materializes before him, voice tense. "Shar'abi, it's starting."

The temporal gap allows for orderly preparations. Face washing, uniforms check, a deep breath, and to station in mere seconds - relative to the advancing red forces. The enemy's intentions are clear, his goal - the nation's proper. The timing is symbolic, annoying, and infuriating. The attack began on the very date of Israel's declaration of independence, May fourteenth.

   "Activation by my authorization only!" The Chief of Staff interfaces with the recliner, leans back while closing his eyes. In his enhanced perception, a detailed tactical map unfolds. Such a weapon was never deployed. His conscience demands a final comparison of the planned destruction ranges and yields to the operational plan. The waiting lingers for many hours, in superhuman concentration. Its purpose – to include the bulk of the enemy forces within the annihilation radius. At last, the Chief of Staff exclaims, "Methuselah stations, engage-engage-engage!"

 

   Behind and all around them, an electronic hum suddenly amplifies, akin to a colossal electric motor reaching its apex velocity. The heroes of Baghdad and Tehran charged so far, nearly unmolested, scoffing at the feeble Israeli defenses. Their men look up at the black basalt boulders, pondering the humming meaning. An incandescence outshining the sun erupts from the rocks. The sky vanishes, and with it, the threat from the east.

   "Total annihilation. Repeat - total annihilation at the contact points!" The Chief of Staff surveys satellite feeds, assessing what remains of the attackers' formations. Before his eyes, rings of colossal dust clouds expand and dissipate. The central Golan Heights, from the Syrian border to the slopes of the Hula Valley, has been utterly flattened.

   The surviving remnants of the enemy forces are lost, their retreat haphazard. Vehicles and equipment are abandoned as soldiers scramble to flee to the logistical rear. The room fills with gleeful shouts and hugging operators. The Chief of Staff watches them and inwards. ‘Such a horrible loss. They’re merely soldiers, like these kids here. And what have we unleashed… what horror have I unleashed just now upon the world?’

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[1] The visual cortex is the main area of the brain that processes visual

     information received by the vision system.

[2] Aluf – Major general; Hebrew. Second-highest rank in the IDF.

[3] Ah’lan wa’sah’lan – Welcome, Arabic.

[4] Insha’Allah – God’s willing, Arabic.

[5] Be’ez’rat ha’shem – With god’s help, Hebrew.

[6] Rav-Aluf – Lieutenant general, in Hebrew. Highest rank in  the IDF.

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