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Time, Space, and Dimensions / Experimenting with the time gates.
« on: September 19, 2004, 06:05:23 am »
Okay, I came upon a number of ideas on some of the fundamental properties of the time gates while writing my story. Bear with me on this, as it is long, and my mind does crazy things sometimes. I find it easier to get across my viewpoints by using a number of "experiments".
Let's assume, for the sake of the experiments, that I am: immortal, in possession of a gate key, and implanted in the CT timeline in the year 1000 AD before Lavos is destroyed.
Experiment #1:
I head to Leene Square and hang out by the time gate that leads to the Middle Ages. In all my immortal glory, I keep my eyes on the time gate for the next 999 years, until the Day of Lavos, when I get scared, open up the time gate, and jump through. Where do I end up?
A) In the year 1599 AD, since the other end was at a 400 year difference toward the past.
B) In the year 600 AD, the original temporal location of the other end.
C) There is no time gate there in the year 1999 AD, dummy! The timegate in Truce Canyon/Leene Square only exists in the years 600 AD and 1000 AD.
D) None of the above.
Experiment #2
Instead of doing experiment #1, I jump through the time gate to the year 600. Once again, in all my immortal glory, I hang around for the next 400 years until the year 1000 AD, making sure to keep my eye on the time gate even more carefully this time. Then, I jump in. Where do I end up?
A) In the year 1400 AD, since the other end was at a 400 year difference toward the future.
B) In the year 600 AD, where the 1000 AD portal always goes to.
C) There is no gate in the year 1000, dummy!--- err, wait - there is. Never mind. Don't pick this answer.
D) None of the above.
Experiment #3
Opting to not travel at all, I hand my gate key to Robo before he sets off to replant Fiona's forest. I tell him to take a break after 100 years of planting and come visit, before heading back and finishing the rest. He does this. What happens to Robo when he re-enters the Truce Canyon time gate in the year 700 AD?
A) He ends up in the year 1100 AD, 400 years later, and is sad because all his friends are dead. So he hops back through the portal to the year 700 AD and finishes planting.
B) He ends up back in the year 1000 AD and spends some quality time with his friends. But returning through the gate, he travels back to the year 600, and has to hide for the next 100 years until his past self takes the break he just took, and then resumes planting.
C) There is no gate in the year 700 AD, dummy! A sad and confused Robo just goes back to planting.
D) You have way too much time on your hands thinking up all of this stuff.
I believe the answer to be D for each, unless you guys think otherwise. I have a more specific answer, but you have to keep reading.
The time gates obviously flow with the passage of time. They have to, as the Chrono crew can access them whenever they wish. And they don't just exist in the relative present. Just as a tree will exist at every point in time during its life span, so too do the gates exist at every point in time during their life spans (until Lavos is destroyed, Gaspar seals the gates, whatever the current theory is). Assuming this is the original CT timeline, a time gate that exists at a specific location must exist at every point in time during its life span at that location.
Theoretically, if the gates exist at every point in time, one would be able to access every point in time, using the time gate to connect one point of existence to another. Yet this is not the case. Instead of being open-ended gates, the gates act as 2-point wormholes, for instance, the gate that links 600 AD to 1000 AD. That begs the question, what causes the 2-point effect?
A) The Entity forces the Chrono crew to exit at certain spots in time in order to guide them on their journey. How convenient.
B) ..... is there another possible explanation?
C) Yup, there is. The time gates don't actually cause time travel; they cause dimensional travel.
D)
what??? You're a dummy.
Maybe, just maybe, that whenever the Chrono crew travels through the gate, they don't travel in time within their own timeline, they travel to a different dimension that happens to be lined up at a different time period. Who says that dimensions have to be lined up all perfectly neat and tidy right next to each other, where 1000 AD in one dimension lines up right next to the 1000 AD's in the infinite number of other dimensions?
What if, the time-space continuum doesn't look like the inside of a piano, where all the strings are neatly parallel to each other. What if, it instead looks like a giant bowl of spaghetti. Yes, spaghetti, where each strand of spaghetti is an infintely long timeline representing a dimension. They tangle, curl and loop around, and make contact with each other at certain specific locations and times. These points of contact are where the barriers within the dimensions are the weakest, and only a little nudge from an extra something can allow travel between the dimensions. For example, Truce Canyon/Leene Square - 600 AD/1000 AD.
This theory first popped into my head while writing my story, trying to figure out why Chrono travels through the time gate to rescue Marle not one minute after she left, only to find she had been whisked away already to the palace - probably days later. That would mean the rate of time in 600 AD is faster than it is in 1000 AD. But why?
A) The planet's velocity has slowed down somehow since then, thus its relative time-rate is slower.
B) The Entity did it.
C) Marle and Chrono travelled dimensionally rather than temporally, and that dimension's rate of time is faster.
D) Enough with these multiple choice questions already!!!
Okay, okay.... well, the next question would be how can one dimension proceed at a faster rate than another? The answer requires an analogy.
Let's say you and I decide to go on a trip. We both get into two separate cars, and start driving from the same point. You head east, and I head northeast-ish, at about a 60 degree angle to you. We both travel at 30 miles per hour.
Eventually we both hit the east coast, but you make long before I do, since you take the most direct route, and I travelled at an angle. Your easternly speed was 30 miles per hour. My easternly speed was only 15 miles per hour. Yet we were both travelling at 30 miles per hour.
Likewise, the 1000 AD dimension is laid out at an angle to the 600 AD dimension, and the absolute 'arrow of time' follows more closely to the latter than to the former. Meanwhile, the relative 'arrows of time' follow the timeline like normal. Thus, Chrono can arrive and find that in the space of a minute, days happened. And since the dimensions can be nearly identical due to the fact that there are an infinite number of dimensional possibilities, it would appear to everybody that they simply travelled through time - even to the gamer!
But, what happens when Chrono, Marle, and Lucca return to their original dimension. What they changed in the Middle Ages, like with Fiona's forest, shouldn't affect the original dimension. Or should it?
For this, I like to go back to the spaghetti model of the universe. In fact, it is on a plate in front of you, smothered in a zesty tomato herb sauce. But, your obnoxious baby brother decides he wants to throw a meatball at you. A very dense meatball. Little does he know he isn't strong enough, and it simply lands on your plate.
To the strand of spaghetti that was directly underneath, it suffered the most change, the most drastic shift in position. The strands around it, still under the meatball but not directly under it, experience a change, though slightly less. And as you progress away from the meatball, the changes are less and less noticeable until they are infinately small for the strands farthest away.
Likewise, changes in the dimensional structure do not occur one dimensionally - within its own timeline. They occur three dimensionally, to all the other timelines around it. Just like a rock thrown into a pool of water will create ripples, so too will declarations of free will ripple throughout the dimensional universe. And this isn't just for dimensional travellers. This is for any choice, any action, any possibility created by any resident within any dimension. Thus, timelines that are nearby will be very similar - they experience the same "ripples". Timelines farther away will be different. But all possibilities are accounted for. Once again, you look down at your plate of spaghetti, and your newly opened mind sees instead a plate of earthworms, writhing and twisting about each other in a constant motion of change and possibility. It makes you sick to your stomach and you vomit.
Or who knows, maybe you vomitted because I just told you there could possibly have been no time travel in Chrono Trigger. Though I'd like to hear your thoughts on this in any case.
Thanks for listening to me!
Let's assume, for the sake of the experiments, that I am: immortal, in possession of a gate key, and implanted in the CT timeline in the year 1000 AD before Lavos is destroyed.
Experiment #1:
I head to Leene Square and hang out by the time gate that leads to the Middle Ages. In all my immortal glory, I keep my eyes on the time gate for the next 999 years, until the Day of Lavos, when I get scared, open up the time gate, and jump through. Where do I end up?
A) In the year 1599 AD, since the other end was at a 400 year difference toward the past.
B) In the year 600 AD, the original temporal location of the other end.
C) There is no time gate there in the year 1999 AD, dummy! The timegate in Truce Canyon/Leene Square only exists in the years 600 AD and 1000 AD.
D) None of the above.
Experiment #2
Instead of doing experiment #1, I jump through the time gate to the year 600. Once again, in all my immortal glory, I hang around for the next 400 years until the year 1000 AD, making sure to keep my eye on the time gate even more carefully this time. Then, I jump in. Where do I end up?
A) In the year 1400 AD, since the other end was at a 400 year difference toward the future.
B) In the year 600 AD, where the 1000 AD portal always goes to.
C) There is no gate in the year 1000, dummy!--- err, wait - there is. Never mind. Don't pick this answer.
D) None of the above.
Experiment #3
Opting to not travel at all, I hand my gate key to Robo before he sets off to replant Fiona's forest. I tell him to take a break after 100 years of planting and come visit, before heading back and finishing the rest. He does this. What happens to Robo when he re-enters the Truce Canyon time gate in the year 700 AD?
A) He ends up in the year 1100 AD, 400 years later, and is sad because all his friends are dead. So he hops back through the portal to the year 700 AD and finishes planting.
B) He ends up back in the year 1000 AD and spends some quality time with his friends. But returning through the gate, he travels back to the year 600, and has to hide for the next 100 years until his past self takes the break he just took, and then resumes planting.
C) There is no gate in the year 700 AD, dummy! A sad and confused Robo just goes back to planting.
D) You have way too much time on your hands thinking up all of this stuff.
I believe the answer to be D for each, unless you guys think otherwise. I have a more specific answer, but you have to keep reading.
The time gates obviously flow with the passage of time. They have to, as the Chrono crew can access them whenever they wish. And they don't just exist in the relative present. Just as a tree will exist at every point in time during its life span, so too do the gates exist at every point in time during their life spans (until Lavos is destroyed, Gaspar seals the gates, whatever the current theory is). Assuming this is the original CT timeline, a time gate that exists at a specific location must exist at every point in time during its life span at that location.
Theoretically, if the gates exist at every point in time, one would be able to access every point in time, using the time gate to connect one point of existence to another. Yet this is not the case. Instead of being open-ended gates, the gates act as 2-point wormholes, for instance, the gate that links 600 AD to 1000 AD. That begs the question, what causes the 2-point effect?
A) The Entity forces the Chrono crew to exit at certain spots in time in order to guide them on their journey. How convenient.
B) ..... is there another possible explanation?
C) Yup, there is. The time gates don't actually cause time travel; they cause dimensional travel.
D)
what??? You're a dummy.Maybe, just maybe, that whenever the Chrono crew travels through the gate, they don't travel in time within their own timeline, they travel to a different dimension that happens to be lined up at a different time period. Who says that dimensions have to be lined up all perfectly neat and tidy right next to each other, where 1000 AD in one dimension lines up right next to the 1000 AD's in the infinite number of other dimensions?
What if, the time-space continuum doesn't look like the inside of a piano, where all the strings are neatly parallel to each other. What if, it instead looks like a giant bowl of spaghetti. Yes, spaghetti, where each strand of spaghetti is an infintely long timeline representing a dimension. They tangle, curl and loop around, and make contact with each other at certain specific locations and times. These points of contact are where the barriers within the dimensions are the weakest, and only a little nudge from an extra something can allow travel between the dimensions. For example, Truce Canyon/Leene Square - 600 AD/1000 AD.
This theory first popped into my head while writing my story, trying to figure out why Chrono travels through the time gate to rescue Marle not one minute after she left, only to find she had been whisked away already to the palace - probably days later. That would mean the rate of time in 600 AD is faster than it is in 1000 AD. But why?
A) The planet's velocity has slowed down somehow since then, thus its relative time-rate is slower.
B) The Entity did it.
C) Marle and Chrono travelled dimensionally rather than temporally, and that dimension's rate of time is faster.
D) Enough with these multiple choice questions already!!!
Okay, okay.... well, the next question would be how can one dimension proceed at a faster rate than another? The answer requires an analogy.
Let's say you and I decide to go on a trip. We both get into two separate cars, and start driving from the same point. You head east, and I head northeast-ish, at about a 60 degree angle to you. We both travel at 30 miles per hour.
Eventually we both hit the east coast, but you make long before I do, since you take the most direct route, and I travelled at an angle. Your easternly speed was 30 miles per hour. My easternly speed was only 15 miles per hour. Yet we were both travelling at 30 miles per hour.
Likewise, the 1000 AD dimension is laid out at an angle to the 600 AD dimension, and the absolute 'arrow of time' follows more closely to the latter than to the former. Meanwhile, the relative 'arrows of time' follow the timeline like normal. Thus, Chrono can arrive and find that in the space of a minute, days happened. And since the dimensions can be nearly identical due to the fact that there are an infinite number of dimensional possibilities, it would appear to everybody that they simply travelled through time - even to the gamer!
But, what happens when Chrono, Marle, and Lucca return to their original dimension. What they changed in the Middle Ages, like with Fiona's forest, shouldn't affect the original dimension. Or should it?
For this, I like to go back to the spaghetti model of the universe. In fact, it is on a plate in front of you, smothered in a zesty tomato herb sauce. But, your obnoxious baby brother decides he wants to throw a meatball at you. A very dense meatball. Little does he know he isn't strong enough, and it simply lands on your plate.
To the strand of spaghetti that was directly underneath, it suffered the most change, the most drastic shift in position. The strands around it, still under the meatball but not directly under it, experience a change, though slightly less. And as you progress away from the meatball, the changes are less and less noticeable until they are infinately small for the strands farthest away.
Likewise, changes in the dimensional structure do not occur one dimensionally - within its own timeline. They occur three dimensionally, to all the other timelines around it. Just like a rock thrown into a pool of water will create ripples, so too will declarations of free will ripple throughout the dimensional universe. And this isn't just for dimensional travellers. This is for any choice, any action, any possibility created by any resident within any dimension. Thus, timelines that are nearby will be very similar - they experience the same "ripples". Timelines farther away will be different. But all possibilities are accounted for. Once again, you look down at your plate of spaghetti, and your newly opened mind sees instead a plate of earthworms, writhing and twisting about each other in a constant motion of change and possibility. It makes you sick to your stomach and you vomit.
Or who knows, maybe you vomitted because I just told you there could possibly have been no time travel in Chrono Trigger. Though I'd like to hear your thoughts on this in any case.
Thanks for listening to me!
2
Kajar Laboratories / My writing experiment.
« on: September 17, 2004, 05:01:03 am »
First and foremost, I want to say hi to everyone who frequents these forums. I only recently found the Compendium while doing research for my fanfic, and wanted to offer my thanks for all the hard work put into this site. Most, if not all, of the articles here are informative, insightful, and mind-bogglingly thorough. They gave me a lot of ideas and started me on some creative tangents, and for that I am truly thankful.
The project I am undertaking is to set the story of Chrono Trigger on Earth in our universe, with the main characters existing in our present day. More specifically, A Roman Catholic priests gradually uncovers the story. As it is not set in the Chrono universe, I'm not sure how well it fits with the general theme of this site, especially since I take many many liberties in my story. But, I figured there would be no harm in posting it, and am interested in what people think of it. It's already up at ff.net, but I'll put Chapter 1 up here for you.
____________________________________________________
Chapter 1: The Grave of Christopher O'Kelly
Funerals never got any easier. Ever. They used to tell me - that is, back at the seminary - by the time I reached the double digits, I'd be more steadfast than St. Agatha herself. But I still managed to choke up while delivering a eulogy or leading the loved ones in prayers. Seeing the sadness frozen on their faces, hearing the sobs and cries from those who would never experience the pleasant company or the warm smiles of the deceased again, at least in this lifetime, was all it took to send me over the edge. I usually tried my best to avoid them, most successfully through small calendar revisions or trips to visit the family. Yes, it's life's little "adjustments" that went a long way. Though when Regina O'Kelly requested that I lead Chris' funeral, I couldn't refuse. After having watched Gina, as she was more affectionately known, cry her eyes dry in my humble Staten Island office, I only wished I could do more. The plump, Irish red-head was a regular at my parish - a good, genuinely caring woman who slaved away at a hair salon to provide for her only son. And to have him taken away so young, just barely twenty-two, only a few months after his wedding, well, my heart just crumbled to bits. No mother should have to endure the loss of her child, and I would do everything in my power to ease her burdon, if only just a little.
The burial was unlike any other I'd lead, the hot and muggy summer day the perfect backdrop for the heated crowds that had congregated on the corner of Broadway and Wall Street. Chris' widow Nadia managed to purchase a plot at Trinity Churchyard. In a statement she released to the press, she claimed he deserved "a hero's burial". Don't ask me how she pulled that one off, there hadn't been any burials there since the 1800s, his grave only a short walk away from the likes of Robert Fulton and Alexander Hamilton. Of course, the press was all over the place, swarming like locusts around the gates and police barricades. The number of camera crews, news vans, and paparazzi bordered on ludicrous. This was certainly a story for the tabloids. The boy who kidnapped then fell in love with the heiress to the Guardia Co. fortune, gunned down by some Latin American country's political insurgents caught in a stalemate with police, and buried in New York's most famous cemetery. Definitely fit for the tabloids, not CNN.
Then there were the opinionated residents and public officials parading with signs like they had nothing else better to do, protesting the defiling of the historic grounds by a "common criminal". I personally didn't believe much of what I read in the papers, especially when it came to the little boy I watched grow up. Sure, he had his faults, but no worse than some of the teens I counseled in my Youth Ministry department. No matter what people said, I wouldn't believe that he brainwashed her into marriage to get at her family's wealth. The love that I felt between them at their wedding was pure and unadulterated. The small glances, the knowing that reflected in the young couple's eyes, it's these things that I was able to notice, almost like a gift. And even if that weren't the case, I still wouldn't believe the stories, at least for Gina's sake. She was stuck with a lot of the mess that went on, all out of the unconditional love for her child.
The crowd that gathered near the grave that afternoon was small, just a few family members and friends. Everyone was on edge, attempting to ignore the chaos from beyond the fences that seemed to echo off the scattered headstones and merely get louder. Gina stood in the front, along with Nadia and her parents. Behind them was the asian girl I met at the wedding, Lisa Chang, with her parents and an older fellow with a strange accent. I thought I remembered him from the wedding as well, though I didn't quite know the relation. I knew Lisa was one of Chris' high school friends, and her father was in R&D for Guardia Co. Some of Gina's and Chris' other friends attended, as did some Guardia officials, Trinity officials, official press. Okay, so there were more officials than family and friends. But the funeral still managed to feel like it should - a touching, poignant ceremony that left a lasting impression. As soon as I mounted the podium and welcomed everybody, the shouting from the streets, clicking of cameras, and general din from the city seemed to evaporate, as if the laws of the universe demanded a moment of silence for this boy's passing.
Gina was an emotional wreck. I gave her as many comforting looks as I could, trying to hold back my own tears while I delivered a solid Canticle of Luke. Fortunately, for most of the afternoon, my sentimental tendencies were distracted by the widow beside her. The angelic young blonde, dressed as darkly dismal as the rest, barely flinched the entire afternoon, her soft yet rigid features and icy eyes fixed upon the closed casket. She clutched at the cross she wore around her neck, rather tightly as the blood was all but drained around her white knuckles and fingers. For the life of me, I just couldn't read her emotions. She didn't appear grief-stricken, but was in no way happy either. A touch of sadness, yes, maybe some anxiety, and perhaps even a glimmer of hope. To what end, I wasn't sure. But her attitude held me transfixed nonetheless, to the point where I found myself staring, and despite being the center of attention, I hoped no one had noticed.
I ended with a final prayer as usual, the Latin rolling gracefully from my lips. "Requiem aeternam dona ei, Domine. Et lux perpetua luceat ei. Requiescat in pace. Amen." Gina was the only one who performed the Sign of the Cross with me. I assumed as much, the Van Drake's and Trinity Church itself were Episcopalian.
Concluding the ceremony, I thanked everyone for coming, and gave Gina a consoling embrace while the attendees dispersed. Nadia's father immediately left to confront the protesters and press outside, kindly sacrificing himself to the wolves so the others could make a hasty escape. Whispering in Gina's ear, I told her that I'd see to everything else and that she should head out with the others. She nodded and left willingly, though not without one last look at her son's final resting place. I also left soon after to clear up some closing details at the church office while the groundskeeper's workers filled in the grave. The process took only a little more than an hour, which included a friendly chat with a Trinity pastor and a dodge-the-question session with a television crew. Making my way back to the grave to give my own final prayer of salvation for Chris, I was surprised to find Nadia still there, sitting at the foot of the freshly filled grave and staring intently. I was close enough to touch her before she even noticed my arrival, suddenly jumping to her feet in alarm.
"Oh, I'm sorry Father. You startled me," she said, wiping the earth off her billowing black dress.
"I didn't mean to sneak up on you. It's been awhile since I've had a chance to speak with you. I.. err.. only wish it was under different circumstances." I took the liberty of moving to stand next to her. "May I join you?" She seemed not to hear, turning back towards the grave. We stood there together, the priest and the widow, for a fairly long amount of time. I had to admit, I was worried about how she was handling her husband's death. Either she was stronger willed than most people, or was not yet gripping the reality of the situation. Her hand remained wrapped around the cross on her neck.
"That's a lovely piece of jewelry you have there," I mentioned out loud, half to myself, though awkwardly breaking the silence. "I meant to say something at your wedding."
She looked at me then opened her hand, giving me a better view. It was exquisitely crafted of an iridescent material, resembling glass embossed with silver in several celtic designs, all suspended on a silver chain. "This? It's been in the family for generations." She closed her hand around it again. "I was wearing it when I met Chris." Her eyes fell to the grave again. "It reminds me of.... a lot of things."
More silence. I supposed I was a little over-zealous in thinking she would open up to me. I had only met her a few times, wasn't even part of her religious denomination, and only happened to be here because of Chris' mother. My eyes wandered back to the grave and the simple, bleach-white headstone that contrasted greatly with the faded, ancient grave markers around it. The inscription was in Gothic script.
Here we honor
Christopher O'Kelly
February 3, 1982 - July 17, 2004
May he remain a light for our future
Beneath the final inscription were a number of symbols, like nothing I'd seen before, their significance as enigmatic to me as when I first laid eyes on them.
Nadia spoke up, turning to look at me. Her eyes melted before mine and seemed more like dams, supporting a flood of pent-up memories and emotions just waiting to burst through. "Father, may I ask you a question?"
"Certainly."
"Well..." she responded quickly, "it's more of a philosophical question. Something that's been on my mind recently. You being a man of morals, I'm hoping you might be able to help me."
"Sure, go ahead. I'll try to answer to the best of my knowledge." I forced a reassuring smile, and she shuffled uneasily.
Pausing a moment, probably to gather her thoughts, she took a deep breath and continued. "Let's say, hypothetically, I find myself in a position where I can save a number of people's lives. Doing so would be the right thing to do. Correct?"
"Well, yes." I wasn't sure what she was getting at.
"But let's say saving them meant other people would die, or not exist at all, and I know this. Would it still be right?"
"Err.." I was taken aback, never confronted with this kind of question before. In and of itself, it seemed like theoretical musings, something to be debated by clergy while analyzing passages from the scriptures. Yet her soft cheeks and tender lips were constricted tightly to the point of pain, and the fist around her cross was shaking. Obviously, the strange question plagued her conscious, though what bothered me was the fact that this question was more of a worry for her than the loss of her husband.
"That's quite a, umm.. unique question, Nadia," I stuttered, tumbling over words that gave me time to think. "I'd say... that the Lord only holds you accountable for your own actions. And not just the actions, but the intentions behind them. If they were done for good, to save people, as you said, then that is all that matters." Feeling a sudden inspiration, I followed my train of thought. "For those who would die, it would be by the choice and free will of another, by either sin of commission or omission, but still by their own choice. Do you understand?"
"I think so," Nadia said. "But what about those who wouldn't exist, for instance, those who are never born because I intervened with the lives of one of the parents? Again, hypothetically."
I chuckled at the absurdity of the question, though when her face flushed with offense, I quickly cleared my throat and said, "It's impossible to know how your actions will impact somebody else's, though I believe that if someone were meant to exist, nothing you, me, or anyone else could do would be able to change that. God gives all his children a chance at life, it is only our actions as humans that can tend to cut it shor-" I abruptly stopped, remembering whose grave that we were standing beside. "I'm.. uhh.. sorry."
Nadia gave me gentle smile, letting me know that I had succeeded in helping her at least to some degree. "It's okay. I knew that what I shared with Chris wouldn't last forever. I know that Chris loves me, that he's smiling down on me now, happy to have been able to spend his time here with me. And I'm satisfied with that knowledge." She sighed, her face focused on some distant thought. "I've been... keeping the truth a secret for a while now. The truth about our relationship...." There was nobody around, but she had lowered her voice to barely above a whisper. "Father, I'm not sure how much time I have left either. Nor does Lisa. But I... have a heavy cross to bear." She twirled the cross of her necklace around her fingers. I merely listened as a deep unsettling feeling churned in my stomach.
"Are you busy tomorrow morning?" she asked.
"No."
"Then meet me at the coffee shop at 13th and Broadway tomorrow morning at nine, if you can." I simply nodded, and she smiled.
We spent the remainder of the time like that in front of the grave until the groundskeeper kicked us out. Her words circled dizzyingly through my head, conjuring up all possibilities of what she wanted from me. The unsteady wavering in her voice, the look in her eyes, all kept me feeling nervous. I didn't know what I would be getting myself into. My compassionate side only wanted to help the girl, while my boyish curiousity wanted to learn more about her and her secret dilemma under the pretense of priestly aid. It felt underneath all the more wrong, but I didn't care. I was going to see her again.
The project I am undertaking is to set the story of Chrono Trigger on Earth in our universe, with the main characters existing in our present day. More specifically, A Roman Catholic priests gradually uncovers the story. As it is not set in the Chrono universe, I'm not sure how well it fits with the general theme of this site, especially since I take many many liberties in my story. But, I figured there would be no harm in posting it, and am interested in what people think of it. It's already up at ff.net, but I'll put Chapter 1 up here for you.
____________________________________________________
Chapter 1: The Grave of Christopher O'Kelly
Funerals never got any easier. Ever. They used to tell me - that is, back at the seminary - by the time I reached the double digits, I'd be more steadfast than St. Agatha herself. But I still managed to choke up while delivering a eulogy or leading the loved ones in prayers. Seeing the sadness frozen on their faces, hearing the sobs and cries from those who would never experience the pleasant company or the warm smiles of the deceased again, at least in this lifetime, was all it took to send me over the edge. I usually tried my best to avoid them, most successfully through small calendar revisions or trips to visit the family. Yes, it's life's little "adjustments" that went a long way. Though when Regina O'Kelly requested that I lead Chris' funeral, I couldn't refuse. After having watched Gina, as she was more affectionately known, cry her eyes dry in my humble Staten Island office, I only wished I could do more. The plump, Irish red-head was a regular at my parish - a good, genuinely caring woman who slaved away at a hair salon to provide for her only son. And to have him taken away so young, just barely twenty-two, only a few months after his wedding, well, my heart just crumbled to bits. No mother should have to endure the loss of her child, and I would do everything in my power to ease her burdon, if only just a little.
The burial was unlike any other I'd lead, the hot and muggy summer day the perfect backdrop for the heated crowds that had congregated on the corner of Broadway and Wall Street. Chris' widow Nadia managed to purchase a plot at Trinity Churchyard. In a statement she released to the press, she claimed he deserved "a hero's burial". Don't ask me how she pulled that one off, there hadn't been any burials there since the 1800s, his grave only a short walk away from the likes of Robert Fulton and Alexander Hamilton. Of course, the press was all over the place, swarming like locusts around the gates and police barricades. The number of camera crews, news vans, and paparazzi bordered on ludicrous. This was certainly a story for the tabloids. The boy who kidnapped then fell in love with the heiress to the Guardia Co. fortune, gunned down by some Latin American country's political insurgents caught in a stalemate with police, and buried in New York's most famous cemetery. Definitely fit for the tabloids, not CNN.
Then there were the opinionated residents and public officials parading with signs like they had nothing else better to do, protesting the defiling of the historic grounds by a "common criminal". I personally didn't believe much of what I read in the papers, especially when it came to the little boy I watched grow up. Sure, he had his faults, but no worse than some of the teens I counseled in my Youth Ministry department. No matter what people said, I wouldn't believe that he brainwashed her into marriage to get at her family's wealth. The love that I felt between them at their wedding was pure and unadulterated. The small glances, the knowing that reflected in the young couple's eyes, it's these things that I was able to notice, almost like a gift. And even if that weren't the case, I still wouldn't believe the stories, at least for Gina's sake. She was stuck with a lot of the mess that went on, all out of the unconditional love for her child.
The crowd that gathered near the grave that afternoon was small, just a few family members and friends. Everyone was on edge, attempting to ignore the chaos from beyond the fences that seemed to echo off the scattered headstones and merely get louder. Gina stood in the front, along with Nadia and her parents. Behind them was the asian girl I met at the wedding, Lisa Chang, with her parents and an older fellow with a strange accent. I thought I remembered him from the wedding as well, though I didn't quite know the relation. I knew Lisa was one of Chris' high school friends, and her father was in R&D for Guardia Co. Some of Gina's and Chris' other friends attended, as did some Guardia officials, Trinity officials, official press. Okay, so there were more officials than family and friends. But the funeral still managed to feel like it should - a touching, poignant ceremony that left a lasting impression. As soon as I mounted the podium and welcomed everybody, the shouting from the streets, clicking of cameras, and general din from the city seemed to evaporate, as if the laws of the universe demanded a moment of silence for this boy's passing.
Gina was an emotional wreck. I gave her as many comforting looks as I could, trying to hold back my own tears while I delivered a solid Canticle of Luke. Fortunately, for most of the afternoon, my sentimental tendencies were distracted by the widow beside her. The angelic young blonde, dressed as darkly dismal as the rest, barely flinched the entire afternoon, her soft yet rigid features and icy eyes fixed upon the closed casket. She clutched at the cross she wore around her neck, rather tightly as the blood was all but drained around her white knuckles and fingers. For the life of me, I just couldn't read her emotions. She didn't appear grief-stricken, but was in no way happy either. A touch of sadness, yes, maybe some anxiety, and perhaps even a glimmer of hope. To what end, I wasn't sure. But her attitude held me transfixed nonetheless, to the point where I found myself staring, and despite being the center of attention, I hoped no one had noticed.
I ended with a final prayer as usual, the Latin rolling gracefully from my lips. "Requiem aeternam dona ei, Domine. Et lux perpetua luceat ei. Requiescat in pace. Amen." Gina was the only one who performed the Sign of the Cross with me. I assumed as much, the Van Drake's and Trinity Church itself were Episcopalian.
Concluding the ceremony, I thanked everyone for coming, and gave Gina a consoling embrace while the attendees dispersed. Nadia's father immediately left to confront the protesters and press outside, kindly sacrificing himself to the wolves so the others could make a hasty escape. Whispering in Gina's ear, I told her that I'd see to everything else and that she should head out with the others. She nodded and left willingly, though not without one last look at her son's final resting place. I also left soon after to clear up some closing details at the church office while the groundskeeper's workers filled in the grave. The process took only a little more than an hour, which included a friendly chat with a Trinity pastor and a dodge-the-question session with a television crew. Making my way back to the grave to give my own final prayer of salvation for Chris, I was surprised to find Nadia still there, sitting at the foot of the freshly filled grave and staring intently. I was close enough to touch her before she even noticed my arrival, suddenly jumping to her feet in alarm.
"Oh, I'm sorry Father. You startled me," she said, wiping the earth off her billowing black dress.
"I didn't mean to sneak up on you. It's been awhile since I've had a chance to speak with you. I.. err.. only wish it was under different circumstances." I took the liberty of moving to stand next to her. "May I join you?" She seemed not to hear, turning back towards the grave. We stood there together, the priest and the widow, for a fairly long amount of time. I had to admit, I was worried about how she was handling her husband's death. Either she was stronger willed than most people, or was not yet gripping the reality of the situation. Her hand remained wrapped around the cross on her neck.
"That's a lovely piece of jewelry you have there," I mentioned out loud, half to myself, though awkwardly breaking the silence. "I meant to say something at your wedding."
She looked at me then opened her hand, giving me a better view. It was exquisitely crafted of an iridescent material, resembling glass embossed with silver in several celtic designs, all suspended on a silver chain. "This? It's been in the family for generations." She closed her hand around it again. "I was wearing it when I met Chris." Her eyes fell to the grave again. "It reminds me of.... a lot of things."
More silence. I supposed I was a little over-zealous in thinking she would open up to me. I had only met her a few times, wasn't even part of her religious denomination, and only happened to be here because of Chris' mother. My eyes wandered back to the grave and the simple, bleach-white headstone that contrasted greatly with the faded, ancient grave markers around it. The inscription was in Gothic script.
Here we honor
Christopher O'Kelly
February 3, 1982 - July 17, 2004
May he remain a light for our future
Beneath the final inscription were a number of symbols, like nothing I'd seen before, their significance as enigmatic to me as when I first laid eyes on them.
Nadia spoke up, turning to look at me. Her eyes melted before mine and seemed more like dams, supporting a flood of pent-up memories and emotions just waiting to burst through. "Father, may I ask you a question?"
"Certainly."
"Well..." she responded quickly, "it's more of a philosophical question. Something that's been on my mind recently. You being a man of morals, I'm hoping you might be able to help me."
"Sure, go ahead. I'll try to answer to the best of my knowledge." I forced a reassuring smile, and she shuffled uneasily.
Pausing a moment, probably to gather her thoughts, she took a deep breath and continued. "Let's say, hypothetically, I find myself in a position where I can save a number of people's lives. Doing so would be the right thing to do. Correct?"
"Well, yes." I wasn't sure what she was getting at.
"But let's say saving them meant other people would die, or not exist at all, and I know this. Would it still be right?"
"Err.." I was taken aback, never confronted with this kind of question before. In and of itself, it seemed like theoretical musings, something to be debated by clergy while analyzing passages from the scriptures. Yet her soft cheeks and tender lips were constricted tightly to the point of pain, and the fist around her cross was shaking. Obviously, the strange question plagued her conscious, though what bothered me was the fact that this question was more of a worry for her than the loss of her husband.
"That's quite a, umm.. unique question, Nadia," I stuttered, tumbling over words that gave me time to think. "I'd say... that the Lord only holds you accountable for your own actions. And not just the actions, but the intentions behind them. If they were done for good, to save people, as you said, then that is all that matters." Feeling a sudden inspiration, I followed my train of thought. "For those who would die, it would be by the choice and free will of another, by either sin of commission or omission, but still by their own choice. Do you understand?"
"I think so," Nadia said. "But what about those who wouldn't exist, for instance, those who are never born because I intervened with the lives of one of the parents? Again, hypothetically."
I chuckled at the absurdity of the question, though when her face flushed with offense, I quickly cleared my throat and said, "It's impossible to know how your actions will impact somebody else's, though I believe that if someone were meant to exist, nothing you, me, or anyone else could do would be able to change that. God gives all his children a chance at life, it is only our actions as humans that can tend to cut it shor-" I abruptly stopped, remembering whose grave that we were standing beside. "I'm.. uhh.. sorry."
Nadia gave me gentle smile, letting me know that I had succeeded in helping her at least to some degree. "It's okay. I knew that what I shared with Chris wouldn't last forever. I know that Chris loves me, that he's smiling down on me now, happy to have been able to spend his time here with me. And I'm satisfied with that knowledge." She sighed, her face focused on some distant thought. "I've been... keeping the truth a secret for a while now. The truth about our relationship...." There was nobody around, but she had lowered her voice to barely above a whisper. "Father, I'm not sure how much time I have left either. Nor does Lisa. But I... have a heavy cross to bear." She twirled the cross of her necklace around her fingers. I merely listened as a deep unsettling feeling churned in my stomach.
"Are you busy tomorrow morning?" she asked.
"No."
"Then meet me at the coffee shop at 13th and Broadway tomorrow morning at nine, if you can." I simply nodded, and she smiled.
We spent the remainder of the time like that in front of the grave until the groundskeeper kicked us out. Her words circled dizzyingly through my head, conjuring up all possibilities of what she wanted from me. The unsteady wavering in her voice, the look in her eyes, all kept me feeling nervous. I didn't know what I would be getting myself into. My compassionate side only wanted to help the girl, while my boyish curiousity wanted to learn more about her and her secret dilemma under the pretense of priestly aid. It felt underneath all the more wrong, but I didn't care. I was going to see her again.
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