FAUST’S SHADOW: A Twice-Told Tale Read online

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  FAUST’S SHADOW: A Twice-Told Tale

  John Fast

  Copyright © 2011 Sycamore Books NJ

  All rights reserved. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, without the written permission of Sycamore Books NJ.

  eBook Interior Layout: VMC Art & Design, LLC

  First eBook Edition: October 2011

  ISBN 978-0-615-42165-0

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  PART I. A GOLDEN BOY

  CHAPTER 1. The Alchemy of Genius

  CHAPTER 2. The Sign of the Macrocosm

  CHAPTER 3. Star Charts

  CHAPTER 4. Universal Laws

  CHAPTER 5. Hieroglyphs

  CHAPTER 6. A River of Ciphers

  CHAPTER 7. The Principles of Shape-Shifting

  CHAPTER 8. The Language of Automatons

  CHAPTER 9. The Language of Automatons, Continued

  CHAPTER 10. The Key to All Codes

  CHAPTER 11. The Geomancer’s Art

  CHAPTER 12. The Mind Reader

  CHAPTER 13. Phantasmagoria

  CHAPTER 14. Incantations

  CHAPTER 15. Fetish Work

  CHAPTER 16. Lost Souls

  CHAPTER 17. The Spirit World

  CHAPTER 18. Monster Lore

  CHAPTER 19. The Philosopher’s Stone

  CHAPTER 20. The Ghost in the Mirror

  PART II. A MERCURIAL YOUTH

  CHAPTER 21. Conjuring Spells

  CHAPTER 22. Magic Formulas

  CHAPTER 23. Magic Formulas, Continued

  CHAPTER 24. Lycanthropy

  CHAPTER 25. Jinn, Genie, Genius

  CHAPTER 26. Transmutation

  CHAPTER 27. Transmutation, Continued

  CHAPTER 28. The Mysterious Forces of Nature

  CHAPTER 29. The Mysterious Forces of Nature, Continued

  CHAPTER 30. A Summoning

  CHAPTER 31. Tibetan Wisdom

  CHAPTER 32. The Invisible Thief

  CHAPTER 33. Specters and Spooks

  CHAPTER 34. Ancient Paradoxes

  CHAPTER 35. Ancient Paradoxes, Continued

  CHAPTER 36. The Mystical Sciences

  CHAPTER 37. The Mystical Sciences, Continued

  CHAPTER 38. Chinese Ideograms

  CHAPTER 39. The Ocean of Nightmares

  CHAPTER 40. Necromancy

  PART III. A BRAZEN MAN

  CHAPTER 41. The Black Arts

  CHAPTER 42. The Zodiac

  CHAPTER 43. The Celestial Sphere

  CHAPTER 44. Little Demons

  CHAPTER 45. Shadow Worlds

  CHAPTER 46. Witch Tales

  CHAPTER 47. The Secret Door

  CHAPTER 48. The Illuminati

  CHAPTER 49. The Metaphysics of Ambition

  CHAPTER 50. The Glass Pyramid

  CHAPTER 51. Mirrors within Mirrors

  CHAPTER 52. The Changeling

  CHAPTER 53. Kings and Dragons

  CHAPTER 54. The All-Seeing Eye

  CHAPTER 55. Totems

  CHAPTER 56. The Apex of Dreams

  CHAPTER 57. Mephisto

  CHAPTER 58. Mephisto, Continued

  CHAPTER 59. The Dance of Death

  CHAPTER 60. A Vanishing Act

  Epilogue

  Author's Note

  For he accompanied himself with divers … in those devilish arts … using figures, characters, conjurations, incantations … necromancy, charms, soothsaying, witchcraft, enchantment, being delighted with their books, words and names so well, that he studied day and night therein … and named himself an astrologian and a mathematician: and, for a shadow, sometimes a physician ....

  The History of the Damnable Life and Deserved Death of Doctor John Faustus

  The English Edition of the German, Faust Book, London, 1592

  [He turns to a book of magic.]

  ‘These metaphysics of magicians

  And necromantic books are heavenly.

  Lines, circles, signs, letters, and characters–

  Ay, these are those that Faustus most desires.

  O, what a world of profit and delight,

  Of power, of honor, of omnipotence,

  Is promised to the studious artisan!’

  The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus

  Christopher Marlowe, London, 1604

  [He opens the Book of Nostradamus and sees the Sign of the Macrocosm ....]

  ‘Was it a god who traced this sign that … renders visible the mysterious forces of nature? Am I myself a god, that such light is given me? .... What a spectacle! But, alas, only a spectacle. Infinite nature, how shall I take hold of thee?’

  Faust, Part One

  J.W. von Goethe, Tübingen, 1808

  PROLOGUE

  “John Fast had a quicksilver mind,” my obituary will note. “He wanted to know everything, understand everything. He wanted to find the pattern in the information. He died young, in his prime, still searching for the key to all codes.” And that obituary will be all too true. Even now, for example, when I only have a few hours left before the door to my study bursts open, I must analyze the alchemy of genius, the metaphysics of ambition that destroyed my life. I must decipher the demonic dreams that led me to this dark night. Why? Because even now I want to know everything! Even now I want to find the pattern in the information! And yet, perhaps, that fatal flaw will prove to be my salvation. Perhaps I can still defy my fate. And who says that I can’t? My double, my other, my shadow? Why should I listen to him anymore when I have acquired so much knowledge and power of my own? Why should I cower in my study when, even now, I can use that knowledge and that power to find the key to all codes? Of course, I still must face many dangers and temptations. For I will be the subject of my own desperate experiment. I will draw a circle on the floor, with many signs and figures, and conjure three spirits from the past: a golden boy, a mercurial youth, a brazen man. And with their help I will find that key–and make my escape.

  PART I.

  A GOLDEN BOY

  CHAPTER 1.

  The Alchemy of Genius

  When the new millennium began, every internal chronometer of every computer on earth was supposed to seize up and set off the apocalypse. It didn’t happen, of course, but just because the apocalypse was late didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen. It meant that time was out of sync with itself–or, at least, seemed so. And yet, when has time not been out of sync with itself? If the dimensions of a day have never been defined by the clock, then how could the dimensions of a century, a millennium, an apocalypse be defined by it? Time folds back on itself, and ahead of itself, which is how time past and time future create the intricate shapes of time present. And so even the strictest linear narrative of the strictest linear life cannot be prevented from folding back to the first moment of creation, or ahead to the next apocalypse.

  I was born twenty years after the new millennium, and twenty-six years before the fast approaching moment of my death. And so I was already eight and my father was already twenty-eight in 2028. I remember a bright afternoon in late October of that year, when I stood on the front lawn of my father’s neo-colonial house, in Princeton, and threw an aerodisc to my dog. My father stood in the front doorway and watched as my golden retriever leapt straight up into the air and snagged the swirling orange disc with his teeth.

  “Great catch, Rocket!” I exclaimed. “Did you see him Dad?”

  “Rocket should join your Ultimate Aero team,” André joked, his Belgian accent so familiar to me that I didn’t even hear it
any more.

  “Good idea!” I agreed.

  “Your snacks are ready in the library,” my father announced.

  Rocket and I dashed into the house and skidded down the front hallway. When André entered the library, Rocket was already sprawled on the floor, crunching on a dog biscuit. I was already sprawled on the couch, crunching on a ginger snap.

  “Where’s everybody?” I asked between bites.

  “At your mother’s house,” André replied. “Trying on their costumes. You’ve already tried yours?”

  I smiled and nodded.

  “Good.”

  André crossed the room and scanned his desk screen for any messages. He was the Director of Computational Genetics at the Genetic Institute, in Princeton, and at the Centre Génétique, in Paris. He typed a quick note, then he picked up the book lying next to his screen and brought it to me: Darwin’s, On the Origin of Species. We had just finished reading it the previous evening.

  “So, John. What do you think?” My father inquired as he settled into the nearest wingback chair.

  “Reminds me of Zeta-Morphs,” I replied, holding the book with one hand and brushing some cookie crumbs off my sweater with the other.

  “Of what?” André asked.

  “You know, Dad: the holo-game,” I said, gesturing to the large screen hanging between the library windows. “You start with, say, an elephant, punch in the time factor, make a guess … and watch it morph.”

  I picked up my glass of milk from the coffee table and took a long drink.

  “Of course,” André said. “We call it, ‘Volution,’ in Belgium. It goes forward and backward, doesn’t it? Evolution and devolution?”

  “Yeah,” I gasped as I caught my breath and lowered my glass. “It goes both ways. I like watching those birds going back to those dinosaurs, and the whales going back to that funny looking wolf.”

  I wiped my mouth on my sleeve.

  “Use your napkin!” My father chided. “And what about us?”

  “I like it when we go back to being apes.”

  “And what happens when you run our species forward a few million years?”

  “Sometimes we get really big heads, or really big ears. Nobody really knows, right Dad?”

  “We know a little,” André replied.

  He stood up, walked over to the mirror hanging near the door and gestured to me.

  “Come here for a second, John.”

  I set my empty glass and Darwin’s book on the coffee table and walked over to my father. He picked me up and stood me on the wooden bench in front of the mirror. We stared at our reflection: my silver-gold hair, blue-gray eyes, wire-rim glasses and high cheekbones; his black hair, dark eyes, narrow face and high cheekbones.

  “What do you see?” André asked, resting his hands on my shoulders.

  “You and me, Dad,” I replied, stating the obvious.

  “And I see the future,” he said. “You’re already a few thousand years older than I am.”

  “So that’s why I have all this gray hair!” I joked. “And why I need glasses!”

  “No, no, not literally,” my father protested. “But they do serve as reminders that you’re a few thousand years ahead of where you might be if you weren’t the boy you are.”

  “You mean, I’m a Highbrid, right?” I stated bluntly.

  I wondered why my father just didn’t come out and say it. We had talked about the Highbrid Protocol since I was four years old, but André still worried that the story might be too much for me to handle. In turn, I wondered why an incredibly famous computational geneticist didn’t recognize the fact that kids are programmed to adapt to the future.

  “Yes,” André acknowledged, “you’re a Highbrid.” Then he added, “You know, John, there are some very serious problems in the world: poverty, pollution, disease, war. And we want to solve them. That’s the ultimate goal of the Highbrid Protocol: to solve these global problems as we extend the frontiers of science. And that’s why your mother’s parents agreed to be paired, and why your mother and I agreed to be paired: so we could have you, Aster, Isabel and Michael.”

  “I know, I know, Dad,” I said impatiently. “I’m a Third Generation Zeta-Morph.”

  “What?” André asked, taking his hands off my shoulders.

  I traced the shape of my ear with my index finger.

  “I’m the Genetic Institute’s Zeta-Morph,” I said. “You take thirty girl scientific geniuses and, if they agree, you pair them with thirty guy scientific geniuses. Each of these thirty couples has four kids–with the help of the surrogate moms. You encourage and educate these kids for twenty years, then you choose the smartest one from each family. You take these thirty new scientific geniuses and, if they agree, you pair them with another thirty scientific geniuses from around the world. These thirty new couples also have four kids–with the help of the new surrogate moms. You repeat everything for a hundred generations or so, and, Voila! The Highbrid Protocol.”

  “Right,” André said, nodding his head. “We’re trying to channel the genetic streams of genius that have meandered through history. That is, we’re trying to speed up the evolution of mind and nurture the highest forms of human intelligence.”

  He paused and gave me a troubled look.

  “Of course,” he continued after a moment, “everyone at the Genetic Institute knew the Highbrid Protocol would be controversial, which is precisely why they kept it secret for the first twenty years. We only went public in 2020, when your generation was born, and even so a wave of protest swept across the world. But remember, John, no matter what the critics say, the experiment isn’t about eugenics or a master race; it isn’t about defying God or Nature; and it isn’t about creating a New Adam or a New Eve. Instead, we want to fulfill our potential as a species, develop our intelligence for the greater good and expand our knowledge of the universe. And there is one other thing you should always remember: first and foremost you are my son. That is, Jena’s and mine. And we love you, Aster, Isabel and Michael very much.”

  He rested his hands on my shoulders again and gave me a gentle squeeze.

  “I’m the Genetic Institute’s Zeta-Morph,” I insisted, turning my head to look directly at my father.

  “You’re the Zeta-Morph,” André reluctantly agreed.

  “And I’m your son,” I added with a grin, knowing that was what he wanted me to say all along.

  André smiled, growled and shook me gently.

  “By the way,” he said, changing the subject. “Who or what are you going to be for Halloween?”

  “The Amazing Houdini!” I replied.

  André smiled again, nodded and walked back to his desk.

  I turned back to the mirror and had a staring contest with my reflection. After awhile I couldn’t tell if I was looking into the glass or looking out of it. I finally blinked when I saw, or imagined that I saw, my reflection turning into a digital news photo. I was wearing a black tuxedo with a glossy cape and a top hat. The headline: “HIGHBRID HOUDINI SAVES EARTH!” The caption: “John Fast.”

  CHAPTER 2.

  The Sign of the Macrocosm

  After school the following day, Aster dressed up as an Indian; Isabel, to Jena’s despair, dressed up as a flapper; Michael dressed up as a pirate; and I dressed up as Houdini. I wore an acrylic jumpsuit tuxedo, with a glossy cape and a top hat, and I carried a glow-stick wand. We hit the neighborhood running and quickly filled our sacks with candy. As the light began to fade, my sisters and brother went straight to Ryan’s house for his Halloween party, while I decided to walk the few extra blocks to Jena’s house to deposit my loot. Of course, I wound up carrying all four sacks of candy: two in each hand. I passed several demons, devils and ghosts along the way, then the street fell eerily silent. I wondered where everyone had gone.

  I walked a little further and, in what seemed like just a minute or two, the opalescent sky turned slate gray then obsidian black. A chilly breeze swept through the air, scattering the dead leaves
on the sidewalk. Then the neo-Victorian lamppost on the corner flickered on, illuminating the huge old sycamore tree that loomed high above me. I stopped short, looked up into the bare branches of the tree and saw hundreds of small golden spheres–each one dangling on a four-inch string and all of them swaying in the wind. I was astonished by the sight. I’d never noticed the mysterious spheres before that moment and I couldn’t figure out what, exactly, I was seeing. I dropped all four sacks of candy on the sidewalk, rubbed my eyes and steadied my legs. I looked up a second time, higher and deeper into the tree, and I saw silver planets, platinum moons and diamond stars all dangling and swaying along with the golden spheres. I was doubly astonished by the vision, and even felt a little dizzy. I rubbed my eyes again and waited another moment to regain my balance. Then I leaned back as far as I could without losing my top hat and looked up a third time, all the way up to the highest crown of branches. And I saw the entire, vast, glittering universe dangling in the outstretched tree. I saw stars upon stars, galaxies upon galaxies swaying in the wind. I was triply astonished by the revelation. I opened my mouth wide to shout something, but couldn’t find the words. I spread my arms wide to embrace everything, but couldn’t find the strength. I teetered on the heels of my dress shoes for a few seconds, then, with a flutter of my cape, I fell straight back onto the sidewalk: a black-winged snow angel on the concrete.