THE SEVENTH CLUE

© Karla Lammers

I tore open the envelope to read the final clue:  The path home lies in your past. The return portal is in the Quad.  Wonderful, I thought.  The answer was embedded in my prior fifty years on Earth, and I stood on Jupiter a thousand years in the future. 

Earlier that morning, I had been feeling rather cocky.  After all, I had deciphered six other clues to arrive at the coffee shop at the appointed time, prompt the purple-haired barista—by asking if she would be traveling to Pluto next week—in order to receive the small, blue envelope.  I had easily negotiated the new planet, its financial system and social mores over the prior three months.  I had even earned the affections of a stunning girl, won over by my charm moreso than my average appearance.  But the breadth of this final clue baffled me. 

I was a research futurologist and, on Earth, had agreed to enter a portal which would transport me a thousand years into the future, knowing that I would have to find and resolve seven clues, based on my mathematical calculations, in order to return home.  I had felt determined to convince the Elders at Vision University that my theories about time travel were accurate.  My theory was sound—a person could access another dimension using pure mind control, but the return home would be much more complex.  In order to reverse the process, the traveler would need to decode a series of seven clues in order to locate a door in a predetermined location that would serve as the return portal to the initial entry point—in this case, my classroom. 

The first clue would be delivered to the traveler upon arrival in the new dimension, and the successful analysis of one clue would lead to the discovery of the next until the traveler obtained the final clue.  The answers would always fall within the traveler's knowledge base, but failure to decode a single segment would terminate the progression and close the return portal forever. 

I maneuvered my airjet through the lively café to a quiet table a few levels up so that I could ponder the last obstacle between me and home.  Home!  I had thought I wouldn't mind if I remained trapped in another dimension, and at first I was enthralled with the advanced technology, the discoveries in science, the eclectic garments and fabulous new food and beverages.  In front of me stood a green, fizzy, energy latte—not so very different from home after all.  Still, I missed the familiar sights and sounds of the University.  I missed the Elders with their long beards and scowling faces.  Perhaps they were right after all for wanting to keep the future at a distance.

I turned back to the task of deciphering the final clue.  “The Quad” was an area located in the center of Juno, the capitol city of Jupiter.  There were no continents—just one large land mass surrounded by an enormous sea.  I had chosen to travel to the future Jupiter as Mars was overdeveloped in my own time, and land contact had only recently been made here.  I had selected wisely.  The planet exceeded my expectations with its flourishing environment. 

In the Quad, several storefronts and restaurants crowded together, some with elevated levels like the coffee shop I'd just vacated and others with only one or two floors.  Any number of them held some connection to something in my past.  I slammed down my fizzy and the green drink bubbled out of the mug and onto the clear glass table.  At that moment, I recalled my addiction to grasshoppers—the drink, not the insect.  I hopped on the airjet, flew down to the lower level and returned it to the hostess.  I rushed out the front door, climbed the stairs to the air trolley and caught the tram just before it pulled away.  In minutes, I was on foot in the center of the Quad. 

I turned a full circle and decided on “DRINKS.”  Although it wasn't the only bar, it was the flashiest with its multi-colored neon.  It appeared to be a popular draw for students—which was another sign in my book.  I closed my eyes, stepped inside the door and smelled lilacs, like the ones growing outside my classroom.  When I allowed myself to look, I found my students rising from their chairs to give me a standing ovation. 

I was home.

THE END