First Contact is a multidimensional narrative connecting centuries, continents and sub/cultures, unravelling coincidences and conspiracies, computer viruses, and viruses which infect your mind. It details a kaleidoscope of revolutions and counter re...
NOBODY REMEMBERED THE PROFESSOR'S REAL NAME LET ALONE HIS GENEALOGY, BUT HE DEFINITELY SPORTED AN ASIATIC APPEARANCE. According to the archives, he was born in 1942(AD), during the turmults and firestorms of World War Two, and later collaborated with NASA before the collective technological efforts of the "free" (that is, Atlantean) world were consolidated to form the Terran Space Agency. He died of natural causes from some antiquated disease in 2104, or 88 (Terran Reckoning), but had had the good sense to invest in cryonics, which at the time offered the best shot of attaining immortality. He had intended to continue work as a scientist upon his revival, but like many revivees, he found it difficult to adapt to advances in technology and knowledge. He became a spectator instead, a tourist, a traveler on a way tour of time. Ages came and went, new calendars and the leaps in consciousness that they usually represented, but they had little impact on the Professor. Strangely, he never seemed to age at all. He did die periodically from one particular ailment or accident, but was always successfully frozen for resurrection at a later date, when such damage could be reversed and healed. The ravages of existence, so eloquently described by Shakespeare in his sonnets, had no effect on him. He was eternal.
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As you might expect from his vintage, his tastes were oldschool. He had a fondness for nicotine (smoked, not vaped), detective novels, raw fish (wild, and preferably netted in the Pacific Ocean, if possible), business suits (woven from wool sourced from a real sheep - no replications please!), as well as other prehistoric products, now only found in museums. Ral had met him at one of his crazy parties, and became entranced. He was particularly interested in hearing about his many near-death experiences. He was well aware that he would die one day himself, and the prospect unsettled him. While many plagues had long been eradicated by the Age of Utopia, mortality was unfortunately not one of them. Nonetheless, cryonics offered Ral an escape clause and he had already resolved to become a timelord in the Professor's footsteps, confident that the future would be even more brilliant than the present.
In fact, he pledged to join him somewhere significant on News Years Eve, 9999 to celebrate the new decamillennium. The Professor warned him that calendars normally did not last 10,000 years, there was always a reset sooner or later - some prophet or Messiah, or a cataclysmic war. And furthermore, 10,000 was not the true start of the 11th millennium, that should be in 10,001. Forever a pedant he remained, but he could be quite witty when was in the mood!
He had a habit of turning up at the most inopportune moments and wreaking havoc when he arrived, that much was true. Nonetheless, both Ral and Lela were stunned to see him weaving through the holographic warriors as if they were just salarymen on the way to the office on a crowded Tokyo street. <<What's going on?>> Lela asked, mystified. <<Is something wrong?>>
<<Nut'n's wrong - now dat I found you, dat is>> the Professor said, lapsing into some obscure kind of period dialect. <<I got ta Neercedes just as you was leavin'. Did ya realize that ya apahtment is underwata ahlready?>>
