Project J (30 page)

Chapter 52:
 
Translator

“You did what!”

Stryker’s voice nearly rattled the windows of his office.
 
He face was turning a wonderful shade of crimson.

“We simply showed some of the world to Jesus,” Juliette told him calmly.
 
“You did agree that we should bring him up to date, so to speak.”

“But flying him around in a corporate jet!
 
Dining out at restaurants!
 
You were supposed to just keep him out of sight for a day or so.
 
And letting him visit a Catholic Church.
 
What were you thinking?”

“It was a beautiful church, old and historic,” Tamara cut in.
 
“And churches are part of the world he is learning about.”
 
She did not add that it had depressed the poor man for the rest of the day.

Stryker shook his head and flopped down in his chair.
 
“And the bill!
 
My, God, did you have to rent a Learjet?”

“It was a Beechjet 400.
 
And it was the cheapest jet they had that would hold four people.”

Sighing dramatically, Stryker told them, “I certainly hope Jesus had a nice vacation.
 
I don’t suppose you introduced him to the bishop?”

“No, he was out of town.”

For a second Tamara, Juliette and Myers feared they had gone too far and Stryker was going to have a stroke.
 
But he settled down and told them to get out of his office.
 
And not to even think of ever renting jets again.

As they walked back to Project J. Myers was explaining to Tamara why Jesus was upset at the church.
 
“He came from a time when the only church at all like what you showed him was the Temple in Jerusalem.
 
And you know how he feels about that and the priests who ran it.

“Not too happy?”

“A gross understatement.
 
Remember, the high priest was the one who arranged to have him crucified.
 
But worse, to Jesus’ way of thinking, was what they had done to defile the Temple.

“Besides, what you showed him was too filled with ornamentation and finery to appeal to a Jew who was forbidden to worship idols. A rural synagogue in his day was a simple building with seats all around so that everyone could see and hear and have a chance to address the group.
 
Nothing so formal as what he saw yesterday.”

“But you agreed to let us take him?” Tamara protested.

“True.”
 
Myers stopped in the corridor.
 
“Perhaps I should not have.
 
I knew it would not sit well with him.
 
But if he is to learn of our world, he should learn all of it.”

Tamara grinned, and told him, “At least I didn’t take him around the Stations of the Cross.
 
Or suggest that he visit Saint Peter’s in London or Notre Dame in Paris.”

“Thank heaven for small favors!” Myers said with a laugh.

They got back to Myers’ office where he immediately started the coffee maker going.

“I’m glad that Stryker got rid of that Congressman without any problems,” Tamara said as she sat down.
 
“But I wonder what it was he said he showed him that scared him so.”

“We’ll find out soon enough.
 
It’s hard to keep a secret around here.”

A large manila envelope sat on the corner of his desk.
 
Opening it, he slid out what looked like a cell phone.
 
But it lacked the screen of a smart phones.
 
There were only two buttons on it.

“They got it made!
 
Very good.
 
Tamara, this is for you.
 
And anyone else who wants to speak with Jesus.
 
It is a translator.
 
English to Aramaic and Aramaic to English.”

“What?”

“It is something that IT made up for me.
 
Basically, it is a cell phone, but limited to a specific purpose.
 
See these two buttons?
 
Press the left one and talk into the mic and you voice will be digitized and sent to a server in our computer center.
 
There it will be analyzed and translated into Aramaic.
 
That will be converted into digital sound and transmitted back.
 
You’ll hear the words through the speaker.
 
Press the right hand button to translate Aramaic to English.”

“That’s great!
 
And will save you a lot of work.”

“Well, maybe.
 
You have to understand there are many problems with translating one language to another.
 
Simple sentence construction and grammar it can handle, but otherwise it is mostly just a vocabulary translator.
 
Keep your sentences simple for the best results.

“In the server there is a database of Aramaic words.”
 
He demonstrated by pressing it and saying, “
Eli Eli lema sabachthani
?”
 
A moment later, the speaker said, “God God why you have forsaken me,” in a monotone.

“You try it,” he said, handing the device to her.

“Left for English, Right for Aramaic,” she said, then, as she pressed the left button, “Gethsemane.”
 
“
Gath-Šmânê,”
it told her.
 
Delighted, she tried, “Virgin Mary,” and it told her, “
Murr-yaam Btool-taa
.”

“This will come in handy,” she told him with delight.

“Remember, it will work only within the wireless range here in the project.”

“Got it.”

After obtaining his coffee, Myers said, “If you would like to test this, there is something you can do for me.
 
Would you please check on Jesus?
 
I want to make sure that he’s recovering from yesterday’s visit to that church.
 
Maybe I should take him to my synagogue some day.
 
Might make him feel at home.”

“That’s an idea,” Tamara agreed.
 
“I’ll check on him.
 
You enjoy your coffee.”

Then she went off to find on Jesus.
 
She was sure that he would find this new toy as fascinating as she did.

Chapter 53:
 
Whatever is Necessary

Tamara found Jesus sitting on his bed, holding a book in his hands.
 
Puzzled, she tilted her head and looked at the spine.
 
The Holy Bible, it read.
 
Now who would have given that to Jesus?
 
That was not too hard to figure out.
 
Juliette carried a small one in her purse.
 
Apparently she was a believer.
 
But also a scientist.
 
If she had any qualms about bring Jesus to life, she had not shown them.
 
In fact, she was one of the prime movers of Project J.

Besides, it made little difference.
 
Jesus could not read English.
 
The thought suddenly occurred to her that it might be a Bible in Aramaic.
 
She remembered that Aramaic was still a spoken language, and that the Bible had been translated into all languages, including Esperanto and Klingon.
 
But the spine was in English and he was not reading it, so it was unlikely to be in Aramaic.

He looked up and said something to Tamara.
 
Smiling, she held up the translator and pressed the English button.
 
“Hello, rabbi.”
 
The translator spoke and Jesus lifted one eyebrow high.
 
“This is a translator,” Tamara said.
 
The device told him.
 
A smile broke out on his face.
 
“Press this and talk into here,” she said.
 
Obediently, the translator repeated the words in Aramaic.

Jesus took the translator in his hand, looked at it, and then pushed the button.
 
He spoke, and a moment later Tamara heard, “You are magicians surely!”
 
He frowned and added, “This is not the work of Satan, is it?”

“No, only science, not magic nor Satan,” she said, reaching over to press the button before she spoke.
 
The translator seemed to have trouble with that and Tamara wondered if it could find no Aramaic word for “science.”

She was about to settle down to some question and answers with their guest but a noise made her turn around.
 
Dr. Hans Buerer was standing there, looking confused.
 
His features were pale, as if he had been sick, or at least not getting enough sleep to judge from the dark shadows under his eyes.
 
Slowly as they watched his features changed from puzzlement to disdain.
 
“No matter if you’re here,” he said in a tight voice.
 
His hand, which was in the pocket of his jacket came out, holding a small automatic in it.
 
The barrel shook a bit as he pointed it at Jesus.

“Stand aside, Miss Graves,” he said.
 
“I do not wish to hurt you.”

Tamara stood.
 
Her initial confusion quickly turned to fear.
 
His purpose was obvious.
 
She stepped between the gun and Jesus.
 
“Don’t do it!” she said loudly.

“Stand aside,” he said through clenched teeth.
 
“I will kill you too.”

Jesus’ hand rested on her arm and gently moved her aside.
 
Tamara looked to him and was confused.
 
Did he not understand?
 
Maybe he did not know what a gun was?

“No,” she said, but he continued to push her gently aside.
 
As soon as she was moved enough for a good body shot, Buerer lifted the gun higher and aimed it directly at Jesus’ chest.
 
His hand was shaking.

Jesus’ right arm was holding her aside.
 
His other hand came up before him as if to ward off the bullet.
 
Buerer’s hand continued shaking.
 
Tamara saw his finger tightening on the trigger and started to scream.

A loud bang echoed in the small room.
 
A short lance of flame leapt out, the gun bucked in Buerer’s hand, and Tamara’s scream sounded, all at the same time.
 
She felt Jesus’ arm pull away and, from the corner of her eye, she saw him falling backward.

Buerer stood there, mouth open, a look of shock on his face replacing the anger of a moment before.

The adrenaline surge that began when Tamara saw the gun continued to build up in her, turning her fear into anger.
 
Her scream turned into a roar.
 
In front of her was the chair she had been sitting on.
 
Without thinking, she reached down, grabbed the back of the chair with both hands, lifted it and swung it in a wide arc.
 
The chair struck Buerer’s arm, knocking the gun aside and snapping him out of his shocked state.

It mattered little, however, because Tamara, still fueled by anger and adrenaline, swung the chair again, bashing it against the side of his body.
 
Another swing drove him backwards into the doorframe.
 
Ignoring the look of surprise on his face, Tamara dropped the chair and grabbed him by the arm.
 
She twisted around, pulling his arm with her, until he was slammed into the wall, face first.
 
She grabbed his hair and smashed his face against the wall.
 
Then again.
 
And again.
 
When the anger faded enough for self-control to resume, he was unconscious and his face a mass of fresh blood and battered flesh.
 
She let him slide to the floor.

Turning quickly, she rushed over to the bed.

Jesus was lying there, unmoving.