It is the year 3000 - We are still alive - Sitting watching old classic movies--The Daughter of Time Trilogy. It's played at least once a year since the middle of the last century, when word had spread across the world of how far-seeing the author, Erec Stebbins, had been. Far beyond Star Trek, Star Wars, and even A Space Odyssey, and all the other futuristic science fiction books, which have now gone into the archives, rarely brought out to be seen or experienced. A new level of scifi had been created... Writers were still trying to envision something beyond what Stebbins had created...the ultimate science fiction story...
Daughter of Time Trilogy
By Eric Stebbins
Erec Stebbins' imagination is so...beyond, that it would have been impossible for me to even consider how the Trilogy would end. Words like stunning, exhilarating, amazing, all seem to fall short--this trilogy is an experience you must enter into yourself...
For one, the narrator for the final book is Waythrel of XIX, a planet out there somewhere.... We met Waythrel from the very beginning and he has been at Ambra's side during most of our journey with the Daughter of Time
Prologue. I was called Waythrel of Xix. In a time and space that no longer exist, in a cosmos that has been remade, in two books that have infiltrated and altered your minds, my character was part of a grand and terrible quest. One that failed utterly yet, in that failure, triumphed where it had never sought to succeed. You knew me as an alien to your humanness, a monstrous form of heightened symmetry to your bilateral arrangement, with sixfold projections of limbs and visual organs and a cognitive cluster buried deep within our core.
You followed our discovering of Ambra Dawn and her unique mastery of space and time, her cruel life and rise to power in the Dram Wars, and her eventual fusion with our artificial intelligence. There you witnessed the gestation of the proto-Orb as she defeated the forces of the Anti and Dram aggregating around New Earth. Reader, the recursive loops of space-time and causality have permeated the structure of your minds—not only the hormone- and blood-soaked lodged within your human endoskeleton, but also more deeply, into the mind that is the space-time field created by and creating your sentience, the soul that will live on after your flesh decays, to be lost in the emptiness of space or gathered in the Great Harvest.
Many of you prayed earnestly to save Old Earth, to funnel the latent Writer powers of your species across time, all that Ambra and we might amalgamate them, focus them, and undo a planetary massacre. Many of you instead scoffed, yet continued to read through the exhortations of the second novel as you were even asked to consider the Gathering of Souls. Even so, here we lost many, for the story became increasingly strange by your standards—the characters’ experiences remote from those a human animal might ever encounter. The voice was no longer that of your beloved heroine but instead that of her consort, as he spoke through the growing mind that projected his thought across the void and dictated the inspiration of the book’s author. Thus you have been primed.
Now all that is left is the final and most absurd step in the journey: to destroy all belief and memory and be born anew. And so I am here to convey the true end, which is instead a beginning, to the impossible story of Ambra Dawn. I am here to reach across space and time, across divergent universes separating and uniting us, with fields and waves of thought to inspire this writer of your age. He will struggle one last time to transmit ideas that I myself do not comprehend, because conveying the experience is beyond me. He will take from my own distorted thoughts only a sad caricature, and his primitive mind will then further blaspheme it through the terribly limited medium of your writing system.
Thus ideas deeper than the most profound thoughts of the greatest minds of our galaxy will be painted in primitive languages at ridiculously low resolution with a small brush set of syntax and vocabulary, warped through your current incarnations of culture and prejudice, gutted of their essence and recast as grayed mockeries with all the colors washed away. This is how you will receive the terrible and beautiful story of our Ambra.
Do not expect coherence. You will have none. Do not look for consistency. There will be mostly nonsensical paradox. And yet, those paradoxes and absurdities that you read will be far closer to the truth of this universe than anything in your science or religion. And yet every word a lie. Know also that this is a story of symmetry and symmetries broken, the chronological invariance of the laws of physics shattered by the arrow of time. The perfect balance of particles and their inverse properties wrecked to produce our fractured cosmos nearly swept clean of one aspect of matter, and thus witness to the genocide of the mental superstructure it would have engendered.
This is a story centered within an endless fractalled universe that builds and builds, and also devolves and devolves, from and into entities of smaller and larger structure without reference point, without center, into a bottomless abyss of reductive constituents and launched asymptotically toward an infinitely realized synthesis. This is a story of symmetry repaired and the utter annihilatory creation that is its offspring. In such a tale, there cannot possibly be only an Ambra Dawn.
It is required that there be an anti-Ambra, an antithesis, a force in essence, development, and complexity that mirrors yet is not its symmetry mate. She is of course the clone who took me on Dram—a fabrication of the Anti who escaped their myopic control and launched herself on a quest neither she nor I understood at the time. It was a journey that, in the end, would bring a primordial pair full circle, like a proton and antiproton hurled about in opposite directions through the magnetic bowels of a synchrotron to collide, transforming the fundamental structure of matter and energy—indeed, of our universe itself.
And so I step back into the memories of an existence that now never was, to the moment in an unmade eon when you lost me in the second book, when I crouched within a bubble of space-time under the wild and furious assault of a thousand clones of the Daughter bent on our destruction. It was to be my last true moment with Ambra Dawn, the human creature I cherished above all others.
Stebbins has taken me beyond anything I've previously seen, read, or imagined. Without a science background, I've struggled through some of the parts of these books, and especially, this last one. The only way I can think of to help you understand what happens is to refer to the computer... At any time, we can use the computer to bring up information about a past, sometimes even of our own lives, and it allows us to "trigger," our minds as indicated in Thomas Kemp's poem this morning, and we return to experience sad or joyful times over again, even if only in our imaginations.
Consider, now, that those times are really but another location that exists at the same time, and with the ability, we can move from one time to another. Yes, time travel as you've experienced before in other books. But this is beyond that, you see, because everything has been destroyed. Scattered. Matter and anti-matter... I don't even know whether that would be saying it correctly...
What I do know is that Waythrel was kidnapped some time ago and taken away from everything that previously existed. A clone stole him away. To help them communicate, her name became Klone...a clone of Ambra... somewhat like she was at one time. Thousands, if not millions, of Ambra had been created. Klone was the one that was uniquely different, just as Ambra had been.
In order to find out what and where it had happened, Klone plans to locate and visit her former self... Waythrel must go with her, to fill in information when he can and/or to react to what happened at that time. You see, it was the XIX who had never become part of all the wars of the past. They had served to help, to try to regain what had been lost and work toward good. But Waythrel had lost his mate, as well as Ambra--what good was living through all of that again?! We see a disappointed, frustrated Waythrel far from what he was before everything was gone.
If I would try to express myself about this book, the best that comes close is the theme from Space Odyssey--the book is musically out of this world! We hear the music in our ears, but our eyes are seeing parts of Klone's life... What had happened then...and then...or maybe before that...or is it Ambra's life, not Klone's because Ambra is often there where they are visiting. She speaks to Waythrel, sharing her feelings of missing him...But she is no longer the same...
Readers, I advise that you do not read this without reading the entire trilogy in order to get the full affect of living through the first two trips that you experience. With that background, you will enter seamlessly into the final story. Heed Waythrel's words in the Prologue, prepare to be confused, to wander and to wonder across time, worlds and worlds that may not even exist...And yet, in the end, we know...
This last book challenges everything you ever thought you knew, you believed, only to have you realize...ahhh, I see...
By the year 3000, all of this will have been the turning point. We will know...
Or will we? Dare you read the Trilogy? I did. I'm glad I did... In 3000 A.D. I'll be gone. Will you be watching this classic movie, or reading the trilogy on the latest technology to "read"? Highly recommend you get prepare and read it now! LOL Stebbins might be already creating... But what could possibly follow The Daughter of Time Trilogy?! Science Fiction like nothing from the past...
Born in the Midwest, his mother worked as a clinical psychologist and his father was a professor of Romance languages at the University of Nebraska in Lincoln. In fact, his father's specialty, old Romance languages and their literature, is the source of the strange spelling of his name: "Erec." It is an Old French spelling, taken from an Arthurian romance by Chrétien de Troyes written around 1170:Érec et Énide.
Erec has pursued diverse interests over the course of his life, including science, music, drama, and writing. His academic path focused on science, and he received a degree in physics from Oberlin College in 1992 and a PhD in biochemistry from the Weill Cornell Graduate School of Medical Sciences in 1999.
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