The Far Side of Forever

By Robert Zorich

Time. Immutable. Untouchable. A river always streaming past us. Something we cant ever turn back or fix.

Or can we?

John Gillian, renowned physicist, and Rebecca Harleson, renaissance thinker and mathematician, and their team, have created the first machine capable of sending messages through infinite time and space. Their invention causes shock waves throughout the world, and become the target of protestors and unscrupulous politicians. The possibilities for misuse are endless.

When the newly appointed Secretary of Technology Development takes over the project to prevent a tragedy from occurring, the warnings of side effects are ignored. The results are a world spinning out of control as great paradoxes are manifested around the team and their device.

Now only Gillian and his team can get back to the source and stop the escalating events before they unfold.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 20, 2013
• ISBN: 9781491703861

Robert Zorich

Robert Zorich is a physicist and practicing engineer in the electronics industry. In this first fiction book, Robert discusses the philosophies and practices of scientists trying to make practical discoveries while contemplating the personal and societal impact and side effects of their work.

Book preview

THE FAR SIDE

OF FOREVER

Robert Zorich

iUniverse LLC

Bloomington

The Far Side of Forever

Copyright © 2002, 2013 Robert Zorich.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher and/or author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

All characters and events are fiction and any resemblance to actual events or people is purely coincidental.

iUniverse books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

iUniverse

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.iuniverse.com

1-800-Authors (1-800-288-4677)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

ISBN: 978-1-4917-0385-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4917-0386-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013914682

iUniverse rev. date: 08/19/2013

Contents

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

XV

XVI

XVII

XVIII

XIX

XX

XXI

XXII

XXIII

XXIV

XXV

XXVI

XXVII

About The Author

Dedicated to my mother Jeanne

And my father Sam

For everything they have helped with

And put up with over the years

Also dedicated to my wife Cher

For the love and inspiration

She brought to my life

Every day

May they all rest in peace

Then according to the man who showed his outstretched arm to space

He turned around and pointed, revealing all the human race

I shook my head and smiled and whispered, knowing all about the place

On the hill we viewed the silence of the valley

Called to witness cycles only of the past

And we reach all this with movements in between the said remark

—Close to the Edge

Jon Anderson

I

It fills all Space, continued the little soliliquizing Creature,

And what It fills, It is.

What It thinks, that It utters;

and what It utters, that It hears;

and It itself is Thinker, Utterer, Hearer, Thought, Word, Audition;

It is the One and yet the All in All.

—Flatland, Edwin Abbott

July 1957

P rivate First Class David Ardath had finally relaxed on his bunk after turning on the radio. Buddy Holly blared over the tinny little speaker. Ardath realized that this radio was about the only remnant of the real world in this hot little hell-hole they called Fort Huachuca in Southern Arizona. He heard a commotion at the end of the aisle and looked up at the sergeant as he came towards his bunk. He sighed, wondering what the next chore would be. It had been another typically long, hard day in the field training for various potential desert combat situations. A number of aircraft had been dropping 500 pound bombs nearby, and the artillery fire had been almost constant. His nerves were jangled, his ears were ringing, and all-in-all he wondered why he had wanted to join the army in the first place. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he wanted to forget it immediately, as he knew only too well why he was here. He was now alone in the world, having lost his parents in an automobile accident only six months before. His brother had died in Korea several years back and as the final insult, his wife of two years had left him. She had run off with some guy she had met while he was on the road selling vacuum cleaners, which had been his least favorite job. So after all that, joining the army appeared the only thing left to do.

The sergeant called out, Ardath, David. Up front and center. He was a tall, very powerful looking individual. He looked like he wasn’t used to saying things twice. To add to his intimidation factor, he was from some other outfit. He was wearing a sharply starched dress uniform, white gloves, white helmet and perfectly polished boots. The scowl on his face had clearly been practiced over many years of service to his country. He glared around the barracks at the group of new recruits.

All Ardath wanted to do was go to sleep, not follow this guy. At least he didn’t feel hungry anymore, as he had eaten a huge dinner, even taking seconds on the mystery meat they served. He sighed, jumped off the bed and stood at attention in front of the sergeant. Private Ardath, sir, he hollered.

Follow me. The sergeant waited as Ardath put on his boots and then he turned abruptly on his heels and marched out of the barracks. Ardath followed him at a reasonable distance.

As they started walking down the sidewalk, Ardath tried to ask, Where are we going?

The sergeant just grunted and didn’t answer. They were walking rapidly, as if their mission was urgent. The sinking sun was bright in their eyes, obscuring his vision in its glare. They continued walking for several minutes, beyond the end of the row of barracks, and further past the armory. Finally they arrived at a small building that was unmarked and isolated from the others. Ardath didn’t remember seeing this building before.

They reached the door, and the sergeant knocked on the door, two sharp raps, followed with a single rap. After a moment, a door latch rattled and the door creaked open. A guard also wearing a white helmet and gloves stood there very sternly and formally, waiting without a word. The sergeant murmured something to the guard that Ardath couldn’t quite hear, and the two of them were allowed in.

They walked down the hallway, boots echoing on the tile floor. They seemed to walk for a long distance down the hall, taking a couple of turns. Ardath realized that this building was deceptively small on the outside, and was much larger on the inside than you’d expect.

Ardath was finally led into a small room, where the sergeant told him to have a seat and then walked out of the room without any further comment. Ardath thought, What a zombie. That guy needs to get laid.

He started looking around the room. It was fairly small, maybe ten to twelve feet on each side, with a single bare bulb in the middle of the ceiling. It was painted an antiseptic white and had one small window. The window was covered on the inside with a grate of some sort. He looked at the grate closer and figured it had a rubbery cover of some sort, as the material on the grate was slightly compressible. When he looked out of the window, he could only see the back of the adjoining building. Overall, the room gave him the impression of a cross between a hospital room and a prison cell. He wondered why he was here, but didn’t think it would be for anything good.

The only furniture in the room was a small table and a chair placed right in the middle of the room. He sat down in the chair, and was surprised to find that it was quite comfortable. Even as he settled into the chair, he became more uncomfortable with the situation. Usually, they told you exactly what was going on, but he didn’t know of anyone just taken from the barracks without any explanation. If this was supposed to be punishment, why weren’t they making an example out of him like they usually did? It certainly couldn’t be a transfer or a promotion either, since they didn’t inform people this way. So that left him confused and disoriented. The only thing he knew for sure is that he hadn’t done anything wrong. He started trying to think about everyone he spoken to recently and what he had said. Even though McCarthyism had died down, it didn’t mean there were no more witch hunts for suspected communists or other subversive types. It seemed that the more he tried to think of what he could have done to deserve some obscure punishment, the less any of it made sense. He sat there dwelling on his own behavior for what seemed like an eternity. Since there was no clock in the room and he hadn’t taken the time to put on a watch, he couldn’t gauge how long he had been in the room. He knew it had been a long time because it was getting quite dark outside.

Suddenly, the door rattled as it was unlocked and yet another guard came in. He was carrying a small tray with some orange juice and crackers on it. The guard set the tray on the small table, and said, Drink all of this juice and eat all of the crackers. That will help you to relax.

What do you mean relax? Where am I? What am I in here for? Ardath was beginning to feel a little paranoid, as all these people were acting very strangely. Also, not a one of them had any sort of identification other than their dress uniforms and stripes.

You’re in a special program. Someone will describe the nature of the program to you when it is safe to do so. We don’t want to compromise our national security, of course.

Ardath blinked and said, Well, I know we don’t want to do that, but why all the secrecy to me? Now that I’m here you can tell me the scoop can’t you?

Sorry, you’ll be OK, just drink the juice and eat the crackers, please, so I can get on to my next charge. The guard just stood there and watched, waiting to see that the articles were consumed as ordered.

Ardath sat for a moment contemplating the orange juice and crackers and decided to just go along with it. If they wanted him to know they would tell him, and in the meantime, this was still the U.S. Army and they wouldn’t hurt him on purpose. He thought, Maybe I’ll get some assignment in the science labs and won’t have to crawl through the mud so much. He picked up one of the crackers and placed it in his mouth, then picked up the juice to wash the cracker down. For a moment he thought that maybe they were testing a new kind of food. If so, they’d better improve it, because the cracker was very dry and he tried to say so in a muffled voice. It took almost all of the glass of juice to wash it down.

When Ardath started to pick up the second cracker, the guard chuckled and said, If you don’t want the second cracker you don’t have to eat it. I don’t like them either, but they make you eat these all the time. Just finish up the juice and I’ll be on my way.

Ardath drank up the last of the juice and said, Yeah, I think the new secret weapon is probably the recipe for that cracker. He laughed and the guard left the room. Ardath was left alone in the antiseptic room again.

He sat for another unreasonably long time, at least a half hour. While sitting there he started feeling increasingly nervous and anxious. His stomach felt like he had eaten a huge meal and then ridden a roller coaster. He remembered back to the seconds on the mystery meat and hoped that he wasn’t getting sick from it. After a little while of sitting there getting jittery, he stood up and started pacing around the room. He looked out of the window but couldn’t see anything outside as it had become too dark. However, he could see his own reflection in the window pane. There was something wrong with his face, but he couldn’t make out what it was. He just knew he didn’t look the same as he looked in the barracks when he washed up a couple of hours ago. As he looked, he thought it must be the light, and backed away from the window. As he backed off, he noticed that the light seemed much more glaring, brighter than before and very annoying. It didn’t help his mood at all.

Ardath continued to pace around, but continued to feel more tense and more paranoid. Sweat had beaded up on his forehead and had formed on the palms of his hands. He started wiping his hands on his pants to dry them off, but it seemed like the more he wiped them, the more they sweated, and the more uncomfortable he felt. He moved to the window glancing furtively out of it, as if expecting someone or something. The knots in his stomach continued to grow tighter by the second, but he couldn’t explain why, and this scared him.

He decided he needed to sit down and try to be calm, so he forced himself to sit in the chair. Sitting there made him feel like he was being interrogated, and that bothered him, so he closed his eyes. When he did, he was immediately confronted with a swirl of colors and patterns racing by him at high speed. Watching the patterns was intensely interesting, although sometimes he would jump, as if startled, and the entire set of colors and patterns would disappear for a few seconds. He thought this all to be very strange. After what seemed like an eternity of watching, he opened his eyes again. When he did this, he noticed that the entire room now seemed strange to him, as if he was somehow detached from the scene. He looked down at the table, closely observing it. He seemed unusually aware of the grain and structure of the wood. It seemed to be very intricate and complicated. He marveled at the ability of a tree to create such a beautiful pattern yet still possess such strength.

He looked up from the table and noticed that the walls had become quite different in texture than what he remembered from a little while ago… or was it a long time ago, he couldn’t quite tell. The walls appeared to be made of rubber. They moved slightly in a rippling manner, as if breathing or growing. The movement was almost imperceptible yet absolutely unmistakable. As he continued to stare at this bizarre activity, he noticed that it would sometimes get more intense, and it would appear that the rubbery wall was melting, slowly sliding to the floor. Then he would blink and it would start all over. He thought that he must be really tired to be seeing this. He wished they would leave him alone so he could go back to his bunk.

Suddenly a surge of energy hit him and he jumped up and raced to the window. He grabbed onto the grate and pressed his face up to it tightly. He could feel the rubber on the bars give a little and that reinforced his overall impression that the walls and everything else were made of some strange, soft, moving material. The thought of this scared him immensely, so he started screaming and hollering at the window. He kept doing this for several minutes, but after a while felt like a part of mind withdrew from the scene and watching it all as if in a movie. The sounds kept coming out of his mouth, but it wasn’t something he had any control over. After a few minutes of this, he finally willed his body to quit screaming and he started pacing around the room again. The part of him that watched the scene kept telling him everything would be all right, but the part of him that paced the room was terrified that he had lost his mind or worse. He couldn’t gauge what the right perspective was, since he couldn’t identify himself with either of the two entities that he felt himself to be. All he really knew was that nothing like this had ever happened to him before.

Without warning, he heard an extremely loud noise at the door. He looked at the door, incredulously, wondering why he hadn’t thought of just leaving instead of sitting in this crazy room. Then he realized that the loud noise was simply the lock being turned, and the intensity of the sound immediately dropped to tolerable levels. Ardath half staggered back to the wall opposite the door and watched as it swung open in slow motion. He peered at the open space and couldn’t make out anything but white blurs and then one of them moved into the room. As it came in to the light of the room, he recognized the blur as a doctor in a white lab coat. He was bald, and wore round wire-rimmed glasses over his long, narrow face. He looked harsh and menacing and did not make Ardath feel at all comforted. He continued to press himself against the far wall, not wanting this man to bother him. After the doctor had entered the room, another white blur emerged, resolving itself into another doctor, somewhat more congenial. A military guard and a woman who was writing continuously followed the doctors into the room. They all stood together slightly inside the door and stared at him. None of them said a word for several minutes. Ardath felt like a wild animal that had been hunted down and cornered. He looked around the room rapidly as if expecting a new opening to suddenly appear that he could escape through.

Suddenly, he realized that one of them was talking. In fact, the doctor was talking to Ardath. He concentrated and realized that the second doctor was asking him to sit. He asked several times, and Ardath slowly understood the request and finally relaxed enough to sit.

Ardath studied their faces as closely as they were studying his. Their eyes seemed to provide huge holes into their interiors where he could see them much more clearly. He could almost see or feel their personalities, their lifestyles, their histories. He could tell that the first doctor was the leader, and he seemed very interested in what was happening, almost abnormally so. This doctor seemed to be enjoying watching Ardath go insane. The second doctor appeared to be more interested in the secretary, who he seldom looked at, although his aura seemed to completely envelop hers. He realized that he had never seen anything quite like that, and noticed that everyone in the room seemed to have a different aura, including himself as far he could see.

The secretary seemed equally interested in the second doctor, but acted as if their affair somehow must be kept secret. He could see right through them, so their attempts at discretion were inconsequential to Ardath. This seemed very funny, and the more he thought about it, the more hilarious these people seemed. He could barely control himself and had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing out loud at them.

The first doctor asked, What’s the dosage?

The second doctor looked down at his notes, and answered. One thousand micrograms. A pretty healthy dose.

After considering the answer, the first doctor looked down at Ardath and asked, How are you feeling?

Ardath couldn’t answer, because he didn’t know what to say. He looked at the doctor, who now had this phony, concerned expression on his face as if he really cared about what Ardath said. He couldn’t control himself any longer and just started laughing uproariously. This continued for some time, as the doctors and the other intruders into his life observed, took notes and talked quietly among themselves. Finally, he ran out of energy and stopped laughing.

The second doctor asked, What were you laughing at?

This sent Ardath into another spasm of uncontrollable laughter, until after some effort he controlled himself enough to say, The four of you. This caused him to start laughing again. Somewhere in the middle of the laughter, it dawned on him that these people were somehow experimenting with him. As the implications of this revelation revealed themselves to him, he stopped laughing. He looked directly at the first doctor and asked, What have you done to me?

The two doctors looked at one another, and after a moment the second doctor answered, We’ve given you a new kind of medicine. We call it LSD-25. We weren’t exactly sure how it would affect you, which is why we brought you here, so you would be safe. How do you feel?

Really strange, like I’m going crazy. He started feeling very emotional and suddenly got scared. I’m not going to stay like this, am I? Tears started to form in his eyes and he started shivering.

The first doctor said, No, no. The effects will wear off in a few hours. After that you’ll be just like new.

Ardath didn’t really believe that, because he knew he was seeing things that he could never forget, and that he was seeing reality in a completely new way. The doctor’s reassurance that the effects would eventually wear off had helped to calm him down, though. He suddenly thought that he should try to not let them know what was happening in his mind, because otherwise they might use it against him. He clammed up and didn’t say anything more about how he felt.

After several more minutes of intense observation, the first doctor said to the secretary, Please wire Langley. Proceed with program. Initial results encouraging.

The doctors watched for a while longer, then the first doctor said they’d be back to check on him in a while, turned abruptly and nodded to the others. They all followed him out of the room, and then the door was shut and he heard the lock click back into place.

Ardath sat in place for some time thinking about what he had learned. He knew he was on some weird kind of drug. Now that he knew he wasn’t truly going insane, the feeling didn’t really bother him. He seemed to have reached some sort of plateau, and there didn’t seem to be as many unexpected surprises occurring. He stayed in that state for a very long time. It felt like it had been hours since he had been taken from his bunk. He thought about his life, his successes, and the failures that outweighed his successes. This topic seemed to overwhelm him and he dwelled on it for over an hour, alternatively raging, crying and shouting at himself. Finally, he came under some semblance of control and thought about the direction his life was going. He was sorry that he was stuck in the Army. One and a half more years and he’d be ready to go on his way. He thought maybe he should go to college. The thought of this was quite funny, since he had barely been able to maintain a C average in high school. He spent a good half hour laughing again. After this episode was over, he thought about the effects of the drug, and thought that it was generally a rather enjoyable feeling, even if he was getting emotional. He wondered if anyone else had been given it. He supposed they must have, and then wondered if he would get to be a part of the test again. Maybe the tests didn’t work if the victim knew what was happening.

Finally, he started feeling very tired. He started hollering, Is anyone out there? I’m getting really hungry, and I’d like to go to bed! Hey, are you still out there watching?

After a few minutes, he heard the lock turn and the door slowly swung open. Yet another guard came in carrying a tray of food, mostly fruits, along with a small sandwich. There was a big glass of water, which he immediately guzzled down. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was, and after drinking the whole glass, asked the guard if he could have more. The guard growled something at him about not being a waitress, but went out and retrieved the water anyway. While the guard was away, Ardath tried to eat the sandwich, but found that it had a very strange texture, was extraordinarily dry, and had no flavor. He put it down after two bites, and picked up an apple, which he eagerly devoured. It was perhaps the best apple he had ever had. After the guard came back with the water, he finished off the fruit and water and the guard led him to another room in the building. This room contained a bunk and a small table. The guard grunted at him to go into the room, then closed the door and locked it behind him.

Ardath sighed, realizing that they obviously did not want him to see his bunkmates and finally walked over to the bed, pulling off his clothes as he walked. He turned off the light and climbed into the bunk. As he lay down, he realized that he was not particularly sleepy, although his body was very tired. He closed his eyes, saw the colored patterns again, and just relaxed and watched the patterns flow. After some time, the door opened and a nurse came in. She smiled at him at him and told him to relax, she had something to help him sleep. She pulled out a hypodermic needle and pressed it into his arm. He felt a warmth in his arm that stretched up into his shoulder and then to his head. Within seconds, he felt dizzy, then sleepy, and finally he knew that his long journey through the night was over.

II

What I’m after is simple.

I want to prove the existence of God

and a superluminal Universe

created from the future

which created us

so that the Universe

could itself be created.

—Jack Sarfatti,

October 2027

J ohn Gillian tried to focus his bleary eyes on the computer screen as he continued to run the simulation program. Trying to read the screen had become progressively more difficult as the day had progressed, and he was getting quite tired. The long days were really starting to get to him, but he knew that his team was nearing completion on their project. He hoped it would have enough of an impact to justify all this lost sleep. As he continued to type, he could hear the tap-tap-tap of dress shoes in the hallway. He took a deep breath, held it and sighed. He stopped typing and looked out of his window onto the grounds of the University, noticing that the trees were losing their leaves. The lack of autumn colors was something he would never get used to. Instead, the leaves simply turned brown and fell off the branches. Southern California just did not have the variety of seasons that his native Illinois had, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry about shoveling snow in another month or two.

Actually, the University of California, Malibu had a number of deciduous trees that changed colors, however, these were not visible from the Physics building. The University was new, having only been in existence for ten years, so the original landscapers had opted for fast growing greenery in the new sections. The core of the University was part of a smaller college that had existed for decades on this spot. The old Physics building was located here, with its older Redwoods, scrub oak and broad ocean view. The overwhelming effect on this part of the campus was that you were in Southern California, nowhere else. The newer parts of the campus had been designed to provide a more rounded environment.

The tapping shoes stopped in front of his office, and Gillian turned away from his computer desktop as he heard the door swing open. Although he would recognize those footsteps anywhere, he was still somewhat surprised that Professor Francis Morgan would walk in. He rarely saw the Chairman of the Physics Department anymore except at awards banquets. You would think I’d see my boss more often, he thought. Obviously, something was up, so he pushed his chair back from his oak desk and straightened his glasses. He could tell the professor was studying his appearance, as if he were about to make a comment about the fact that Gillian looked so disheveled. At least I have a good excuse, since we were here almost all night, he thought.

Professor Morgan was in fact wondering if he should say something, but thought better of it. He always looked impeccable, in his neat pinstriped suit, dark, conservative tie, clipped hair and neatly trimmed fingernails. A pair of the best designer glasses framed his owlish gray eyes. Morgan looked as though he didn’t do much for a living other than talk and he certainly didn’t look like he had spent much time in a lab or classroom lately. Since he spent most of his time at fund-raising events, talking a lot about very little was probably a fair assessment of his activities. This day, however, he had more on his mind. He took a seat in front of John’s desk without even a hello.

Made much progress, John? Morgan asked.

We’re doing quite well, Frank, although I have to admit I’m pretty tired.

Putting in a lot of hours on the project?

Yes, well, we’re almost ready for the first tests. We were all here until almost 3:00 A.M. last night, putting the final bug fixes into the software.

You know, this project has a lot of visibility. Maybe more than you even realize.

John grimaced inwardly, but smiled impassively to Morgan. Since being named Team Leader, he had spent more than his share of time politicking and glad handing and frankly he didn’t like that part of the job. He just wanted to perform his scientific research. If Morgan was in here talking about visibility, it would only mean that he could look forward to even more of the same. He bit his tongue and nodded at Morgan, hoping to entice him to say more without committing himself. It didn’t work well, so there was a short moment of awkward silence.

Morgan finally continued, As much as I’ve tried to keep your project inside the department and inside the University, news of it has still leaked out. I received a call today from the Secretary of Technology Development, George Danford. He was very interested in hearing the details about our work. It seems he has heard a number of fairly accurate rumors.

This time John grimaced outwardly. The Secretary of Technology Development was the latest posting created by the Federal Government in the overhaul promised by President Castillo. While the concept of a Cabinet level post dedicated to the development of new technologies seemed sound enough, the politician that was given the post knew more about herding sheep in his home state of Montana than he did about technology. So far his track record had been clear enough: every time he had become involved in an issue, he had created a bureaucracy that had stifled any sort of progress. That kind of involvement was the last thing on Earth they needed right now. Gillian’s eyes got very wide for a moment and then he blinked a couple of times and tried to bring himself under some semblance of control. Taking a deep breath, he asked, I thought we agreed the government wouldn’t get involved in this at all. We’ve been assured that our private source of funding would prevent government intervention.

Yes, that’s what we all would prefer, believe me. Even the top University administration is not very happy about this visit. Unfortunately, one of the people they are unhappy with is me. They think it’s somehow my fault that we’ve gained this much attention. You know, it’s funny, they tell you they want a big project to bring prestige to the University, and now we have the attention of the leaders of the free world and they aren’t satisfied. But the thing is, when the White House comes calling, you don’t exactly slam the door in their faces. Besides, he said he doesn’t want to stick his fingers in the pie, he just wants to know what we’re doing.

Well, that’s how it starts. Look at the Advanced Freeway System, a simple project to incorporate Internet transceivers into the main computer of each car so that it can monitor its own location and condition at all times and drive itself to your destination. Automatically tracks where the nearest facilities are, what the local radio stations are, even calls the police. That was a great idea, a simple little device that can be put on a single chip. It shouldn’t have cost more than $100 a car plus some on-line satellite time. Then the STD got involved and bam—now the cost is up to $1500 per car, not counting the ‘cross-licensing fee’, whatever the hell that is.

This time, it was Morgan’s turn to grimace. As much as he understood the basis for John’s contempt, he knew the Secretary quite well personally. He believed the man meant well, even if he was in over his head and Congress and the Administration were tying his hands. He was particularly annoyed at the popular designation STD, with all of its double meanings. However, he knew he wouldn’t change any opinions here, so he put up with the indiscretion and just went on.

I know how it looks, John, but we’ve discussed this before. Research like this doesn’t just happen in a vacuum, and of course, anything with this kind of impact is going to draw attention. Especially from the politicians. They’re fundamentally paranoid and want to hold on to their power. Any sort of major advance that they are not a part of will make them tense. Look, they just want to have a meeting to allow us to describe our work. If we can just calm their fears, let them know that our project is of no danger, and then they’ll leave us alone.

Yeah, this time. You just watch, by the next meeting they’ll want to control the operation entirely.

Morgan sighed. Unfortunately, even though he knew the Secretary, he tended to agree with John. Even if Danford wanted to prevent any government intervention, it was doubtful he could stop various other agencies from coming in and messing around with his Department. He had no intention of letting Gillian know that he felt that way, however. He wished it was possible to find good scientists without their being so hot headed and strong willed. Unfortunately, it seemed to go with the territory. He just wanted to have a little more control of these people. God only knows what they’ll say to real live government officials. The two men stared intently at one another for several seconds.

John read Morgan’s mood and realized that he was pushing his boundaries. He looked at his computer monitor. We’re getting really close now. It’ll take just a few more days, and then we’ll be ready to initiate the first test sequence.

Morgan jumped at the change of subject eagerly. Ah, excellent. We’ve spent so much time and effort on this project that it’s hard to believe that we’re actually getting close to completion. How are Dr. Shindra’s power supplies holding up? It had been very difficult getting funding for the specialized ultrahigh frequency hexawatt power supplies, so they were near and dear to him.

Very well, actually. We have been able to store and discharge enough energy to make the soliton waves, but just haven’t associated it with a proper and suitable vector.

So, all of the preliminary tests have been completed?

Just once I wish he would read my reports. Yep. Just a few more tweaks to the alignment programs and we should be able to make the first attempt. Would you like to take a little tour? It’s been awhile since you’ve been by.

After a short moment’s thought, Morgan said, Sure, I think that would be a good idea. I hope you don’t mind.

John thought about saying something rude, but changed his mind. He realized that it would be more important at this point to have a supportive department head than an angry one. Besides, it would take less time to show him their progress than try to describe it. He got up and walked towards the door. He held the door open as Morgan stood and followed him out into the hall.

John walked silently down the main hall, Morgan’s patent leather shoes tapping the floor behind. The contrast between the two was more marked out of the narrow confines of the office. John’s long strides clearly showed the tone generated by years of long distance running, while Morgan appeared to be a businessman on his way to a quick lunch, hustling along, sounding almost winded while trying to follow John on the short walk to the lab.

They entered the lab and went almost immediately to a computer console on the right side of the room. An attractive woman sat at the keyboard, her shoulder length blonde hair pushed over to one side out of the way. Her green eyes studied the wide HDTV screen intensely, and she spoke quietly into a small microphone slung from the end of a narrow headset. Her hands moved rapidly over the keyboard, first entering in some characters, then swiping the symbolic data shell, then on to a small mouse-like pointing device. The way she worked on the machine made her look much more like a musician than a programmer. The fact that she preferred to be thought of as an artist and not a scientist reinforced the impression that she played her computer like an instrument.

Professor Morgan straightened up a little and adjusted his tie as they approached the woman. He wanted to look his best for what was clearly one of his favorite associates. Good morning, Rebecca. He smiled broadly as she looked up. John stood back, out of view of Morgan, grinned and rolled his eyes back in disbelief.

Well, hi Frank, how are you doing? She stood up and smiled. She stood taller than Morgan and had to look down to meet his eyes. Rebecca Harleson was an entertaining woman. Never intimidated, she usually took control of any situation within seconds. She had long since sized up Morgan and knew she could charm him out of anything, anytime. She never missed an opportunity to get him all worked up, although she knew she would