ADAM

By R. E. Link

George Dalton, a brilliant software engineer at the J&A Company, finds that youthful arrogance, and a habit of making inappropriate remarks, hinders his advancement within the company. After making an ill-considered comment, George is tasked with a simple assignment as punishment. However, George desires a more exciting use of his time. Exploring an abandoned area, he unexpectedly encounters, Adam.

Despite the fact that they are completely different, George and Adam form a friendship, as their lives take an unexpected turn. They uncover a mysterious set of clues, left behind by a long dead and nearly forgotten inventor. George believes the clues hint at the existence of the inventor's final creation: a time machine. While Adam is skeptical, George is convinced the machine is real, and was deliberately hidden years ago. Now it silently awaits for the clues to be understood and its location revealed.

George and Adam slowly unravel the cryptic and off times misleading writings of the inventor. As they come to understand the intricacies of time travel, and the genius behind it, they discover not only its potential, but also the danger it represents.

Adam and George decide to use their knowledge to help people, and protect the innocent. It could be as simple as keeping someone from walking into danger, to preventing murder.

It all awaits in 'Adam.'

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert E. Link
• Release date: Apr 17, 2024
• ISBN: 9798986214177

Book preview

R. E. Link

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ADAM

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COPYRIGHT

ADAM, is a complete work of fiction created out of imagination. The characters are imaginary. The names were created at random and any resemblance, similarity or likeness to actual people, places, things or incidents is a coincidence.

ADAM, copyright © February 2023, by R. E. Link. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, copied or recorded, by any means know or unknown, nor stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the copyright holder.

Published by R. E. Link.

Copyright © February 2023, by R. E. Link

Mass market publishing, April 2024.

Inquiries may be directed to: [e-mail]

Cover art and illustration by R. E. Link,

Copyright © February 2023, by R. E. Link

Print Book ISBN: 979-8-9862141-6-0

E-Book ISBN: 979-8-9862141-7-7

Audio Book ISBN: 979-8-9862141-8-4

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

DEDICATION

Dedicated to my friend, Buck,

an avid reader who took great pleasure from that simple act.

I think he would have liked this story.

I miss him.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 Change of Attitude

Eps 1-0 Disaster

Eps 1-1 The Beginning

Eps 1-2 Sub-Basement Level Two

Eps 1-3 Education

Eps 1-4 What Does It mean

Eps 1-5 Let The Light Shine

Eps 1-6 Deduction

Eps 1-7 Eleven Minutes Later

Eps 1-8 Randal

Eps 1-9 The Meeting

Eps 1-10 Frustration

Chapter 2 Change of Life

Eps 2-1 The Reveal

Eps 2-2 A Quick Test

Eps 2-3 The Discussion

Eps 2-4 Curriculum Vitae

Eps 2-5 Terence Washington

Eps 2-6 Secrets

Eps 2-7 The Final Piece

Eps 2-8 Upgrage

Eps 2-9 Allegation

Eps 2-10 Breakdown

Eps 2-11 Checkpoint

Eps 2-12 Las Vegas

EPS 2-13 The date

Eps 2-14 Private Table

Eps 2-15 Disrupted Stablilization

Eps 2-16 Subway

Eps 2-17 New Hampshire

Eps 2-18-1 Milo * Part One *

Eps 2-18-2 Milo * Part Two *

Chapter 3 Change of Direction

Eps 3-1 The Next Phase

Eps 3-2 Not This Time

Eps 3-3 Mission One

Eps 3-4 Capture

Eps 3-5 Veractin

Eps 3-6 Fire

Eps 3-7 Crazy

Eps 3-8 Found You

Eps 3-9 Plab ‘B’

Eps 3-10 Truth

Eps 3-11 Repeat Performance

Eps 3-12 Consequences

Epilogue

Key Players

Additional Works by R. E. Link

Chapter 1

Change of Attitude

Disaster

Instantly, Adam returned George and his team back home, appearing once again on the transport pad. The mission did not proceed as well as they had planned. George was white as a ghost, shock beginning to set in. And Alex, the third member of the team, was bleeding profusely from a ragged stomach wound. Kevin was supporting Alex, holding him upright, touching George, thankful they hadn’t lost Alex during the transport.

As soon as they materialized, Kevin quickly lowered Alex to the floor. Blood was pumping from Alex's wound, creating a crimson puddle beneath him that began spreading across the polished tile floor. George collapsed to the ground, sitting down hard as his legs gave way beneath him.

Kevin immediately initiated combat care, tearing away Alex's shirt to reveal the wound. It was larger than he had first thought, the edges jagged, having been ripped apart by the knife. He used both hands trying to cover it, pressing down hard to staunch the bleeding and prevent Alex from hemorrhaging further. Kevin turned his head to George and shouted for him to bring the medical kit.

George heard the command but found himself immobilized, his eyes fixated on Kevin's hands as he watched small spurts of blood escaping between Kevin's fingers. Kevin raised his voice, nearly screaming at George to get his ass up and move. George slowly turned his head upward, meeting Kevin's eyes. Kevin, saw the glassiness of George’s stare. He was in shock and screaming at him was not going to help. Lowering his voice, he repeated his instructions slowly and precisely. George nodded dully, then began to move. His attempts to stand were shaky, and he fell back, slipping in the blood that now covered the floor, but finally managed to get to his feet and retrieve the medical kit from the locker. As he returned, he slipped again, falling to the floor and sliding to a stop against Kevin.

Kevin continued to bark orders in precise, controlled military form, directing George to open the wound packet, and then on his order, pour the entire packet of blood-clotting powder into the wound. George nodded. This time his eyes were more focused, the shock of what had happened was somehow being put on hold for the moment. He ripped off the top of the packet, holding it at the ready.

Now! Kevin said loudly, pulling his hands away, exposing the wound. A fountain of blood rose up then flooded down the side of Alex’s body. Kevin shouted, Now George, Now!!!

George hesitated, then looked at Kevin and said, No, I have a better idea....

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Episode 1-1

The Beginning

Richard Kenna, Senior Director of the Virtual Programming Division at the J&A Company, sat behind his desk, shaking his head in dismay. George Dalton, his most capable yet troublesome engineer, stood before him, avoiding eye contact. Richard slammed his hand on the desk, demanding George's attention. Look at me, George! George snapped his head up, meeting his boss's gaze.

Without speaking a word, Richard’s expression silently conveyed his disappointment. After a moment he said, George, I need for you to explain to me why we’re facing this problem yet again. Explain to me why you can't complete a simple assignment, without blowing up the meeting. All you’ve done is create a toxic mushroom cloud that’s still rising over the conference room. Do you not understand that? You have angered some important people today, and I’d like to know why.

George stood there, returning his bosses’ look, before averting his eyes again. He knew Richard wanted an answer, but for the life of him, he didn’t have an excuse that Richard was going to accept. He briefly contemplated shrugging his shoulders, but figured that it might just piss him off even more than he already was. Finally, George uttered, Sorry, Richard.

Richard shot George an exasperated glare. Sorry? Sorry won’t cut it this time, George. Start explaining yourself, and don't you dare try to feed me any of your bullshit!

Yes, boss... Uh, okay. I think it was their idea.

Richard fixed George with an incredulous stare before leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. Their idea? So you're telling me this entire mess was their idea, and you had no hand in it whatsoever? Is that what you're trying to say?!

George hesitated. Well, not precisely, no, but, Richard, you need to know what they wanted...

Richard shouted, cutting him off. George, I have no interest in knowing that, and frankly, I couldn't care less! It's irrelevant!

Irrelevant? You must be kidding. Richard, they want us to code a virtual toothbrush! It's preposterous! No matter how white I make teeth appear on the view screen, it won’t actually clean them. It won’t help anybody. In fact, it’s more likely to do the opposite. It was a crappy idea!

Richard shook his head. Yes, and?

George feigned confusion by the question, hoping not to be forced into admitting more. He said, And what? What do you mean?

Richard practically rolled his eyes. "George, I am fairly certain there’s more to this story than that. You blew up the meeting after just seven minutes. From what I understand, you didn’t even give them the courtesy of listening long enough to hear the actual proposal before declaring it, what was it, ‘fucking stupid’? So, yes George, I would appreciate it if you would indulge me and tell me everything that transpired. So, AND?!"

George hesitantly gave a sheepish smile and said, "Ah, now that you mention it, I do recall hearing something along those lines. Although, now that I think about it, I believe it was one of their own people who called it ‘fucking stupid’. He probably heard the same asinine proposal that I did."

That’s not funny, and it’s not going to work, George. Don't try to play games with me.

George nodded in assent. All right, all right. My apologies. But they did ask for it.

Richard fired right back, Oh, spare me, George, that’s a load of crap and you know it. Oh wait, let me guess, they made some utterly absurd remark like, asking you what you thought, was that it?

Well they did! George protested in his own defense.

Richard gritted his teeth and closed his eyes as he rubbed his hand over his head in frustration. Looking back up at George, he barked, Damn it, George! It doesn't matter if their idea is stupid or not. You're an engineer, not the product manager! Telling them their idea is horseshit is someone else's job! And you certainly don't call the Director of Product Development an idiot! Not to his god damn face! There's going to be hell to pay for that one, George. This is serious!

George hung his head in shame. You’re right Richard. I probably shouldn’t have said anything, but they had it coming. They asked for my opinion. It’s not my fault they couldn’t take it and stormed out of the room.

Richard glared at George, shaking his head in frustration. Don’t pull that bullshit with me. It was entirely your fault. I sent you to that meeting to gather the project requirements. That was it. All you had to do was write them down, and then get out!

Richard, I couldn't just sit there and listen to their ridiculous...

Richard's hand slammed down on the desk again. Don't 'Richard' me! I’ve had enough! Now just stay quiet for a minute.

Sorry, Richard, George mumbled, turning his head away.

Richard leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath. Somehow, he was going to have to smooth things over for George, but it wasn't going to be easy. The product team was out for blood.

Richard considered the potential pathways this situation might follow. After a moment, he settled his mind, accepting the most likely outcome of this latest fiasco. George, look at me. I think it's best to keep you out of sight for a while. I'm going to give you a new assignment. You'll be going down to Sub-Basement Level Two. That’s in the older section of the building. There's a storage area there called WJ-L. You'll need to get the key from the third-floor security desk. I’ll let them know you’re coming for it. Your job is to inventory the contents of WJ-L. Hopefully, this will keep you busy, and more importantly, off the product team's radar until this matter can be worked out.

George’s face sagged in disappointment. Really? Do an inventory? And you believe this to be the best utilization of my time. I am a Level Three engineer, Richard, not a flunky. You’re punishing me.

Richard snapped at George, And for a damn good reason!

George was shocked by Richard’s harshness. He changed his tone, pleading for a change of heart. Richard, this is unfair. Let me go back to work. If you need an inventory done, assign it to an intern, or a first year, not me.

Richard let out a sigh and shook his head. George, you have no one to blame but yourself. Here's my recommendation. Don't think of this as punishment, think of it as an opportunity to adjust your attitude, because George, you need to. Learn from this experience. That's my best advice. Oh, and just FYI, your electronics won’t work in the basement. And no, I don't know why, so don't pester me about it.

Richard. Come on. Okay. Look. I apologize. I’ll keep my opinions to myself during the next meeting. I promise.

Richard’s exasperation came out in his words. George, we've already covered that ground and I’ve had my fill of it. And as for another planning meeting, I wouldn't hold my breath. Certainly not any time soon.

Okay, okay, I get it. I'll do the inventory if that's what it takes. But what about everything else? I have other projects in the works. What about those?

They'll be reassigned.

Richard, you can't! Those are my jobs. I'm the only one who can do them!

Damn it, George, you claim you understand the situation, but you clearly do not. The planning team, they've already taken this up the line. They want you gone. Fortunately for you, it's not entirely up to them. In the interim, it's been made crystal clear that you are not welcome on any of their projects.

Oh, that's bullshit! Richard, please. You can't do this. Look, I'll stay in the background, out of their way. They won't see me and won’t know I’m working.

Richard shook his head. The conversation had reached a dead end. Despite his attempts to convey the gravity of the situation, George remained obstinate. In a measured voice Richard said, George, you are an exceptional software engineer, one of the best I've encountered in quite some time. However, that talent will not save you from inappropriate conduct. You don’t know how to rein in your emotions, or your words. Now you’ve created a situation that I’m going to try and sort out. Until then, I want you to follow my instructions without all the side argument. For now, your only assignment is in the basement. Do you understand?

Richard sat in silence as he watched his wayward employee, struggle to accept his assignment. He thought it a shame that it had come to this and hoped his message was getting through.

George realized he was being dismissed. Turning on his heels, he made his exit, closing the office door quietly behind him. Standing alone in the hallway, he murmured to himself, Shit. Will I never learn?

George entered the security office on the third floor, provided his name and requested access to storage area WJ-L. The security guard looked up, gave George a knowing smile and said, Yeah. Got a call that you'd be coming for the key. So, who'd you piss off?

George was surprised by the comment. A little defensive he answered, What makes you think I pissed anyone off?

The guard gave a short laugh. You're asking for the key to WJ-L. You think you're the only one who's ever asked for it? Hardly.

The comment surprised George as well. He was about to protest his innocence, then decided it was no use. He simply replied, I guess bad news travels fast.

The guard smiled. Indeed it does. Then he leaned in slightly and said, Look, don’t let it get to you. No one here knows anything about your situation. We only know that WJ-L is where they send people to keep them occupied while management makes a decision about their future with the company. If you're requesting that key, then you've likely upset someone. Maybe someone important.

Oh.

Yeah. It happens, the guard said before turning around to face his data terminal. Over his shoulder, he said, Trust me. You’re not the only one.

George thought that was a rather disquieting bit of information and considered for the first time that he might actually be in trouble. The guard turned back around to George and asked, Hey, you okay there, fella? You look a little pale.

Forcing a smile, George answered, Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Thanks.

The guard's expression reflected his doubt, but he said no more about it. Okay, you're cleared for Sub-Basement Level Two, and WJ-L.

The guard hesitated for a moment, then said, And if I may, let me offer you some advice – you're being sent there for a reason. It can be a tough pill to swallow. Trust me, I know.

George eyed the guard. You? But you work in security, who did you piss off? The guard held his gaze steady on George for a moment, as if debating what he wanted to reveal about himself. Finally he said, It doesn‘t matter now. And I haven't always been a security guard, you know. But that was years ago. Anyway, take my word for it, any job, even this one, is better than having no job at all.

The security guard finished the paperwork then said, Okay, young man. Take the bridgeway crossover to the old section of the complex, then take the elevator down. You’ll need to use your ID to access the basement. Turn left out of the elevator. WJ-L will be down the hall a ways, on the right.

The guard slid open a drawer positioned just below the countertop. He retrieved a weighty metal key, which he bounced in his palm a few times before handing it over to George. You need your ID card and that key to get you in to WJ-L, and don't lose that key, it'll cost you a hundred if you do. Oh, and if they haven’t already told you, your tech won't function there – no Net access, no Coms. All right, best of luck young man. I hope everything works out in your favor.

With a nod of thanks, George exited the office and made his way down the hallway. The guard's words lingered in his mind, especially the sting of a potential demotion. He took a deep breath, blew it out, then proceeded to the bridgeway crossover.

Episode 1-2

Sub-Basement Level Two

The elevator chimed, and the doors opened. In bright blue lettering, the floor indicator read SB-2. As the doors silently finished opening, George couldn't help but feel surprised by what he saw. On the wall opposite the elevator, was an incredible piece of wall art from the Art Deco era.

Stepping out into the hallway, George stood before it, taking in its beauty. It was floor-to-ceiling and a true masterpiece of the period, where nouveau and Deco were often blended together with sensuality. Having taken a class on the subject at university, George came to appreciate the creative genius of the era. He smiled in admiration, impressed that someone was bold enough to display such a provocative piece in a public space. Then it occurred to him that perhaps it only seemed provocative by current standards. When it was first put in place, feelings about sex must have been quite different.

In the silence of the empty hallway, George was startled by a sound that suddenly came from behind him. He spun around, and then laughed at himself. It was the elevator doors closing. He listened to the sounds of the elevator fading into the distance as it moved off in response to another call.

George's attention was drawn back to the magnificent wall art, its intricate patterns and bold colors still exciting his senses. However, that wasn't the only thing that caught his attention. Despite being uninhabited for all this time, there were no signs of neglect or abandonment. No cobwebs or dust coatings on the walls or floors. The space was immaculate, almost as if someone had tended to it with meticulous care.

The hallway was dimly lit by a few scattered fixtures on the wall, all fashioned in the Art Deco style. Despite their attractiveness, George couldn't help but wonder how they were still functioning given today's advanced power systems. Nevertheless, they shone steadily and seemed to be in perfect working order.

Making his way down the hallway, the soft echo of his footsteps on the marble floor accompanied him in the emptiness. With each step, he felt like he was walking through the company's history, traversing through time itself. His thoughts wandered, contemplating the original purpose of the place and the secrets it might still hold.

George continued until he reached his destination, a door on the right-hand wall. The wall plaque identified itself as WJ-L. On a whim, he tried the door handle, but as expected, the door was locked. He fished the key out of his pocket, inserting it into the slot above the handle, and twisted it to the right. He heard a solid click. However, when he tried the handle again, it remained locked. He turned the key in both directions, hearing the mechanism click each time, but the door refused to budge.

George was at a loss. He knew he stood before the correct door. It was clearly marked as WJ-L, and he had utilized the key provided by security. Puzzled by this unexpected turn of events, he resorted to staring at the door, hoping that a stern look might somehow force it into submission. However, that effort failed as well.

George felt embarrassed. Despite being a level three engineer, he couldn’t puzzle out how to unlock the door. After multiple failed attempts, he gave up the effort, and reached for his Coms unit. He’d have to swallow his pride and call security to assist . Then he remembered, Coms didn't function in the basement.

Reluctantly he slid his Coms unit back into his pocket. His only recourse now was to walk back to the security desk and request someone to come and help him.

As George turned to leave, he recalled the words of the security guard; ‘You’ll need your ID card and that key to get you in to WJ-L’.

George couldn't fathom how this was possible. He scanned the area around the door for a slot or reader or anything familiar where he could use his ID card. Nothing was apparent. Then, George's attention was drawn to a rectangular inlay of gold, embedded within the wood of the door itself. At first, he assumed it was just another decorative feature in the art deco style. However, as he considered the guard’s words, it occurred to him that the inlay may be the card reader itself, built into the door, which would be typical of Art Deco, where functionality was hidden within design.

George inserted the metal key into the slot and turned it to the right, hearing the, now familiar, click of the mechanical. Next, he held his ID card against the door, in the center of the rectangle. There was a faint electronic buzzing. Gripping the handle, he gave it a try. To his amazement, the door swung open silently, as if by magic. With a sense of accomplishment, he crossed the threshold stepping into the darkened room.

Instantly, the light fixtures above George flared into life, flooding the space with a warm and inviting radiance that mimicked natural sunlight. Blinking his eyes at the sudden brightness, George was astounded by the efficiency of the lighting system. Every fixture activated at once, brilliantly illuminating the entire room without any flicker, buzzing, or the sound of industrial relays shifting power to the lights. It was truly remarkable. The room had come alive with a single step. He jokingly whispered to himself, ‘Let there be light.’

Behind him, the door automatically started to close. George turned and swiftly removed the metal key from the slot, then allowed the door to complete its closing sequence.

As George turned back, the full scope of the task Richard had assigned to him hit him like a ton of bricks. Initially distracted by the remarkable lighting system, he hadn’t noticed the sheer size of the room. But now, as he took a closer look, he was filled with a sense of dread. It was undeniably vast, and the task ahead daunting.

However, George couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement at the prospect of exploring the content. Abandoned for the last fifty years, he was certain there must be fascinating artifacts inadvertently left behind, just waiting for him to discover them.

Next to the entrance doors, there stood what could only have been a reception desk, with filing cabinets against the wall, and what might have been a visitor waiting area at one time. Beyond this section, stood a row of five rooms running along the wall. He walked over to them. Even though their doors were closed, from the outside they had the appearance of typical offices. George could make out the faint outline where nameplates might have been at one time. A grin spread across his face. He was going exploring, and these rooms were just the place to start.

George walked down the length of the rooms, deciding to begin his exploration with the furthest one. A sign bearing a non-gender specific designation was fastened to the wall beside the door. Intrigued, George entered, only to be disappointed by what he saw. In his imagination, he thought he would find a room full of old time antique fixtures, but that was not the case. Although he knew for a fact that everything in the basement was, at a minimum, fifty plus years old, the restroom was as contemporary as any found in the new tower complex.

Slightly disappointed, George left the restroom, and stepped into the next room along the wall. It was indeed an office, long ago vacated, with only its abandoned furniture providing the clues to its original purpose. The furniture was fashioned from polished wood, richly crafted, and obviously expensive, imparting an air of past opulence in what would otherwise be a somewhat desolate space.

George walked through it, letting his fingers glide across the polished surface of the desk and the credenza. He opened the drawers, feeling inside, hoping to find something left behind – anything for him to examine. He longed for a trinket or knickknack, anything that would give insight to the place and the people who once worked there. But to his disappointment, he found nothing.

The only thing of interest was a painting, about twelve inches square, on the wall directly behind the desk. Two things drew his attention to it. Firstly, it was another Art Deco piece. Secondly, it was painted on the wall itself, not on a canvas or any separate material that would allow it to be relocated, but directly on the wall.

George's interest in the space and the people who once occupied it was growing stronger. The artwork they displayed conveyed a lighthearted connection to humanity, even though they spent their working lives in an underground basement facility. He found this contrast captivating and couldn't help but be drawn in by it.

Moving on, George explored the next two rooms. They were just like the first, abandoned with only the furniture left behind. George searched through the drawers and cabinets, hoping to find something noteworthy, but as with the previous room, he came up empty-handed. Other than the furniture, the only commonality between them, was the identical art deco design painted on the wall behind each desk.

George was beginning to feel disappointment creep in. So far, WJ-L was becoming uninteresting. He had found nothing to stir his imagination or divert his thoughts, leaving his mind preoccupied solely with the punishment being inflicted upon him.

He leaned against the wall next to the door of the last office. Looking out into the equipment room, he knew he should just give in and start the assignment that Richard had given him. But facing the task of inventorying a warehouse full of abandoned equipment was not something he had any interest in doing. It might be his assignment but he knew that was just to keep him busy and out of sight. Richard had said so, and he was certain that Richard would change his mind and save him from dying of boredom in the basement. He was a level three software engineer. There had to be something more important than this that would serve the same temporary purpose. Staring out at all that equipment made his head ache. He began slowly rubbing his fingers against his temples.

After a couple of minutes, George decided to continue exploring. There was one office left to check out. After that, he might wander around the floor and hopefully find something interesting.

George opened the door to the office and came to an abrupt halt. The room was overly large and it was unmistakably an office. There was a large desk positioned at one end of the room. A coffee table and a sofa with end tables and lamps lined one wall, while several chairs were arranged throughout the space. There were sculpted art pieces displayed in various locations. However, none of that was what caught George's initial attention. It was the smell.

From the moment the door opened, he smelt oil, wood and canvas. It filled the air. It was art, and it adorned every wall. George was immediately drawn in. Everything had been carefully selected to blend naturally together, except for one item. Mounted on the wall facing the desk was a shiny black view screen.

As George stared at the screen, he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. It seemed out of place in this Art Deco world – unframed and un-styled. Just a thing on the wall, which drew the eye, but in an undesirable way. It disrupted the harmony that someone had made an effort to create. Shaking his head, George ignored the wall screen and stepped over to the painting next to it. The title plate read, 'Portrait of a Woman, Possibly Maria Trip, Rembrandt, 1639'.

George's mouth fell open as he looked closely at the painting. It was definitely an oil painting on a wood panel. Having studied art in school, he recognized the style, it was typical of the Rembrandt period, and he was astonished. His common sense insisted it was nothing more than a replica, yet he couldn't quite put aside the possibility that all those years back, the person who sat in this office had somehow acquired an actual Rembrandt. It might seem unlikely, but given that he was in the basement of the J&A Company, the richest and most powerful company in the world, it certainly was a possible. However, what he couldn't quite wrap his mind around was why it had been left behind. Why had this office not been cleared out like the others? Why wasn't this artwork in a vault somewhere? Or a museum? It made no sense.

George gently let his finger run down the right edge of the painting, touching the paint ever so lightly and feeling the texture. He didn't know if it was real or not, but it felt authentic and certainly looked it.

George looked over at the desk and noticed a Net terminal sitting on the right-hand side. He ignored it, reminding himself that those didn’t work in the basement, just like his Coms unit.

Stepping around the desk, George pulled out the chair and sat down. He spun himself around a few times before coming to a stop and opening the center drawer. There were things in it. However, what he found was of no interest whatsoever; a small blank notepad, a few pencils, some paper clips, and a few rubber bands.

Turning around in the chair, he checked the drawers in the credenza. Everything had been cleared out, including the overhead book case. There was nothing left to discover.

Bored, George turned back to the desk. He opened the bottom drawer on the right side, ran his hand around inside, but found nothing. Then he did the same to the left drawer, which was also empty, but the sound it made caught his attention. He tapped on each drawer again, then smiled. The bottom of the right-hand drawer had a hollow sound, just in the middle. George felt his excitement grow as he ran his fingers around the inside edges, searching for an indentation, a release, or anything that would allow the bottom panel to come free. Disappointingly, he didn't find anything.

He pulled the drawer out to its full extent and disengaged it from the slide rails. He then placed it on the desk and examined it closely. As he suspected, the inside bottom was higher than the outside bottom. He fashioned a paper clip into a hook attempting to pry the bottom upward from the inside, but to no avail. Frustrated, George flipped the drawer over, hoping the false bottom would detach on its own. When that didn't work, he slammed his hand on the bottom to jolt it free. There was a muffled noise.

Lifting the inverted drawer, George saw the false bottom lying on the desk. On top was a solitary sheet of paper, and a small black plastic box. Smiling, George gave his full attention to his newfound treasures. He was excited. Now he just needed to figure out what they were.

George picked up the sheet of paper. It was a single sheet with ruled lines, torn along one edge as if ripped out of a notebook or a notepad. Excitedly he turned it over, expecting to find writing, or even better, a map that would lead him to a secret treasure. But once again, he was disappointed. The paper appeared to have once contained writing, but whatever had been written, had also been erased. Only faint smudges of pencil lead remained, rendering it for all practical purposes, just a blank sheet of paper.

George set the paper aside and picked up the black plastic box, then laughed to himself. He realized he thought of it by that name only for convenience, it wasn’t actually a box at all. It was solid, rectangular in shape, approximately five inches long and half an inch thick and felt like common plastic. On one side, he found markings that he thought might be controls, which changed his opinion of it. Oddly, he realized he had missed seeing the markings earlier, yet there they were, but not as plain as day. They were so faintly marked they were hardly detectable to the naked eye, and then, only discernible when viewed from a sharp angle to the flat surface of the box. George thought he recognized the symbol for power. He pressed it repeatedly, but nothing happened.

Perplexed, he leaned back in the chair, contemplating his find. They were a real mystery items. A used sheet of paper and a rectangular device, purpose unknown. He thought to himself that they must be important, perhaps even valuable.

George's curiosity had been piqued. Turning the box at an angle to see the markings again, George ran his fingers over them, hoping to discover their purpose.

Inside, he was laughing at himself. He knew he only was avoiding doing what he had been told to do, deciding to sit there and play with a piece of plastic instead. Then to his complete surprise, he felt a difference. It was just in one place, but it was definitely there. He could feel it.

Excited, George pressed on the spot, but nothing happened. He pressed again, several times, but nothing about the box changed. Then, holding the box tightly, he applied more pressure to the spot. A square beneath his finger slid out.

George quickly set the box on the desk, looking for any other sign of change, however, the protruding square was the only difference he could see. Even though he didn’t know what it was, he was delighted. His mind raced with possibilities as to what it all meant. He thought to himself, ‘There seems to be an on/off switch, and near it, a protrusion, which might infer that it requires a power source to function. That would imply it has an internal battery. Even fifty years ago, devices had built in rechargeable batteries. If the protrusion is actually a charging port, then the question becomes, where does one find a charger for a fifty year old device?’

George pondered the problem trying to reason it out. It was an old device, true, but he found it in an old basement facility. It seemed reasonable to assume that fifty years ago there would have been a way to charge the device to keep it working. Probably something simple, and obvious to the people at the time, but maybe not as obvious for him today.

George stood up, and walked the length of the room, searching the walls for a Coms port. Surprisingly, he didn't find one, which in itself was strange. Every office he had even been in had a Coms port and a charging station. It was odd that there wasn't one here. Then again, given when the basement was actually constructed, it might not have been the standard back then.

Returning to the desk, George stood behind it, his eyes roving from corner to corner of the room, hoping that he had just overlooked it, but his effort was futile.

Shaking his head George began to sit down, when he realized there had to be a port in the room, and close by. A Net terminal sat on the desk, and while it might be non-functional today, it must have worked at some point, and that meant it had to be connected to a power source.

Grasping the edge of the terminal, George carefully swiveled the screen to the side, looking for the connectors and cables that fed it, but to his surprise, there were none. Disappointed again, he realized the cables must have been removed when the office occupant moved out.

Sitting back in the chair he was feeling quite exasperated. There had to be something here, but for the life of him, he wasn’t seeing it. He reached out to move the Net Terminal back to its original placement when he saw the outline. Moving the terminal out of the way reveal another rectangle of gold inlay fashioned into the surface of the desk. The Net Terminal had been sitting on it, hiding it. On a hunch, George slid the plastic box to the center of the rectangle. A moment later, a small green light began blinking next to the power symbol, and a tinny sounding voice emanated from the box announcing, ‘Power Level, zero percent, charging.’

George was elated. It was so simple, and for a fifty year old place, very modern. The rectangle was a charging pad, which might explain why the Net Terminal was sitting on it, and why there were no cables. A grin spread across his face. All he had to do now was wait for the box to recharge itself, then he could push a few of those other marking he saw and see what they did. In the meantime, the cafeteria seemed to be calling his name. He needed a break, and it was doubtful Richard would be checking on him this soon. He slid the Net Terminal next to the box, to hide it, just in case some dropped by while he was gone.

Twenty-five minutes later, George made his way back to the basement office. He checked on the black box, which was still present and seemingly still charging, that small green light continued to flash in the same rhythmic pattern. While he couldn't be certain if things were ready to go, he thought he had given it ample time to acquire a partial charge. Now, it was time for it to reveal its secrets. Reaching over to it, he confidently pressed the power symbol.

That tinny voice returned, this time saying, ‘Please remove device from charging station prior to use.’

Although George personally