Chapter
20
After
a pretty active weekend with each other, Deanne Clarkson and David
Lutman left the house the following Monday morning, immediately after
another sumptuous breakfast, for the Hartingdon Physics Laboratories.
There were no changes in their current plans as there still had not
been any e-mail.
To
Lutman’s surprise, the labs were located fairly close to the centre
of town; he had expected them to be placed somewhere isolated, miles
from anywhere. Upon arrival, however, there was the immediate task of
arranging the necessary clearances required for him to gain access
into the complex.
As
they waited outside the perimeter, he could see that the facility was
a series of white blocks: low-level, clean and modern. The whole
structure was surrounded by two separated five-meter high wire
fences. The inner was electrified, with red notices ominously telling
him in no uncertain terms what would happen if touched.
Accessing
the complex required clearing two sets of security. At the main gate,
they entered a reception area contained within one of the smaller
white blocks. It was here that Lutman’s passes were arranged,
sorted, signed, and verified. Despite her father’s string-pulling,
it still took a whole hour of sitting and waiting before he was
finally able to get into the grounds.
Passing
countless other blocks and white-coated people, they walked about
four hundred meters towards another white building, the purpose-built
laboratory block where Deanne’s workplace was housed. Despite its
extremely modern appearance, it was one of the older constructions,
around thirty years old. It was also completely surrounded by another
high wire fence.
Another
security guard frisked Lutman, taking two minutes to closely examine
all his shiny new identification cards before letting him through.
But if he was surprised to find that the two cardboard boxes they
were carrying contained two identical green baseball caps, he did not
show it.
Lutman
was both surprised and puzzled. ‘So why all the high fencing and
the two sets of checks if your lab isn’t considered high security?’
he asked as they finally made their way through the heavy blue swing
doors and down the white-walled corridor.
‘It
isn’t,’ Deanne said, smiling. ‘There’s other places here that
require not just two checks, but three or more, not to mention
special pass cards allocated only to certain staff. There’s even
electronic scanning machines that examine your palm prints or eye
retinas in detail before they even let you in.’ She added that
access to these levels demanded an incredibly intensive investigation
into an individual’s historical background before they could even
seek gainful employment at the labs: for certain, Lutman would not
have been allowed inside if it had not been for her father’s
influence.
The
sophistication, the variety, and the number of pieces of equipment,
along with the brain-power contained within the facility, was, Lutman
learned, unique and even covert. As Deanne pointed out, the secrets
that could be unravelled from the minds and machines here was perhaps
only second to a certain set of laboratories in Switzerland.
She
pushed open a heavy swing fire door, revealing a long,
fluorescently-lit but featureless grey corridor. They walked past a
number of windowless white doors before approaching another heavy
door with a frosted-glass window. Once opened, they entered a small
office area where the far side wall was one large window.
‘My
laboratory,’ Deanne said proudly.
‘Jesus.’
The laboratory was far bigger than Lutman had ever imagined. He
learned that it was not only occupied by Deanne during working hours,
but it was also used by five other staff. They were decked out in
spotlessly clean pale blue gowns, hats, and gloves, and wearing
surgical masks. They looked more like surgeons than scientists. The
lab itself was pretty much what he had in mind: pointlessly big,
white, grey, lots of big metal boxes, and lots of flashing lights.
Deanne’s
workplace was about the size of her apartment living room. Like most
offices, it contained bookshelves, a desk, two office chairs, a large
metal cupboard in the corner, and a computer. There was also clear
glass which made up the wall facing the laboratory. ‘Right,’ she
announced nonchalantly. ‘We’re off to take a shower.’
‘Er,
sorry?’ said Lutman, really not believing what he had just heard
her say.
‘We’re
taking a shower. Now.’
‘Er,
you’re having me on… aren’t you?’
‘No,
I’m not joking!’ she laughed. ‘Follow me!’
They
left the office and made their way to a blue door that was clearly
marked with a shower rose pictogram.
‘Get
your clothes off,’ she said firmly after they walked into what
looked like a sports changing room. She immediately began stripping
off. ‘Put your clothes in the lockers over there,’ she said
casually, ‘then follow me through to the next door. You’ll see an
air-sealed shrink-wrapped towel inside. Take it with you, but don’t
open it.’
‘Er…
okay,’ Lutman was feeling shy and very uncomfortable as he began to
remove his clothes, looking around to see if there was anybody else
in the same room, or if there was anybody about to join them. ‘Can,
er, anyone use these rooms? I mean, are they unisex?’ he added
coyly. But then the next door hissed slowly open, sliding to the
right. Lutman suddenly felt a rush of air. Clearly the next area was
pressurized. Completely naked, they walked through to be met by four
shower cubicles. Deanne strode straight to the one on the far left
and began washing herself. ‘And wash yourself thoroughly,’ she
called to Lutman.
They
spent the next five minutes scrupulously soaping and cleansing
themselves in the most powerful showers he had ever experienced.
Wrapped
in her towel, Deanne opened a white metal locker and took out one of
the surgical gowns he had seen earlier, and what appeared to be a
disposable bra and knickers. She indicated to Lutman that his gown
and underpants would be found in the same numbered locker as his
clothes locker.
‘I
hope it’s warm out there,’ said Lutman hopefully, ‘’cos we
really don’t have much on!’
‘Believe
me,’ said Deanne, ‘it is!’
They
proceeded to a heavy glass door which automatically, but slowly,
opened with another, very audible hiss. After entering Deanne ensured
it clicked shut behind them. Another large glass door was right in
front of them, next to which was a keypad.
Deanne
tapped in another combination. The room suddenly depressurized, and
then the large, very heavy glass door also opened slowly. Warm air
suddenly blew hard into their faces. As Lutman caught his breath, his
lungs were suddenly filled with the sweetest, freshest air he had
ever experienced.
‘This
is perhaps one of the most sterile places around,’ Deanne
explained, ‘and although we’ve air-con, the heat these machines
generate means we’re constantly in the eighties here.’
The
first thing to hit Lutman as he surveyed his new surroundings was
that everything was spotlessly clean and immaculately white. There
was a considerable amount of electronic equipment: large, small,
sophisticated, with lots of flashing, lots of perspex, miles of
wiring, constant humming noises, in fact everything he would expect a
hi-tech laboratory to contain. There were two sets of metal stairs
that led up to another floor that lined all four walls, and which
contained even more electrical apparatus. This left the centre of the
lab with considerable space which was covered by a clear blue-glass
ceiling. The far wall was made up of several additional windows to
allow as much natural light as possible into the laboratory.
Despite
the size of the lab, Deanne’s tour took less than ten minutes. ‘It
would take me the best part of a week to explain what everything does
and how they all work, and I have to get on with my own tasks,’ she
explained.
‘So
when can we get to look at the caps?’ Lutman asked restlessly, at
the same time wondering if they would have to go back through the
complicated showering routine to retrieve them.
‘Later
David, when things aren’t so busy, okay?’
‘So
what can I do here?’
She
shook her head. ‘Not a lot, I reckon. Look, why don’t you go to
my office and do a bit more investigating on my computer, and check
whether Mr. Carl or Mr. Pickover have responded?’
‘What?’
said Lutman incredulously, ‘after all that palaver? You're kidding
me, right? You mean I’ve got to go back through the whole shower
routine again?’
‘Oh
dear, you do complain!’ she said laughing, ‘It’s not so bad on
the way back. Just press the glowing red button, all the doors will
slide open automatically, look for the perspex box, and get rid of
your gown by following the instructions.’
‘Okay,’
he said uncertainly, ‘so how long will you be out here?’
‘All
day, at least ‘til six. Don’t worry – they come round often
with drinks and sandwiches, so you’ll be well fed.’
‘Right,’
said Lutman dully. ‘Thanks a lot.’
*
Do
you want to dispose of your protective gown?
Lutman
pressed yes
on the touch screen.
The
next instruction then told him to place the gown into the container,
and to close it. A second later, everything inside was immediately
swallowed up as the suction sent it into a sterilizing vacuum
chamber. He was then directed straight to the main door and out of
the changing rooms. Another shower was not necessary.
Soon
he was back in Deanne’s office. He then saw Deanne, who was waiting
for him, and standing at the window, holding a tiny remote receiver.
She beckoned to him to switch on the similar device on the desk.
‘I
have a little additional task for you,’ said her voice from the
speaker. She pointed. ‘See that Perspex case over there?’
Lutman
looked across the room. ‘I do.’
‘I
want you to put the baseball caps into the two clear bags in the
case, and then put the case into that small door over to your right
marked ‘goodies’.’
‘Goodies?’
‘That’s
where stuff has to go before we can examine it. Decontamination,
sterilization, the rest of it. Put them in when you see me gesture at
you from the other side, okay? Again, just follow the on-screen
instructions. I’ll also give you my log-in name and password so you
can use my computer.’
Lutman
placed the caps into individually sealed containers as per
touch-screen instructions, and placed them into a larger, blue
perspex container. The containers then dropped slowly down and out of
sight into a box that was attached to the wall. Thirty seconds later
Deanne received them from the other side, eagerly scooping them up
and disappearing behind one of the big machines.
*
Returning
to the computer, David Lutman began to check their mail. Still
nothing.
He
decided it was high time to find out what was happening back in the
UK; he had not done this since he and Deanne set off from Las Vegas;
he was too focussed on her.
There
were messages from his family, and even one from work from his boss,
Mr. Theodore Meade, that was dated the previous Friday. He told him
to get in contact on a special number as soon as he returned home.
He
went back to the search engine and decided to see if Deanne Clarkson
herself was listed in any of the indexes. Indeed, this name was
listed several times, and there were four different Deanne Clarksons,
most of the entries concentrating on a little-known author. After
discovering his Deanne, Lutman found that the first four links
mentioned her being involved in some scientific projects.
It was
not until he clicked on the fifth link that he found something of
more interest. There was a student yearbook that included a group
photograph of sophomore physics students from John Carroll University
in Cleveland. He looked closely at the photo, clicked to save, and
then pressed print. There were six students in the photo, and despite
having much longer hair, Deanne was distinctly recognizable. There
was also another girl, and four men.
He
made a note of the web site address and the names of each of the
students.
The
one remaining link had her listed, with her father, as respected
physicists on a specialized website, which required an account to
access.
He
decided, once more, to conduct a little more time travel research.
After about fifteen minutes sifting through a few initially hopeful
sites that promised much but said nothing, he hit upon a magazine
interview with someone who claimed they had successfully built and travelled in a time machine. The magazine was called SBT
(Strange But True), a monthly science and fantasy periodical that
published selected extracts from contributors online. It had chosen
to publish the latter part of an interview it claimed as ‘exclusive’.
The
interviewee concerned was referred to only as Nick in the dialogue:
SBT: So tell us a
little about your machine.
NICK: I’m afraid
the mechanics and the motions are confidential, and I hope that as
this interview progresses you’ll appreciate that.
SBT: So when you
traveled which direction did you move in first?
NICK: I went into
the past.
SBT: But when you
traveled to the past weren’t you worried that you could change an
event which subsequently affects the present?
NICK: I was only
there for about five minutes in each case, so I had little or no time
to do so. I didn’t at that stage want to test out the grandfather
paradox, or be part of any paradox, or to find out if I was to become
part of a pre-destination paradox.
SBT: What are these
paradoxes?
NICK: The
Grandfather paradox is when you go back and kill your own grandfather
before mom or dad are conceived. But then what happens to you? Try
this. If you try to kill someone but fail, could you then just try
again and keep trying until you get it right? I personally don’t
warm to that one but I wouldn’t want to unintentionally disrupt the
timeline to affect mine. There is a similar paradox known as the
Bootstrap Paradox where things exist without ever been created.
SBT: Explain.
NICK: The Bootstrap Paradox, from the
expression ‘pulling yourself up by your bootstraps’, from a short
story written by Robert A. Heinlein, is when you travel back in time
to pass on an object, information, or themselves to someone in the
past, who then uses what has been passed to them in order to create
that very situation in the future that allows that person to travel
back in time with that object, information, or themselves to that
same individual in the past…
SBT: And the
pre-destination paradox?
NICK: That’s when
you are destined to do something, and thus become part of a
never-ending time-loop. For example, if you go into the past to
change something, it could be something you were meant to do. You
change it, and in turn set up the events that lead to your future
self doing the whole loop all over again.
SBT: So how far did
you get in the future?
NICK: First of all
it was three hours forward, and then, with a little tweaking, I got
it to go forward a week, and then two months, and eventually I
managed to get there by almost a year. To get it further into the
future was rather like trying to get more horsepower out of a motor,
and at one point on that latter journey I was afraid I might cause
irreparable damage to the machine. But thankfully it got me back
okay. Just before I managed that, one of my friends, who has a device
built along the same lines, made it five years in the future, and
what he told me filled me with considerable optimism.
SBT: And what did
your friend discover?
NICK: A complete
step forward in the human condition. Everyone was happy, no war, no
violence, racial tolerance, flying cars. He said it was so wonderful,
so peaceful. The human race had finally grown up. And in only five
years!
SBT: Didn’t he
try to find out what happened that made us change in those five
years? It’s a considerably short space of time to change the way
the human race works, when you think about the last century…
NICK: He was only
out there for ten minutes or so…
SBT: But did he
bring back any evidence?
NICK: No, nothing.
Nothing tangible. There really wasn’t any material he could bring
back as solid proof. There were no newspapers, magazines… nothing.
People were no longer interested in that kind of thing.
SBT: Couldn’t he
have been the catalyst of what is to come? That is, a pre-destination
paradox? That he was destined to do this?
NICK: He didn’t,
so clearly he was not.
SBT: So where is
your proof that you have travelled in the future? You traveled a year
into the future, and the world still appeared to be fine. Didn’t
you bring back any newspapers or magazines – assuming they still
had… they’re still going to have these things?
NICK: After my
friend’s revelations, I decided to make that trip. And when I did,
well, the world still seemed to be just like it is today, but it
started to have that feeling of more… optimism.
SBT: Just as an
example, how was the situation in the Middle East? Did its problems
get solved?
NICK: No idea.
SBT: When did you
make this journey?
NICK: A month ago
now.
SBT: How did you
know you’d progressed a year?
NICK: Well, quite
naturally, I went straight to a newsstand. Yes, papers were still
available, and I looked at a copy to confirm the date…
SBT: So we already
know that fact. Do you have this newspaper?
NICK: No.
SBT: Why not? That
was the proof you needed!
NICK: I’ve
thought long and hard about this. In the end, I decided, if I had
brought this paper back, then its future contents, if known in the
present, could have serious consequences on the future. And after my
friend’s experiences, I decided I didn’t want to be the catalyst
to end what would be a wonderful future for us all. I did not want to
inadvertently change the future.
SBT: Is this why
you are here today? To tell us we needn’t worry about some kind of
impending disaster simply because it’s not going to happen?
NICK: That is the
main reason. And I believe the future that my friend and I saw will
happen. My friend says he has seen the future. We will all live in
peace and harmony. He seriously believes it cannot be changed, as it
has already happened – in the future sense. I, however, do believe
it can be changed because, for us now, it hasn’t happened yet and
therefore we can still change it. But mankind still has every chance
of f_____g it up.
SBT: Do you still
have your machine?
NICK: I do, but I
haven’t used it since. I did send invitations out to many prominent
scientists to come and check it out, to confirm my story, but they’ve
all ignored me. I think they’ve just simply torn them up and thrown
them out. However, my friend has agreed to share with me the
modifications necessary to make that leap further.
SBT: So what are
you going to do now?
NICK: I’ve
persuaded my wife and child to make this journey into the future with
my friend, and we’ve no intention of coming back.
*
It was
not until 6.30pm that Deanne felt able to make use of the technology
available to her. Most of the staff had now disappeared, although
there was one assistant keeping busy in another corner and showing
absolutely no interest in anything else around her.
Using
the Newton DCTT-A324A computerized electron microscope, the most
sophisticated analytical technology possible, Deanne conducted a
detailed analysis of her cap. She then conducted the same tests on
the other, and then examined the findings of the two printouts.
After
a few minutes she emerged back in her office straight from the lab,
her face as white as a sheet. David Lutman looked at her, alarmed.
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked urgently.
‘The
caps!’ she gasped, ‘David, they really are one and the same cap!
Exactly the same, molecule for molecule, from what I can make out!’
‘So
that’s it. There’s no doubt now in what I told you!’
Part
of Deanne had still remained convinced that Lutman had managed to
pull off an incredibly elaborate and clever trick. But now there was
absolutely no doubt. ‘I’m so sorry I ever distrusted you…’
she said remorsefully, ‘but… but you realize we’re now in
completely unknown territory here as far as science and physics are
concerned! God, I don’t even know what the implications are of
having two caps that are basically one and the same but are occupying
the same time and space when they shouldn’t be!’
Her
voice then changed to one of extreme urgency. ‘David, whatever you
do, you mustn’t let these caps touch each other! The consequences
if the atomic structures of each make contact…’
‘Erm,
Deanne…’
‘Goodness
knows, it could trigger some kind of cataclysm…’
‘Deanne!
Hello! Listen to me!’ Lutman
shouted. ‘They won’t cause the end of the world!’
She
stared at him. ‘And how do you know?’
‘When
I hugged you last night. I took your cap with my cap hand, and the
two touched each other then. Nothing happened!’
‘Of
course!’ she
said angrily to herself, but then added in relief: ‘how the hell
could I forget that?’
‘Well,
it was an emotional time –’
‘And
not to forget that we’ve even touched both indirectly, for sure
picking up molecules of grease or dirt in both caps, an atom of which
would have been sufficient to destroy anything, if that really’d
been the case…’
She
breathed an audible sigh. ‘Well, that’s blown that particular
theory wide open, so to speak!’
*
It was
quite late when they eventually got back to her apartment and had
dinner. The excitement they both felt after such an overwhelming
discovery, along with the evidence they had before them, was
impossible to comprehend. Nevertheless, they settled down onto the
spacious green sofa in the living room to discuss Lutman’s earlier
discoveries on the Internet.
He
produced the photograph of her student days. In his mind, she really
was a very pretty young lady even then. However, he could not help
but ask about the four males.
‘Well,
out of those ‘males’, as you so eloquently put it,’ she began,
‘one of them I did keep in touch with for a while – that’s the
guy there on my right – he’s also a physicist, but he’s more
into numbers. Perhaps one of the best mathematicians I’ve ever
met.’
‘Looks
a bit like Shaggy out of Scooby-Doo,
what with the mop of brown hair and the goatee,’ Lutman observed.
‘I
confess we did date for a couple of weeks, toured the west together
five years ago, but quickly realized we didn’t have that spark.
Thankfully it was a short enough relationship to ensure we’d remain
pretty good friends afterwards. Funnily enough, that Grand Canyon
tee-shirt was a present he bought me, after he did the walk there and
I didn’t. The green shorts I showed you, in fact, also belonged to
him – I washed them for him when we got back, asked him if he
wanted them, and he told me I could keep them! I just put them away
with all my other stuff, and they’d never seen the light of day
until you arrived. Actually, I haven’t heard from him for quite a
while. I know he left the States about four years ago but that was
the last I heard. After that, I went to the UK and you know the rest.
‘Now,
this guy on the end, on the left, with the wavy blonde hair, he
dropped out a year before finishing his studies after getting quite a
lucrative job elsewhere, and I haven’t really heard from him since.
The girl – ah yes, that’s Tonya. She was nice, but you know, she
tended to sleep around a bit. She completed her studies, of course,
but eventually met a nice guy and now happily married with three
kids. Then you’ve got me in the middle, then the mathematician,
then this guy with the short blond hair – now he did very well,
Works for secret government guys –’
‘Secret
government?’
‘Those
guys that work for the government, and who keep an eye on things and
make sure people don’t cross the line. On the odd occasion they
even pay our labs a visit.’
‘So
what about this one at the end? He looks rather strange.’
Her
tone shifted uncomfortably. ‘Yeah, well, I don’t know what he’s
doing these days,’ she said abruptly.
Lutman
sensed her discomfort and decided to let it drop. ‘Erm… Okay.’
Chapter 21 >
