If everything followed the project schedule, it would be at least three weeks before the next translation attempt from the Denver site. Martin didn’t yet know where or why he would be going on that translation. Because of the secrecy over the matter, it could only be assumed that it was of national importance.
His bed was in the Denver Corporate resident suites; one of the companies accommodations. It wasn't a coincidence that Martin had lived just down the road in Grangeland. His first job had been at this site. He was much younger when he had been employed by a local construction contractor to perform the initial survey work. His introduction to particle physics research came a little later, while employed with Rand-Sparling.
Ball Corporation, a regional avionics company, had merged with Conway International to become BCI Corp. That made them a contender in the bidding for this contract. The new company was big enough to win the job of prime contractor on this job.
Martin had been hired by BCI after completing his contract with Rand-Sparling. Martin paged through the company brochure four times on the day that he came aboard as a contractor. The brochure had looked like it could serve as his class reunion commemorative; old classmates that hadn't left for parts unknown. The class clown, Kevin Brown, had morphed into the HR Director; Arthur Blassingame was Security Officer; Priscilla Ball Arensen, the studious one, was the Chief Operations Officer. She was also the only daughter of the owner of the newly merged Ball Avionics.
After a good nights sleep, it was time to pack for his trip to Zurich. That accomplished, he left his suite and headed for the travel office in the main administration building.
As he walked toward the front lobby after leaving the travel office, he tried to recall how this day played out the last time he cycled through here. His memory of repeated events was not as clear as one would think. Yes he had been here before; many times before; but they all ran together regardless of the subtle differences. The building was familiar enough but somehow. . . Oh yeah, Priscilla. He walked toward the front lobby and right on schedule a door opened into his path and out stepped a business suit; not so close as to obstruct but close enough to cause an exchange.
As she turned to acknowledge him, he caught her eye. The pause was just long enough to stir the tip of recognition; one that spoke of history and common ground; one that authorized a break in the warm silence.
“Priscilla” Martin nodded, not as a question but a declaration of recognition.
“Please, Ann to you, Marty. It's good to see you. I didn't think you'd remember.”
Martin cocked his head and smiled. “I wouldn't forget you. Plus I saw your picture in the brochure.”
“My name has changed or did you know that?”
Martin smiled again “Ann, I've admired your face from the first day I set eyes on you. Do you know when that was? ” Martin didn't know how to describe Ann's face. She never would have been elected a beauty queen, but to Martin she was the very definition of feminine loveliness. Her features, the sum total of which put Martin’s creature aesthetic at peace; they always had.
“Well, I don't know what you remember but I remember the first time I saw you. It was my first day at St. Anthony; first grade. You were the only one who said ‘Hello Ann’ when Mr. Becker introduced me to the class. Everyone else just sat there looking at me as though I had one eye in the middle of my forehead.”
“That was the day that comes to my mind too.”
They looked at one another until the silence became embarrassing. Finally “Is your father still at the helm?”
“No, he passed away five years ago. Time caught up with him. He had never quite settled himself after the merger. He so wanted to go it alone. Marty, I was just heading for the cafeteria, would you care to join me. We can talk?”
“Sure thing; I have plenty of time before my shuttle leaves.”
Ann poked her head back into her office “Becky, I'm going on lunch break. Try and deflect the minor stuff for a while. I’ll be back by one”
“Yes. Your next meeting is at two.”
“Thanks. Becky, this is Martin Trask from research. Forward his calls, will you?”
“Certainly; should I activate Trace?”
“No, please.” Martin interrupted. I can’t be traced but you don’t and won’t know that. “I'm off shift; no one will be looking for me.” At least that is my hope.
The CEO and a couple other company executives shared Becky, the quintessential executive secretary.
Martin always admired Ann. She had been a good student for as long as he could remember. The thought that her father had played favorites was nonsense.
“Marty, I’m glad we have a moment. I don't even know where to start.”
“I do. To start with, we've never really met” Martin said with a certainty in his voice.
She turned to look at him with her head slightly cocked and knitted brow. “So . . .?” She waited for Martin to continue.
Martin paused looking out the cafeteria window at a view of Cottonwood Peak. “Well. My name is Martin Trask. I'm pleased to meet you, Ann Ball.”
She stopped drinking mid-sip. “What are you saying?”
“Ann? Do you realize that we've never really met, other then that time in first grade? I mean other than that, this is actually the first time we've ever spoken to each other.”
Ann, released her grasp on the coffee cup and folded onto her elbows. She gazed at the carpet scanning her memory to check the validity of what Martin had just said. “Marty, can that be true? We’ve known each other for five years less than we know our own parents.”
“Ann we have been two ships running parallel courses most of our lives; starting with that day in first grade. I never understood what that was all about. The principal walked you into the room and introduced you to the class. You sat down in the fifth seat of the first row on the right side of the room, opposite the windows. You cried on and off for the first four days straight”
“Do you blame me? My mother had just died and I had to live with my grandparents that year; plus that, it was a new school. Dad and I would spend a couple of hours together in the evening; otherwise I was on my own.”
“I'm sorry. I never knew any of that.”
“I didn't really think you cared, or that anyone else cared for that matter.”
“I cared. I mean I would have cared had I known why you were crying. And I remember; I remembered everything. I remember the first day you wore finger nail polish, and what color it was; I remember your patent leather shoes; and when you wore your hair long. I remember how you carried your books with both hands in front of you. I remember the first day you wore your training bra.” she shook her head in protest and rolled her eyes. “You kept tugging at it; as if it were some kind of a torture device.”
“It was.” She slowly shook her head. “Most of the feminine rigor is torture; high-heels, make-up, girdles, the way we walk, even dresses. Oh and should I mention having babies. I'm not sure why they call that natural. You guys have it so easy. While I was practicing walking with my head level, you were sloughing around in jeans with blissfully dirty knees; jeans that could stand alone.
If you cared so much how come you never talked to me?”
“I don't know. Maybe I didn't think I had anything to say. I guess guys didn't talk to girls or at least not about how cute they were. Besides, I did talk to you, all the time, but I guess it just didn't quite make it to my mouth.”
They sat quietly sifting through images that should have rubbed thin long ago.
“Why did you change your name?”
“What?? Isn’t that customary when a woman marries?”
Damn! “No; I mean from Priscilla to Ann.”
She squinted “My name has always been Ann. I have never gone by Priscilla; that’s my middle name. I was surprised when you called me Priscilla in the hall.”
Oops! I guess that is another change.
“I . . . you . . . uh.”
“Come on what gives? Who is Priscilla? You can trust me. We’ve never kept secrets from each other before” she smiled.
Ohh, man. Is this show time? How could I possibly trust this to someone I’ve only known for a lifetime and met for the first time, two minutes ago? Martin returned his best hand-in-the-cookie-jar grin “Well, fact is I have. In fact my secrets are a secret. Ann, there is no one I’d rather share them with than you.”
“You’re serious! I was just kidding but now I’m not so sure. Is there something I should know? If it’s none of my business . . ?”
“No, no. It’s nothing like that.” Martin paused and exhaled.
Ann offered “It sounds to me like we had a love affair and didn't know it.”
Martin took advantage in the break in thought “Yes I think we have, but maybe it was just that you were perfect as long as I left you alone; as long as I didn't say anything or do anything to ruin things” he patronized.
“Boy you were selfish. Sorry; let me take that back.”
“No, because it’s true; I’m not much at gambling and I’m a lousy liar. It's reality that mucks things up; it’s fantasy that lets some of us survive.” That was pure stupid.
ANGL; ????
Martin; Hang in there? It’s a human thing.
A flat smile came over her face. She was ready, even eager to change the subject.
Ann continued “Do you remember Ms Fenafoss, the music teacher that came in once a week?”
“Yeah, every Tuesday it was. She was the one that looked like her hair was tattooed on her head.”
“What?”
“Well, she had black hair and it look like she used Bril Cream. It was all stuck to her head and she always had that curl on her forehead.”
“I thought she looked good. I do remember that she made you form a Christmas tree on your desk. You know. You formed it with your hands.”
“Yeah, that was supposed to keep me out of trouble but I got so engrossed in it that I would forget to sing.”
“Martin, do you remember the time Mrs. Richards came through the door and you thought it was your brother coming back into the classroom? But it was roly poly Mrs. Richards and the chalk eraser intended for your brother, hit her square in the chest.”
“Yes I do remember. We were supposed to be outside at recess but instead we were being punished for something. It was odd; she didn't even break her stride. She just looked at me with a look of total disbelief. I never figured that out.”
She added “Do you remember that she didn't even remove the dust donut on her chest? I think she was mortified and was doing all she could to keep from crying.”
“I suppose she was. Back then I just couldn’t do enough to destroy someone’s day.” I was an equal opportunity offender much too often.
Ann checked to see if Cottonwood Peak was still there. “How do we remember so much of that stuff, when it was ages ago? Where does it all fit? Why does some of the trivial seem so important?”
“Maybe it's not so trivial” Martin offered.
“Martin, I’m glad we ran into each other. For two people who never met, we sure share a lot of memories.”
“Yes. I . . . I guess it’s time for me to be catching my shuttle.”
“No. Please, I have something I'd like to ask you about.” the tone in her voice changed; it was back to business.
“Ask moi? Sounds serious all of a sudden.”
“Yes Martin. It's not that I would have ever planned this but this meeting is serendipitous. And I have to ask.”
“Fire away.”
“It's about the Alpha Test.”
Not that again, he thought. Who doesn’t know about it?
“I've been in on several of the technical briefings and I'm aware that there is something going on. Aside from the obvious that is. I'm Chief Operations Manager but I'm not sure that gives me an inside track on everything, especially lately. There are two teams of scientists. They are supposed to be working together, but lately it isn’t working out that way and I'm being kept out of the loop.” Ann looked at me as if to consider the complication of confiding in me further.
“How can I help? I don't even know most of the science staff.”
“It seems to hinge on the test itself. The test is designed to test the viability of translating a human from one place to another. All we’re supposed to be doing is demonstrating that we can send adequate data from one point to another using the Kagan Anomaly. But for one reason or another it seems that something else is involved; something beyond the scope of our contractual participation. It may be that it is secret, and being kept that way even from us. DARPA can do that. I am talking to you because you are cleared and because I don't think you're from DARPA. Secrecy does funny things to peoples minds, but some things I just know, deep down inside.”
“I'm not, from DARPA. And, I don't know about the contractual stuff, anyway. I'm a mercenary, so to speak. I just sit in the chair and hope they don't toast me. Do you know what I mean?”
“Of course.”
“The monkey gets bananas but I get bucks.”
She leaned closer to Martin and lowerd her voice “Martin, if you trust me, let me in.”
What was she asking? How much did she know? Who or what did she suspect? I have to assume we were on the same page at least when it came to loyalties. “I don't know what you know, or what part of that is bothering you. And, I'm not privy to the subplots out there. But there are a few things I can tell you. Things that I shouldn’t tell anyone and I hadn’t planned to tell you” Martin paused to let her settle. She worked her lower lip in concentration; as if she was clearing a spot in her head for a new synaptic file. “I am trusting you on this one, Ann.” I finally added. “Don't hurt me because I'm about to give you the keys.”
Her eyebrows raised as if she had the feeling that she had picked the right lock. “Oh, I hope we’re on the same page. Go on?”
“I'm in this program for purely selfish reasons; mainly for survival. This program is or was intended for A to B data translation. You're right about that. But something else has happened; a windfall; something they didn't expect. At least the staff scientists didn’t expect it. My guess is that DARPA is up to speed, for once, and trying to capitalize on the opportunity.”
“What are you saying? Is there more to this project then I see in the contract?”
“I think that’s more than safe to say. The 'Spooky Action at a Distance' aspect of this experiment is only the tip of the iceberg. They have discovered, and I'm guessing, based on what I know, that in the moment of translation a door is opened. In addition to the instantaneous A to B translation they have the opportunity for an instantaneous 'now' to 'then' translation.”
“You . . . you meanTime travel???”
“Yes.”
She blurted “Why are they keeping it secret? Well I guess that is a silly question. How do you know this? Have you time-traveled?”
Martin gave her a slight nod as if he could minimize the fact.
“You have! Where did you go? Or should I say 'when'? No, that wouldn't work either, I know, ‘Where’?” she settled on her adjective.
“If you mean where in history? Well, this last time I actually didn't go anywhere. But that’s beside the point. I just hung out for a while then returned. I think what you want to know is why I went there in the first place, and why weren't you told.”
“Both of those, at the least. But I really want to know all of it. This brings up all kinds of questions; what about the 'Grandfather' paradox . . . or whatever it's called. You know what I'm talking about; that we can't be just messing with history on a whim?”
“I'm sure you're right, but how could we know? How do you know that today is the only today that has ever happened? Maybe “today” happened before, and the only experience that you are aware of is this current one. Maybe th
ere have been multiple “todays” or maybe there are multiple “todays” running concurrently. How could you know beyond your singular experience?”
“I don't know. I guess I couldn't. But you know? Or do you? Wouldn't it be impossible to change everything to match a new reality?”
Martin chuckled “We give history way too much credit. You’re thinking about infinity in a finite way. Think about it. This moment arrived pretty seamlessly. The ripple of history can change, as quickly as a thought. The past, in some respects, doesn’t exist anymore. It’s just in our memories. Why couldn't the nature of this moment be as easily altered? The only thing that reality applies to is ‘now’. The change in history wouldn't necessarily be accompanied by a popping sound or a flourish of trumpets, anything like that.”
Ann sat back and took a deep breath, as if she had fallen behind on her breathing and had to catch up. “You're kidding, right? It can't be that easy. Can it?”
“Maybe this will help. Visualize history as a bucket of marbles; different colors different sizes. Each marble represents some aspect of history; maybe it's events, maybe milestones; in any case, they represent the substance of change and all are added one at a time or maybe in small groups. The surface of the pile represents this moment in history. Isn’t it easy to see that the orientation and make-up of the top surface of the pile at any moment is in some way a function of what came before? Do you follow?”
“Yes. That is not hard to imagine.”
“Now imagine that we could somehow reach down. . . no. Imagine that there is a little door in the bottom of the bucket. You open the door and reach in and remove one of the marbles. The entire pile shifts to take up the new vacancy. What happens to the surface of the marbles?”
“Not much, I suspect.”
“Right; most if not all the same ones are there. Same colors and pretty much the same position; a shift would be inevitable but probably hard to detect; you with me on this? History remains essentially intact.”
A pause “Yes. That may be an oversimplification, don’t you think?”
“Granted but hang in there for a moment more. Replace that marble, either with the same one or with a different one. The entire pile shifts yet again. As a result of the marble that is stuffed back into the door, the surface changes again probably not to the exact original configuration; but close.”
“Yes, but what about the butterfly effect. Are you saying that it doesn't really happen?”
“Not exactly; it’s just that you can make that as big as you wish. In a documentary that I saw recently, two identical twins, separated at birth, reflected on their separated lives. They noted the striking similarities in spite of different environment and circumstance. It has to be a pretty tough butterfly to make a difference.”
“Just as the butterfly effect can result in profound impact on future events, it is as likely to be lost in the noise.”
“The butterfly effect comes into play in relation to future events, much the way stuffing the marble back into the bottom of the bucket affects future events. It is quite likely you won’t see any effect whatsoever because the impact is so spread out.”
“Now factor this in; they’re only future events from an experienced perspective. From the point of view of the replaced marble, the rest of the marbles are future events, yet to happen. From the point of view of the surface observer, all events are past events. Ann, postulate God as the observer and from his point of view all the events are past events.”
“We pass through life encountering the ‘Y’s’ in the road. We make choices based on free will. But, whatever choice we make does not erase the other option, whether it is right or wrong.”
“Even though two people may encounter the same ‘Y’, each chooses independently and for different reasons. It’s the condition of the heart that God looks upon, not the choice.”
“It’s like a pin-ball machine. Every ball played winds up in the same hopper in the end. Yet each ball may pass through the field in any one of an infinite number of paths. Some paths engender a high score and some a low score. Every path still exists, regardless of the one taken.”
“Am I making any sense? Our route through life is nearly insignificant; rather it’s the character of our heart’s response that has an impact. The response is purely a function of our free will.”
“The point is that every possible course of history already exists. It is not clear to me if every course is in operation in the way that we experience this one. But just as with the replaced marble, any one can be replaced instantly and seamlessly shift the consequence of history. In the end we will all wind up in the same hopper; each with his own independent value.”
Martin continued, “The thing that puzzles me is that I come back with a history in my head that hasn't yet changed to reflect the shift in reality. Remembering anything is significant; don't you think? How is it that I don't come back with scrambled eggs for a memory?”
“Could be that you're dreaming this, Marty. Is there any way to prove that you actually went anywhere?”
“Maybe; I remember some of the things that are about to happen next. Not exactly but close enough to use as examples.”
“Things like what?”
“Ann, you know most of the employees and contractors, don't you?”
“Yes, most of them. We only have a hundred or so here on site.”
“There is a contractor by the name of Kennedy. I don't know her last name and I don’t remember the agency she works for but she is assigned to Dr. Grant. She . .”
Ann interrupted “She started a month ago. Where do you know her from?”
“I only spent a few minutes with her several weeks ago. What you may find interesting is that I know that she is recently from Illinois. She is now two weeks pregnant; she doesn't know it yet. She is an RN and is trying to get certified here in Idaho. Her parents . . .”
“Hold on for a second. Let me pull up her file?” Ann brought out her hand-held. “It's confidential of course; I won't be revealing anything you don’t already know.” After a few moments she scanned Kennedy’s file, nodded slowly and then “It’s a good trick, but how do I know that you that you’re right about her being pregnant?”
“You don't. I guess you’ll have to ask her. She’ll probably want to know how you came on that information, since she will have just recently found it out herself; of course she might just deny it.
So, how about this one? I don't think that you make it to your meeting because you get called to an emergency in building 2; an employee injury.”
“You’re freakn’ me out, mister. I guess I asked for it. How did you find out that she is pregnant?”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember. I probably had an occasion to call her or was it you that . . . Yeah, it’s you that confirms it to me, in a week or so.”
Still checking she asks “Have we had this conversation before?”
Martin nodded “I'm afraid so. Actually I don't remember the exact words, or even the general subjects, but, yes, we’ve talked before. All I can say with any certainty is that I remember it.”
“Marty, this is big. If what you say is true than I have to find out what's going on. This isn't according to plan; there are a ton of liability issues that have to be addressed.”
“I'm sure you're right but for my sake take it slow, and for your sake be very careful.”
“Careful? Why?”
“Think about it. Like you say, this is big and I don't yet know how it turns out or whose agenda is being served.”
“You're telling me the future, but you don't know how it turns out?”
“Well, I do know some of how it turns out, at least to the point where I leave on the next cycle, but then it gets a little fuzzy. I've never been there before or yet.”
“Why don't you know the future? Isn't that part of it?”
“No. I'm stuck in a now kind of
loop and don't advance much beyond this point; a month, maybe two. You, on the other hand, do, so I can't tell how it turns out for you. As best I can remember, there are some people around me who are going to die in the next few weeks. You're not one of them.”
“Why? Why do people die? What's going on?” Ann's face drew tight.
“Yeah, I remember now.” Martin thought out loud. “That dying stuff doesn't involve you. That's my problem; it happens during my trip to the conference. You are about to embark on an investigation but I don't know much about that. Before the investigation involves me, I'll get some things resolved, and it will start all over for me. It's not endless but the right exit point hasn't presented itself.”
“What are you talking about? What exit point? What are you involved in?”
“Ann, my life is in the balance. I've said too much to shut up now. I've got to trust that you can keep my name out of it for another month or so. I have no idea how you can do that but somehow you can.”
“What kind of danger are you in, Marty?
“Pull up my file?” Martin waited as she complied. “Look at my security status. Check my RFID status?”
“Yes. It's up to date. It was completed in . . . . That’s not right. There is no Aug 31. They've got your compliance date wrong.”
“Thank God for that. Ann, I don't have an implant. It never happened. That actually was the day after they initiated my first translation cycle. I returned several days later.”
“They would have noticed.”
“Not so far. It’s sort of like trying to straighten out Credit Union errors; it never quite happens. About the time it gets figured out, I’m off on another cosmic loop. Each time I hope to return under different circumstances, ones that I can live with, literally. At that point I’ll just quit volunteering for the research.”
At that moment Ann’s cell phone chimed. “Ann, that’ll be your call to Building 2. I’ve got to go. I’ll stop in when I get back.”
As Martin moved to leave, Ann reached for his hand as she answered the phone. Martin paused, caught in her warm grasp, then leaned over and lightly kissed Ann as easily as if they had been married for decades; maybe they had.
* * * * *
Chapter 11 – Out of the Starting Gate
It has become appallingly obvious that our technology has exceeded our humanity.
Albert Einstein