Jackman turned toward him. “I know how powerful it is, Jason. But if somebody built it, somebody can break it. And the more moving parts, the easier it is to screw up. You could probably just throw a shoe in the thing and they won’t have it up and running till Jesus returns.”
“And the unequaled security of the place?” continued the admiral. “You do realize that the security of Fort Knox pales in comparison to the security of that installation? In fact, there is not a facility on earth so closely monitored and guarded.”
Jackman hesitated. “Yeah,” he admitted, “I know. Security would be a problem. Getting in there ain’t gonna be easy. But, on the flip side, destroying that thing won’t ultimately resolve this, either. This ain’t the only supercollider in the world.”
“Atol, you make a very salient point,” Whitaker enunciated slowly. “The Hadron Supercollider in Geneva is only one of thirty-nine supercolliders operational or under construction. But since this incident happened in Geneva, the Hadron supercollider will receive the misery of our attention.”
Blanchard swiveled his chair right to left. “Gentlemen, these fools have proven, however inadvertently, and I must say tragically, that this machine can tear a hole in our universe and into some kind of alternate universe. And since this video shows us that something can go from here to there, logic demands us to accept the fact that something can also travel from there to here. And it might not be of a friendly nature. In fact, it might be downright murderous. And that’s the problem we need to address.”
“I saw this mess coming full-tilt boogie ten years ago with its hair on fire,” muttered Jackman. “The president’s afraid that something alien is gonna come calling and it might wanna open a butcher shop. But what does he expect us to do about it? Bust up every supercollider in the world? We can’t dis-invent the thing. The science is already out there. It’s like the atomic bomb. Once they knew how to build it, they built it. And if somebody’s fool enough to build it, somebody’s fool enough to use it.”
Jackman scanned faces. “What did you think those guys have been doing up there for the last century? Reading John Newton and singing Kumbaya? Or did you not realize they were gonna build the most insanely dangerous machine in the world and not do something insanely dangerous with it?”
“What I think,” Whitaker said, “is that we need someone with scientific acumen to tell us exactly what happened in that room.” He gestured, “Mike? Would you bring Dr. Mansfield in here, please?”
The soldier disappeared and within thirty seconds a short, portly, utterly bald man in a white lab coat entered the room. He silently stood unmoving with his hands folded and seemed to be awaiting further invitation.
Whitaker said, “Please, doctor, have a seat.”
Dr. Carl Mansfield chose the chair closest to Whitaker, placed his pale hands on the table, and neatly adjusted his wire-rim glasses.
“Dr. Mansfield,” Whitaker continued, “Can you explain to these gentlemen your theory of what happened at the Large Hadron Collider a week ago?”
Clearing his throat, Mansfield leaned forward and said in a nasal voice, “Gentlemen, to understand the phenomenon of what happened at the Large Hadron Collider I’ll first have to give you a lesson on what the LHC is capable of accomplishing and, more importantly, why it is capable of accomplishing these things.”
Jackman relit his cigar.
“May we see the video again, please?” asked Mansfield.
The video was again displayed as Mansfield fished out a laser pointer from his coat pocket. He used it to illuminate a site on a topographical map. “Gentlemen, this is the physical location of the Large Hadron Collider. But of course it’s much larger than it appears in this photograph. It is almost one hundred acres and the collider itself is located three hundred to six hundred feet below the surface. The corridor is seventeen miles long and is equipped with 9,300 magnets of various purposes and strength. And we are not talking your average Play Store magnet. These magnets weigh thirty-five tons apiece.”
“That’s ridiculous,” said Jackman. “What do they need that kind of hardware for?”
“Well,” continued the doctor, “as you may know, at its inception the official goal of the Large Hadron Collider was to discover the origins of the universe so that we might better understand the substance of elements in our solar system. But that noble public goal, as they so zealously advertised it, was long ago superseded by the hidden agenda of an unknown conglomerate that has expanded the use of the LHC to include experiments of a far more dangerous nature.”
Jackman took his cigar from his mouth. “How dangerous we talking?”
“Dangerous enough to destroy the universe,” answered Mansfield with no expression. “The collider is under the authority of the European Organization for Nuclear Research, hence the acronym, CERN …”
“That acronym don’t match that name,” muttered Jackman.
Mansfield continued, “No, but it was originally named The Conseil European pour la Recherche Nucleaire, which was conveniently shortened to CERN. However, that mantle was deemed too foreign, and even insulting, for non-French-speaking partners, hence it was replaced. Now, to proceed. We only partially understand the nature of the current experiments that are recorded at one-hundred-seventy computer centers located in forty-two countries. But from what I have observed from this video this was the first time they conducted this particular experiment at this power level. Consequently, no one anticipated the outcome. In fact, I would suggest that even the officials who sanctioned this experiment did not expect such a shocking result and are themselves horrified and confused.”
Whitaker asked, “Expound on that, doctor. If you will.”
Mansfield glanced past Whitaker’s blank stare, “We have concluded, based upon this video as well as additional, illegally appropriated materials from satellites, that CERN successfully opened a portal to a parallel dimension.”
Expressions were exchanged.
“What kind of parallel dimension?” asked Jackman.
“A horrifyingly dangerous one,” the scientist answered. “As we have analyzed it, they opened a door to an alternate dimension made of antimatter.” Mansfield paused as if to let lesser minds comprehend. “You see, gentlemen, there is more dark energy in alternate universes than the energy inherent to our own universe. There is also more antimatter in parallel dimensions than the matter common to our universe. Now, under normal circumstances, matter and antimatter would react energetically and dramatically if they came into contact. I have placed scientific articles on these somewhat technical matters in your packets. So, frankly, what they did in this video should have destroyed this world, which begs the question. Why didn’t it? Well, the short answer is that we don’t know. But we are confident that they opened a door to a dimension composed primarily of antimatter and dark energy, which should have, at least, killed everyone in that room. And yet they survived.”
Whitaker spoke up, “Doctor, before we make a decision about how to handle this situation, we need an explanation for why they weren’t all vaporized that even a layman can understand. Because I swear before Almighty God that telling the President of the United States that we don’t have a clue just isn’t going to cut it. It’s his job to ask the questions. It’s our job to give him the answers.”
Dr. Mansfield nodded deferentially. “I understand, Mr. Whitaker. Then let me say that for every positively charged electron in our dimension there is a negatively charged electron in a parallel dimension. We call these negatively charged electrons ‘positrons.’ But the point is that this universe that we can see with the naked eye is paralleled by an invisible universe that is just as real, just as substantial, and just as alive as the visible dimension we inhabit.”
“Then why can’t we see it?” asked Jackman. “If this thing is as real as our world, why can’t we see any of it?”
“Our most favored hypothes
is is that we cannot see it because it is comprised of antimatter, dark energy, and neutrinos of a composition that are outside any light spectrum we are able to perceive,” said Mansfield.
“A neutrino?” asked Admiral Waters. “Is that like an atom?”
Mansfield shook his head. “Not quite.”
Seated at the far end of the table in his bright admiral’s uniform, Waters was the picture of a white-haired elderly statesman. His Service Dress White was perfect to every crease and he wore it like the epitome of an officer and gentleman.
“Expatiate,” said the admiral.
Mansfield nodded, “Now, neutrinos are what constitute the most finite anatomy of an atom. In fact, you could fit several billion neutrinos inside a single electron, which is the smallest part of an atom. And which, incidentally, is the smallest particle that we can observe with our most advanced technology.”
“Billions?” Jackman asked. “You’re telling me that these neutrino things are so small that you can fit billions of them into one electron?”
“Yes,” confirmed Mansfield.
“Doctor,” Whitaker said tiredly, “please get to the point. Why wasn’t everyone in that room killed like a dog when they opened that portal?”
Inhaling deeply, Mansfield continued, “Gentlemen, please bear in mind that what I’m about to tell you is just an educated guess, which is what physics is all about. In fact, you should be informed of an old saying among physicists that states, ‘The laws of physics are always right. Until they’re not.’”
“Which means?” asked Jackman.
“Which means that there are a great many more laws of physics that we don’t understand than those which we do understand,” Mansfield elaborated. “For instance, we don’t know for certain that neutrinos exist at all. We’ve never seen one so they’re simply a centuries-old, firmly held theory. We don’t know for certain that dark matter exists. It is also only a traditional theory. And we certainly can’t prove that there is a single parallel dimension although the math seems incontrovertible. The truth is that we can algebraically demonstrate the existence of dark energy and dark matter and at least eleven alternate dimensions, but proving they exist is another matter.” He paused. “Entirely.”
“This is getting to the point?” grumbled Jackman.
Whitaker groaned, “Please, Atol.”
Jackman grunted, “Go ahead, doc. But it seems to me that we’re burning daylight on this witch hunt.”
“A witch hunt perfectly captures the consequences of this affair,” said Mansfield. “We have concluded that the LHC tapped into a very hostile dimension of entities that are just as real as we are. Only, these ghost-entities are composed of antimatter instead of matter. And their dimension is comprised of negatively based dark energy instead of the positively based energy that enables our universe.” He gently tapped the table. “Gentleman, what I believe happened in that LHC Observation Room is this. These physicists smashed particles together with sufficient force to open a portal between dimensions, and both dimensions are inhabited by living creatures. One dimension is inhabited by incomprehensibly hostile creatures comprised of antimatter. The second dimension is inhabited by us. And opening this portal is, without question, a very, very dangerous thing.”
Releasing a trail of blue smoke, Jackman asks, “As they say, doc, I ain’t scared a no ghost. But, explain to me, exactly, why this is so graveyard dead dangerous.”
Mansfield stood and walked to the screen, “Can you play the digital again?”
The incident began to replay.
“In slow motion please,” Mansfield added. “Steady … Stop!”
The screen froze with the image of a gigantic bolt of blue lightning erupting from a large metallic cylinder and through the LHC Observation Room Plexiglas shield.
“This is the precise moment when they opened the portal,” continued Mansfield. “This explosion, or lightning, is typical when you smash a positively charged atom into a negatively charged atom. The particles disintegrate and release their nuclear energy into the surrounding environment. So in my opinion it is clearly a miracle equal to Moses parting the Red Sea that anyone survived this event. And that, gentlemen, means that these physicists at CERN may have come very close to destroying the world. But we’ve already discussed that. Now I would like to point out to you what was so dangerous about this event.”
“There’s something more dangerous than destroying the world?” asked Jackman, eyes wide open.
“Yes, general, because they succeeded in opening a portal to what we are calling—for the sake of brevity—a demonic dimension. It is also safe to say that the entities inhabiting this dimension are incalculably hostile, more intelligent, and far more physically powerful than we are.”
Jackman was scowling. “You do realize you’re using the word, ‘demon?’”
Without hesitation Whitaker stated, “Dr. Mansfield, would you please show these pilgrims the photograph?”
Dr. Mansfield removed a single eight-by-ten black-and-white photograph from his manila folder and slid it across the table. With teeth locked on his cigar, Jackman picked up the photograph and stared.
“What the hell is this?” he asked.
“It’s a demon,” said Dr. Mansfield without reservation.
“A demon!” Jackman searched every face. “How do you know that?”
Dr. Mansfield shook his head. “What you see in that picture is what lies on the far side of that portal, General Jackman. It is what reached through and snatched up seven scientists in one-thousandth of a second and hauled them back into its world. And if that’s not a demon, it missed a good chance.”
Jackman laid the photograph on the table. “Well,” he frowned, “I think it’s safe to say we’re not the only murderous species in the universe.”
The image was of a slouching black shape that vaguely resembled a human being but was monstrously more muscular; the face disproportionately elongated with large black eye sockets that held no light. Its six-fingered left hand was prominently visible revealing curved black claws. Its mouth was locked in a tight line as if it were concentrating. At its feet was a blurry image of what appeared to be a naked woman with a single hand upraised as if begging for mercy. But the creature showed no sign of mercy. Rather, it displayed the unconcealed indifference of a beast that had beheld millions pleading for mercy and it had dispassionately destroyed them all.
“It does appear to be quite malevolent,” commented Admiral Waters. “Are you sure this is an accurate photograph of what resides on the other side of that portal?”
“Absolutely,” nodded Mansfield. “This is a photograph of what’s on the other side of the portal, admiral. Or, at least, the portal that CERN opened on that day. There is no way of knowing if there is one parallel dimension, or four, or a hundred. All we know for certain is that this dimension does exist and can clearly be considered a threat of, forgive me, Biblical proportions. I don’t think I need to suggest to you what might happen if an army of these creatures emerge from that portal. To put it mildly, I would estimate that the outcome would be, quite simply, the annihilation of the human race. And, perhaps, our universe, as well. Or these creatures might keep some of us alive as soldiers, servants, slaves, concubines, or even construction workers like the ancient Egyptians used the ancient Jews.”
For a while no one moved or spoke.
“Well, boys, there you have it in,” said Whitaker. “There is something on the far side of that portal, gentlemen, and it ain’t human and it ain’t friendly. Call it what you will but I’m gonna call it a damn demon because that’s what it damn well looks like to me.”
“Why did this thing kidnap seven people?” asked Jackman.
“We don’t know the answer to that question,” Mansfield stated bluntly. “But we believe that this dark power reached through that gateway and snatched up these people for some kind of
truly monstrous purpose otherwise it would not have had to kidnap them.” He shook his head. “If you ask me, these physicists are not dead.”
Jackman rumbled, “So what are they?”
“Again, general, we do not—”
“Yeah, yeah, you don’t know.” Jackman’s scowl deepened well-worn creases in his scarred face. “Doctor, just what the hell do you know?”
Mansfield did not appear to take offense as he lifted his hands. “General, we now have empirical knowledge that this Dark Universe, as some are calling it, is just as real as our own universe. It is simply invisible to the naked eye. We believe it is populated by these monstrous, very intelligent beings composed of antimatter instead of matter. And we believe it is a dimension of tremendous energy capable of tearing our galaxy apart. So we have reached the conclusion that we are facing a vast enemy that is incalculably more intelligent and more powerful than we are, and they have harnessed the power of dark energy—a weapon that can easily destroy this universe if not the entire galaxy.”
Ten seconds passed before Jackman turned to Whitaker, “Whitaker, I’m not clear what we’re doing here. If something from another dimension reached through that door and snatched seven people into oblivion, then those poor folks are dead. What do you expect us to do about it?”
“The problem,” Whitaker answered, “is this. What might happen if these fools at the LHC can keep that portal open for more than a tenth of a second?” He stared solidly at Jackman. “I mean, you saw what happened in a bolt of lightning. What will happen if these eggheads figure out how to keep that door open for five minutes and an entire battalion of those demonic sons a bitches march into our world?”
Jackman erupted, “Come on, Whitaker!” He raised an arm to the screen. “They just opened it for a split second and it blew the place all the way to hell’s half-acre! What makes you think they can open it for five whole minutes?”
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