by Glenn Kleier
Max, however, added, “When operations do resume, both the damage and repairs could alter the quantum mechanics in unpredictable ways. The vortex could well materialize elsewhere. No telling where. Or disappear altogether.”
In fact, they’d no idea how the processes within the collider combined to spin off the vortex, or why the hole formed where it did, under their tree, connected to some home, somewhere.
Ariel stared out the window at the harvest moon, orange and huge. So close, so distant.
Chapter 48
Thursday, October 11, 8:28 am, Talawanda
Last to rise, Ariel wandered into the kitchen, greeted by the others with an update on the collider. Damage was limited to circuitry, she was relieved to hear. The emags had survived unscathed. A minor setback unlikely to affect the wormhole. Repairs were underway, and TPC was planning a test tomorrow at noon, no smashing, a dry run. If it went well, full operations would resume Saturday at 10:00.
“And more good news,” Stan said. “Max came up with a way to ID the home.”
It seemed Max had a gift for working out problems in his sleep.
Tia was quick to add, “But hold the confetti, he won’t tell us what the plan is.”
“I’ve got some work to do first,” Max said, cagily. “Let’s see how it goes.”
Sandbagger. Ariel knew that smile. He had an answer, and he wanted to roll it out with pizzazz.
Leaving in his car after breakfast for parts unknown, he returned by lunchtime, a large package under his arm, same smirk on his lips. Grabbing sandwiches, he went to his room and shut the door. Everyone knew not to disturb him.
He came out for supper, only to take his plate back with him. The others dined in his absence, and Tia snipped, “I don’t like the secrecy. We can’t put all our faith in Mr. Wonderful, we need a backup plan.”
“Darned if I’ve got one,” Stan said.
They poked at their food for a time. Then Tia sat up and snapped her fingers. “Wait a minute. Our phones have GPS locaters. We stick one through the hole, and bingo, the home address!”
Stan shook his head. “There’s a Trapping Horizon on the other side, too. A satellite signal can’t penetrate it, the GPS won’t work.”
Tia pushed back her plate. “I give up. All the money’s on Max.”
As if she’d summoned him, he popped around the hall doorway and proclaimed with a grin, “That would be smart money.”
He entered with the panache of a ringmaster, carrying a large object. Setting it on the table, he held it in place with a single finger to say, “Aerial reconnaissance.”
A blimp. A gas-filled, radio-controlled model airship with electric propellers. Bright yellow and blue with white letters on the sides reading: Charles Fort.
“I considered a drone,” he explained, “except the rotors would scatter papers on the desk. This is harder to fly, but creates little turbulence.” He pointed to the gondola undercarriage. “Had to make a few adaptations: LED spotlight, micro camera, microphone.”
“Brilliant,” Stan said, examining it with delight. “And beautiful. But how will you control it? It’s wireless, the vortex will block the signals.”
Having Stan moor the blimp, Max ducked back to his room, returning with a laptop connected by cable to a three-foot antenna.
“We’ve proven signals transmit through the vortex by wire,” he explained. “We’ll launch the blimp through the hole, then insert this antenna. I’ll steer from the image the camera sends back to the laptop, safely removed from the rim.”
“Impressive,” Tia had to give him. “But what’s a Charles Fort?”
“Who,” Max corrected. “Charles Hoy Fort, 1874-1932. A writer who coined the term ‘teleportation’ a century ago. My homage.”
Everyone smiled, and Stan gave the ship a measured look. “Gonna be a tight fit.”
“Less than two inches clearance,” Max said. “And before we can launch it, we’ve got to move that plant out of the way.”
Stan said, “I’ll bet I can tip it with a rake. I’ll give it a try tomorrow during TPC’s test run.”
But Tia raised another obstacle not so easily overcome. “Even if we do ID this guy, how do we gain his cooperation? We’ve been trespassing, after all.”
“We’ll cross that event horizon when we come to it,” Max said. And beaming, he took his creation into the living room to hone his flying skills.
Two days to prepare before TPC resumed smashing atoms.
Chapter 49
Saturday, October 13, 8:58 am, Talawanda
Ariel had never been to the ocean, she couldn’t take the exposure. Yet here she was, lying on a beach under a tropical sun, soothed by a soft breeze on her cheek and the burble of waves…
Only to realize as she opened her eyes, the burbling was giggles, and the breeze from whirring fan blades. A bulbous shape hovered scant inches from her nose, and she shrieked.
There was an explosion of laughter, and she turned to see Tia at the bedroom door holding a laptop as Max worked its keys and Stan peeked over their shoulders with an antenna, all howling hysterically. Ariel’s fright dissolved and she felt herself flush, laughing, too.
“Come on, you lazy thing,” Max told her. “An hour till liftoff.”
Ariel felt lucky she hadn’t been caught with Newton, too tired to fetch him last night.
Max led the procession across the lawn to the tent, clutching his airship in front of him with both hands. As usual, the weather was calm and cloudless. Perfect conditions to float their trial balloon.
Ariel took her place at the table, handling the tripod camera today. For the first time since this bizarre adventure had consumed their lives a week ago, she felt they were about to gain control. If only they could identify the owner of the home where the vortex led them, they might present the world with proof of a traversable wormhole. Teleportation. The stuff of fiction. A vision to fire imaginations everywhere, rekindling the nation’s love affair with science.
So much rode on the flight of the Charles Fort, and if anyone could pull it off, it was Max. For once, his overweening attitude was an asset.
Ariel studied him as he stood checking his aircraft. Clean shaven. Black hair neatly combed. In an open-collar shirt, sleeves rolled a turn. The rangy swagger of a cowboy, every inch a bold hero of legends, ready for his moment in the spotlight. Not hard to imagine him a media star. Witty, and when he chose, charming. Offset by his ever-ticking downside…
Everyone had a vital role this morning. Once the wormhole opened, Stan would use a rake to shove the plant out of the way, if necessary. He’d toppled it yesterday during TPC’s test run, but surely the occupant set it back. Then Max would launch the blimp through the hole, Tia would insert the antenna, and if all went to plan, video would transmit to the laptop, enabling Max to steer the ship with a joystick. Ariel’s job was to record the historic event on camera and track the time, keeping Max posted so he could sail the blimp out before the hole snapped shut.
Eyes on the clock, Ariel gave a ten-second countdown and hit “record,” Newton began to howl, cut off by rumble and whine, and at last, the vortex appeared.
Ariel started the stopwatch, the hole opened, and Stan plunged the rake inside. Meeting resistance, he cleared the way and stepped back to give Max a thumbs-up. Max took his place at the vortex, smiling, presenting The Charles Fort to the camera. But when he turned to the hole and prepared to launch his ship, a noise came from outside the tent. Newton, howling again.
Except, that wasn’t possible. No sound could penetrate the Horizon’s bubble. Max turned to look, and his eyes went wide as a shape brushed past Ariel onto the table. It bounded off straight into Max, off Max into the hole, and vanished inside the void.
A puff of fur-scented smoke filled the air.
Max stormed at Ariel, “You didn’t chain him?”
Rising on shaky legs, Ariel staggered to the hole and gaped inside. No trace but pungent odor.
“Oh my God,” she cried, ho
rror-stricken. She had chained him.
She burst into tears, and Tia dropped her antenna and ran to her.
Stan whispered, “Holy smokes—it vaporized him.”
Tia shot him a glare. “We don’t know that. He could have made it through.” She called into the void, “Here, Newton. Here, boy.”
Nothing.
Chapter 50
Saturday, October 13, 12:32 pm, Talawanda
Hours passed, and Tia sat with Ariel on the living room couch, still trying to comfort her. The poor thing was heart-broken, having refused lunch to hole up in her room sobbing. Finally, Tia was able to coax her out with a cup of tea, if unable to stop the tears.
The only other time Tia had seen her like this was back when Ariel and Max were an item, and Ariel had learned he cheated on her. Tia blamed herself for that mess. In helping Ariel transform herself, Tia had also changed Max’s mind about Ariel. But never in a million years had Tia imagined the girl could fall for a man who’d so abused her and her dog.
Tia thought back to the night of the town festival. To that strange, magical evening three years ago when Ariel emerged at last from her cocoon…
It was the event of the year. The annual Talawanda SummerFest. Max and Stan had already left for town to have dinner, Tia keeping Ariel under wraps in her room. Once the coast was clear, she and Ariel ate in the kitchen, in robes. Tomato soup and grilled cheese, Tia recalled only too well. She remembered gawking between bites at Ariel’s utter metamorphosis, as Ariel flashed smiles of embarrassment and smudged lipstick. Tia nagged to keep her from scratching her makeup, wondering how anyone could grow up so repressed in this day and age. But after tonight, Ariel would become more open about her past.
“So, what’s the plan?” Ariel asked, blue eyes anxious.
“The plan,” Tia said, “is to conduct a little experiment. Get you in front of people you’ve never met, let them see you for the first time, see how they react.”
“I’ll tell you how they react,” Ariel sighed. “They stare, they gape, and they point.”
Tia smiled. “For different reasons tonight, I’ll bet. And if that goes well, we’ll test out some TPC colleagues. There should be plenty at the festival. Now, go change into your new dress.”
A short time later, they rendezvoused in the kitchen, and Tia marveled to behold the finished product. Ariel had been unable to pick from the several outfits they’d brought home, so Tia chose for her. A simple, elegant, sleeveless black dress. Very flattering to her figure, and Ariel was uncomfortable with it, face flushed. Yet, she looked absolutely breathtaking. Red-carpet-ready in matching black pumps and purse, a far cry from her old, puritanical wardrobe.
But the color of her face, changed by foundation cream, was in sharp contrast with her opalescent arms and legs. Tia corrected with more foundation and pantyhose. Then adding final touches of zirconium post earrings, a gold-heart pendant, and dab of perfume, Tia sprang a last-minute surprise. She opened a box to reveal a jet-black, pageboy wig.
“I don’t understand,” Ariel said. “We redo my hair only to cover it up?”
“If we run into people we know from work, your hair color is a dead giveaway. I don’t want to spoil our experiment.” And pinning back Ariel’s tresses, Tia fitted her with the wig to achieve the classic Berlin-cabaret look she was going for.
Finished, Tia took Ariel by the hands to gaze deep into her altered eyes. “Remember,” she said, “no one will recognize you. Not even you recognize you. Tonight, you’re Wonder Woman. Now, let’s go unleash you on the world.”
But as she herded Ariel toward the door, Ariel held back, moaning, “I’m sooo nervous.”
Tia grinned. “I’ve got that covered, too.”
And stopping at the fridge, she stuck something in her purse.
“What did you get?” Ariel asked, radiant in the sunset as they walked to the car. She was indeed unrecognizable, looking like a Cosmo cover. Perhaps Tia had overdone the makeup.
“A little Dutch courage for when we get there,” Tia said, giving her a peek.
“But I don’t drink. I’ve never even tasted alcohol.”
“One beer never hurt anyone. It’ll take the edge off.”
Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the Talawanda fairgrounds, and Tia squeezed into a nearly full parking lot, killing the engine. The sounds of merriment and music filled the air.
“Wait here while I scope things out,” she said, popping open the beer, handing it to Ariel. “Start on this, I’ll be back in five minutes.”
Ariel sat staring unhappily at the bottle as Tia left in the glow of mercury vapor lamps, scent of cotton candy and popcorn in the air. Past the lot was a midway with carnival booths and rides, including a small Ferris wheel and roller coaster. Beyond that, a bandshell where a concert was underway, packed with people lounging on blankets and cavorting on an open-air dance floor.
Perfect. Tia returned to the car to see Ariel slouched in her seat, sipping the beer. Maybe it was the lamplight, but her skin looked less rosy, and she appeared calmer. As Tia approached, Ariel held up the bottle, grimacing to say, “I don’t get this stuff. Bitter. And I don’t feel a thing.”
“Never mind, bottoms up.”
Waving Ariel out, Tia stashed their purses under the seats and locked the door. Taking the empty bottle, she tossed it in a garbage can and raised her palm to Ariel for a high-five. Ariel puzzled, then grabbed Tia’s hand instead, giving it a shake. Tia laughed, and they headed off.
On their way, Tia kept close watch on Ariel and passersby. People were indeed noticing. Men and women. Stopping, turning with gazes of appreciation. And in the cases of some women, perhaps envy. While Tia was no slouch—she’d worked hard on her own look, too—she caught far less attention than her shy friend, feeling like a proud big sister.
Ariel was unaware, eyes downcast, as was her custom. But she couldn’t miss the man at the ticket counter. When he saw her and Tia, his eyes widened, and he broke into a big grin.
“Well hellooo, ladies,” he beamed, though he focused on Ariel.
Tia gave Ariel an elbow, getting only a grunt in return. It would take more convincing.
They continued to the gate, and Tia ordered, “Head up, girl.”
This time Ariel couldn’t miss the effect she was having, especially on young men they passed. Then again, Tia realized, it likely felt no different to Ariel than the stares she always got. There was a short queue at the gate, and at the back of the line were two male technicians Tia recognized from TPC. Forties, married. Ariel saw too, slowing, and Tia pulled her aside.
“Excellent,” she said. “Our first real test. You know Pete and Juan from Operations?”
Ariel made a face. “I tried to get their help with my computer once. I never heard back.”
“Well, let’s see how they treat you now. I’m gonna hang back, I want you to mosey up and take your place behind them. Let’s see if they recognize you.”
Ariel’s face showed dismay, as if she were being deserted, sent alone into the line of fire.
“No worries,” Tia said, “they won’t bite, and I’m right here.”
“If they don’t recognize me, should I tell them?”
“No, let’s not spoil the experiment. Don’t look at them, just stand there minding your own business. When they move on, I’ll join you.”
Inhaling, exhaling, eyes down again, Ariel bit her lip and sidled toward the men. Tia ducked behind a lamppost to watch.
At first nothing. The two men talked as Ariel busied herself with her phone. Then one man must have cracked a joke, the other laughed hard, and in the middle, happened to take in Ariel. Suddenly, he was serious. His jaw dropped, and he leaned into his buddy to whisper in his ear, eyes never off Ariel. The other man took a sly glance and gaped, too. Had they recognized her?
They kept scoping Ariel, and surely she felt their gazes, shifting her feet, red-faced. At last, the men left through the turnstile, sneaking looks back as Tia hurried to her friend.
“Did they recognize you?” she asked while the ticket lady beckoned them on.
“Not sure. They were doing a lot of whispering back and forth.” She gave Tia a fearful look. “Honestly, I can’t say I notice any difference in how people look at me.”
Tia sighed. “All right, time to kick this experiment up a notch. You want definitive proof? Follow me.”
Tia led Ariel toward the bandshell, where a country-music group had the crowd up on its feet dancing. There was a throng of young people gathered in front of the stage, and Tia headed for them.
Ariel came abreast, raising her voice above the music to ask, “What now?”
“We’ll test some available men and gage their reactions.”
“And how are we going to do that?”
Tia pointed to the dance floor. “We’ll strut our stuff and see what happens.”
There were lots of men observing from the sidelines, a bit too countrified for Tia’s tastes, but ideal for showing off her creation.
Ariel’s eyes turned more anxious. “You mean, dance? You and I? Together?”
“Sure.”
“Oh, no, Tia. I can’t dance. I don’t know how.”
Coming to a stop, Tia faced her. “You mean you’ve never been to a dance before? Never?”
The girl lowered her eyes. “A few. But I never danced. And won’t people think us gay?”
Tia was astounded. What repressive community produced this poor child? Taking her hand, she dragged her onto the floor, reminding her of her promise. “There’s nothing to it. Just close your eyes and move to the beat. No rules, no special steps, simply let go.”
Tia demonstrated, shutting her eyes, swaying and undulating. She sneaked a peek to see Ariel watching her, agog. But when Ariel noticed other eyes on her, she blushed, moved closer to Tia, closed her eyes, and followed suit.
Her movements were awkward, self-conscious. No matter. Soon several men converged, insinuating themselves around Tia and Ariel, gyrating and displaying like peacocks. Ariel didn’t seem to notice, eyes closed as she followed Tia’s advice. More men appeared, and soon Tia found herself edged out. Last glimpse of Ariel, the girl actually appeared to be enjoying herself, swinging to the music, unaware of the activity around her, eyes still closed. Before Tia could re-engage, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Stan.