by Richard Lori
Fuller had been running for several minutes and could take the strain no longer. He slowed his pace and stopped, leaning against a dull brick building to gasp for air. As a child, he had always been prone to asthma attacks, and his gym teacher often excused him from running because it exacerbated the condition. He could not remember the last time he had run so much and cursed himself for not exercising more.
When his wind came back, he realized he could not stay on the empty streets like this. Looking around, he saw a payphone on the next block. He hobbled in that direction, still panting from his earlier sprint. Calling Sue was the only thing that he could think of. He was not sure how, but he felt she could help him.
When he reached the phone, he searched his pockets for coins to feed it. They were empty of all but lint, the police having stripped him of his possessions. With even the clothes on his back not his own, there was nothing left of the world he had known. He felt abandoned and alone.
Hoping she would not mind one more imposition, he decided to call Sue collect. Now if only he could remember her last name. He was terrible at remembering names so stared into space while his mind circled, trying to recollect this small tidbit of information.
Was it Nelson? No. Sue Nelson was his mother’s first cousin. Was it Perry? No. She was the girl who teased him in elementary school.
“It was Sanders! Yeah, that was it!” he exclaimed.
He paged through the phone book hoping that at least one thing would go his way for a change. It was not there.
“Damn! What the hell was her name?” he cried. “Wait. Maybe it wasn’t Sanders but only sounded like it. Was it Banders? No. Canders? No. Danders, Fanders, Ganders.” He continued down the alphabet until he reached Manders. “Yeah! That was it! Manders!” he shouted. A lone man scuffing down the street shot his face towards the pavement, his eyes darting at Fuller as he hurried past.
Again Fuller flipped through the pages of the massive book and came back with nothing. “Damn it!” There were two Manders listed, but neither was Sue.
“Hold it. I bet it’s listed under her father’s name.” He had a choice of either Albert or Henry. He picked up the damp receiver and stabbed the zero.
“Tri-state Bell. How may I help ya?” a squeaky female voice on the other side of the line asked.
“Operator, I’d like to make a collect call to 259-9658.”
“Your name, sir?”
“John Fuller.”
“One moment pah-lease.”
After several clicks, the phone rang. It rang three more times before a gravelly voice croaked, “Hello!”
“I have a collect call from a Mr. John Fuller. Would you like to accept the charges?” the operator whined.
“I don’t know any John Fuller!” roared the man.
“Would you like to accept the charges, sir?” she chirped.
“No, I don’t want to accept the charges! I don’t want to talk to any jackass that would call this early in the morning!” With that, there was a loud click as though he slammed down the receiver.
“I’m sorry, sir. The gentleman didn’t want to accept the charges,” she squealed, seeming unrattled by the aggressive man.
“Yes, I gathered that,” Fuller said, pulling the receiver away from his ear. The woman’s shrill voice was starting to make his ear ring. “Can you try 253-7373?” he inquired.
“Collect, sir?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“One moment pah-lease.”
This time the phone was answered after only two rings. “Hello?” Fuller heard Sue say through the receiver.
“My God, Sue!” he cried, unable to contain his excitement. “I’m so glad to hear your voice.”
“Who is this?” Sue asked, yawning.
“I have a collect call from John Fuller. Will you accept the charges?” the operator asked, her voice piercing through the line on both ends.
“John Fuller?” Sue said. “John, where are you?”
“I’m at a phone booth on 63rd and 12th. Can you come and pick me up?”
“I’m sorry, I have to know if you’ll accept the charges, ma’am?” squeaked the operator.
“I’ll pick you up, but what’s the problem?” Sue inquired.
“I’ll explain later. Just hurry as fast as you can,” he said, relieved that she was coming.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I have to know if you’ll accept the charges before I can let you talk,” squealed the operator, trying to perform her duty.
“No, Operator, that won’t be necessary anymore. Thank you,” said Sue politely. There was a click when she hung up the phone.
“Hey wait a minute! You can’t do that!” cried the operator, her voice even more shrill when upset.
“Thank you, Operator. It’s been a pleasure,” said Fuller before hanging the receiver in its cradle. He worked his jaw, trying to stop the ringing in his ear while he walked back from the street towards a building. He stood in the doorway to wait.
“God, I hope she hurries.”
*****
Waiting for Sue to arrive seemed an eternity. Fuller’s neck got sore turning his head back and forth to see if the police were coming, his heart stopping when a squad car approached. It started again when the car went past on other business. As he waited, the streets began to fill with the morning rush-hour traffic, and the security of anonymity closed around him.
While he watched the people pass on foot, a strange thought came to him. Even though they were all human, each of them was unique. He was impressed with the diversity of facial characteristics, skin color, hair color, body shapes and the distinct ways that they walked. It seemed to him the diversity of humanity was greater than in any other species on Earth. He wondered why that was.
He focused on a tall slender man walking up the street at a brisk pace. By his gait, he seemed to be in a hurry. Looking at his elongated face and calm gray eyes though, one saw friendliness and patience. He saw Fuller looking at him and passed with a smile and nod. Fuller stared but did not acknowledge him, instead starting to watch a woman coming from the opposite direction. She had wavy blond hair, which she threw from side to side while she walked. Her clothes were of the latest fashion and dressed upon her with every attention paid to detail. Though concealed under a heavy layer of makeup, the frown on her lips and bloodshot eyes spoke of deep concern over matters buried within. She did not notice Fuller when she passed and continued into the throng.
Though they walked past by the dozens, Fuller continued to pick out individuals in the crowd. He considered that each of the nameless faces led different lives. They each had different hopes and dreams, different fears, different likes and dislikes, different outlooks on life, and different reasons to live for. With the vast complexities that each of these individual lives encompassed, it was repeated billions of times over for every human that existed.
Each had their own story to tell. All had accomplishments that were, even if to none but themselves, significant. They also had failures that they could speak of at great length too. But if they did, would the person walking next to them even care? Did any of these people going about their business concern themselves with what horrors or ecstasies the person walking next to them was feeling? He doubted it. It was easier to stay wrapped up in one’s own world than to interfere with another and be inconvenienced. Would the tall, smiling man stop the melancholic woman and ask what he could do to ease her suffering? Of course not. He might be concerned if he knew what her problem was but would never take the time to ask.
He was still looking at other pedestrians when he caught a glimpse of a policeman across the street staring at him. The officer looked at what appeared to be a cell phone and then back at him. He then held it close to his face and started to speak into it as he walked in Fuller’s direction. Not needing further encouragement, he ran fro
m the cop. Weaving back and forth, his fellow pedestrians slowed him as he bumped into one after another.
After sprinting almost half the block, Fuller whipped his head around and saw the police officer on his side of the street. He had closed the distance by running along the street side of the parked cars instead of through the crowd like Fuller was. As fear rose, he raced faster and began to shove people aside to get them out of his way.
When the officer was parallel to Fuller, he squeezed his way between the ends of two parked cars to make his way onto the sidewalk. Thinking it only seconds before the cop grabbed his shoulder, he saw an alleyway coming up on his left. He thrust aside the last remaining people between it and himself.
As he stormed into its entrance, Fuller could see the alley was empty except for dumpsters and an occasional wino passed out on the pavement. He ran full speed, gaining distance from the cop. It was now the officer’s turn to slow down while he tried to work his way across the sidewalk through the throng of pedestrians. The sounds of the city faded as Fuller’s gasping for air seemed deafening in the relative quiet of the alleyway.
When he neared the alley’s midpoint, Fuller heard cursing from behind and jerked his head backwards a split second. The cop was on the ground having tripped over the outstretched legs of a wino. Whether by accident or design, Fuller was grateful for this bit of luck and vowed to thank the man. He barely had time to think this though because the end of the alley was almost upon him.
The street ahead was similar to the one he had left behind, though less congested. Because of its lack of traffic, he did not slow but kept his pace when he reached the corner of a building. His foot just touched the sidewalk when a man appeared from around the corner and strode into Fuller’s path. The two collided and fell towards the pavement. Knocking the pedestrian backwards, Fuller spun ninety degrees before falling almost parallel to the street. Instead of landing though, the momentum carried him forward, his forehead grazing past the concrete as he rolled over his shoulder. Thoughts of another smash on his forehead flashed through his mind.
He was about to continue another revolution but stopped the roll by shoving his hands onto the sidewalk. He pushed off the concrete like an uncoiling spring and came to a stop on his knees. He snapped to his feet, stumbled forward a few wobbly steps then steadied himself when he reached the curb.
As he began to cross the street, a loud screech pierced through his ears. Fuller slammed into a car whose driver had locked their brakes to avoid a collision, his left leg grazing its front bumper. As the left side of his body came to a sudden stop, his right side continued to arc to the left. He doubled at the waist and his upper body slapped onto the hood of the car. By luck, his forehead did not hit because his hands and arms took the brunt of the force. He shot up from the expansive white plain of the hood only to glimpse into the eyes of the stunned driver.
Both men’s eyes widened when Fuller realized he had crashed into a police car and the surprised officer realized this was the man he was after. Fuller did not let the shock stop him. He stumbled along the car’s front bumper towards the alleyway opposite the one he had come from. Out of the corner of his eye, Fuller could see the policeman slam the squad car’s gearshift into park and scurry out the door.
This did not slow Fuller but caused him to pick up speed instead. He came off the street and ran around the few pedestrians standing frozen. They had stopped their morning commute and were gaping at the commotion Fuller was causing.
He entered the second alley, this one narrower than the first yet still cluttered with the ubiquitous dumpsters and trash. He continued his frantic pace but was beginning to tire. He had only run a little over a block and a half, but his legs were aching and his mouth hung wide to gulp enough air.
He stole a quick glance behind again and saw the first police officer had emerged from the alley across the street. He was barking orders and motioning for the other officer to get back into the squad car. The wail of the siren took up while Fuller ran on. The squad car was going to drive around the block and catch up with him when he exited the other end of the alley. He was certain he could traverse it before the car got through the rush-hour traffic, but he also knew the strain on his out-of-shape body would not allow him to keep up this pace much longer. When the wailing of the siren moved off in the distance, the gasping of his breath drowned out its sound.
As fatigue slowed his pace, he ran past a dumpster and saw an open doorway set into the brick wall of a building. He skidded on some trash attempting to stop, sliding past the door and almost falling in the process. He caught himself and turned back towards the door. He had a view of the pursuing policeman and could see he was a mere thirty yards from being caught.
“Stop right where you are,” the officer shouted at him.
Fuller ignored this and ran to the door. It was made of heavy steel and was propped open with a length of two-by-four wood jammed under its knob. He grabbed the piece of wood and threw it inside with a rattling clank as it bounced off the heavy terrazzo floor. He turned and attempted to slam the door shut but found he could not. There was an automatic closer at the top, which not only pulled the door shut but also kept it from slamming. When Fuller yanked on the door, it kept bouncing back open, seeming to have its own will.
He gave up after several hard tugs and turned back into the hall. His eyes were still acclimated to the bright sunlight outside so he could hardly see. He squinted and blinked a few times then saw his two options. To the right was a stairway going up, and straight ahead was a short hall. If he went up and there was no way down, they could trap him. He did not like the look of going forward either. The hall opened into a vast restaurant kitchen with people running to and fro prepping breakfast for unseen patrons.
After a split second of indecision, he headed toward the kitchen. It was unlikely the staff would know what was happening or react quick enough to stop him. When he went forward, his foot caught on something and he plummeted to the floor. His body twisted while he fell and hit the wall first before sliding towards the terrazzo. Upon impact, his head jerked around and he saw he had tripped over the two by four that had previously held the door.
“Son of a bitch!” he yelled. Anger welled in him and overcame the fear for a moment as he snatched the wood with the idea of hurling it at a wall. Instead, the sound of feet pounding up to the door distracted him.
By now, the door was almost closed. This time it was the cop’s turn to try to break its will as he tugged to open it. It would open a distance then bounce back towards the jamb. With each tug, the door was opening more than closing, so Fuller used the two by four like a crutch to stand.
The cop tugged the door open farther, this time wide enough for him to squeeze through sideways. As he wedged his body through the partially open door, Fuller hoisted the board up to swing it like a slugger hitting a homerun. On his backswing, there was a sharp crack when the board hit the wall of the narrow hallway. He nearly dropped it as the wood vibrated in his hands from the shock.
“Shit!” Fuller yelled as he tightened his grip.
The cop, now halfway through the door, gave one final shove to open it. Squinting and blinking like Fuller had when he first entered the dim hall, the officer said, “I got you now, you little fu…”
A sickening crunch cut off his last word when Fuller used the end of the wood like a battering ram and smashed it into the officer’s jaw. The man screamed in pain, but Fuller silenced him with a second blow onto the side of his head. The cop slumped backwards, pushing the door all the way open. Fuller’s eyes widened at the relative ease with which the door was now opening.
“Piece of shit door!” Fuller cursed at it. Well at least it kept the cop from coming in too fast he thought.
Fuller let the wood drop to the floor with a rattling clank and looked back to see if the commotion had attracted any attention from the kitchen. From what he could see and hear of the chaos within, his was no ma
tch for the pot-rattling, plate-smashing, chef-cursing turmoil taking place there.
He dragged the officer’s limp body into the hall then stepped back into the alleyway. He knew that Sue was meeting him by the phone he had called from so headed back the same way he had come. The cop in the squad car should be pulling up at the far end of the alley any second, so he did not want to linger too long.
He could not run any longer because of his fatigue, so he trotted at the fastest pace he could muster. With more sirens wailing in the distance, fear pushed him into a brisk jogging pace.
When he reached the street, it was dense with more commuters now. Fuller felt safer so slowed while he pushed his way through. Burying himself in the sidewalk crowd, the police officer at the other end of the alley would not see him and think he had continued in the other direction. It would be some time before they discovered the cop he bludgeoned, and even then, they would suspect Fuller had exited the building through the restaurant. They would not expect him to backtrack.
He reached the street, and when he stepped off the curb, he froze. There was a blaring siren as another squad car came down the street from the right. The cars in the street were making an effort to move aside, but it was narrow and choked with traffic. As the squad car inched closer, Fuller froze, not knowing which way to go.
Several of his fellow pedestrians stopped walking and stared at the police car too. Calm as he could, Fuller stepped onto the curb again and took two more steps backwards into the crowd. He leaned back to hide his face behind the head of man a few inches taller than himself, his body tensing while the car got closer. When it passed on its way to the block behind him, he let out a sigh and felt his shoulders relax.
He stepped into the street once more and crossed before the traffic had a chance to start on its way again. When he got to the alley on the other side, he began running again. He jumped though when a voice to one side said, “Bastard didn’t get you, huh?”
Fuller slowed his pace and saw the wino that had tripped the cop still sitting with his back to the wall. Fuller said, “No, he didn’t. Thanks.”
“Anytime. Anytime.”
Fuller picked up his pace again and made it to the next street. He prayed that Sue was by the phone booth, and she rewarded him by being there. He ran up to her. “Where’s your car.”
“John, what’s all this about?” Sue exclaimed. “Why did you want me to meet you here?”
“I’ll explain in a minute. First, let’s get in your car and get out of here!”
Fuller could tell she saw his panic, so she shrugged and led him to her car. After they got in and she pulled the car into the traffic, she asked, “Where are we going?”
“Go to your house,” he said, crunched down in the seat so that only the top of his head could be seen from outside.
She looked at him several times but did not ask anything further. She just drove, giving him time to collect his thoughts.
When they had left the traffic-choked downtown area he calmed, becoming almost serene when the suburban houses turned into a rural tree-lined road. Fuller sat up and let out a deep breath.
Sue asked, “Well, are you going to tell me what’s wrong or do I have to guess?”
“I’m sorry, Sue. I don’t know what to do. I’m not even sure how to explain what’s happened to me,” he said, becoming agitated again.
“It’s all right,” she said. “Just start from the beginning.”
*****
Humboldt leaned forward, resting his arms on the glossy cherry conference table. “Come on, Ed, you know as well as I do that the oil crisis and those damn Chinese are a much bigger threat than the Mexicans could ever be.”
Vice President of Foreign Affairs Edward Greenburg sat at the table opposite Humboldt. They were meeting to discuss financing for the project Sue was working on. Humboldt was trying to get support for additional funding, even though they had exceeded their budget. Congress had given indications that they may cut it by thirty percent the following year and their narrow view infuriated Humboldt. He was hoping Greenburg could get the President’s support to maintain and even increase the funding.
Humboldt hated politicians with a passion but had been forced to deal with them his entire career. He was on the verge of harnessing some of the greatest technologies to hit humanity since fire, and these fools wanted to shut him down. The damned idiots should be flooding him with money for what he was offering, but instead they were standing in his way. All they were ever concerned with was the fleeting whims of their constituents and staying in power through the next election cycle.
Greenburg nodded in agreement with Humboldt’s statement. “I know, Bob, I’ve tried to tell the President the same thing a hundred times, but he just won’t listen. Ever since the Los Angeles bombing, he’ll do whatever Martinez says to keep the Union together.”
Humboldt caught the disdain Greenburg felt when he referred to the Vice President of the Interior, Julio Martinez. A decade earlier, the Constitution had been amended to include two vice presidential positions, one for the interior and one for foreign affairs. Constitutionally, the Vice President of Foreign Affairs succeeded the President, so in theory was the more powerful of the two positions. However, Martinez had proven this not to be so. His influence had grown with the increased threat of domestic terrorism in the last year. He seemed to manipulate President Ryan with ease, and Humboldt knew this incensed Greenburg.
“We should have never annexed the Mexican states into the Union,” said Humboldt with a frown. “All we did was buy ourselves a load of trouble.”
When the Mexican government had collapsed, Humboldt had supported sending in troops to keep total anarchy from breaking out and to prevent the Chinese from moving in. However, when the previous administration, through bribes and intimidation, had engineered the vote for Mexico to join the Union, Humboldt had opposed it. He was even more so now with the Mexican Nationalist Front underscoring their demands for renewed independence with actual terror attacks.
At Humboldt’s request, the DAP had created a detailed report at the time of the collapse. After exhaustive research, it concluded that the solution would be to install a government favorable to the United States and open military bases throughout the country to keep a lid on the bottle. The administration ignored the report, along with similar ones from other intelligence agencies.
“I agree,” said Greenburg. “It probably wasn’t the best idea to annex them, but now that they’re part of the United States, Ryan will do anything to keep things intact.”
Humboldt let out a breath. “I know, I know. The only thing that makes me think we shouldn’t let those corrupt politicians and drug lords have it back is that the damn Chinese would step in to fill the vacuum. Then we’d have one of their puppet states right on our border.”
“That’s exactly it,” said Greenburg. “I don’t fault Ryan for doing what needs to be done down there. My argument with him is that all our focus is on the Mexican states and our eyes are off the rest of the world.”
“Did you have a chance to read the report I sent over to you that my guy McAndrews put together?”
“About the Chinese sale of nuclear technology to Venezuela?”
“Yeah.”
Greenburg grimaced. “Yeah, I read it. I’ve brought it to the President’s attention, and I keep bringing it up, but he keeps trying to minimize it.”
“Minimize it!” Humboldt wanted to explode but calmed himself. “If we keep letting this kind of thing slide, we’re going to have nuclear missiles pointing at us from South America.”
Greenburg looked down. “I know.”
“Ed, you get me the funding I need, and I’ll have the technology to kick their red asses back behind the Great Wall.”
Greenburg shook his head as he said, “Sorry, Bob, there’s no way I can get the President to push fo
r it. Martinez keeps recommending we eliminate funding for anything like this and pour money into the Mexican states. I’m afraid that until some big foreign crises occurs or the energy crunch gets critical, he’s going to follow what Martinez says.”
The discussion continued for several more minutes on other topics, but Humboldt had given up on the funding. He would never get the administration’s support, forcing them to continue the way they were. When their meeting finished, the two men said their goodbyes and parted.
As Humboldt walked back to his office, he thought about Greenburg. He did not fault him. As far as politicians went, he was one of the sharper ones. He understood how important the project was, but Ryan and Martinez were clueless. They would stand by and let the Arabs and Russians bleed the country dry with their high oil prices. With Ryan being in the pocket of the damn tree huggers, he also stood in the way of exploiting domestic petroleum resources.
What incensed Humbolt more than anything though was that Ryan and Martinez looked the other way while the Chinese bought cheap oil and their way into new markets for their products with nuclear technology. None of this mattered to them though as long as the polls looked good.
When he reached his office, he plopped into his desk chair, turning it towards the window. He stared out and realized how tired he was. The last few months had taken a heavy toll on him, especially the death of the best friend he ever had—Manny.
They had met in elementary school when they were in the same class and immediately became close. As time went on, they became inseparable, his best childhood memories being times spent at Manny’s house. The older Humboldt got, the more his parents slipped into alcoholism, first neglecting then abusing him. Manny’s house was his refuge, his friend’s parents always welcoming him into their home. When they came to understand what was happening to Humboldt, they became more like parents than his own and Manny more of a brother.
It was Manny’s parents that had pushed him to finish high school and paid for his college tuition. He had only accepted this with the agreement that he would pay them back some day. He was never able to though. When Manny’s parents died in a terrible car crash soon after graduation, he wept more than at any time in his life. The only thing harder for him was Manny’s death.
Years later, when Humboldt’s father murdered his mother and killed himself, he felt nothing when he stood over their caskets. In his mind, his real parents had died in the earlier car crash, and these people meant only horrible memories.
In the intervening years, his personal life was always in a perpetual state of collapse. He had battled with heavy drinking himself, been married twice and had gone through an equal number of divorces. The only refuge he had was in his successful career. He had joined the DAP out of college, first as a researcher, then as a field agent, and finally in administration.
As his career skyrocketed and his personal life worsened with the years, one thing had always been constant: his friendship with Manny. Despite their separation, they always remained in touch. When Manny got married, Humboldt flew back from Europe to be the best man at his wedding. A year later, when Manny’s wife died giving birth to Sue, Humboldt rushed back from Japan. He took an entire month off work to help his friend through a very rough period.
It was during this time that he fell in love with Sue. He had never wanted to be a parent. In fact, with his own childhood having been so tragic, he had opposed it with both his wives. However, once touched by the tiny life, Sue drew him into a fatherly spell. Although he never told Manny, he changed positions at the DAP because of them. He would not have to travel as much and could spend more time with both father and the daughter that so enchanted him.
As it turned out though, his move brought the position he had today. He rose higher in the ranks of administration than he ever imagined, but over time began working more hours and spending less time with his adopted family. By this time though, Sue was a teenager and did not want to be around Uncle Bob as much as she used to. Like all adolescents, she preferred the company of friends to family. No matter what though, he would be with her whenever possible and would spoil her like he had always done.
When nearly finished with college, Sue and Manny came to him with her theory of energy transfer. He naturally did everything he could to help her. At first, he gave his assistance only because it was Sue asking. He had never denied her anything. Once he discovered the power of what they had brought him though, he pushed harder to bring about the project as it was today. What at first had been a favor to the young woman he thought of as his own daughter soon became an obsession to bring about change to a world he saw as declining.
Through his direction of the project, he would usher in a rebirth of the preeminence of the United States as the sole world power. It would be a new era for humanity. However, all this was due, like everything else good that had happened in his life, to his association with Manny. Humboldt would always be indebted to him.
The twittering tone of his telephone wrenched him from his reminiscence. As he spun the chair to answer it, he had one final thought before picking up the receiver. All that he did was for Manny too.
*****
Sue listened while Fuller told his story. When he finished, she said, “John, I’m sure there’s a logical explanation. You just went into the wrong house, that’s all.”
“I would love to believe that, but why wouldn’t the police have a record of my driver’s license? Even more important, why wouldn’t Virginia know who I was?”
When Sue parked the car in her driveway, she looked over and noticed his fidgeting hands. She gazed into his glassy eyes and wondered if he might be insane. As if sensing her thoughts, Fuller declared, “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
Although startled, she said in a steady voice, “No, of course I don’t.” She was not sure but did not want to upset him more. After all, she knew very little about him and was not sure what he might do if she showed her doubts.
“Well I think I am,” he said as a tear rolled down his cheek.
Not knowing what to do, she put her hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, I’ll help you find out what’s going on.”
“Thank you, Sue. I knew you would,” he said, wiping his cheek.
She became self-conscious from his stare and realized her hand was still on his shoulder. She snatched it away faster than she would have liked. “Come on, let’s go in the house and figure out what we’re going to do.”
As they walked to the house, Sue analyzed why she felt uneasy. Although he had scared her, she was not afraid he might harm her. After spending time with him the previous night, she felt it to be a very remote possibility. What made her uncomfortable was the look he gave her. It was as if he had full confidence in her ability to solve his dilemma. The last thing she wanted right now was for anyone to depend on her.
She led the way into the kitchen. “I’ll make you breakfast. What would you like?”
“You know, I am pretty hungry. With all that happened, I don’t remember the last time I ate. Anything will be fine.”
“Do you like pancakes?”
“Yeah, smothered with maple syrup.”
“Coming up.”
*****
Fuller sat at the counter and watched Sue move efficiently about the kitchen. Her bright manner was a sharp contrast to what he was used to getting from Rita in the morning. She seemed pleased to perform the steps his wife thought a drudge, and he was surprised to see all she was preparing for him. Besides prepping the pancake batter, she was frying bacon in one pan, frying potatoes in another and toasting bread.
“Do you like to cook?” he asked.
“Yeah. I enjoy the cooking. It’s the cleaning part that I can do without,” she said with a chuckle.
“You could have fooled me,” he
said.
“What do you mean?”
“Your house is spotless.”
She grinned at him. “Well, I guess I like cleaning more than the mess. Why, don’t you like a house this clean?”
“Actually I do. I’m not comfortable unless everything is organized and I can find what I want.”
“Yeah, my father was like that so I guess I’m used to keeping a tight ship.”
As she poured the yellow batter into the hot iron skillet, she turned her face away from him, a deep frown forming.
He could see the pain of her father’s death in her reaction. Wanting to distract her thoughts, he asked, “What do you like to cook?”
The corner of her mouth turned up. “Lots of things. I would have to say though that breakfast is my favorite meal to cook. There’s something special about the morning sun coming through the kitchen window and the smell of coffee brewing and bacon frying.” She grinned. “Besides, I get cranky if I don’t eat until lunch.”
“I usually don’t have a chance to eat breakfast, so this will be a real treat.”
When Sue finished preparing everything, she loaded a plate and set it before him, sitting with her own across the counter. She kept sneaking glances at him, seeming pleased that he was enjoying what she cooked. Fuller was far too hungry to concentrate on anything but the food, so they ate in silence.
When he had almost cleaned his plate, she asked, “Would you like more?”
“Yeah.”
Again, she loaded the plate and he devoured everything, this time slowing halfway through.
Sue, who had already finished, said, “Gee, I’d offer you more, but there isn’t any.”
“That’s okay, I’m stuffed.”
“You better be after that much,” she said, smirking.
He chuckled. “Yeah, well I surprised myself. I didn’t think I could eat that much.” He gazed into her eyes. “That was the best breakfast I’ve ever had.”
“I’m sure you’re exaggerating, but thanks anyway.”
“No, I’m not. Nobody has done this for me since… since… I can’t remember.”
Her brows knitted. “Doesn’t your wife ever make you breakfast?”
“My wife?” he snorted. “You’ve got to be joking. She won’t even get out of bed before lunchtime. She’s definitely not a morning person.”
“Are you sorry you married her?” Sue blurted out. Her eyes shot into her coffee cup while she brought it to her lips, as though embarrassed by her own bluntness.
“No. Of course not!” he retorted.
His lips puckered after he said this, the words seeming to leave a sour taste in his mouth. He knew deep down that this was a blatant lie.
He had only been acquainted with Sue for a short time, but, for reasons he could not comprehend, he trusted her more than any person he had ever known. He felt she was a person he could be open with.
“Well… I guess I am,” he said, correcting his earlier misstatement. “As a matter of fact, I’m very sorry.” He blew his breath out. “Damn, it feels good to admit that.”
Sue sat back, an eyebrow raised. “You seem relieved you said that.”
“I think I’ve been trying to convince myself for so long that there are no problems between Rita and me that I’ve conditioned myself to just automatically deny it. But there is…”
Before Fuller had a chance to continue, the front doorbell rang. His head shot around and he rose half off the stool, poised to run. His eyes growing as large as saucers, he jerked his head back to Sue.
He sat again while he whispered, “Are you expecting anyone?”
“No.”
His heart was pounding a thunderous beat, the blood flowing through his veins like static electricity.
There was a second ring, and Sue stood up. Her calm demeanor rattled him even more.
“Don’t answer it,” he choked out.
Sue, who had started towards the door, stopped and asked, “Why not? Nobody knows that you’re here.”
She looked at him, waiting for a response. Finally he said, “You’re right. Go answer it.”
*****
Sue opened the door to a slender but well muscled man of about thirty-five. When his eye caught hers, his face melted into a smile, which softened its stern appearance.
“Hello. May I help you?” Sue annunciated.
When he spoke, his manner was friendly but with a commanding edge. “Hello Miss Manders. My name is Vince Bechler. I’m sorry to bother you, but I was hoping to speak with you for a few minutes regarding your father,” he said, his soft hazel eyes twinkling.
“My father?”
“Yes, we were working with him on a project. I was hoping that you could assist me, seeing as how you worked with him at Gladstone Industries.”
“Well, yes I do… I mean did,” she said, correcting herself. At times, she still forgot he was gone.
“I’m so sorry about your father. He was a brilliant man, and it’s a great loss to us all.”
Sue could see sincerity on his face. Her eyes started to moisten. “Thank you. I appreciate your kind words.”
Bechler’s gentle look changed in a flash and became all business again. “Yes, well, I have some questions regarding the shifting project and was hoping you could provide me with some answers.”
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to answer many questions regarding the project. It’s classified you know.”
Bechler held up his hand. “I understand. The questions I have are not regarding anything classified. Besides, I’m with the GSA.” Bechler produced an identification card for her to examine.
Sue inspected the card before saying, “Please come in.”
She led Bechler into the living room, making a quick scan for Fuller and finding him absent. She made no mention and continued walking to the couch. Motioning her hand towards a chair, she said, “Please, have a seat. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of the GSA. What is it?”
Seating himself, Bechler shifted around in the overstuffed chair as though testing its comfort. He nodded approval at Sue. “It’s the Global Security Agency. We’re not as well known as some of the other organizations you’re probably familiar with.” He turned himself more towards her. “How familiar are you with what’s happening with the quantum shifting project?”
“Very, I worked out much of the theory behind the project. My father was more of the hands-on person though. He designed and worked on the actual hardware for the project.” She continued with a grin, “We used to joke that I was the Einstein on the project and he was the Edison.”
Bechler smiled as well. “Yes, I know of your theoretical involvement in the project. What I was referring to were the recent issues with power usage and the investigation.”
“Investigation?” Sue asked. “What do you mean ‘investigation?’”
Bechler’s brows furrowed. “Apparently your father didn’t mention this to you. There was an ongoing investigation of the project concerning it going over budget.”
“I wasn’t aware of that. I knew of the budgetary problems but not about any investigation.”
“Were you aware of the reason for going over budget?”
“Yeah, my dad told me that there was a minor discrepancy in the power consumption of the quantum shifter. Before he died, he asked me to go over the calculations to confirm some of my projected power utilization curves.”
“The discrepancy was more than minor,” he said. “In fact, there was significant utilization above and beyond what could be accounted for by the experiments you were performing. The energy cost was getting so high that the Department of Atomic Projects had a special agent investigating it.”
Sue was not sure of what he meant. The project had always been under the direction of the DAP after Humboldt obtained the funding. At first, he assigned a
lower ranking official the task; however, once it progressed, Humboldt became personally involved.
During the initial experiments, they noticed that any matter shifted to a parallel universe returned after a time. They would shift a one-gram steel ball bearing and minutes later, it would reappear. If they used higher power to shift it, it would take longer but would still return. That was when Sue suggested they shift a recording device and collect data from the other universe. What came back amazed all; there was another world there. It was not some empty black void but a lifeless planet. This was when Humboldt took over direction of the project, despite his position.
Sue was startled out of her thoughts by Bechler when he asked, “Did you hear me, Miss Manders?”
“Yes. Yes, of course I did. What do you mean a special agent? The project was always overseen by the DAP.”
“I know that your uncle is with the DAP and got the funding for the project. After the high electrical usage and the budget overruns though, Gladstone was ready to shut it down. The extra costs weren’t in the budget, so they were forced to come up with the funds out of pocket. That was when the DAP brought in a field agent who’s with the security arm of the organization, not the scientific.”
“Why did they want someone like that looking into it?”
“Congress ordered it because they thought there was something fraudulent happening. They were told by your reports what the energy usage should be but were seeing consumption of electricity almost ten times that?”
Sue snapped forward. “What? That’s not possible. There may have been some errors in my calculations, but there is no way they were that far off. The margin of error should have been less than a percentage point.”
Bechler raised his hand. “I understand. In fact, I agree with you. Your calculations are quite correct. My own agency verified them. However, the fact remains that the energy consumption was happening at an alarming rate.”
Sue eased back in the couch but asserted, “Well, if my equations were correct, something else must have been using the power.”
“That’s the reason they wanted an agent to investigate. You may have either met him or at least seen him around—Agent Lawrence McAndrews?”
“Yeah, I met him briefly. My father met with him a few times though. I knew he was with the DAP but I didn’t know anything about an investigation.”
“As I said, McAndrews was assigned to investigate why the energy consumption was so high. However, after his arrival, the consumption climbed even higher. It was at this point that my organization became involved.”
Bechler looked down while he said this, a scowl appearing on his face.
Sue could see there was an obvious change in his demeanor so asked, “What? Is something wrong?”
Bechler’s head rose as he fixed his eyes on hers. He said in a level voice, “What I’m about to tell you will be hard for you to believe, but I assure you it’s the truth. I’ll give you proof of what I’m saying later, but first I just need you to listen with an open mind. Okay?”
“Sure. I’m open for anything.” She said this but knew she would be doubtful. She still did not trust him.
Bechler said, “First let me say that one of our agents was in contact with your father almost two weeks before his death. We became disturbed by the level of shifting activity, so we started our own investigation. After some preliminary reconnaissance, we made contact with your father. He was also concerned with what was happening and was working with us to find out more. You see, we know what’s consuming the high amounts of energy. We just don’t know why or who’s behind it.”
Sue could tell he was skirting around something. She prompted him to continue by saying, “Okay, what was using the power then?”
“The shifting device. It wasn’t that it was using more energy than you predicted, it was being used more than was authorized. Someone or some group was using the device beyond what you and your father were aware of. We had him check the computer logs of the machine to see if we could pin down more facts. He found that each night the logs showed no activity from midnight to seven a.m. the next morning.”
Sue interjected, “Of course there would be no activity. The machine is put in standby every night when we leave.”
“You don’t understand. There was no information in the logs during these times, not even normal standby activity. Someone was deleting the entries between these times.”
“I see. I wasn’t aware of it. I guess I never looked at the records during those times. I was only concerned with verifying the operating parameters during the times of our experiments.”
“Exactly, I think that’s what everyone focused on. It was only when our agent asked your father to check the logs at off hours that he saw what was happening.”
“Wait, you said that you knew what was happening but not why. How did you know the machine was being used after hours?”
“We have the ability to monitor shifting activity and can see when it’s occurring.”
“You mean you were monitoring the power usage?”
“No, the shifting activity itself.”
Sue’s face puckered and looked like she had just tasted a tart lemon. “That’s impossible. We can measure power usage, we can measure electromagnetic fields, we can even measure radiation emitted from the device, but there’s no way to directly measure the shifting activity itself.”
She knew the physics involved inside and out so said this with great confidence. The only other person who knew more about the mechanics of the project was her father.
“Well, I know you aren’t able to measure this, but we are. We have certain devices and technology that you’re not familiar with—at least yet.”
Sue became more agitated. “What do you mean ‘at least yet?’ You act like your organization has knowledge of this technology beyond ours. Since no one else is working on it, I don’t see how that’s possible.”
After a pause, Bechler said, “Yeah, well you see, Miss Manders, here’s the thing, we’ve had this technology for many years now. We’ve been able to develop it to a higher level than you.”
“That’s absurd! If it were true, I would have heard about it.”
“Not if it was being developed in a different universe from your own.”
*****
At first, Sue was too shocked to react, the puckered look turning to one as blank as a white page. While the moment seemed to last longer, it was only a split second before she erupted into a riotous laughter.
As the spasms of laughter subsided, she said, “What do you take me for? If you think you can come up with this cock and bull story so you can get information out of me, you’re sadly mistaken. What are you really after?”
Bechler countered, “I told you I can prove what I say. I’m not after any technical information regarding the project. I’m attempting to find out who is using the quantum shifter for unauthorized purposes, what they are doing, and who is behind the murder of both our agent and your father.”
Any hint of humor over the situation left as Sue said, “Now what are you talking about? My father was accidentally electrocuted by faulty equipment while he was working late one night. He wasn’t murdered.”
“We know he was killed. You see, the night he died, one of our agents was with him. He had equipment on him that was recording everything that happened. He and your father were trying to find out what they were using the quantum shifter for by accessing telemetry data directly from some of the quantum shifter’s microcontrollers. Our man was recording this for later analysis by us, but it stopped before they finished. While we don’t know everything that happened, we know that our man came back to our universe dead. He had been electrocuted by a very high current. The electrical burns were evident.”
“If he was dead, how did he come back to your universe?”
“As you know
from your own experiments, matter that is shifted from one universe to another returns after a time. The greater the energy burst used to shift the quantum frequency of the matter, the longer it will stay in the other universe. At a certain point, if enough energy is imparted into the matter, it will stay in the other universe permanently. However, we’ve found that at this point, any living cells will be destroyed from the heat caused by the agitation of the atoms. So, anyone who travels into another universe can only do so for a short length of time before returning.”
Sue, while still doubtful, was a little less so after hearing this. She was aware of this phenomenon. They were studying it themselves, but only those in the project would know about it. She thought that either he was telling the truth or he was getting information from someone involved with the project. She was still more inclined to think the latter. If he had proof, he had better reveal it.
“I’m sorry; we’ve sent recording devices to several different universes and have never seen any signs of life. What makes you think that I would believe such a story?” She continued in a harsh tone, “You’re obviously getting information from someone in the project. I think you’re trying to get further information by telling me this wild story of how my father was murdered, and that you’re here to investigate something which never happened.” She would have continued her tirade but had run out of breath. She inhaled to replenish herself for further attack.
Before she could continue, Bechler cut in, “Well, Miss Manders, I can see you are in need of proof.” The look of apprehension left his face when he glanced down at a cell-phone-like device. He said with more assurance, “And I’m just about ready to give you some.”
“Well this should be good,” Sue quipped. “I’m sure you have some real important looking documents you’ve forged that will make me so believing that I’ll just give you anything you ask. Just like that phony ID you showed me when you came in here. I’m not as gullible as all that. There’s nothing you can show me that will convince me at this point.”
“I’m very sorry I upset you so much, Miss Manders. Believe me, I’m not here to get technical information or to compromise security on the project. I’m only here to find the truth, and I believe that’s in both our interests.”
Sue was about to object, but Bechler did not give her an opening. “In just about thirty seconds, I’ll give you the proof I spoke of. You’re familiar enough with the shifting of matter from your universe to another, but you’ve never seen that matter returning; at least not from the point of view of the other universe. Well, you will in a second. You see my time is up, and I’ll be shifting back. You’ll get to witness this with your own eyes. You are a scientist, Miss Manders, and this proof will be indisputable.”
As he said the last, his shift started. He continued, his face twisting in discomfort of some kind. “To you, I’ll start to shimmer and appear transparent for a second or two and then…”
There was a flash of light and he was gone.
CHAPTER 5