by Jaxon Reed
“Well, uh, Dr. Oppenheimer was deeply involved in developing our nuclear bomb program. You see, the United States won the race in developing the bomb, beating out Germany. With it, we were able to end the war in the Pacific and maintain peace in Europe for quite a while.
“As for you, you had written a letter to our President, Franklin Roosevelt, explaining that splitting an atom would indeed result in a gigantic release of energy. You assured him the research was worth pursing for military purposes. You weren’t really involved in the Manhattan Project. That’s what we called the program developing the atomic bomb. But, you were instrumental in convincing people that it was a feasible pursuit.”
A long silence followed. Finally, MacGraw cleared his throat. He pointed to a man on the other side of the table, a handsome young fellow with dark brown hair and an angular face. He wore a white lab coat with a pocket protector guarding several pens and mechanical pencils.
“Smitty, what do you think? Is this guy from another world similar to our own?”
Smitty nodded and said, “He either is, or he’s a German spy who knows everything about our most secret programs.”
“If he’s a Nazi,” MacGraw said, “why would he save me? It seems foiling a plot to take down mah flight would not be the thing for him to do.”
Smitty shrugged. “Gain our trust, I guess.”
“But you don’t really think that?”
Smitty said, “Nah. If Dr. Einstein says it’s possible, then I say he really is from a parallel world. Even though it’s hard to believe that in his world Texas would just be one state among many instead of an entire country. I find that the least believable part of his story.”
Rick said, “Texas was its own country on my world, for about seven years, before joining the United States.”
Smitty smiled. The comment seemed to make him feel better.
MacGraw said, “Ms. Dorn, what do you think? Is Mr. Strickland here a traveler among worlds? Or is he just a very clever German spy?”
Angela glanced at Rick and said, “I don’t think he’s a spy, sir. We’ve got a pretty good grip on Nazi intelligence operations, worldwide. I think he’d be on our radar somewhere if he were in cahoots with them. Besides, he seems to know a lot more than what Adolf’s boys know. We think Austin is pretty well insulated from Berlin, especially compared to London. I just don’t think a Nazi would know as much as Mr. Strickland seems to know. Not this level of detail, anyway.”
“So, you think he’s from another world?”
She shrugged. “I guess it seems plausible. Everything he’s said makes sense. I think at least he believes it.”
“So, you’re saying maybe he’s mentally unstable? That’s a possibility Ah hadn’t considered.”
Everybody looked back at Rick, this time with suspicious glints in their eyes.
He chuckled uncomfortably and said, “That’s a tough accusation to overcome, guys. Mental instability. Maybe you have a psychological test or something I can take. Do you guys have a Freud in this world?”
“That’s another prominent Jew the Germans didn’t want,” MacGraw said. “He’s teaching at the University of Texas at the moment.”
Another long pause.
Finally, MacGraw turned back to Einstein. He said, “What say you, Dr. Einstein? You’re the smartest person in the room. Is this man who he says he is?”
Everyone held their collective breath.
Einstein said, “In my opinion, ja. He makes a convincing case. A convincing case. Und, if there is a threat to our vorld . . . perhaps he can help in the battles to come.”
Everyone at the table turned back to Rick, now with appraising looks in their eyes, as if gauging his potential value.
Rick raised his hands and said, “Look, guys, if I do anything to risk, uh, Texas, then lock me up. But I suspect there’s a divine reason I fell into your airplane, Mr. Ambassador. Something is definitely not right in this world. And I hate Nazis. Across every alternate they show up, National Socialists are nothing but trouble.
“So, let me try and help you guys. Because sure as shooting, there’s a war brewing. Everything here looks like it’s been delayed by about ten years or so. But I guarantee the Nazis bring about war with Britain and her allies. Uh, most of the time that’s the United States. But I guess here, it’s Texas.”
“There are no ‘United States,’” Angela said. “The American Colonies stop at the Mississippi. Texas has everything to the west.”
“Okay. And, the colonies are pretty much frowned upon, from what I gather?”
MacGraw grinned and said, “Well, they’re mostly rural. Not a lot goes on there. They raise crops and ship it over here. They don’t have many factories or railroads. The Industrial Revolution sort of passed them by.”
“Huh. Yeah, your world is certainly different. Well, I’m happy to help in any way I can.”
-+-
At the German embassy a tall lanky man with a military crewcut walked into the front door, passing a giant flag bearing the Reich’s swastika. He waited patiently in the lobby until an attractive blonde secretary arrived and motioned for him to follow her.
She went up the embassy’s grand staircase and he followed, nodding his respect at the giant portrait of Adolf Hitler at the top of the steps. They both silently raised their hands in salute to the portrait as they passed it.
She headed to the right and opened a door leading to a large airy office.
A corpulent, bald man looked up from the desk, the silver skull on his black collar denoting his rank in the SS, the feared Schutzstaffel of the Nazi Party.
The man approached the desk as the blonde shut the door behind him on her way out. He stood before the SS officer, bowed his head, clicked his heels and saluted by raising his right hand, stiff-armed and palm out.
“Heil Hitler!”
The SS officer raised an arm casually at the elbow and said, “Heil. Have a seat, Schultzen.”
Schultzen quickly pulled out one of the small chairs facing the desk and sat stiffly, not looking the other man in the eye.
He said, “Danke, Herr Oberfuhrer von Ribbentrop.”
Ribbentrop leaned back in his own chair, which squeaked in protest under his weight.
“So. Why are you here before me, Schultzen? Your mission was to take down that airplane. You were to grab the controls after the pilots were incapacitated and crash the plane upon landing. It was supposed to look like an accident. I did not expect to see you here. In fact, I expected to see your body at a service in your honor, before it was flown off carrying you home as a hero of the Reich in service to the Abwehr.”
Schultzen still refused eye contact, choosing instead to gaze at a spot in the middle of the huge desktop separating him from Ribbentrop.
He said, “Things did not go as planned, Herr Oberfuhrer.”
Ribbentrop slammed his palm down on the desk, the sudden movement causing his chair to screech in protest. Schultzen jumped, startled, finally making eye contact with the larger man.
Ribbentrop said, “I know things did not go as planned, dummkopf! Now tell me what happened. Don’t leave out any details. Our planning on this was perfect!”
Schultzen swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously.
“There was a pilot . . .”
“There was no pilot, Schultzen. We made sure of that. The pilot and copilot were given poisoned meals, loaded onto the plane by our agents back in Bermuda. We even made sure there would be no navigator on this flight, or anyone else who could be expected to handle a large plane and land it safely. You were expected to kill everybody in the front of the cabin, including the first class passengers. If anybody survived the crash they would say you tried your best, valiantly trying to land the airplane.”
“There was a stowaway. An American we did not account for.”
“An American?” Ribbentrop snorted. “Americans don’t fly airplanes, Schultzen. They can barely drive cars. There are no American commercial airline pilots. Mos
t of them live and work on farms, tending pigs and raising corn.”
“Jawohl, Herr Oberfuhrer. But this one was able to land the plane successfully.”
“You should have taken Ambassador MacGraw out by other means, then, as soon as the plane came to a stop. Think on your feet, Schultzen!”
“I had no chance, Herr Oberfuhrer. Emergency personnel surrounded us as soon as we landed. There was no way to successfully remove the ambassador without being thwarted. Our plan would have been exposed before completion.”
“You should have demanded to land the plane, then. You should have stuck to the plan.”
“I was surprised. I was about to offer my services, but then the American showed up.”
Ribbentrop waved his hand, dismissing the conversation. He leaned back in his chair, which squeaked again in protest. He steepled his fingers over his chest and his lower lip came out as he thought for a moment.
He said, “I should be more upset with you, Schultzen, but we will have another chance. We will be hosting the All Hallow’s Eve Masquerade Ball here at the embassy. All the important people in the diplomatic corps will be here, including the ambassadors. We will eliminate MacGraw at that time, along with the rest of them.”
“But of course, Herr Oberfuhrer.” Schultzen bowed in his chair, dipping his head low.
When he came back up to eye level, he raised his eyebrows and glanced down at the desktop again. He thought for a moment before speaking, very delicately addressing his superior in both tone and choice of words.
He said, “Naturally, we have a plan to divert public attention away from the fact the ambassadors are to be assassinated in our embassy, and not on the streets somewhere. Public outrage and suspicion would fall on the Reich, otherwise.”
Ribbentrop said, “Assassinations are tricky things, as you well know, Schultzen. But, they don’t call them ‘assassinations’ in times of war.”
3
MacGraw assigned Angela to Rick, and she took him on a tour of the Texas Embassy. She showed him the guest wing and pointed out the room he had been given as his personal living quarters. Then she showed him other parts of the mansion, including the cafeteria, the library, and the main offices for State Department personnel.
As they walked through the halls toward the end of the tour, Rick struck up a conversation.
He said, “So, you work with the State Department?”
“That’s right. I’m assigned to the embassy as staff.”
“I see. I’d have pegged you as OSS.”
Angela jerked her head toward him a little too quickly. She recovered and continued walking.
Nonchalantly she said, “And what would have made you say that?”
“Well, on my world the Office of Strategic Services was the precursor to the Central Intelligence Agency. It came about during the Second World War. Started by a guy named Bill Donovan. I actually met him once, on a mission to interrogate German POWs at Camp Hearne, down near Bryan, Texas.”
“Yes, well . . .” Angela cleared her throat. “Let’s go visit the basement.” She pointed toward a stairwell.
On the steps she said, “Down here we’ve got our latest counting machines and communications equipment. You’ll be impressed.”
They walked through a set of double doors and into a hallway festooned with machinery. Oscilloscopes, open breadboards fitted with vacuum tubes, wires and shielded speakers all crowded for space with metal cabinets, lightboards, and teletype machines.
Rick looked around at the equipment and smiled. He said, “What is this? ENIAC?”
Angela looked at him sharply. She said, “What do you know about ENIAC?”
“On my world, ENIAC was the first major full-scale electronic computer. It was all vacuum tube-based, and became obsolete as soon as transistors were developed, but it was something back in the day. It was huge. It would fill this whole basement.”
Her expression softened somewhat. “It’s hard to tell if you already know everything, or you’re really telling the truth about your world. Yes, we call this ENIAC. It’s an acronym for something, I’m not sure what.”
Smitty walked out from behind some metal cabinets, wearing his lab coat with the pocket protector. He said, “‘Electronic Numerical Integrator and Computer.’ Right now, it’s mostly involved in coding and decoding our messages to Austin. Its twin sits in another basement back home, and together they help keep communications via the trans-Atlantic cable secure. We’re concerned a German U-boat has placed a tap on the line somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico.”
Smitty stuck out his hand and said, “I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself earlier. Brett Smitty. I’m in charge of the basement.”
Rick shook his hand and said, “Rick Strickland.”
Smitty said, “I know. And I’m glad Angela brought you down here. ENIAC has been talking about you.”
-+-
Rick and Angela sat in Brett’s office pouring over a teletype printout. Everything appeared in capital letters. Rick read it again, scarcely believing his eyes.
RICK STRICKLAND THIS IS CAIT STOP
THIS ALTERNATE IN EXTREME DANGER STOP
FAE DISGUISED AS RIBBENTROP STOP
PLANS KILL DIPLOMATS STOP
PRECIPITATES THIS ALTERNATES WORLD WAR II STOP
Angela read it over Rick’s shoulder a second, then a third time. She said, “What is this all about?”
She and Smitty stared intently at Rick. He swallowed hard and tugged at his collar to loosen it.
He said, “Cait is an acronym for our computer. It stands for ‘Computerized Artificial Intelligence Terminal.’ She is far more advanced than ENIAC. She has a human interface that could pass for a real person, except she doesn’t show much in the way of emotions. Does your alternate have a guy named Turing?”
Smitty nodded. He said, “I presume you mean Alan Turing? He’s one of the top British computer scientists. I know of him, but I don’t know him personally.”
“Well, he suggested something called the ‘Turing Test’ on my world. When artificial intelligence gets to the point it can fool you, make you think you’re dealing with a human instead of a machine, it’s passed the Turing Test. And Cait can pass the Turing Test any day of the week.”
Smitty said, “So, your computer is reaching out to our computer? How is that possible?”
“Well, like I say, she’s very advanced. The only thing is, in the attack I went through before landing here, her human interface was destroyed. Then several of us got swept away when the Wildflower Room was annihilated . . .”
Rick noticed the blank stares Angela and Smitty gave him.
He said, “I can see this isn’t making much sense. Let’s just say, ordinarily she’d have a way to contact me directly, but I suspect she’s only able to operate in a limited fashion right now. It’s probably too soon to have her full capabilities back.”
Angela said, “But how . . . I mean, if you’re from another world, and it has a much more advanced computer . . . how is it able to access our computer here on this world?”
“Cait has a presence on practically all the worlds of any significance, from what I understand. She has sensors on as many alternates as possible. I suppose she has sensors here, too. And, somehow she has figured out a way to tap into your little communications system.”
Smitty’s back stiffened. He said, “This is the most advanced communications system in the world!”
Rick nodded and said, “No offense, but in five years it’s going to be woefully obsolete. And by the time your grandkids are born, they’ll be carrying around computers a thousand times more powerful than this one in the palm of their hands.”
He looked at Smitty, then Angela. Both stared back at him with deeply skeptical expressions.
Rick said, “I know it’s hard to believe but just trust me on this. You’ll learn about something called Moore’s Law when transistors are invented. It states that processing power essentially doubles every couple years.”
Rick said, “Look, is there a way I can talk back to Cait? Maybe send a telegram or teletype, whatever this is, in the same direction or something?”
Smitty said, “Well, we can certainly try. This came through a couple hours ago from the cable to our embassy in New York City. We could send something back on the same line.”
“Your people in New York aren’t going to think something’s odd about that?”
“Honestly, not much happens in New York. It’s something of a backwater. Let’s go into the communications room and I’ll have one of our staff key in your message.”
Rick followed Smitty out of the room. He chuckled and shook his head.
Angela said, “What?”
“New York City is a backwater? What a crazy alternate.”
-+-
Smitty brought Rick and Angela into another room filled with men and women sitting at tables listening to bulky leather headphones. A handful had telegraph keys in front of them, along with notepads. Some had typewriters. Teletype machines clattered in one corner, a steady stream of paper spitting out.
An older woman in her 60s approached the group as soon as they entered the room. She stood rail thin and wore her gray hair in a tight beehive bun. Half-moon glasses perched on her nose. She looked at the newcomers with an air of authority, and without smiling.
Smitty cleared his throat and said, “This is Mrs. Hilary Maples. She is in charge of our communications room. Mrs. Maples, you know Ms. Dorn. I’d like you to meet Mr. Rick Strickland. He would like to send a message out on our system.”
Maples’s composure fell. She gasped and the glasses jumped off her face. Fortunately, the chain around her neck caught them before they fell very far.
Rick grinned and said, “I understand ENIAC has been trying to reach me.”
Maples recovered quickly, placing the glasses firmly back atop her nose. She said, “I thought it had to be some trickster playing jokes in New York. Americans have the worst sense of humor.”