Never Again

by M. A. Rothman

  Burt leaned closer to Margaret and noted, “Neeta said that they’ve improved things since then.” He handed her a pair of safety glasses and earmuffs, the same kind of hearing protection she’d often used at the shooting range.

  “Everyone,” Dave announced loudly. “Eyes and ears on. We’re about to start.”

  Margaret donned her safety equipment and turned on the hearing protection. The speaker inside the headphone clicked, and she distinctly heard the rustling of people around her. For a brief moment, wearing the ear protection reminded her of the communication headsets she’d used on combat missions. The headphones were specifically made to allow the wearer to hear perfectly—in fact, often better than they normally did—but when a loud sound occurred, the speaker would immediately muffle it.

  Dave turned to her. “When that film snaps, and trust me, it’s going to snap, it’ll be as loud as a bullet.” Retrieving a remote from his lab coat, he yelled out a countdown. “Three … two … one … go!”

  As soon as Dave pressed a button on his remote, Margaret heard the sound of the hydraulic pumps being activated. Staring at the table, she didn’t really see anything happening other than the clamps pulling away from each other ever-so-slightly.

  Margaret glanced at the device in Dave’s hand and noticed that it had a readout, with numbers that were rapidly increasing.

  Dave yelled, “20,000 pounds … 50,000 pounds … 85,000 pounds … 135,000 pounds of pulling strength.”

  Margaret noticed a strange keening sound coming from the table, and just as Dave yelled, “175,000 pounds,” the sound of a bang blasted through the chamber.

  A puff of smoke appeared over the middle of the table, and Margaret immediately noticed remnants of the transparent film hanging from both of the clamps. She turned to Dave and asked, “So was that a pass or a fail?”

  Dave smiled and tossed her a thumbs up sign. “We needed 50,000 pounds of tensile strength at a bare minimum, but it looks like this stuff will do just fine. I’ll need to check our stocks, but this graphene will work for addressing Indigo’s needs.”

  Reflecting the relief that Doctor Holmes was demonstrating, Margaret felt a bit more at ease. However, she still had the same nagging questions she’d entered the facility with. Those had not yet been satisfied. She’d not even thought to worry about the strength of the graphene or the making of these so-called space elevators; it was what they were going to be used for that terrified her. “Doctor Holmes, can you show me this gravity bubble thing that you talked about? I know you described it, but it’s still hard for me to imagine what that’s even like. And since much of our future hinges on this thing working on a huge scale, I’d really like to see it in action.”

  With a pensive expression, Dave removed his safety glasses and nodded. “President Hager, I think I can arrange a demo that should impress you.”

  ###

  “The capacitors are fully charged and we’re ready when you are.” Neeta’s voice crackled through the handheld speakerphone that Burt was carrying.

  The light dimmed, and Margaret suddenly heard a loud hum echo through the giant laboratory.

  Burt brought the phone closer to his mouth and said, “I read you loud and clear, Neeta. Dave just routed the power to the electromagnets, so we’re good to go here. Bring it in.”

  “Be right there.”

  Burt walked toward the end of a long yellow strip of paint that ran down the middle of the three-hundred-foot length of the laboratory floor and said, “President Hager, let me explain what you’re about to experience—it’s rather fantastic.”

  He motioned at the painted strip. “Underneath the painted line is an unbelievably strong electromagnet. The ISF uses it to test a variety of things, but in this case, you’ll see it being used to help kick start this experiment.”

  One of the doors suddenly opened on the right side of the chamber, and Margaret stared at the odd sight of a large, upholstered armchair being wheeled toward her by Bella and Neeta. The chair had a large horizontal wooden hoop attached to it, and just as Margaret was going to ask what it was, Dave’s voice chimed in from her left.

  “Excellent, looks like we’re ready.” He held a tablet PC with a long antenna extending from it. He motioned toward the beginning of the yellow line and said, “Let’s set it up at the starting position.”

  Margaret noticed that the wooden hoop surrounding the chair was attached with a set of three wooden spokes, leaving the front of the chair unobstructed so that someone could sit on it.

  Dave turned to her and extended his left arm toward the chair. “Madam President, if you can duck under the outer ring and take a seat in the chair, I’ll explain what we’re about to do.”

  The Secret Service agent broke in, “Madam President—”

  But Margaret waved dismissively at him. “I don’t care to be lectured about your safety protocols, I’m doing this.” She turned to Dave and asked, “You’re sure this is safe?”

  “Yes ma’am,” Dave grinned and nodded. “I’ve run this type of test countless times, and it’s perfectly safe. In fact, at this scale, it’s actually rather fun.”

  Margaret’s curiosity was piqued. She ducked under the wooden ring in front of the chair and sat in the rather comfortable chair.

  Dave motioned toward her feet. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not have your feet hanging over. Can you sit cross-legged or—”

  “How about this?” Margaret tucked her feet underneath her and sat back. She felt odd, sitting in such a relaxed position in public.

  “Perfect.” Dave knelt in front of the chair and pointed at the wooden hoop. “As you can see, this isn’t exactly a normal chair. Imagine that this chair represents Earth and you represent humanity. The spokes that are holding this hoop where it is represent the space elevators we’re going to be installing, and the hoop is the circle that represents the circumference of the gravity bubble we’ll be creating. Notice that I have both the spokes and the circle itself wrapped in a thin film of the same graphene that we’d tested earlier. The spokes themselves aren’t what’s going to move you. They’re simply holding the ring in place, which will create the gravity bubble, and it’s the bubble that will move you around.”

  Margaret leaned forward, touched the smooth surface of the wood, and nodded.

  “We’ll demonstrate this in three steps. First, I’m going to activate an electromagnet buried underneath the concrete. This will lift the chair up enough so that when the gravity bubble forms around the chair, nothing untoward will happen to the floor itself. Second, there are some very high-capacity batteries built underneath that chair you’re sitting in. These are things I’ve home-brewed, and they have the special property of being able to store tremendous amounts of energy, and on-demand, they can also discharge very quickly. We’ll need it, because even at full charge, this demonstration will last no more than forty-five seconds. I’ll activate the bubble remotely, and even though you’ll remain seated, you might feel an odd sensation of weightlessness. Just, whatever you do, don’t attempt to get up. And finally, I’ll show you what it’s like to travel inside this bubble.”

  “And you’re sure it’s safe?” Margaret’s stomach churned. “If I’m going to become weightless, does that mean we’ll be weightless as well when you activate the bubble around the Earth?”

  “Dave gave me a ride earlier this morning,” Burt interjected from somewhere behind her. “It’s safe, but memorable. And no, we won’t become weightless when we do it for real. The Earth’s gravity will still be there, holding us down like it does today.”

  Dave nodded. “Correct. And in this experiment, since you’ll be isolated from any gravity effects coming from outside the bubble, you’ll become weightless while the bubble is active.”

  Leaning against the back of the chair, Margaret gripped the armrests and breathed deeply. “I’m ready. Just talk me through this while you’re doing it.”

  Dave took a few steps back, retr
ieved his tablet PC, and swiped his finger on its surface. “Activating the electromagnet….”

  Margaret suddenly felt the chair rise from the floor.

  “Everything okay?” Dave asked.

  “Just go ahead,” Margaret groused, feeling a touch impatient. “I’ll yell if I have an issue.”

  “Okay, activating the bubble, you might hear a bit of a hum as the spokes carrying the energy to the ring create the bubble effect.”

  A vibration started under the chair, and Margaret suddenly felt herself rise slightly on the cushion. She felt as if she were on the apex of a rollercoaster.

  “I’ve turned off the electromagnet and you are currently floating in the air, isolated from the effect of Earth’s gravity. When I move the bubble, you won’t feel any sensation of motion whatsoever. I’m actually manipulating something called spacetime. Imagine, if you will, that you’re on a rubber sheet. Instead of you moving, I’m going to shrink the space ahead of you and expand the space behind at the same time. This will end up moving you forward.

  “I also know that our eyes can fool us sometimes, so to help you appreciate this experiment, close your eyes for a second.”

  Margaret glanced back at Dave, and he nodded reassuringly. She closed her eyes and said, “Okay, they’re closed.”

  “Open your eyes.” Dave yelled almost immediately, but his voice seemed oddly distant.

  When Margaret opened her eyes, she gasped. During the mere second that she’d closed them, she hadn’t felt a thing, but suddenly Doctor Holmes was yelling at her from over two-hundred-feet away. Margaret’s pulse began to race, and she smiled.

  “President Hager, are you ready for your return trip?”

  “Yes!” She yelled, and without warning the world rushed past her, as if she were watching a race on TV. Without any sense of acceleration, two-hundred feet flashed past her in less than half a second, and she suddenly felt a bout of dizziness. Her heart thudded heavily as Doctor Holmes continued talking, and the chair lowered to the floor.

  As Burt helped her out of the seat, her legs felt unsteady. But Margaret’s mind was racing. “I can’t believe … no, I do believe, and I suppose that’s exactly the point.” She shifted her gaze toward Dave and the other scientists gathered around her. “You’re sure you can scale this up to what we’ll need?”

  Dave glanced at Neeta, and she nodded. “Madam President, we’ll do everything we possibly can. As long as we have the materials and the power to feed the ring, we’ll be fine.”

  Margaret smiled and clapped her hand on Dave’s shoulder. “I believe you. It’s now my job to make arrangements with all of the other countries. You’ll have what you need. When this is over, the world’s going to owe you, big time.”

  Dave shook his head. “This is a team effort, like most things are. Speaking of which,” he turned to Neeta and asked, “do you think you can help me take inventory of the raw materials required for the network of space elevators? I’m worried about whether we have enough of this new batch of graphene.”

  Neeta glanced at Burt. He nodded and said, “Neeta, go do what you need to. I’ll juggle DC and the NEO program until you’re free.”

  “Okay, we’ve all just confirmed that we should be busy doing other things,” Margaret stated emphatically. “And with that, I’ll bid all of you adieu.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  As Burt strode deeper into the underground concrete tunnel, the door he’d passed through automatically closed behind him. The sound of metal sliding against metal echoed ominously through the tunnel as the lock engaged, sealing him in.

  Meeting him at the end of the tunnel were two men dressed in black suits. They looked almost identical to the two who’d brought him here in a blacked-out cargo van. The only thing he’d been told was that he was being brought to an old nuclear bomb shelter somewhere underneath Manhattan. At first, he’d thought they were part of the president’s Secret Service, but now Burt suspected these guys were from some other branch of government that nobody talked about. Most of the Secret Service agents he’d met were reasonably friendly, but these folks were ... different. More serious than anything else.

  One of the men approached with a long scanning wand, the same kind used at the airports. “Arms up and to your sides, Doctor Radcliffe.”

  Standing near the end of the concrete tunnel, Burt stared ahead at the brushed steel of a metal wall while the agent slowly swept the scanner down the side of his chest.

  Not seeing any obvious door, button, or other means to get past the wall, Burt asked, “Are we meeting people in this tunnel?”

  The agent continued his agonizingly slow sweep of every inch of his body, without a word in response.

  Burt had been told that he’d be briefing some people in a confidential setting, but he’d never realized to what extent the word “confidential” could actually be stretched.

  The stone-faced agent who’d been scanning him for what seemed an excessive amount of time finally nodded to his partner. “He’s clear.”

  The agent next to the wall pressed his hand against the metal barrier. A green glow leaked from under his splayed hand, followed by a loud metallic click.

  He pulled his hand away as the sound of metal smoothly sliding against metal whispered from the wall. The agent turned to Burt, and in a firm voice, said, “This location doesn’t exist, nor did this meeting ever happen. The people you are about to brief weren’t here, and even if you know who they are, you don’t. Is this understood?”

  “Sure, no problem.” Burt smiled, thinking that this was all a bit extreme. After all, whoever it was past these doors, they couldn’t be a bigger deal than the President of the United States.

  Expecting a metal door to yawn open, Burt’s eyes widened in surprise as he watched the foot-thick wall slide into the ground, only stopping its descent when its top was level with the floor.

  The agents motioned for him to enter, and as he stepped over the “wall” an unseen motor reengaged, lifting the barrier once again and sealing him in the entrance to a large, round chamber.

  The fifty-foot-wide domed chamber had been carved from the surrounding bedrock. Dominating the room was a large U-shaped black table, along which were seated approximately thirty men and women, all in business attire.

  At the far end of the chamber, in the middle of the U, was a distinguished, elderly man, who stood as Burt entered.

  “Welcome, Doctor Radcliffe.” The man’s British accent echoed loudly in the amphitheater-like chamber.

  He extended his hand toward the lone chair that sat in the open space at the center of the room. “Please, have a seat. I’m sure you’re wondering what exactly you are doing here, and why the secrecy. We too have many questions about what your government likes to call ‘Indigo.’”

  How the man said “your government” made Burt’s heart skip a beat. He scanned the faces and clothing of the people arrayed along the table. They looked foreign, all of them. Their dress, their style of hair, most certainly the speaker’s accent. What was going on?

  How do they know about Indigo?

  Burt had been told that he would be briefing a group of politicians. He wondered if he’d made a huge mistake. Who are these people?

  “Doctor Radcliffe, let me assuage any worries you might have, said the British-accented man. “Your President knows you’re here, and she’d be here herself were it not for the briefings she’s already had the privilege of having.”

  Burt wasn’t sure what to believe, but he slowly walked to the leather-upholstered swivel chair at the center of the room and asked, “What is this place? Is that why I’m here? To give you folks a briefing? Before I do that, I’d really like to know....” Burt panned his arm across the chamber. “What is all of this, and who are all of—” Suddenly, he stopped mid-sentence and recognized the man with the British accent. “Um, sir ... aren’t you the Prime Minister of Britain?”

  A smile slowly crept across the older ge
ntleman’s face, and Burt knew he was right.

  “Doctor Radcliffe, this gathering doesn’t have a name per se. We all meet at times of importance, and do so in a somewhat clandestine manner, both for political and security reasons.”

  Just as Burt opened his mouth to ask a question, the Prime Minister held up his hand. “Please, Doctor Radcliffe, before we start, let me tell you a brief tale which I hope will help you understand what we’re looking for from you. Clearly, anything said within this chamber remains confidential.”

  With the man’s smooth voice and accent, Burt experienced a surreal moment, almost as if he were playing a part in an old-style James Bond movie.

  “Doctor Radcliffe, there was a time not so long ago that the world’s nations found themselves at the brink of a disaster. Many of the world’s citizens have religious beliefs, and that’s all well and good. Hell, even though I’m loathe to admit it, I too believe in a higher power. Some might argue that religion has caused more harm than good, but that’s a debate for another time.”

  Putting his hands on the table before him, the Prime Minster leaned forward and spoke with an ominous tone. “Even though the public never knew, there was a time not so long ago that three nuclear-weapon states lost control of their arsenals to in-country religious zealots. In all three incidents, these maniacs had a common link. They were all spurred by a desire to bring about the end of the world, and in so doing, they believed that God’s hand would intervene. For some, this might mean the coming of the Messiah, or the second coming or whatever your religious faith would have you believe about the end times. I’d wager that you’re most familiar with what Christian chronicles in Revelations. Nonetheless, the in-country security forces barely managed to quell the pending disasters and regain control of their respective domestic situations.”