by Jake Bible
“The grave is over there,” Nochez said and pointed at the mound. “I buried them in case of scavengers. But that does not matter any longer. The winger corpses will bring them eventually.”
“Maybe,” Ivy said. “These new dinos? The ones that surrounded the roller? Have they come back at all?”
“Maybe when I was passed out,” Nochez replied. “I don’t know.”
“Understood,” Ivy said. She continued to study the area then shook her head and looked down at Nochez. “Let’s get you back to camp. It’s a long hike. You up for it?”
“No, but I don’t have a choice,” Nochez said.
“Exactly,” Ivy said and whistled. “We’re heading back, guys.”
Morgan and Blumhouse rejoined them.
“See anything?” Ivy asked.
“Movement to the west, but it’s nothing big,” Morgan said. “Other than that, nada.”
“Alright,” Ivy said. “We hike back and get Nochez settled then I want to come back here.”
“It’ll be almost dark before we get back,” Blumhouse said.
“You and Morgan can stay at camp with Nochez and I’ll bring Cosio and DeLuca since they’ll have fresh legs,” Ivy replied.
“Your legs won’t be fresh, boss,” Blumhouse said.
“The downside of being in charge,” Ivy replied. “We’ll bust our asses to get here and inside the roller before it’s fully dark. Then we’ll keep checking the area. I want a closer look at that lava flow.”
“Copy that,” Morgan said and helped hook Nochez’s good arm over his shoulders. “Easy does it.”
Nochez’s eyes brimmed with tears. The hike was going to be hell, but so worth it.
Eight
Tyrel Thompson was lazily feeding Elvis food from his hand. Despite the occasional nip from Elvis’s huge beak, Tyrel was barely paying attention. His mind was elsewhere. Specifically on the news his daughter had reluctantly told him earlier.
The time bubbles may be moving around.
And they don’t know if the bubbles Turn to Topside or where.
Or when.
Elvis grunted and took a few steps back, his tail smacking against the side of his open enclosure. The dino had a three-sided hut he could escape to if he wanted out of the sun or rain, but Elvis rarely used it. He preferred to be in the open space and watch the hustle and bustle of daily life in Flipside BOP.
But at that moment, Elvis was watching Thompson closely. The dino shook his head back and forth, snorting frothy snot from his rear-facing nostrils, creating a spray that lifted into the air and misted Thompson as a slight breeze blew it over the man.
Thompson barely budged.
“Don’t do that, boy,” Thompson said. “It’s rude.”
He absentmindedly wiped at his face. Elvis let out an inpatient warble, turned quickly, nearly taking Thompson out at the knees with his spiked tail, then walked to the opposite side of the enclosure to watch some workers patch the roof of a hut a few meters away.
Thompson, realizing he was not really present for his daily visit with Elvis, walked up to the dino’s right haunch and gave him a pat.
“I’ll come back later, boy,” Thompson said.
He went to the gate and opened it then stepped through and latched it behind him. Not that the gate would stop Elvis. The dino could break free of his enclosure anytime he wanted. He just never seemed to want to.
Thompson figured Tressa had given him only the highlights of what Mike had mumbled to her and Olivia. He wanted the full story and there was one person that could give it to him. Thompson headed across the base in the direction of the living quarters for command personnel.
In a few short minutes, after diplomatically avoiding getting roped into any extraneous conversations with folks that insisted on greeting and speaking to him, which he always found tedious, Thompson arrived at the door of Mike’s hut.
Normally, he would barge in without knocking since technically he had paid for every scrap of material the base was made out of. But Thompson wanted to start the meeting off on a positive note, so he stood on the bottom step and knocked loudly. There was no response. Thompson knocked a second time, waited, then a third time, before he heard movement inside the hut.
“Go away,” Mike mumbled as he shoved the door open. “This dude needs more sleep.”
“Michael,” Thompson said. “A word, if you do not mind.”
“Mr. Thompson…uh,” Mike stood there, his unfinished thought hanging between them.
“May I come in?” Thompson asked.
“Yeah, sure,” Mike said and moved out of the way so Thompson could climb the last two steps and enter the hut.
Mike glanced around outside, but no one was looking in their direction, so he shrugged and shut the door.
Thompson surveyed the hut with a careful eye.
“You, Michael, are a slob,” Thompson announced.
“I have hut mates.”
“That is no excuse.”
“You could have told me I was a slob in the mess over dinner, sir,” Mike replied. Then he looked down and realized he was only in a T-shirt and boxers. “Sorry.”
He grabbed a pair of pants and slipped them on then cleared a pile of junk from a chair and nodded to it.
“Uh, have a seat?” Mike said.
“Is that a question or an offer?” Thompson replied.
“Yes?”
Thompson smiled and took the offered seat on an empty cot. Before Mike could sit down on his cot, Thompson demanded, “Tell me everything about your moving bubble theory.”
Mike stared for a second, glanced around the hut, then stared back at Thompson. “Uh, how’d you know about that?” He scratched his scalp. “I, uh, haven’t told anyone about that.” He leaned forward. “Dude, did you bug my hut?”
“Your hut is not bugged, Michael,” Thompson said. “At least not by me.”
Thompson crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap. He waited.
“Moving bubbles… Moving bubbles,” Mike mumbled. “Right. Moving bubbles. I told Tressa…and Liv? Was she there?”
“She was there with my daughter,” Thompson said. “And my daughter relayed the information to me. I would like to hear it from you and I would prefer that you do not leave any of your musings out. Do not forget, Michael, that I built a tech empire from the ground up. I am not an imbecile and I am not afraid of getting technical when needed.”
“No, of course, I know that,” Mike said. “You helped build Brain. I mean, Tressa finished him and all, but you started the—”
Thompson held up a hand. “Let’s not get into who invented Brain. My daughter and I do not discuss that as it is a sore subject. If I won’t discuss it with her, then I certainly will not be discussing it with you. I want to hear about the moving bubbles, Michael. Talk.”
“Okay. Sure,” Mike said. “The time bubbles are moving. I have clocked, I think, five different seismic signatures. If each signature corresponds to a specific time bubble then that means we have five time bubbles out there in Flipside, bouncing from one location to another. And that’s just the ones I can track that are close by. There could be dozens more, maybe hundreds or thousands, outside our scannable region.”
“Maybe hundreds or thousands outside our scannable region,” Thompson echoed. “Do you truly believe that, Michael?”
“At this point, Mr. Thompson, I have no idea what to believe,” Mike admitted. “Nothing here makes sense anymore. The tech barely works. We can keep the machinery working here at Flipside BOP, but that is only because we can get to it before it breaks down. When operators are out in the field, even my shielding is only temporary. That only used to happen whenever anyone would go outside the bubble while Flipside.”
“But there is no longer a bubble, Michael,” Thompson said. “Not the one we are used to, anyway.”
“I know, but still…” Mike rubbed his sleepy face. “There’s a piece of all this that I am missing, Mr. Thompson, and it is about to drive
me crazy.”
“Perhaps I can help,” Thompson said.
“How so?”
“By explaining to you what piece is missing.”
Mike sat up straight and the look of hope on his face almost made Thompson laugh. But he didn’t want to embarrass Mike, so he kept his amusement hidden.
“Brain,” Thompson said. “You are missing Brain.”
“Yes, I know,” Mike said. “He’s Topside with Lakshmi. Hopefully working hard to figure out how to get us all back home.”
“No, you are not understanding me,” Thompson said. “The reason the tech is breaking down so quickly is because you are missing Brain. The AI was designed to make constant and continual adjustments to every single system on Flipside BOP. Or FOB, as it was known then. That included making remote adjustments to all tech out in the field. That AI could get ahead of a malfunction before anyone knew a malfunction was about to happen.”
“Yes, sir, I understand that,” Mike said. “I used to work closely with Brain. But there is no way he was able to handle that many complex and minute functions all at once while still monitoring the bubble and the Turn.”
“And while monitoring all the bubbles across the globe as well as those Turns,” Thompson said.
“Say what?” Mike exclaimed. “Mr. Thompson, are you saying Brain was connected internationally?”
“I am. And, Michael, that is not information I want spread around. Especially not to Commander Bloom.”
“Sir, come on, that’s a little hard to believe. I know my clearance with Topside Industries was not as high as yours or Tressa’s, but I had access to company data that was pretty close to that level. I would have seen some indication that Brain was working with other countries to help regulate their bases and tech.”
Thompson only smiled.
Mike blanched.
“Shit…” Mike said and fell back on his cot, his eyes staring up at a beam of sunlight on the roof of his hut. “Brain wasn’t coordinating with other countries. They didn’t know, did they?”
“I will neither confirm nor deny anything relating to that subject, Michael,” Thompson said. “Simply because it is irrelevant. What is relevant is the fact that we need to recreate some of Brain’s functions here and now or this entire base will crumble under its own weight. Once we have something close to resembling Brain, then we can truly get to the bottom of what is happening around us.”
“And keep the tech from glitching every five minutes,” Mike said. “That’d be nice.”
“It would, yes,” Thompson agreed.
“But, sir, no offense, I will need more than your assistance to try to recreate Brain,” Mike said.
“You will,” Thompson said. “How many of the techs that work for you can you trust with your life?”
“With my life?”
“That is what I asked.”
“Uh…none, sir. There are only maybe half a dozen people on this planet that I trust with my life.”
“And none of those people work for you?”
“No, sir.”
“Let me guess: Dr. Raskov, Olivia Herndon, Lucas Haskins, Ivy Ellison…” Thompson paused and gave the list some thought. “My daughter. And my son.”
“And Raff,” Mike said. “I trust Raff. So that makes seven.”
“That presents an issue since the only person on that list that can possibly assist you would be my daughter,” Thompson said. He steepled his fingers and placed the tips of his index fingers to his chin as he thought. “And as much as I love Tressa, she and I do not always see eye to eye.”
“That’s an understatement,” Mike said then coughed and cleared his throat. “Uh, no disrespect meant.”
“I know, Michael. You have been around us a lot over the years, so I expect you to have some keen observations and insights into our relationship. Which means, my involvement in this new project will have to be between the two of us. Tressa must not know that I will be assisting you as well.”
“This base isn’t that big, sir. It’ll be hard to keep that from her.”
“Not really. You and I will never work directly together. When you and Tressa are done working, you will leave me detailed notes on your progress, and I will work on the project on my own time without either of you present.”
“We’ll piggyback.”
“I believe you mean leapfrog.”
“Leapfrog? Right. That.”
“Then we are in agreement?”
“Sure.”
“And you have no problem deceiving Tressa?”
“Well…”
“Michael, I need to know now if you can keep my involvement out of your conversations with my daughter.”
“I can try.”
“I need more than try.”
“Sir, if she turns to me, looks me in the eye, and asks me directly if you are working on the project, I’m not going to lie to her.”
Thompson thought for a few minutes. Mike squirmed nervously as he waited.
“That will have to do then,” Thompson said. “Keep the subject of me to a minimum and she should never ask that question. I will do everything I can to cover my tracks. There will be notes left for you after any of my work sessions so you know what I have done. You are welcome to act as if the innovations are your own, but be careful. Tressa may be CEO of Topside Industries, but at her core she is an engineer and programmer and she will figure out the deception if your skills suddenly make a quantum leap.”
“What did you say?” Mike asked, sitting up quickly.
“I said a lot, Michael,” Thompson replied. “Please be specific in your question.”
“Quantum leap. You said quantum leap.”
“I am glad you were listening intently.”
“Jesus, dude, that’s it!” Mike said and jumped to his feet. He raced out of his hut, his feet bare, leaving Thompson gape at his sudden exit.
“Lord, help me survive that man,” Thompson said as she stood up and left the hut.
Mike was racing to the command hut, hopping from foot to foot as he managed to step on everything sharp that could possibly be on the ground and in his path.
Thompson followed, but took his time. He knew there would be a good deal of babbling from Mike before he managed to explain himself. If he was lucky, Thompson would miss all the babbling and arrive at the command hut just as Mike was finally getting to the point.
***
“Quantum leaps!” Mike shouted as he burst into the command hut, startling everyone present except for Bloom, who was busy staring at the holo of the seismic activity with Tressa.
Bloom straightened and turned to face Mike.
“That was an American television show from the 20th century, Mr. DiCenzo,” Bloom said.
“No, not that,” Mike said. “I loved that show, watched every episode on streaming, but not that. What I mean is this!”
Mike pushed Bloom out of the way and sat down at his console. He brought up holo after holo after holo, swiping back and forth until he found what he was looking for. Then he combined them all into one holo, spun the image around, and grinned from ear to ear.
“This!” Mike shouted in triumph.
Everyone stared. No one looked like they understood what in the hell he was talking about.
“This is why he needs his sleep,” Bloom said and sighed. “Mr. DiCenzo, you are exhausted. Your mind has been working too hard for far too long. While you are quite brilliant, you are taxing yourself by trying to figure out everything, for everyone, in every field of science. Please, stick to technology. We need you focusing on—”
“Oh, shut up, Bloom,” Mike snapped. “Look at the fucking holo for a second, will ya, dude?”
Bloom turned to face Tressa. “He should be removed immediately before he says something else that he may regret.”
“Tressa. Trust me,” Mike said then nodded to Bloom. “Sorry about the shut up. But you should take a look at this a little more closely, Commander.”
Bloom paused. Anger
and curiosity warred on his face. Finally, he sighed and turned back to the holo. “At least you didn’t call me dude that time…”
The door opened and Thompson walked.
“Father,” Tressa said.
“Daughter,” Thompson replied and joined the others in front of Mike’s holo. “Did I miss the explanation? Michael was very excited about something, but ran off before he could explain.”
“Ran off?” Tressa asked. “What were you talking to him about?”
“This. That,” Thompson replied. “Michael is my employee, after all.”
“Under my command,” Bloom said. “Mr. DiCenzo, please explain yourself.”
“Gladly,” Mike said and pointed at the holo. “We have been thinking in terms of spacial patterning. Chronological patterning. But we’re wrong in thinking that way.”
“I’m not sure I can say I have been thinking that way, but continue,” Bloom said.
“Alright, listen,” Mike said. “We’re used to the bubbles being in a specific area at a specific time. We’re used to the bubbles then taking us to a specific area and a specific time.”
“For thirty years that has been the case,” Thompson said. “So why would we change our thinking now?”
“Well, for starters, dude, this,” Mike said and indicated the holo. “No specific time, no specific place. Chaos. Except…”
Mike pinched in with his fingers then pulled out and expanded the holo. Then he gave the holo a hard smack and it spun like a top.
Revealing a swirling spiral pattern that split off into other swirling spiral patterns.
“Not chaos at all,” Mike said. “Quantum patterning. Not spacial patterning, not chronologic patterning, but quantum patterning. Like a fractal pattern, but less predictable. Yet!” He held up a finger. “One hundred percent predictable now that we know what to look for!”
Bloom opened his mouth, but Tressa cut in before he could speak.
“I see it,” Tressa said, leaning forward. “And Brain would have seen it instantly.”
“Because Brain works within a quantum matrix,” Mike said. “None of this would have been confusing to that AI at all.”
“However, it is confusing to me,” Bloom said. “Why is this happening now? How is this happening?”