The Gemini Effect

by Scott Jarol

  “And go where? This thing isn’t going to stay behind the locked door like an angry gorilla.”

  “It’s a mistake,” said Dr. Freeman. “I inverted the particle masses. There is no damping field. Nothing to regulate it.”

  “Then we have to reverse the process,” said Dr. Kapopoulos, with incredible calm.

  “The only way to do that would be to put back the energy field it’s draining—all at once.”

  “How much?”

  “Calculating.”

  Freeman applied Einstein’s equation, E = mc2. “At least five million trillion joules.”

  Five million trillion joules equaled almost 1,500 megatons, the equivalent of thirty hydrogen bombs or the amount of energy locked up in one hundred and fifty pounds of ordinary matter—a little less than the weight of one man.

  “You have to get out of there right now!” Dr. Freeman shouted from the intercom. “We’ll raise a containment field.”

  Dr. Kapopoulos shook his head, obviously already preparing for what had to come next. “That’s a fantasy. We don’t know how to contain it. The only way to stop it is to plug the hole. Once it has absorbed enough energy, it should revert to a stable Higgs field.”

  Dr. Freeman slammed his palms down on the table. “No! We’ll max out the main accelerator and fire-hose the entire plasma beam straight into the center. That should be more than enough mass.”

  “David. No time. Keep an eye on Sarah and Zeke for me.”

  Dr. Freeman jumped to his feet and tore open the lead door into the core but hesitated for a split second, disoriented by the incongruous darkness. It was as if he was suddenly blinded in one fixed direction. The phenomenon loomed like a monster from an old black-and-white movie, except this monster had no plan, no consciousness, no malevolence whatsoever. It was simply the product of some unknown laws of the universe that had been triggered by their experiments.

  Dr. Freeman turned his head side to side. Where light was present, he could see clearly—the walls, the doorway back to the control room. The light was absent only from the center of the room, as if some part of space had been eclipsed.

  “Dimitris!” he shouted. He reached out to tug Dr. Kapopoulos away from the blackness. Gripped by the pull of the superconducting magnets, the pen is his shirt pocket launched like a rifle shell, ripping through the fleshy part of his hand between his thumb and forefinger. He stumbled in pain. Before he could regain his balance, Dr. Kapopoulos had vanished across the dark threshold.

  A brilliant flash filled the room, as overwhelmingly white as the bubble had been black. And then, like a fire starved of oxygen, the light subsided. All that remained was impenetrable darkness, not hovering in the center of the room, but now all around.

  * * *

  “After the accident, Dr. Freeman was nowhere to be found,” Dr. Willis finished. “I thought he had perished with your father—that is, until he resurfaced many years later and gave you the wristwatch you now carry in your pocket.”

  Ezekiel pressed his hand against the watch bulging through the fabric of his pants. Adrenaline flooded his veins. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe. His father’s death was Doc’s fault? The weight of it pressed down on him.

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “The man you call Doc is dangerous. He has taken it upon himself to meddle in our affairs, both yours and mine.”

  “That’s why he stole my stuff, isn’t it?” asked Ezekiel. “The QuARC has some kind of special powers. But how would you know that?”

  “It’s the missing piece of a complex puzzle,” said Dr. Willis. “This facility houses an advanced energy source, code-named Triton. It represents a radical breakthrough based on your father’s work. Each time your device was activated, my research assistants detected its effects on Triton. Your father’s influence was unmistakable.”

  Ezekiel shook head. This didn’t make sense. “But it was just an accident. I’ve never even heard of Triton.”

  Dr. Willis steepled his fingertips. “Did you know that two scientists, Arno Penzias and Robert Wilson, accidentally discovered the radiation left over from the big bang while testing a radio antenna? That accident won them the Nobel Prize, the greatest honor that could be bestowed on any scientist back then. Your discovery may also have been unintentional. Nevertheless, it’s a singular achievement.”

  He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with what he was about to say. “You should know, however, that even the most beneficial technology has the potential to become a weapon in the wrong hands. I regret to tell you that Dr. Freeman—or Doc, as you call him—has found a way to transform your invention into a means of sabotage.”

  Ezekiel frowned. It still wasn’t clicking. This didn’t sound like the Doc he knew. “Why would Doc want to wreck your Triton?”

  “Dr. Freeman’s fragile ego cannot accept that he failed. He seeks redemption for his failure to complete the project and for the mistake that caused the accident that killed your father. It’s understandable, really. That tragic event has haunted his psyche for the past decade. A powerful intellect possessed by obsession can be exceedingly dangerous.”

  “Then why don’t you stop him?” Ezekiel said.

  “That is my intention, precisely,” said Dr. Willis. “However, a trap requires bait, and he has obviously taken a keen interest in that device of yours.”

  “So have you.” Ezekiel raised his eyebrows in a challenge.

  “True, and I do so under no false pretense. However, our misguided friend Dr. Freeman will use your device to cause irreparable damage.”

  “He’s just one guy. How bad could it be?”

  “Until you invented the QuARC, I left Dr. Freeman to fantasize his harmless schemes. However, with the power now available to him, I shudder at the possible consequences. Triton operates in a high-energy domain at the fringes of space-time. If Dr. Freeman succeeds in sabotaging it, no life will be spared.”

  “You mean the whole town is in danger?”

  “Far worse,” said Dr. Willis. “When I say ‘no life,’ I mean life anywhere, here on Earth or elsewhere in the firmament. Dr. Freeman is on a personal crusade, blinded by fear, despair, and rage. Unless we stop him, he will usher in the apocalypse—the end of everything.”

  Ezekiel slumped. This was far worse than anything he could ever have imagined. And he was powerless to prevent it. “What am I supposed to do?” he mumbled. “I’m just a kid.”

  “I believe that your presence would discourage him.”

  “Like a human shield?” Ezekiel asked suspiciously.

  “Dr. Freeman is haunted by guilt. He took his position as custodian at your school specifically to watch over you. Those protective instincts may overwhelm his paranoia long enough to allow us to locate and subdue him. Working together, we can contain him. And once your device is in place, Triton will become more stable and much less vulnerable to his attempts at sabotage.”

  Ezekiel hesitated. Why was he trying to downplay how much he wanted the QuARC? There was something this man was not telling him. “Why not just shut Triton down until you stop Doc from interfering?”

  Dr. Willis’s face gave away no inkling of emotion. “You’ve already experienced what he’s been able to do on his own. He must be stopped permanently. Otherwise, he will go back into hiding and continue to tamper with forces beyond his own comprehension. Once Dr. Freeman has been neutralized, we’ll put your device to good use.”

  “You just want the QuARC!” Ezekiel threw up his hands in exasperation.

  “It would be useful to me. However, I am not a thief. On the other hand, neither am I your fairy godmother. You’ve made a discovery, and I turn discoveries into technology. The QuARC—a charming name for your device—represents the missing component of Triton, lost along with your father until you picked up where he left off. Together, we could solve all our problems: terminate Freeman’s reckless escapades, realize your father’s vision by completing Triton, and assure your own prosperous futu
re.”

  Ezekiel folded his arms across his chest. “I couldn’t give it to you if I wanted to. I don’t have it.”

  “I’m sure you’re capable of locating and recovering the device.” Dr. Willis produced a plastic card from his coat pocket and held it out. “This is my secure key card. It will admit you to the lab, but you must enter only through the rear entrance of building B. I will arrange for a temporary malfunction of the security camera at that location.”

  Ezekiel considered. He wouldn’t have to work with Dr. Willis. He could find the QuARC and then lay low, figure out what to do next on his own. He reached out and took the key card.

  “Consider what I’ve told you. Like your father, you appear to possess a stellar intellect, which cannot help but arrive at the logical conclusion. Bring your device and keep this knowledge to yourself. Dr. Freeman will follow. You know your way out, and now have the means to return as you wish.”

  Dr. Willis turned to walk down the sloping tunnel as if descending into some secret underworld. “It’s quite cold in the open,” he added. “I suggest you seek shelter.” He touched the security pad, and the loading door clattered all the way open. “Your father would be proud.”

  Ezekiel stepped outside and the door rumbled closed behind him, touching down with a thunderous shudder.

  Chapter 12

  Westview Middle School

  Margaux led Zeke and his mother behind the school, which looked gloomy and derelict at night. The musty odor of tilled earth subsided as frost crusted over the soil, sealing in the feeble warmth emitted by microbes. Margaux stopped at the greenhouse and instructed them to wait outside while she crawled through a hole left by a missing window, shoving aside a crate full of hand spades and pruning shears.

  Inside, the air was warmer and humid. The glass walls and ceiling were fogged over, and it felt cozy. She wished they could stay here, but last time she’d taken advantage of this tropical oasis, she’d fallen asleep. When Mr. Bruder discovered her, he’d cut her from the so-called Second Chance program and made her shovel manure for six straight months.

  She plucked five ripe red tomatoes from vines strung along overhead ropes, six carrots from random spots in one of the long planting tables, and two recently harvested potatoes left in a wheelbarrow—just enough for a meal, but not enough to be noticed. She inhaled one last lungful of warm air before crawling back out through the open window. She reached in and dragged the crate back to cover the opening, and then, with her teeth chattering uncontrollably, she led Zeke and his mom to the cellar doors.

  “Over here,” Margaux whispered. “We need to get inside before someone sees us.” The iron trapdoors of the cellar creaked as she and Zeke each swung one open. Only the top of a coal chute was visible, blackened and rimmed with a crust of flaking rust.

  “There’s no ladder. We have to slide down,” said Zeke to his mom.

  “It’s so dark down there,” she said, peering into the hole. “It might be very dirty.”

  “It’s not so bad. I’ll light it up.” He took one of his power cells from his coat pocket. On one side, he’d attached a tiny red LED that glowed barely brighter than a candle—just enough to light the opening and part of the chute, but not the floor below. He nodded to his mother while he held the lamp as far inside as he could reach. She hesitated.

  “It’s all right,” Zeke reassured her. “It’s not far down.”

  “I’ll go first, Mrs. K,” said Margaux. She hung her legs over the edge and shoved off. A cloud of dust rose into the red halo.

  “Toss me the light,” she called up to Zeke. Her face and hands appeared when she caught the lamp, like a specter submerged beneath a murky pond.

  Mrs. Kapopoulos sat down on the edge of the double doorway and let go. She uttered a quiet oomph when she reached the bottom.

  “Mom, are you okay?” Zeke called down to her.

  “That wasn’t so bad,” she replied. “Kind of fun. But it’s very dark down here.” She coughed from the dust. “I think I’m very dirty.”

  Margaux could hear her slapping the dust from her clothing.

  “I’m coming down,” called Zeke. “Better get out of the way.”

  “Close the door,” Margaux reminded him.

  Zeke closed one door and held the other one up while backing into the chute on his knees, preparing to let it shut behind him. Margaux braced herself to catch him, or at least break his fall, as he let it drop and slid down the chute backward.

  She kept Zeke’s makeshift flashlight to illuminate as much of the way for them as possible. The cellar was cluttered, cold, and dusty, but it was the best place to stay warm until Zeke could get the QuARC and deliver it to the Chairman.

  A corridor ran the length of the basement, from one end of the school to the other. Margaux escorted them into what appeared to be a storage area with empty or nearly empty shelves lining the walls. It looked like an indoor campsite. On the floor lay a tattered sleeping bag, some empty cans, and a few hardened puddles of wax left by burnt-out candles. On one of the shelves stood a few neatly arranged books, held in place by a pair of brick bookends.

  After the long evening outside in the freezing cold, Margaux was shivering so hard her legs wobbled.

  “Oh my dear young lady, what happened to you?” Mrs. Kapopoulos said. “You look white as a ghost. Let’s get you changed into some dry clothes right this second.”

  Mrs. Kapopoulos emptied the contents of one of their sacks onto the floor and handed Margaux a T-shirt, a long, frayed skirt printed with a huge sunflower that wrapped around the front and back, and a rainbow knit hat.

  Margaux hid her hesitation. She didn’t want to offend Mrs. Kapopoulos. She offered a brilliant smiled and accepted the dry clothes, then looked at Zeke expectantly, waiting for him to go away so she could change in privacy.

  “Yeah. Okay. Wait here.” He finally took her hint. “I’ll go find some fresh water and more food.”

  “Can you light the lamp, dear?” Mrs. Kapopoulos asked.

  Among the clutter in the room was an alcohol-fueled lantern improvised from a glass jar. A short piece of thick string dangled in the alcohol, protruding up through a rough hole punched in the jar’s corroded lid.Margaux opened one of the books and removed a small, round jewelry box from a compartment carved into its pages. She kept the other contents of the box hidden, except for the flint lighter she used to spark the lamp wick.

  In the faint light, Mrs. Kapopoulos put her hands on her hips and surveyed the dark and mostly barren room. “We’ll make it cozy,” she said to Margaux.

  Margaux smile half-heartedly. At least that would keep her occupied. She looked doubtfully at the flowery skirt in her hand and turned toward the wall to begin peeling off her filthy clothes.

  Chapter 13

  Office of the Student Body President

  Cynthia hand-checked Chuck’s test answers as he peered anxiously across the massive desk at his paper. His score really was less than 50 percent. Leafing through the stack of bubble sheets, she noticed another page with the same pattern of pencil dots: ABBACBCAADCDA, then a B where the other said C, and then back to matching.

  Strange. The two answer sheets were supposed to be from two different tests. How could they have nearly identical answers? One had received an A, the other an F. She spread the pages out—three different tests, three similar patterns of scores. The answer sheets were mixed up with the tests.

  Someone had switched them, and Cynthia was pretty sure she knew who it was.

  Virgil rushed into the office, huffing and puffing. “There was this huge explosion. Stuff was falling out of the sky. Fire. Smoke.”

  “Slow down,” said Cynthia. “What are you talking about?”

  “An explosion at the janitor’s house,” said Virgil. “The whole place blew up! They were there.”

  “Who was there?” demanded Mr. Bruder.

  “Zeke and Margaux.”

  “Did they see you?”

  “No. Unconscious.” Virg
il wheezed breathlessly. “Knocked us over. But I got up. I got it. I got it before the janitor or Zeke and Margaux even noticed I was there.”

  He dropped a dirty bundle on Cynthia’s desk, strewing damp, musty debris across the test papers.

  “Is this . . .?”

  Virgil nodded vigorously.

  Success! Now she’d be the one to make a deal with the Chairman. She beamed a magnanimous smile at Virgil before motioning impatiently for him to get the mess out of her way. He lifted the QuARC in its filthy bag to the floor beside her and quickly swept away the dirt and decaying bits of plant stalks and leaves.

  The door opened.

  “Something you need, buddy?” Mr. Bruder asked, looking up at the tall the man who had let himself into the office.

  Thomas ignored him. “Paperwork,” he said to Cynthia. “I could never do it.”

  Cynthia wasn’t surprised to see Thomas. While she doubted the Chairman knew she had achieved her goal so quickly, she was glad to see he was anxious to further discuss a potential arrangement. Her plan was ticking along like clockwork.

  “Hey, you can’t be in here,” said Mr. Bruder. “You must be looking for Principal Fairchild. She’s next door.”

  Thomas ignored Mr. Bruder. “Nice office,” he said, looking around before making himself comfortable in the upholstered chair facing Cynthia’s oversized desk.

  Cynthia knew her comfortable setup here made quite an impression. Principal Fairchild had told Doc to set up the vacant vice principal’s office for use by the student body president—who had been Cynthia for the past two and a half years. Until Cynthia’s election, the student body president had never had an office, but Principal Fairchild had offered it to Cynthia based on her “generous dedication to the welfare of her fellow students,” as she called it.

  Within the comfort and privacy of such accommodations, Cynthia could hardly be blamed for expressing her more entrepreneurial talents.