The Third Hour

by Richard Devin

  “We’ve learned a lot from the Eldridge,” Lynda said. “We’ll have more control with a land based experiment. The ocean waters and the salinity levels were just too unpredictable and unstable.” She nodded in the direction of a large tanker truck heading their way. “We better get out of his way.”

  Lynda, Bill, and Ray took several steps back as the tanker pulled along one side of the building, while another tanker stopped along the back. A trench forty feet in circumference and three feet in depth had been dug around the metal building and lined with a thin glossy metal-like plastic film.

  “Lynda is right,” Albert Einstein came up behind the group, and continued with the explanation. “We have learned from the tragic mistakes of the past. But that is science. We must fail many times before we succeed. But this will work, I am sure of it. You see, in order to conduct the proper amounts of electrical current to and through the building, the trench will be filled with salt water trucked in from the Great Salt Lake in Utah. The salinity content of the ocean is maintained at 3.5%, and that is where we failed with the Eldridge. The water from the Great Salt Lake has salinity content at 26% or better. The greater salinity is needed to conduct the proper amount of electrical current.” Einstein’s German accent gave the explanation a tone of authority.

  “And we closely monitored the thickness and content of the metal here,” Lynda picked up the explanation. “We didn’t build the Eldridge so we had no control ...”

  “Or knowledge, actually,” Einstein interjected.

  “True,” Lynda continued. “Of the strength or nature of the metal used in the ship.”

  “Here we had total control.” Einstein gave a nod to Ray. “And it will work.”

  “Still, all in all, the Eldridge was a worthy experiment, even if we did not get the results we had hoped for,” Ray added.

  “Let’s just hope that we are better with this than with the Eldridge,” Bill said. “I’ll be in that thing.”

  “No need to hope, sir,” Einstein said. “We are.” Without another word he moved off to the control station set up inside a metal plate-fronted flatbed truck.

  “Lynda? Bill? We’re ready,” U.S. Air Force Commander, Kupovits said as he joined them.

  “Well then,” Ray raised his voice giving it a carnival barker’s tone. “Good luck.” He stuck his hand out.

  Bill took his hand, shaking it. “Thanks.”

  “Good luck, Lynda. Keep these two in line.” Ray wrapped an arm around her.

  “I will.”

  Ray stepped back. “Commander, it’s all yours now.” Ray nodded to the metal building.

  “I’ll take good care of it.”

  “You better. It cost us a pretty penny.” Ray laughed.

  “Is that what small, brown metal buildings in the middle of the desert run now a days? A penny?” Commander Kupovits extended his hand.

  The two men shook hands, then Ray moved several yards away from the building and watched as Bill Celent, air force pilot, Lynda Lee and air force Commander Kupovits entered the building.

  Bill turned and gave a wave as two men pushed on the door. It swung slowly on three, foot long metal hinges, closing with a soft whimper. One man put his weight against the door, while the other spun a two foot, diameter wheel attached to the outside of the thick metal door, causing the inner latch to seal the door tight.

  The men moved away and an instant later the two tanker trucks began to dump the water from the Great Salt Lake into the trench. Almost immediately, the salt water began to react with the metallic plastic film, etching geometric lines, like crystallized snowflakes, onto the surface.

  Ray Scott climbed up the four steps of the ladder to the flatbed truck, taking a position alongside Einstein.

  Once the tanker trucks were emptied, the drivers moved the trucks off and the area around the brown metal building was clear.

  “We are clear,” an airman standing behind Einstein and Ray said, as he placed the binoculars he was looking through down on a table.

  “Power up on one,” Einstein said, as he flipped a toggle switch and the first generator powered up. Once the first generator had come online, and had completely powered up, he flipped the switch to the second generator, waited until it had completely powered up and then continued the same process with the third, and finally the fourth generators.

  Once online, the current from each of the generators was sent to a coil of copper tubing that transferred the power to thin copper wire that had been wrapped around a six-inch diameter, ten-foot long magnet. As the current surged through the copper tubing and wiring, an immense magnetic force built around the lead core.

  Einstein pulled on a lever, transferring a portion of the electrical current from the number one generator, into the cables attached. The cables led on, connecting to the metallic plastic film that lined the pit, and was now submerged in the salt water. Then, he pulled another lever transferring power from the second generator to the film and continued until the current from all four generators coursed from the copper coils into the metallic film. The salt water filled basin began to churn, and the same greenish fog that had surrounded the Eldridge began to build at the surface of the basin.

  Then, without a moment’s notice, the green fog expanded from the surface of the churning water, rising up and swirling around the building, as if a stationary tornado had come down from storm clouds above. The fog whipped around the building in frenzy, becoming so thick that the outline of the building was lost. Then, in a blinding flash the sky, lit up, followed by a loud crack that split the air, as if lightning had struck only inches away. Just as suddenly as it had begun, the fog dissipated and fell back to the surface of the water.

  The air around the basin cleared, revealing an empty space where the experimental building with its three occupants had been.

  Einstein was left with only one word. “Gone.”

  FIFTY THREE

  WITHIN MOMENTS OF BOARDING the SAAB 350B turbo prop, the aircraft was taxiing down the runway, picking up speed.

  Dominic and Tonita had just snapped the seatbelt latch into the metal holder, when the plane lifted off at an angle toward the heavens.

  Unlike commercial flights, there was no announcement offering safety instructions and the reminder to bring seat backs and tray tables upright and into the fully locked position. The interior of the aircraft was more like that of an executive office than that of an airplane.

  “This plane reminds me of Air Force One,” Tonita said, taking in the opulent interior of the aircraft.

  “Really.” Dominic looked about the plane. “And you’ve been on Air Force One?”

  Tonita glared at him. “Pictures, stupid.”

  “Oh,” Dominic said, a bit embarrassed.

  “Dom, I really wonder about you.” Tonita shook her head.

  Senator Scott pushed down on the lever attached to the side of his seat and swiveled the cream colored, leather chair around, coming face to face with Dominic and Tonita. “We have been experimenting for a very long time,” he began, without any preamble. “You have no doubt heard about many of the experiments that we have conducted into time travel.”

  “Well, honestly, Senator, no.” Dominic shrugged. “I don’t know much about any experiments.” He turned his head counting the rows from the front of the plane to the nearest emergency exit, a habit he had when flying, and then to the back of the plane, making a mental note of the dark teak stained door marked ‘lavatory’ behind the last few seats. “Cardinal Celent did say something about Roswell and an experiment there, but that’s it. And everyone has heard of Roswell.” Dominic immediately felt foolish and internally chastised himself for the comment.

  Senator Scott cocked his head and squinted his eyes slightly, looking at Dominic. “Yes, well, that is not quite true. Everyone may have heard about Roswell and the aliens who crashed there, but they don’t know the truth behind it. You see, Roswell was the result of an experiment, not exactly the experiment itself.”

&n
bsp; “Result?” Dominic glanced at Tonita.

  “So Roswell is not a crash site?” Tonita asked shrugging her shoulders.

  “Then why go there?” Dominic’s tone was matter of fact. “I’m sure you know, Senator, that Cardinal Celent had shown us a book on Roswell before he died.”

  “I did not know that.”

  “I’m confused, Senator. Forgive me, but if a friend has sent you...?”

  “You have every right Dominic,” Senator Scott said cutting Dominic off. “You don’t know me and you should question why I’m here.” He inhaled heavily. “We are people of secrets, you see. I have secrets that I have kept, even from those closest to me. Like Bill,” he hesitated, “I mean of course, Cardinal Celent. I can assure you that he has secrets he too must keep even from me. It is safer that way. The truth is a terrible burden when you must keep it all. We share in keeping parts of the truth so that no one will bear the entire burden.”

  “And what is that truth?” Dominic leaned forward in his seat.

  “I’m afraid that I am only able to help you find it. I cannot tell you of it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you would not believe me. No one would. The truth cannot be told—it must be learned.” Senator Scott stared into Dominic’s eyes. “I am here to help you find that truth, but you must trust in me, as Cardinal Celent and God have done for more than sixty years.”

  “We found a page in the book on Roswell that we believe is a map.” Dominic looked back at Tonita and was confronted with a look of confusion. Maybe, he thought, that he had been too quick to trust the man.

  “I am aware of the book that Cardinal Celent spoke to you about, I have read it. But I must confess that I was not aware of a map hidden inside that the book.”

  Tonita cleared her throat, causing Dominic to look at her again. “I don’t think that the map was placed in all the books printed.”

  “Tonita’s right. I think Cardinal Celent put the map there.” Dominic sat back and glanced out the window at the moisture laden clouds below.

  “Well, it’s not really much of map, Senator,” Tonita offered.

  Tonita was being cautious, Dominic thought deciding that it might be a better course for the moment. “Yes, more of a drawing...” Dominic began.

  “May I see it?” Senator Scott did not wait for Dominic to finish speaking. He extended his hand to neither Tonita nor Dominic, but instead, between them.

  Dominic’s face registered the internal battle. He looked quickly to the sky, “I am Abraham,” he said.

  Tonita placed a hand gently onto Dominic’s and smiled reassuringly.

  Dominic reached inside his pocket and pulled out the page that he had removed from the book. He looked at it briefly, before handing it to the Senator.

  Senator Scott took the page and carefully inspected one side. He held it up to the light and then turned it over, giving the other side the same attention.

  “The lines were not there when we found the page in the book that Cardinal Celent had given us.”

  “Shown to us really,” Tonita added. “He didn’t give us the book. We took it,” she said, knowing very well that she was not being honest with the Senator as Cardinal Celent was very clear on their taking the book with them.

  “I’m sure that the Cardinal wanted us to have the book, or at least this page from it. He made of point of finding the book and showing it to us,” Dominic offered in explanation, giving Tonita a quizzical look.

  “I’m sure you are correct Dominic,” Senator Scott spoke without taking his eyes from the page. “Cardinal Celent wanted you to know of the importance of this book. This page. It must have been very important to him to have kept the secret even from me.”

  “The page was no different than the others in the book, just another page of text, a little thicker than the other pages. That’s all. But that’s what caught my attention.”

  Senator Scott shook his head up and down, continuing with his examination of the page. “Why do you call it a map?” After several minutes of close scrutiny, Senator Scott asked, “It does not have any notations or landmarks on it. And I can find no key to explain the lines.”

  “We don’t honestly know that it is a map,” Tonita said.

  “It just looks like it should be,” Dominic added.

  Senator Scott exhaled heavily. “A map to where?”

  “Or what?” Tonita said.

  Both Dominic and Senator Scott turned in her direction.

  “Very good, Tonita,” Senator Scott said. “This could be a map of something not to something.” He turned the page around and over, inspecting the lines for some other clue. “You said that this was in the book on Roswell and that the page did not look like this when you found it.”

  “Right. It was in the book, looking like just one of the pages of the book. Text was the same. The history of Roswell was written on the page continuing the story from the page before.” Dominic mimed the book in his hand. “As I flipped through the book in Cardinal Celent’s apartment, I noticed that the page, well, a page, I wasn’t sure which at the time, felt different.”

  “And you tore it out?”

  “Not then, in the Cardinal’s apartment. But, yes. I tore it out,” Dominic answered the Senator’s question.

  “But you said it did not look like this.” Senator Scott manipulated the page between his fingers.

  “Right.”

  “And how did it...” Senator Scott hesitated. “Change?”

  Dominic looked to Tonita to answer when she didn’t—he spoke, “We put it in water.”

  “So then the ink washed from the page?”

  “Yes.”

  Senator Scott let out a small laugh. “My friend, the Cardinal is using some old tricks,” he said, continuing to laugh. “We used that ink many times during our experiments to hide pertinent information from those around us. There were many involved in the experiments that we did not want to know the truth about what we were doing. It was a simple enough way to cover up the documents. After all, no one would dare place a document stamped, “Top Secret,” into water. We were fairly secure in the deception.” He unsnapped the seatbelt and adjusted his position in the chair. “As a matter of fact, no one ever discovered it.”

  “What were you hiding?” Tonita sat up in her chair and like the Senator, unsnapped the seatbelt.

  “Hiding isn’t exactly the word I’d use. More like protecting. But whatever words you choose to describe the act, we did not want many to know.” Senator Scott stared at Dominic, then directly into Tonita’s eyes. “We still don’t. You are among the very few who will know the truth.”

  FIFTY FOUR

  BILL CELENT WAS STUNNED. He felt his face flush, sweat beaded above his lips and down his back. His stomach churned. His legs threatened to give.

  The procession before him continued on. The man, Christ, carrying the large wooden beam faltered, tumbled forward, regained his balance, and then fell again. The gathered crowd chanted in mockery of him. They surrounded him before the centurions pushed at them with shields and muscled arms, forcing them away. Christ tried to rise to his feet, but his legs were too weak and he fell to the side. The wood beam slipped from his shoulder, landing at the feet of a Roman guard. Christ slowly pulled himself up, first to his knees, then to his feet. He was panting, bleeding, nearly drained of life, but he found the strength to take another strained step. The Roman guard picked the wooden beam up and placed it gently upon Christ’s shoulder. Christ looked into the eyes of the man then turned back to the street and the path before him. The Roman guard backed away and was lost to the crowd.

  A scream of agony caught Bill’s attention and he turned from the procession, looking to the top of the hill. Three stakes had been positioned in close proximity to one another at the pinnacle. Two had already been assembled with the six-foot wooden beam secured in place, and upon them each, a man was bound. One of the men screamed out again, words Bill could not make out, but the man’s anger and vehemence
was evident.

  Bill was drawn to the crowd, to the spectacle, and to the man he believed was Jesus Christ. He took a step, moving down the small embankment toward the hill, the crowd, and the crucifixion. Then he caught himself and stopped. His mind raced with thoughts about the time space continuum, the time ripple effect, and the effect his being at the crucifixion of Christ would have upon time and history. He contemplated his next move. His head grew light, and he sat down as his breathing quickened.

  Bill closed his eyes, relaxed, and breathed in and out slowly, until he felt in control once again. Now, he had to make some choices. It was clear that the experiment in the desert of New Mexico had not gone as planned.

  Once the generators had been powered up, the electrical charge would cycle, magnetize the metal-sheathed building, and like the Eldridge a time warp would open. That was what was hoped for anyway. Apparently, that did not happen, and Bill stood quickly, turning on his feet, staring out at the horizon and to the place he had...well, landed. He couldn’t think of a better word. Slowly, he allowed his eyes to follow the ridges, ravines and rock outcroppings, searching the shadows and the hills.

  It wasn’t there.

  The experimental building, the capsule, was nowhere in sight. Perhaps, he thought, that it did not travel with him and had remained in New Mexico. Only he, Lynda, and Commander Kupovits were propelled through time. It didn’t make sense, he thought, for him to be here. The capsule and the others must be here as well. Of course, the metal building had been camouflaged with splashes of dark brown, sandy brown, and light green paint to keep it hidden in the New Mexico desert from overhead low flying aircraft and the occasional rancher that might stumble by in pursuit of a lost calf or sheep. Now, that camouflage of paint and color made it impossible to locate the building in the desert of ancient Israel.

  If it was here at all.

  “Ancient Israel,” Bill whispered, and he felt almost giddy. He was caught between extreme fear, overwhelming joy, and absolute confusion. Would time now be changed forever because he was where he should not be? Or is time only justified by the memory of humans? Would the donkeys that were ridden upon or the sheep that followed, being led to a slaughter as sacrifice know any different end now that Bill had stumbled into time? He could not shake the thought that his being here, at the crucifixion of Christ, would only change time if people in his time knew that he had traveled back in time. Bill thought of the saying of the falling tree in the woods making a sound or no sound if no one was there to hear it, and reformatted the question to suit himself. If a man travels in time and no one knows of it, did he really move back or forward in time? Could he change time that does not yet exist? What if time only exists in our minds, and thus, can only be changed by our own thoughts and perceptions?