Confident, competent, and self-assured. Decisive and deadly. She had seen him in action, and his boldness, his speed of decision-making under pressure, was breathtaking. He was a man she would feel safe with, even if they were unarmed and surrounded by three bigger men with guns, confident that he would manage to win the day.
She had always thought the idea that women were attracted to bad boys was a myth, despite certain experimental evidence that this was the case and theoretical arguments from her own field of genetics. It wasn’t that the arguments and evidence were entirely without merit, it was just that she had never experienced this herself, and even found the idea insulting, so she naturally sided with the data and logic cited by those who were against this interpretation.
Jenna Morrison had always been attracted to nice guys, not men who lived dangerously and who could be overly aggressive. And especially not men like Blake, who were capable of slitting throats without a second thought.
But maybe she wasn’t as immune as she had imagined. Blake had violent tendencies, but he was also sweet, and charming, and loyal, and brave. Perhaps she just hadn’t met the right bad boy.
Given her graduate level education in genetics, she was well versed in sociobiology and evolutionary psychology. These fields espoused the idea that much of human behavior, social interaction, could be seen through the lens of evolution and evolutionary imperatives, like sex and survival.
One such theory to come out of these fields was often called, sperm is cheap. This theory was relatively simple, but also offensive to some. There were those who vigorously challenged the theory’s conclusions, bringing counterarguments and data to support their positions. In the days in which any discussion of the sexes, scientific or otherwise, was fraught with peril and controversy, it took a certain amount of bravery, even among scientists, to engage in such a debate.
Scientists who did subscribe to this theory argued that reproduction was the cornerstone of evolution and species survival. Early humans who managed to pass on their genes won, and those who failed to do so lost. And genes influenced behavior. It was obvious that if you had a gene that caused you to be repulsed by the idea of sex, this gene would not get passed on to future generations. Those who had genes that caused them to become addicted to sex, on the other hand, would be very likely to pass these genes on.
This was just one of many behaviors that could help determine reproductive success. And the optimal strategies that might evolve to maximize this success could vary widely between males and females, resulting in antlers on elk and plumage on peacocks. Not that human males and females would be consciously aware of these strategies, which had been masterminded by genes and evolution without their knowledge or consent, and hardwired into their DNA.
A man could theoretically impregnate a different woman every day. Could father hundreds of offspring during his lifetime. Given this, proponents of the sperm is cheap theory argued that it was no surprise that males had an instinct to mount anything that moved. The genes of men who managed to sleep with hundreds of women over their lifetimes were more likely to be passed on than those of men who were exceedingly selective, and only slept with one. They argued that the reason a man could be sexually aroused by a slight breeze was that this hair-trigger horniness helped ensure he would mate with a greater number of women. If some of these women were relatively poor specimens, with less-than-robust genes, lessening the fitness of his children in these cases, so be it. It was a numbers game. Some of those he slept with would have good genes. Sperm cost so little to produce, why not spread it far and wide?
Women, on the other hand, had limited opportunities to reproduce, and each act of reproduction came at a very high cost. While a man could zip up his pants and walk away, the same was not true for a woman. Once pregnant, a woman had to put up with morning sickness, provide energy to a growing life within her, spend nine months carrying this life—increasing her physical vulnerability to environmental dangers—and risk death during childbirth. Afterward, a woman required extra calories to produce milk to feed her offspring, at least for many thousands of years before the advent of baby formula.
Given the high cost of reproduction for a woman, and the limited number of offspring that were possible for her, proponents of this theory argued that it was in a woman’s genetic best interest to be more selective than a man. To choose mates with good genes, improving the chances that her offspring would survive. And to choose a man who was strong, aggressive, and self-assured. A man who could fend off the cannibal tribe over the hill while she was giving birth, and therefore helpless. Someone who could wrestle a bear to the ground, and then bring home bear steaks to help nourish her and the baby.
These differing optimal strategies created quite an interesting behavioral interplay between the sexes, one that was born out anthropologically. Genetic studies had found that about eighty percent of women throughout history had managed to reproduce, while only about forty percent of men had.
This finding was stunning at first, but made sense once human societies were examined through the lens of history. Kings, nobility, and sheikhs all had harems, hoarding numerous women all for themselves. Historically, a powerful man might father scores of children.
A peasant, on the other hand, might be shut out entirely.
Which could also explain why men were more aggressive and risk-seeking than women, on average. How did a man get to be a king? By taking risks. Winning wars. Embarking on dangerous journeys to explore and conquer new lands.
Passive men, nice guys, never earned enough resources and power, never showed a great enough ability to protect and sustain a woman through childbirth and beyond, to compete against those who did. Harsh, yes, but in earlier ages, life was short and often brutal, and competition for women could be one-sided when even the ability to bathe with regularity could be resource-dependent.
Women who were genetically attracted to powerful men, men capable of feeding and protecting them and their offspring, had greater success passing on their genes than those attracted to nice guys, who in more primitive, barbaric times, often did finish last.
It was good to be king.
At the genetic level, proponents of this controversial theory argued, a woman would be drawn to a well-heeled badass who cared enough about her to stick around.
At the genetic level, a man would be drawn to a woman he thought would be sexually faithful. When choosing to settle down with a mate, the theory argued, a man placed a high value on sexual fidelity because there were no paternity tests in nature. When a woman gave birth, she knew she was the mother. But a man . . . well, he never really knew for sure.
If a woman had been unfaithful and was carrying another man’s baby, the fooled father would spend valuable resources raising a set of genes that were unrelated to his own. Evolution would thus reward a man who favored a chaste woman as a permanent mate, lessening the chances he would make this mistake.
Jenna had long been a critic of theories such as these. Even if certain elements had once been true, the days of harems were over. Nice guys really could come out on top, and often did. Brains and talents beyond just physical strength and ruthlessness could lead men to power and success.
Men like Nathan Wexler.
Jenna had always believed that ancient genetic instincts that may once have existed had not made their way into the modern world. But she was beginning to wonder if somewhere deep within her genes this barbaric instinct may have survived, after all.
She adored Aaron as a friend, and nothing more. But she couldn’t deny that she found his competence as a warrior strangely attractive. Not that this was nearly strong enough to counteract her intellect, or the love she felt for the most brilliant man she had ever met.
Jenna grinned broadly as a new thought crossed her mind. Perhaps she could ask Aaron to teach Nathan some special-forces moves. Turn Nathan into a bit of a badass himself.
Now that would be having her cake and eating it too.
24
/> The Q5 management team filed into the conference room, one by one, and soon it was filled with the same members who had met before. Jenna thanked everyone for coming, said a few words of introduction, including her intention to keep the proceedings loose and informal, and then launched right in. She hadn’t shared where she had ended up with anyone in the group, not even Nathan, because she wanted everyone to be on equal footing, to react organically to what she was proposing.
“I’d like to proceed by beginning with my conclusions,” she announced. “Then I’ll work my way backwards from there. Jump in at any time, of course.”
Her fellow meeting participants looked intrigued, as she had hoped. Not every presentation led with its conclusions.
“In my view,” she continued, “the most important two areas on which to focus our efforts are fairly unambiguous. First, I believe our highest priority has to be modifying the time travel technology to create an interstellar drive. Without a doubt. As you know, Nathan’s work shows that faster-than-light travel is a possibility. As Daniel and Nathan would say, we might be able to use the immense energy we tap into to push us along the spatial axis of space-time, rather than the temporal axis. Time travel is great, but it hurts the head, and it messes with the universe more than anyone should be entirely comfortable with.”
“Amen to that,” mumbled Blake.
Jenna smiled. “In further conversations with Nathan and Daniel, I’m told that if they can solve this problem, we not only get interstellar travel, unlocking the cosmos, but actual teleportation as well. Think about it!” she added excitedly. “True teleportation! Yes, we can already manage it, but not without creating two of a kind. Which makes it useless. Teleport ten times a day, and in a year there are thousands of you running around.” Her smile broadened. “Which does tend to make one’s home a little crowded.”
“Unless you adopt Knight’s solution,” said Cargill in disgust, “and incinerate the copy left in the kettle right after the jump.”
Wexler tilted his head thoughtfully. This was the first he had heard of this idea. “As horrible as that sounds,” he said slowly, “the idea isn’t entirely unprecedented.”
“Let me guess,” said Joe Allen, “you’re a big Star Trek fan?”
“Of course,” replied Wexler, pretending to look confused. “Who isn’t?” He arched an eyebrow. “So you’ve obviously already thought of the transporter machine.”
“We didn’t,” said Cargill. “But Edgar Knight was a Star Trek fan, too. He said that if you incinerated the copy quickly and completely enough, you would basically replicate what happens when a character from Star Trek beams down to a planet.”
“Exactly,” said Wexler. “Two copies are produced. One of these is destroyed, and one ends up in a new location. But this all happens in a single instant. So the person being teleported is unaware of the actual mechanics of it.”
“I’ll let you be in charge of the marketing campaign,” said Blake. “I can see the slogan now,” he added with a wry grin. “Come for the teleportation. Stay for the fun of being melted down to your constituent atoms.”
Wexler laughed. “I’m not saying we should do it,” he said. “I’m just raising it as a point of interest.”
“The important point,” said Jenna, “is that none of that matters if we can use this tech to move through space without moving through time. No duplicates. No incineration. And we get interstellar travel, as well. The possibilities are too incredible for words. Mankind could spread our seed, venture into the galaxy. Turn Star Trek and Star Wars into reality.”
“Q5 is already doing that,” said Wexler. “Who says the dark energy field isn’t the force from Star Wars? It’s a mysterious force that pervades the universe, right? And we’ve found a way to tap it. So we and Luke Skywalker have something in common. The force is with us all.”
There were loud groans around the table.
“What?” said Wexler innocently. Then, attempting a truly horrible Yoda impersonation, he added, “Get too carried away with this analogy, did I?”
“Just promise me that you won’t create any lightsabers,” said Blake in amusement.
“Why not?” said the physicist.
“Not very practical,” replied Blake. “Miss your opponent and slice through a steal support beam like it was butter. The only thing less practical is that white body armor, which does absolutely nothing to protect its wearer.”
Jenna gestured to both men and shook her head. “Are you two done now?” she said in mock exasperation.
Both men nodded, pretending to look chastised.
“To continue,” she said pointedly as a smile flickered over her face, “within a thousand years mankind could number in the trillions. More. I guess I should have looked up what comes after trillion.”
“Quadrillion,” said Tini helpfully.
“I thought that was a made-up word,” said Jenna wryly. “Good to know. The point is simple—we could take out the ultimate insurance policy against species extinction. I can’t even imagine that our group wouldn’t want to adopt this as our primary goal, hands down. For once, this would be an advance with unlimited upside, and no downside.”
“Well, maybe one,” said Wexler timidly after a few seconds passed, as though he really didn’t want to bring it up and ruin Jenna’s moment, but couldn’t help himself. “There’s always the chance that by venturing out into the cosmos we’ll end up poking the bear. That one or more alien species out there, far more advanced than we are, will object to the possibility of trillions of humans traipsing around the universe, creating havoc as only humans can.”
After pausing to let this register, he added, “I have to admit this is extremely unlikely. The universe seems to me to have plenty of room for all. And you’d think an advanced species would be welcoming. But it’s impossible to say for sure.”
“Okay,” said Jenna. “A possibility I hadn’t really considered. But assuming there aren’t aliens out there who want to keep us in our cages, can we all agree that developing true teleportation, and a true interstellar drive, is our most important goal?”
As she expected, this statement quickly received unanimous support.
“Good,” said Jenna. “So let me move on to what I view as our second most important priority. We need to find a way to suppress the time travel effect. I recommend that any resources not tied up on the interstellar drive initiative should be devoted to this.”
“Why?” said Cargill. “Now that Knight’s gone, we’re the only ones with this capability.”
Jenna nodded grimly. “For now. But do you honestly believe this will always be the case?”
Cargill remained silent for a few seconds and then sighed. “No,” he replied miserably. “You’re right. It will get into the public sphere at some point.”
“Just for the sake of argument,” said Blake, “what if we decided that the danger of this tech was too great, and chose to disband Q5 and bury it, destroying the kettle-building instruction manual along the way? Then there’d be no chance of a leak.”
Nathan Wexler shook his head. “There’s no shoving this back into the bottle,” he said. “If Nature allows it, some other scientist will eventually discover it.”
“That is my conclusion, also,” said Jenna. “And the next scientist who discovers it might shout if from the rooftops. Or maybe turn into another Edgar Knight. Or worse.”
“I have to hand it to him,” said Cargill. “Knight did us a service by acting as a cautionary tale. Our memory of him ensures we stay properly paranoid.”
“Which is why developing a suppressor field is so vital,” said Jenna.
“Is something like that even theoretically possible?” asked Joe Allen.
“Yes,” said Wexler almost immediately. “There are already circumstances we know of in which time travel is prevented. One, sending back a kettle within a kettle couldn’t be done until Daniel’s recent workaround. Two, if an object would otherwise end up in the past within a block of granit
e, the process is . . . blocked.” He paused. “Blocked, get it?”
There were blank stares all around.
“You know, you’re blocked from ending up in a block of granite. Blocked?”
“Yeah, we all got it,” said Blake, rolling his eyes. “We’re just glad you didn’t choose to be a stand-up comedian.”
“Are you kidding?” said Wexler. “That joke killed in Vegas.”
This finally did elicit genuine laughter all around.
Allen waited for the laughter to end. “I get what you’re implying,” he said to the physicist, “but just because nature can block this effect doesn’t necessarily mean we can.”
“But it does show it’s theoretically possible,” replied Wexler, “and it does give us hope. Actually, I have an idea of how to approach the problem already, making use of our ability to penetrate the fifth dimension. Gravity plays a role in time travel, as we know, which is why objects don’t materialize in midair or underground. And gravity is conjectured by many to be a fifth-dimensional phenomenon. This has never been proven. But maybe this is our chance to change that.”
“Just how many Nobel prizes do you need?” said Tini wryly.
Wexler smiled. “It’s tough to get even one when you have to keep your discoveries secret from the Nobel Prize Committee.”
“This is true, also,” said Tini.
“There’s nothing that says I have to understand this,” said Blake, “even at a big-picture level. But I’d like to. Any way to dumb this down so I can get a sense how you might use the fifth dimension to block time travel?”
“I don’t want to steal Jenna’s thunder right now,” said Wexler. “But I assure you, Aaron, I’ll put that fifth dimension lecture I promised on the schedule at some point during the next day or two.”
Blake nodded his thanks.
“To continue,” said Jenna, “let’s imagine we never perfect a suppressor field, and the tech gets out. Either because of a leak or a discovery by someone else. Would this necessarily be a bad thing?”
Time Frame (Split Second Book 2) Page 13