Wet cobblestone streets glistened under clear, moonlit skies through the early morning fog, rolling around corners, following the breeze. From this vantage point Ethan can see everything, allowing him to blend into the narrow alley, a shadowed walkway off the main street. The hollow sound, the shoes of a bobby approaching, dancing off the edifices of wood and stone surrounding him. Raising one hand to his uniform hat as a couple pass him in the other direction, Ethan’s heart begins to race. Hearing the pulsing of blood in his eardrums, pumping faster and faster, matching the rapid increase in his breathing, he waits in anticipation of discovery. The officer turns left, disappearing down a side street as the couple moves further down the main road, strolling out of sight. Simon and Garfunkel begin singing “The Sound of Silence”. Playing in his head, an eeriness in the atmosphere begins to toy with his imagination. Senses tingling with the passion of the piece, the pleasure of it calms his rattled nerves. Aware that his familiarity with music is a safe haven, an escape from his fears or phobias, it directs him to focus on the notes and lyrics, to listen. “...because a vision softly creeping left its seeds while I was sleeping...” The shadows, someone around a corner reflects off buildings illuminated by the gaslight streetlamps perched overhead. “And the vision that was planted in my brain still remains...” Following shadows, the echo of footsteps, faint at first then increasing in volume, coming ever closer then increasing in speed, from a standard cadence to a fast walk then a run in some haste and urgency. No, wait. The footsteps stopped. Had he made some sound he’d been unaware of ? Did he give himself away? Had someone else scared them off ? Pause, holding his breath, there are footsteps again, immediately running from a dead stop. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, stop. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, stop. One, two, three....
“Ethan?” The distant voice jarred him awake.
“Oh shit! He knows my name! How the hell does he know I’m still here?” As the words swirled in his mind, he could not speak them aloud.
“Ethan, open the door! P, it’s me! Open the door, mate!”
The sounds of rapid footsteps continuing, Ethan suddenly began to feel himself being sucked backwards out of the shadows of the dark alley into a vortex, his brain readjusting to the sound he’d mistaken. Jolted into consciousness by the real origin of the noises he’d heard, someone banging at the apartment door, he woke from his disturbing dream. Pounding resumed, matched only by the throbbing in his temples. A clearing of cobwebs, he laid quite still in his bed listening intently, trying to make sense of it. Ethan recognized a distinctive voice as that of Colin Bishop.
“Oh, shit! Shit! Fuck me!” Slamming both feet to the floor, not thinking of the tenant beneath him at the moment, Ethan immediately reached for his pocket watch on the nightstand, frantically concerned that he’d overslept, missing his first class, picturing students gazing at a desk void of a professor. With a sigh of relief he saw the time. It was only 6:39 a.m. As quite another category of panic arose within him, wondering what on earth happened that Colin would be banging on his door at such an ungodly hour, in a rocking motion Ethan projected his body upward, launching himself from the side of the bed. Tilting his head backward in a stretch, coming to his senses while coming to his feet, Ethan yelled “Hang on, Col!” hoping his voice would resonate throughout the apartment to reach the front door. Gliding along the wooden floor in his thick woolen socks Ethan realized the music he’d enjoyed hours before was still playing. “Music. Off.” The system obeyed his verbal command and the classical composition went mute. Morning light subtly seeking entrance through his kitchen windows, it illuminated the room enough for Ethan to navigate the path safely to his door.
“Colin Bishop! Sweet Jesus, mate! This had damn well better be an emergency of epic proportion...you’d better have a coffee with you!” Yelling through it while he unlocked the door, Ethan yanked it open to find his friend propped in the alcove, casually standing there, a coy grin betraying a secret on his lips.
“No, I don’t have ‘a’ coffee. I’ve got two!” Holding up one of the two cardboard cups in his possession, Colin handed the hazelnut blend over to Ethan. “For you.” Strolling across the threshold right past a sleepyhead, Colin put his cup in Ethan’s other hand. “Here. Hold this for me, will you?” Doing as requested, Ethan perched himself on the arm of a chair, watching as his impetuous, uninhibited friend began dancing like a performer at a Greek festival, one who’d sipped a bit too much ouzo. Arms outstretched, snapping his fingers, this was too much Zorba, too early. If only separated in age by two years, Ethan being the eldest, Colin obviously retained most of his boyish charms, qualities he’d exemplified when they were still students.
Dancing wildly around the apartment to some nonexistent tune in his head, he abruptly stopped. Sticking the landing, he struck the pose similar to a gymnast after a difficult dismount. The class clown was out of breath, clearly a little out of shape. Colin placed both hands by his sides, attempting to calm his nerves and contain his excitement. Only one thing would’ve dragged him out of bed and across campus at this hour. Only one thing mattered that much. Looking his befuddled brother in the eyes, Colin’s contented smile said it all. Ethan raised his eyebrows, seeking further confirmation of a suspicion. Nodding his head, returning the coffee, two men faced one another in amazement, as if they had both been told they’d just become a father. Gestation period over, the baby is born! Touching cups together in an early morning toast, one project stuck up in the air far too long, the waiting game was over. Ethan’s Flicker project was a “GO!” His proposal submission finally approved. Colin began by boasting.
“Anson called me with the news! He thought I’d like to be the one to tell you, in person. Damn nice of him! He’s flying in this morning from the site to meet with you on campus. He suggested we meet him in the conference room at the museum.”
“My morning seminar...”
“Covered. Dr. Ellis is taking over all of your classes. You’re done for the semester. You’ve got places to go...things to do...people to see. Start packing, Doc!”
Like the release valve on a pressure cooker, Ethan exhaled.
“He’s a good substitute. My students know him and he knows my syllabus. So, when did Anson call you?” Begging the question, “What time?”
“Final approval came just after midnight, Geneva time. We didn’t get word until sometime after 2:00 a.m., just before he left for the airport. Naturally, the military consignment was the alleged holdout, problematic component with security, as we expected.” Colin explained.
As jovial as Colin was in those moments, Ethan was his antithesis, ignoring the little quips and comments that would normally make him laugh. Mood and manner as serious as the mission, he got right down to business. He wanted details.
“What about the Ethics Council?”
“They were the first chips in the game.” Colin stepped closer to Ethan, placing the coffee-free hand on his shoulder. “P, they always considered you an honest and responsible, even a respectable candidate for the Flicker project, regardless of your questionable ethnic heritage.” This time Ethan had to laugh, relaxing a bit.
“Not ethnic, Col! I said Ethics Council.” Playing right along.
“Oh, them!” Playing into his hand, Colin countered and raised. “They gave you a pass right away, though how anyone could trust a Frenchman...”
As a term of endearment Colin had been calling Ethan “P” since their days spent together as students, referencing the capital P in LaPierre as punctuation. Being of French and Irish descent, Ethan’s mixture was his schoolmate’s favorite target for antagonistic banter, describing Ethan’s tenacity and passion with a letter, no matter how consistently he played those emotional cards, always close to the vest.
Ethan was in a momentary daze. He slid down into the red fabric chair, modern style design, a chair he barely ever used. It was kept for company, though he rarely entertained. But the room needed furnishings should that day ever come,
and it had come at dawn. His lapse of attention from Colin was nothing personal. He was lost in thought, riddled with emotions. It was an astounding feeling, like the first day of school all over again. Over six years of trials, proofs, reports and research. Finally, the time had come. It was what every candidate dreamed of manifesting. Yet, only in that moment did the full impact and magnitude of what was now going to happen give him chills, even though he’d always known the profound responsibility of it. Ethan’s heart jumped into his throat with an acute awareness. His Flicker project was no longer a hypothetical proposal. Humbled, honored, knowing precisely how massive this endeavor was going to be, the difference his research would make to recorded history, it was as if Ethan had just awakened from a dream. He rubbed his head while Colin made mental plans around his friend’s accomplishment.
“We’ve got to hit the pub, have a few pints!” Colin insisted. “Tonight! What ya say, mate? Maybe even invite Magpie along? Oh, c’mon P! It’s time to celebrate!” Colin began dancing to his own tune again.
“What are you talking about?” Still bewildered, this was a legitimate question. Ethan hadn’t processed the previous statement. It didn’t make any sense in his mind because he was thinking logically. There was only one imperative for consideration.
I’ve got to review my work. Right now! I’ve got to go over everything again.”
Colin abruptly stopped dancing mid hip thrust, frozen in the most awkward but comical position possible, a posture that had to hurt. Enhancing the overall effect of his staid reaction to a comrade’s judgment call, Colin paused, stuck in his shtick. Dropping his arms, untwisting his warped torso, the man hung his head in defeat. “Buzzkill.” It was the only word that sufficed and it seemed apropos at the moment. As the air in Colin’s lungs drained out with one long sigh, Ethan could literally hear his disappointment, lingering like dense English fog on the moors.
A wave of compassion swept over Dr. Bishop as an uncharacteristic expression of caring took hold of him. Looking down upon his friend, it occurred to Colin that he should say something encouraging, sincere. Squatting down in front of the chair, placing both of his hands upon Ethan’s knees, with reverence and respect he rarely displayed, effusive heartfelt empathy, Colin found precisely the right words for the poignant moment.
“P, you know this project better than anyone in the field. You’ve covered every square inch of it, been over every detail for years. It’s been your baby from the very beginning, your project right from the start. You needn’t worry about a thing, chap! You’re a bloody fucking SCOPE! The real deal! You’ve got this!”
Colin’s epiphany wasn’t lost in delivery. Ethan bolted upright from his chair as his friend sat back on the drab gray carpet, giving him room to roam. Then came a knowing smirk, that familiar quirky grin Colin claimed as his lifelong expression. Before Ethan could divulge the plan of action, his classmate broke into an English drinking song they knew well and sang together at a few of the local pubs over the years, back in the good old days of youth.
“As I went down to Derby town,
All on a summer’s day,
It’s there I saw the finest ram,
That’s ever fed on hay....”
With only the slightest prompt, a shake of the hand, Ethan joined in the revelry.
“And if you don’t believe me,
And think I tell a lie,
Just you go down to Derby,
And you’ll see the same as I....”
Taking a minute to catch his breath, Ethan paused after their duet. It was a new beginning, a new chapter, personally and professionally. Standing beside Colin, as he silently reflected on his lot in life, Ethan pondered marvelous, magical moments which had seemingly all conspired to transport him to this singular moment in time. A brilliant flash of total recall, memories made over the course of a lifetime passed through his mind, a series of snapshots or slides feathering through the light which curiously illuminated each from behind the image captured. He not only saw these images, he could see the light.
It begs the question and poses an argument regarding the human mind in all its inherent complexity. Those of good character, an honest nature will make decisions based on positive outcomes, contributions made of the results, or will at least claim the premise as true. How does one really know, though? Most folks go on the basis of hope that when someone trusts another, that trust has been earned and is returned in kind, repaid in good will, always the best of intentions.
To the dismay of history, one common theme has been the selfish intent of man. In a group setting, men will talk, debate and argue for the betterment of all society. However, the singular individual, one man or woman, will seek the personal interest at heart first. It is human nature, for good or evil. Mother Theresa, Gandhi, Mandela and those few others in history who’ve stepped beyond a pattern of selfishness and made the world a better place for it, leading by example, have been too few and far between, leaving the world otherwise “off balance” and clearly leaning toward the diabolical. Throughout the course of human history many world leaders, pharaohs, kings, queens, soldiers who have appointed themselves as “president” have had the proclivity for meeting their needs through the exercise of power, governing for one instead of the masses in the most self-serving way. These were the concerns of the Ethics Council.
Having been subjected to numerous psychiatric evaluations over six years, per the Flicker Project Oversight Committee, his acceptance was a stamp of approval, having determined that Ethan, being of sound mind and body, was ready to take the deep plunge into the past. The Ethics Council was an integral, compulsory element of The Consortium, mainly comprised of psychiatrists, psychologists, physicians, theologians and even military intelligence. Their primary concern was to establish what kind of individual every candidate was at the core. All tolled it was a grueling process, nearly dehumanizing. Methods used to derive information were, at times, downright brutal. According to the powers that be, it was necessary to preserve the integrity of the program as a whole and if someone wanted to gain entrance to the Flicker, they’d have to be willing to endure some humiliations with the intention of protecting this sensitive project. Interrogations often involved a loss of control, so to observe and verify how a candidate reacted under pressure, in adverse conditions. When subjected to prolonged periods of sleep deprivation, malnutrition, coercion, enticement, seduction and myriad other stress scenarios, the circumstances imposed upon them enabled the gauging of candidate durability. It was imperative they knew every risk to define any potential hazards posed by the project selectees. Possessing profound implications, including its potential military applications, it was much too significant a discovery to place in jeopardy with one faulty decision. Flicker was much more important than the sum of its souls on either side of assessment tables. It could only prove to be a gift to humanity if the discovery was handled with care.
Colin was correct. The Ethics Council had been the first of these high-powered committees to sign off on Ethan’s project submission, a real peacock feather in his cap. It was recognized as quite an accomplishment by all involved in the project. A normally headstrong section of the committee, it was considered the largest hurdle by all petitioners and had denied many proposals in the past. With his usual stoic resolve, Ethan had committed to remain true to his principles during the grueling process, come what may. It paid off in the end, which was only the beginning. His was one of only three project submissions to survive such intense scrutiny, that is, since the Van Ruden incident which occurred when it all began.
Back in the year 2008, September 10th to be precise, a consortium of scientists, physicists, mathematicians, theorists and a support staff gathered from universities and laboratories. Through the miracle known as the internet more than ten thousand people from over one hundred countries witnessed history in the making: the first tests of the Large Hadron Collider (or LHC). Built by the European Organization of Nuclear Research (or CERN), this massive new machine built
along the border of Switzerland and France was the world’s largest, most powerful particle collider. It took a decade to construct and it was built primarily to test the endless theories and predictions regarding particle physics and high-energy physics while connected on the worldwide web to thirty-five countries. All the initial trials went very well, moving particles within milliseconds of the speed of light, smashing them together.
Everything changed on September 19, 2008 when the quench incident occurred. There was a bending of one hundred giant magnets. Six tons of liquid helium leaked out with the impact of a massive explosion. Were they tinkering with elements too unstable and unpredictable? Were they playing God? The LHC took its first hit, its first hiccup, or was it their first warning? For the next fourteen months the program was halted.
The LHC went back online and testing resumed in November of 2009 but prior to that, back in December of ’08, CERN released a complete analysis report of the quench incident. It was incomplete. What was released to the public was press-safe, an explanation regarding the mechanical issues leading up to that event. What they neglected to include in the public report was the “anomaly” that occurred during it, lasting only .0009 seconds. This was ascertained during damage assessment review. Only then did they discover the anomaly when its monitoring cameras were slowed down and scrutinized frame-by-frame. Something strange occurred, something that was momentarily visible. Like the flash bulb from an old-fashioned camera, it was there and then it was gone. Thermal imaging cameras in position, there to read heat variations, fluctuations during particle testing, detected a doorway, not a manmade construction but more of an opening, a vortex.
In A Flicker Page 5