It was true. There were many variables. Stepping through the portal might prove to be a step in the wrong direction, past the point of no return. An exclusive form of human experimentation came with conditions that may not always be duplicative in a controlled setting. This research project still in its infancy, others had gone and come back unscathed but there was no guarantee, no implicit promise of safe return. It was virtually impossible to predict. No scientist at the LHC facility could assure a selectee that the portal would preserve its structural integrity in their absence. As a natural phenomenon, the vortex could close as inexplicably as it had opened with no prior notice. The team had to trust the conditions they so consistently recreated to keep a doorway revolving as travelers had to place their trust in the team to get it right. They had to be willing to go in spite of this awareness, disregarding inherent risks. They had to be willing to take the plunge into the past, into the deep end of the pool. A natural fear swirled around the knowledge they might not come back up for air, not in the 21st Century. Diving in meant overcoming it, perhaps in spite of it.
Like astronauts soaring into space with no guarantee of a safe, soft landing, an uncommon courage is called for in committing an act of insane bravery so extreme, it appears as reckless abandon. All explorers want to know they can go home again but that is not the nature of true exploration. Great discoveries often result in great losses. Archaeologists in pursuit of artifacts, digging up history to find the answers they seek, have been lost to harsh elements or unseen perils at the excavation sites. Anthropologists have been lost to the hazards of the Amazon. Astronauts have been lost in space, sacrificed to the Universe for the sake of knowledge, human progress. Yes, the potential existed for travelers to be lost in time, abandoned to another age. They were risking their lives. No denying it. Yet, the deepest, darkest fears revealed in therapeutic sessions with the candidates involved a concept more frightening; a fate worse than death. Their fear of being left behind, alive and well, lost to history itself on the other side of a disappearing doorway is what scared them the most. It is what kept some of them up at night. Not all fear is irrational. In search of eternal answers, few are capable of answering the call of destiny, requiring an unwavering faith, an uncommon valor in the face of potential adversity.
In order to fulfill his research proposal, David Cox had to conquer his own fears, defeat a doubt or whatever trepidation had abruptly halted his forward momentum. As it turned out, there was nothing “personal” about it. He was not afraid to die or, by some quirk of fate, live on in another time. His concerns were the same with the project as they had been for all mankind, a testament to his character. Devoting his lifetime to the betterment of society, this soft spot for humanity proved detrimental to his effort on their behalf. He was scared to death he’d inadvertently do something imprudent, perhaps out of ignorance, something that would permanently disrupt the timeline. Altering the established course of history was not the way he wanted to change the world. The Van Ruden incident had left an indelible impression on him. If it could happen once...what if...how to subjugate such an insurmountable sense of impending doom. Dread in his heart is what stopped him at the door, overcome in the moment by overpowering worry, an inability to trust his own judgment. If he made a mistake...one mistake... it could result in an incalculable loss.
David was an altruistic human being, a rare individual who harbored only good intentions for his fellow man. There was an innocence about him, an aura of purity, an otherworldly essence easy to detect and hard to dismiss. In his heart, he knew he would not deliberately do anything to disturb the timeline and would do everything in his power to preserve it. Once he had accepted the truth of his circumstances, he reconciled himself to the fact. No guarantees? No problem. By embracing his fear, it dissipated into the ether through which he would travel on his way to elsewhere. Reluctance waned, replaced with his personal conviction, a newfound determination. Finally ready to pass confidently through the portal, he knew he would do the right thing while there so to prevent a tragic, irreversible mistake here. As for the rest of it? He rested it in God’s hands.
From that point, what came to be known as the “Cox Paradox” was systematically integrated into the Flicker program, so to prepare other candidates for any particular internal conflict of this magnitude. Cox ultimately completed his event flawlessly, as predicted. Coming back to the future right on time, as a triumph of the scientific method, probability and statistics saved the day and the man. His research project? Stonehenge, circa 3100 BC. Once again, no aliens reported.
Dr. Ethan LaPierre was the third approval and the next individual from present day to step into the past under the FTCOC guidelines. Who knew exactly how long mankind’s luck was going to last tempting fate? Was it human arrogance to actually believe they could harness this power and control it, in a way, package it and market the concept? After all, that theory worked so well with regards to the atomic bomb. Still, a determined necessity to know the truth of the past persisted. What errors in judgment had been made? Likewise, if mistakes were made recording those events, it seemed the perfect opportunity to clarify these errors then set the record straight, virtually rewriting the history book, removing the dark clouds hanging over a shady human past. Some argued since humans were still here, no one had yet to blow up the world, it was a good reason to leave well enough alone. Flicker was too risky, tampering with what had already transpired. The Consortium rejected this narrow mindset. It was time to explore “time” itself. If the excited scientists were aware of the implications of this discovery, they were so enamored with its assets they never fully considered the liabilities, overlooking the obvious concept attached to it. Just because they could did not necessarily mean that they should. It was not splitting hairs to split atoms nor was it a small matter to deliberately cause matter to collide. This is the true nature of exploration.
At the conclusion of the duet with Colin, the two of them decided they’d head on down to Derby Town a bit earlier than usual for the customary meeting after an announcement of this magnitude. Dr. Bishop waited patiently, quite comfortably in the red chair, humming the lyrical limerick while Dr. LaPierre took a quick shower. He emerged donning his most dapper duds, prepared for what would inevitably be an eventful day ahead. Grabbing the manila envelope of forms from his desk, in all the excitement, he was surprised he’d had the presence of mind to remember it.
Leaving the apartment building, carrying half empty cups of lukewarm coffee, two jovial gentlemen were taken by the sight of the courtyard on such a delightful morning. Stepping over the threshold through the oak door, there they stood, taking in the view, drenching the senses with brilliant August air. Competing essences of floral bouquet in early morning mist, Ethan found the intoxicating aroma as enticing to him as the scent of a woman was to Colin. Ah, perfect timing! Breaking into their infamous pub song, both drunk with joy, as the first rays of sunlight filtered through trunks of trees across the road, the merry men embarked upon a six street jaunt to the campus of Oxford University.
Admiring the splendid view along the way, natural beauty spawned by ancient, fertile, English soil, both felt blessed to witness this event. Shards of light split the sky, illuminating a multitude of colors splashed along the sides of buildings, Mother Nature’s murals. Ethan could still feel the stroll even though his feet were barely touching ground and his head was in the clouds. Warm rays beamed like a spotlight directly onto his face. Drinking it all in through every open pore, he paused, closing his eyes. As if God was smiling down upon him, the moment was something sacred. Colin waited for his friend, watching a sublime awareness sweep over him. Ethan’s expression said it all, revealing his sense of supreme satisfaction. When he opened his eyes again Colin was standing beside him. Hoisting up his cardboard cup, Ethan returned the gesture in kind, a toast to welcome the new day.
“Well done, mate! I’m proud of you. Now, let’s go get a refill and a bite to eat. You’ll need a good breakfast in you to
face this day.”
“Thanks, Col...yes, let’s!”
For Ethan, it was a new day in every respect. It seemed different, almost surreal. The antiquities of the campus were, as always, inviting to the eyes. Both men shared the sense of being at home there, welcomed, embraced by the academic community. But there was something different in the air, the sweet smell of success, cajoling an eager professor to notice everything. The first stop was breakfast at the Grand Café on High Street. Accustomed as the British are to the chronically cloud covered sky, bright sunlight accompanied this new day dawning. It was an unexpected pleasure, a warm and welcoming presence so early in the day. Others mulling around campus were taken by its radiant glow, the force of nature compelling them to don an array of stylish sunglasses kept at the ready but rarely necessary. The campus looked like a Hollywood movie premiere, all glitz and glamour.
Students and faculty alike gathered daily at the Grand Café. Leaning up against its gray marble pillars, each topped with gold leaf inlay, they’d await an open table at the oldest coffee house in England. Its famous history wasn’t the only draw to its doors. The cuisine was contemporary, delicious and nominally priced. Said to be a favorite place of Chelsea Clinton while attending Oxford, she’d brought her famous father there on occasion. Fine custom ground coffee and loose-leaf teas kept a café and its clientele buzzing morning, noon and night. As the hostess for their breakfast crowd continually rotated tables as guests came and went, customers stood patiently awaiting their turn. They’d politely file in then pile in together, gravitating to a four top table or the bar stools, there to begin yet another day of learning and teaching.
“Top o’ the mornin’!” Dr. Ellis tipped his hat but not his hand. He too had gotten an early start, having received news of his inheritance overnight. Coming out of the café as Ethan entered, in passing through the alcove they’d paused, blocking traffic in a moment of recognition. “Professor LaPierre. Congratulations.” Understated, as usual, his typical tone, he knew about Flicker and Ethan’s rare opportunity, having covered for him in the past. Likewise, he knew it was nothing to speak of in public.
“My students are, indeed, fortunate to have you, sir.” Ethan’s sincerity beamed like the morning sun as he leaned down to share his sentiment with this short, stout Irishman. Detecting the sweet scent of pipe tobacco, it rushed his senses, reminding him of how pleasant his campus office would smell upon his return.
“My pleasure, Ethan. It’s the least I can do.” On the verge of retirement, he was anxious to participate, gladly accepting the interim assignment, his contribution to a noble cause. He whispered, keeping a secret secure. “They’ll adjust to this sudden sabbatical. Besides, they like me. I’m old but feisty.”
“With age comes wisdom, sir. I’ll drop by your office later this afternoon.”
“Looking forward to it. We’ll celebrate!” Dr. Ellis kept a stockpile of vintage Irish whiskey on hand for just such occasions. There was always something to toast!
Feeling Colin tugging at his coat sleeve, the men parted ways for the moment. It appeared normal, just another routine day on campus but looks can be deceiving. For one professor and his colleague it was a very special day filled to the brim with anticipation, dripping with adrenaline. Both feeling like school boys again charmed by their surroundings, Ethan was a pensive man most of the time but this morning he could barely contain his youthful enthusiasm.
Maneuvering through the crowd to a window seat, by happenstance, claiming a favorite spot, they settled in for a meal. This café, an ornate eclectic mix of period design had the blissfully sinful atmosphere of a church, a classroom and a nightclub all rolled into one. Old English style chairs and bar top stools decorated the place. Aesthetically pleasing beyond the creative vision, it displayed an authenticity hard to resist. A grand café, indeed! Vaulted ceilings of stained marble were evangelical, a befitting image for ascending minds pursuing higher education. They needed only to look up for inspiration.
While unfolding his napkin, Ethan glanced out the window, noticing a familiar object in the road gliding slowly past the glass. They had been followed by the same unobtrusive black sedan that drove him home the night before. It crept off, parking across the street. Ethan knew the driver. It was Sparks keeping an eye on his charge. Motioning toward the vehicle, he brought its presence to Colin’s attention.
“I should go tell him the good news.”
“He already knows. That’s why he is here, P.” Colin was right. “Get used to it. You’re the hottest commodity on campus. A shame. I used to think it was me.”
As a young man approached, neatly dressed in his freshly pressed black Oxford shirt, trousers and an apron, Colin grimaced with disappointment. He was the waiter assigned to service their table that beautiful summer morning. The lad was pleasant enough, welcoming the two men by filling their glasses with ice water. His offer of a warm smile and a hot cup of coffee simply wasn’t good enough to satisfy Colin’s voracious appetite...wrong item on the menu.
“Oh, bloody hell! Tell me, P. Why do we always get a male, not the pretty girls? It has been four years since they introduced female servers here, yet we still get the blokes!”
Ethan tugged at the corner of his reading glasses, shooting a lowbrow look at Colin, a scolding expression resembling that of a parent whose child is acting up in public. Their server ignored the dry comment as if he’d already heard it from every sophomoric male student since the first day of employment.
“Proof of its existence! The Immutable Law of Attraction or Repulsion. Perhaps your reputation precedes you.” Ethan teased.
“Ouch!” Colin winced. “Touché!”
“Serves you right! With your appetite, be happy the café opens at 7:00 now!”
While Ethan ordered his usual, an almond croissant with fresh fruit, Colin went for broke with the Grand English breakfast, consisting of sausage, bacon, scrambled eggs, balsamic tomatoes and toast. It was not any sort of surprise to Ethan that Colin could put away so much food in one sitting, almost comical the way the man could eat. Ethan sat quietly for a moment studying the person he considered to be his long lost brother. There were many fascinating aspects to Colin, including his ability for absorbing life, its many gifts embraced with reckless abandon. Overindulgence was his natural overindulgence. He knew what he liked and he liked to enjoy it in fruitful portions. Colin’s conspicuous consumption of a veritable cornucopia of delights his life had to offer, all things tolled, took proper measure of the man.
Ethan admired Colin’s irrepressible, unabashed freedom. Never a dull moment, never a sense of remorse expressed for any actions taken, never the pangs of regret, including the aftermath of a hangover, just as cherished as the festivities the night prior that brought on the cloudy, hazy morning in its wake. It was another memory to reminisce about. His inordinately high metabolism produced a constant, raucous display, an abundance of energy unleashed on the world. Based on the vast amount of food Colin could consume, it was the only thing keeping him thin as a rail. As tall as Ethan, similar in stature the true differential as one distinction drawn between the two was Colin’s blonde, short cropped hair as opposed to Ethan’s jet black hair, cut in a far more moderate style. By contrast, they were as dissimilar in personality and social relativity as possible, in some ways, opposite ends of the spectrum. Ethan grinned. Together, he thought, they made one well-rounded man.
“What are you looking at?” Colin felt Ethan’s stealthy gaze fall upon him.
“Just admiring the view.” Mustering his most effeminate voice, Ethan ribbed.
“Who could blame a bloke? I am so bloody attractive. Give us a kiss, love.”
“Not now. You know I abhor public displays of affection.” With a wink, Ethan redirected Colin. “As for admiring the view, there’s plenty to see this morning.”
“I know! Now, you see, P? Right there!” Gesturing with his fork, pointed in the direction of a young and lovely lady, Colin’s complaints were obviously just
ified. “Why couldn’t she wait our table?” Ethan cast a discreet glance up as the ravishing redhead passed, ignoring the comment she’d heard just as her male counterpart had earlier. They were all used to it. In his morning glory yet frustrated, not nearly close enough to his heart’s desired server, Colin observed those around him while Ethan observed Colin. They were both Scopes, after all.
Having placed their order, Ethan then requested another cup of coffee from their waiter, asking that it be delivered, “to go” across the road, indicating the black Benz parked within eyesight. As he did so, he’d lifted a paper napkin from the lad’s tray. Scribbling a note on it, he handed it back to him.
“Please make sure he gets this, too.”
“Will do, sir.”
“Thank you...what’s your name?”
“Terry.”
“Thanks, Terry.”
The café was vibrant, filled to capacity. Students, faculty and visitors alike, the crowd was fueling up for the day with selected cuisines and favorite beverages. The air laden with the aroma of fresh ground coffee as well as an assortment of culinary delights, he could have his appetite sated merely by breathing in the fragrance of it. Ethan loved the old café. Moving through that colorful crowd was always an event, a sensual experience. Anybody passing through its doors was immediately privy to a pleasure, instantly detecting a wide variety of aromas. Some subtle and innocuous, barely there, others more pronounced, wafting through the air of the unique eatery. Each step taken was a flight of fancy, a new encounter with the next scent.
The social gathering, as primal an instinct as any of mankind’s idiosyncrasies, is an ancient ritual engrained in the DNA. Wandering a crowd feeds that craving to belong within it, to share and compare. Some guests dined alone, seeking solitude amidst the hordes, faces buried in laptops or smart phones. Others paired off, teams of two, not unlike Ethan and Colin, while others made breakfast a gathering of the clan, seated around four top tables, some pulled together to accommodate the crew. Sitting shoulder to shoulder, presenting a unified front, stalwart companions were determined to face the day together. These folks were resolute, perfectly willing to pack it in, there to feed off of one another’s energy. They were tight, literally and figuratively, loyal to each other’s causes, reinforcing the notion that they could all overcome the forthcoming day, come what may. Quietly studying his surroundings, Ethan noticed everything, committing it to memory as a series of snapshots. There he sat at the table, making picture postcards. They hadn’t spoken in several minutes while waiting for their food to arrive. Colin finally piped up, noticing the brooding expression as it crept onto Ethan’s face. He’d have none of it. This was to be a day for celebration. Colin would not allow any slipping backward into a reflective pool.
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