Racing to catch up with his friend, Colin became winded keeping pace with his impatient companion. He managed to duplicate Ethan’s cadence while they passed through one of the many open plazas located just south of the Sheldonian Theatre. Reaching the side door entrance into the Museum of the History of Science just off Broad Street, Ethan paused then placed his hand on the door knob. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. This was no longer a paper acknowledgement, phone call or e-mail. He was about to hear it from The Consortium director himself. He was about to receive news of his submission acceptance from Dr. Anson Van Ruden.
“Uh, P?” Leaning in toward Ethan’s ear, Colin whispered, “You’ve got to turn the knob for the door to open.”
Ethan snapped out of his momentary paralysis. “Right. Yes.” Turning the brass knob, he pushed the door open and they entered the museum.
This enormous cathedral-like structure housed an amazing and unrivaled array of historical artifacts honoring the instruments used in the development of science. Many of the items had been donated by the museum’s benefactor Lewis Evans back in 1924. On the ground level, Ethan and Colin continued along the polished marble floor past a plethora of science-based technology, displays including the collections from the Royal Astronomical Society and the Royal Microscopical Society. At the center of the ground floor they turned left, facing a set of ascending and descending stairs. Their journey continued downward as each footstep echoed through a narrow stairwell heading toward the basement level galleries. Ethan envisioned the future, counting footsteps in his mind as more a metaphorical excursion into the past. What would he experience once he stepped through the portal? Would he actually go into the past as the present or would it be the echo of an era long gone?
His mind was reeling, though he did not share a single word with Colin. Ethan’s thoughts were loud enough to create an echo! Considering the definition of the word pertaining to the resonance of sound, it was a sound repeated, duplicated after cause of the initial sound, mimicking it as effect. This journey would also have to include the visual echo of past events. Of course, science would eventually contest a theory, inevitably so, as sound and light travel at very different speeds. Be that as it may, accepting current science, no one to that day could formulate the equation otherwise known as Flicker. The doorway, in all its aspects, was exactly that. It was not some sort of Divine intervention nor extraterrestrial in nature. Due to human imagination, a natural curiosity for advancement of science, he’d be an accidental tourist in time, passing through a portal revealed as a by-product of research, a fortuitous moment of serendipity. They were not searching for it because they did not know it existed. The LHC was not designed for this purpose and those who never planned for a fluke of natural law or a rip in the fabric of the Universe did not have to understand it to utilize it. Regardless of its origin, if their discovery was predestined or preordained, whether this was caused by the power of atoms colliding or something else entirely, the door now existed and Ethan was destined to step through it.
Reaching the end of the stairway, Ethan opened a door to the basement gallery. It was one of his favorite areas, where Einstein’s blackboard was on display, as well as a wide selection of items and instruments contributing to the research of physics, chemistry, medicine, microscopy and photography. They would bypass this section as their destination was through the “C” gallery, a revolving exhibit display. At the moment there were no displays of anything, as the area was cleared for this meeting. Straight through the “C” wing to the end of the hall, a sudden left turn brought them to the conference room. On the other side of the door was Ethan’s future in the form of five Consortium representatives. Anson Van Ruden was expected to be there but it was anybody’s guess who accompanied him on the flight from Geneva to Oxford. This was the last hoop to jump through before his giant leap into the past. Although it was just a formality, the reps were there to ensure that Ethan, or any selectee, for that matter, was mentally and physically prepared to go forward with the research. The incident that happened when Anson went through the portal as well as the Cox Paradox had never been concealed or sugarcoated at any time during the project’s existence. In fact, it had become an integral part of the selectee screening process.
The conference room smelled of fresh coffee and old books. Ethan stepped into it first as Colin trailed closely behind, trying to be invisible, to shrink into oblivion. It was Ethan’s moment of truth. Colin had to be there. He wouldn’t have missed it for the world, though he wanted to be as unobtrusive as possible. To both, it seemed like an anxiety-ridden trip to the principal’s office, or worse, into the coach’s office to see if they’d been cut from the team. Strange how pessimism can sneak into even the most confident mind, in spite of all the cards on the table indicating the ultimate winning hand. It was never an aspect of self-doubt for Ethan. He knew who he was and what he brought to the table. His thoughts were more of a preparatory mentality to expect the worst, especially when one’s future lay in the hands of another. Within those four walls, confirmation of Ethan LaPierre’s destiny would come, at last. Five men stood chatting around a table at the far corner of the conference room, enjoying coffee and extras served for their pleasure, nibbling on crusty scones and fresh fruit. One of them took a particular interest in the new arrivals, looking over his shoulder, a familiar face with a reassuring smile.
“Aye! Ethan! Right on time! How are ya, buddy?”
There was an ease in Anson’s demeanor as he finished stirring cream and sugar into the hot brew. His jubilant expression provided Ethan a deserved sense of relief. The “barrel-chested Swede” (as Flicker personnel affectionately called him) made his way over to Ethan, extending his hand in a warm and welcoming gesture. It was an immediate signal to Ethan that all his predisposed trepidation was unwarranted. The air was suddenly lighter, more vibrant; easier to breathe. Glancing past Anson, Ethan recognized the other Consortium members still jockeying for their coffee. In attendance, Dr. Anthony Galli of Switzerland, a brilliant physicist, Dr. Lars Linsin of Sweden, an incredible particle scientist, Dr. Franco Carmalini, a psychiatrist who had been with the project from its inception and Dr. Devon Murth of Australia, who was not only an amazing physician but also a selectee in the program.
“Dr. Van Ruden, I’m so delighted you were one of the members coming today.” Ethan spoke with a tone of humility, sincerity while reciprocating, shaking the hand of this great scholar. Anson’s vice grip was legendary, having puddled blood in the fingers of most recipients. The man did not know his own strength.
“Anson, please Ethan. Call me Anson. I wouldn’t have missed this! Actually, I am the reason for recent delays. I wanted to be here for this, so had to fit it into my schedule. I beg your pardon.”
“Told you.” Colin made his presence known, poking Ethan gently in the ribs.
“Dr. Colin Bishop, good to see you!” Anson grabbed his hand with such force, it was like getting caught in the Jaws of Death in The Valley during time trials.
“Was your flight in a smooth one, gentlemen?” Ethan asked out of concern.
“Like a baby’s bottom.” Anson replied with an enormous smile.
“Fantastic to hear.”
Ethan began moving towards the four other members of The Consortium with whom he was very familiar, holding them in the highest regard. His respect for their accomplishments was unparalleled, actions before and during the Flicker program. Each of them greeted Ethan with unbridled enthusiasm. He sensed their excitement for him, filling his heart. He hadn’t expected to feel so emotional, trying to disguise the lump in his throat. With each handshake he knew this project was not only going forward but those involved were so encouraging, supportive of this Englishman of Irish and French descent. Likewise, Colin greeted them as he made his way over to the table to have another caffeinated beverage, as if he needed it! Ethan needed his moral support, Colin by his side. His attendance at this briefing was, if for no other reason, to work his magic misdirection
of Ethan’s mind should something shocking or disappointing be announced. Colin was the cockeyed optimist he counted on for some balance in his life.
“Did you get enough rest? I know both of you were out at The Valley last night.” Anson asked with some concern, aware of the ridiculous hours they kept as Scopes.
“Oh, yes. I’m just fine.” Ethan responded by handing over the manila envelope to the project director. He then reached for a fresh cup of coffee, mixing in an extra sugar cube into the brew, taking one sip to test it before committing to the cup, the consummate scientist.
As a scientist himself it was in Anson’s nature to be observant yet he was a kind man, as well. His generous comments, thoughtful gestures of support were heartfelt, nothing cold or clinical about him. Over time he had developed a specific empathy, compassion for those assigned to this formidable task, the link established between gentlemen who would walk in his shoes. It was the bond of kinship, having been in that identical position before, one in which Ethan stood, examining the examiners for any signs of strife or doubt. Leaning in to comfort a kindred spirit, Anson knew few mortal souls would ever pass through their portal. Selectees became a tightly woven family over time, individuals who were the intermingling threads, there to enhance the big picture, to be the strands that expand the tapestry of the Universe.
“Not to worry, this is just a formality.” Anson whispered the words as if sharing a secret kept. “You’re good to go on your way.” As a father would comfort his son, a few lyrical words functioned as a lullaby, ushering Ethan into a daydream.
Closing his eyes, Ethan dropped his head in relief, chin to chest as his shoulders relaxed for the first time in forever. A chronic tension headache as his nemesis, one sign of the stress he’d carried all morning, it suddenly evaporated into languid air. A burden lifted, Ethan smiled. Perhaps it wasn’t eye strain after all! Anticipation is almost as powerful as fear, and is, in fact, borne of it. An insidious fear, it creeps in through the back door, a worry, not that something will happen but that it won’t.
The center table in the room was an exquisite replica of a 17th Century trestle style, made of a lighter material for easier mobility and relocation. Surrounding it, eight built for comfort modern desk chairs, luxury made for such meetings as their own; the one about to occur. Anson motioned to everyone present to take their seats. The time for not so idle chatter having passed, the moment to begin was upon them and everyone sensed the gravity of it, especially Ethan, sucking him down into his seat as dead weight.
Removing a small digital recorder from his breast pocket, Anson used it strictly for dictation purposes, as was done for every Flicker interview by every committee leader during the application process since the beginning. Redundant, perhaps, as the museum had security video with audio in virtually every room of the building. The Consortium was filming these proceedings and would secure all the recorded data of their meeting. This was Anson’s personal accounting for his report. Pressing a button on the recorder, noting the date, time and every member in attendance for the event, Anson announced commencement of the closed door conference.
“We have gathered in this formal capacity, as required, to finalize all remaining details prior to initializing the third Flicker Research Project, ‘20/20 Hindsight’ as spearheaded by candidate Professor Ethan LaPierre of Oxford University, England. During his endeavor as Scope, in pursuit of objective real-time observations, events in history which have transpired are to be scrutinized by Dr. LaPierre, requiring his transport via Flicker to the established time frame between the dates of 28 August 1888 and 9 November 1888. Regarding these five similar unsolved criminal cases, known as the Whitechapel murders, Dr. LaPierre’s intention is to clarify history, to determine a culprit, thus identifying the infamous Jack the Ripper.”
The atmosphere in the chamber suddenly shifted. Anson abruptly fell silent, as if pausing to reflect on the process, allowing those present to reabsorb the nature of one intense research project as the dense air thickened further. It seemed to possess an intelligence. A memory was awoken by the spoken words. It became oppressive, unbreathable as Dr. Van Ruden continued, consuming what oxygen was available.
“Candidate LaPierre will be provided vintage attire, currency and identification indigenous to the era. He will be entrusted to faithfully and accurately execute, duty sworn, accounting these events from a non-invasive vantage point to such a degree that a proper conclusion may be drawn as to the identity of the notorious assailant. Professor Ethan LaPierre, are you of sound mind and body and do you completely comprehend the responsibilities inherent to this endeavor in the name of puritanical research and historical documentation?”
“I am sir, and indeed I do.” Ethan responded with confidence. No doubt.
“Note that on this day, 17 August 2020, Professor Ethan LaPierre’s affirmation of the project directives and procedures as provided in the Flicker Legal Doctrine that all candidates have been previously required to read and sign, acknowledging a full understanding of the responsibilities and requirements prior to their project launch. Dr. LaPierre, do you have any questions, comments, concerns regarding acceptance of your candidacy and forthcoming duty?”
“No sir, I do not.” Ethan responded in a somber tone of deep commitment. He’d taken his pledge of allegiance to the program long ago, years before.
“Does any member of The Consortium Final Review Panel have an objection to this project or to the candidate we are addressing on this date at this time?” Anson inquired of his colleagues, knowing their answers in advance, a collective response of “No.” For the recipient of a ringing endorsement, it instantly reiterated the most powerful word in the English language.
“This concludes the final project review with candidate Dr. Ethan LaPierre. We thank you for your time and patience, professor. Launch preparations are currently underway. Its countdown has commenced. Ethan, you are scheduled to go forward. Congratulations, sir. Your destiny awaits. Meeting adjourned.” Anson grasped the candidate’s hand then held on, smiling warmly at his protégé, sharing his own sense of satisfaction with the professor as the culmination of this final confirmation.
Turning off the recorder, they sat in silence, taking in this momentous occasion. The spark of inquiry ignited, Anson wanted to know the long elusive answer to the question as much as anybody else at that table, solving the ultimate whodunit once and for all time. He wanted his acolyte to be the one to reveal a secret kept by time itself and he knew Ethan was destined to become a witness to history in the making, albeit a series of gruesome observations. He would wander the streets of London in disguise, focused on the one who prowled the dark alleyways in search of his prey. With the eyes of a detective, just like any bobby walking his beat, Ethan would be privy to events as they unfolded, present at the scene of the crimes as they occurred. Intriguing beyond measure, it was a fascinating proposal right from the inception, captivating those who knew the details and ultimately approved the petition request. As the anticipation continued to rise, it erupted out of Anson with one rogue gesture as he threw his arms up like a football referee signaling a touchdown.
“Tonight we drink to your success!” It was a proclamation. Dr. Van Ruden had made plans for the evening, a customary celebration the burly Swede insisted upon, as a good luck toast to the selectee as well as a tribute to Flicker.
Much to Ethan’s delight the other panel members followed Anson’s lead, all of them cheering him on. Their outburst caught Colin mid sip, dazed and confused, as if he had been warped into an alternate Universe. Again, he was the comic relief in the room, a priceless expression on his face for all to enjoy. Placing his coffee cup and saucer at the edge of the table as elegantly as possible, he finally sent his arms sailing into the stratosphere, better late than never. His colleagues howled, a rather standard response to Colin’s antics. It broke the tension.
Beyond the door of a basement conference room, up to street level and all along the campus, then out to all of England,
the United Kingdom, Europe and the planet, the vast unawareness of what had transpired within the confines of those walls was staggering when considered. For only the third time in the history of any species, the ability existed to travel into the past as a witness to firsthand accounts of events long echoed in time. The “Laws” of physics had been rewritten and redefined, never more vitally so when applied to the discipline and dangers related to what humanity had discovered and what had discovered humanity. If those chosen to comprise The Consortium allowed a research project to continue without taking every precaution they would be irresponsible, knowing what could happen to those assigned the task. The result would be nothing short of catastrophic, fracturing linear time. Their final decision had ramifications beyond borders.
“So, Colin will lead your project team then?” Anson queried.
“Yes, yes sir, he will.” Ethan responded. “He’s been with me from the start and knows my research better than anyone. I trust him implicitly.”
“Very well, then.” Anson continued. “Ethan, as you prepare for the event I will correspond with Colin regarding protocol and any program fluctuations which may occur in the offing, freeing you to mentally plan without further distraction.”
“Thank you.” Ethan responded with blissful contentment.
Anson knew Ethan need not be told how to prepare for this “timely” adventure. He had not seen a more focused and logic driven individual selected as a candidate since the program went public. His research was faultless and broad, covering every angle and approach a Scope would need to consider for this journey, and then some. There was no allowance of apathy for any candidate tasked to breach this doorway. When it comes to due diligence required to conduct research of the past by a living strand of its content, someone from a time not yet in existence during the time it is conducted, suffice to say Anson Van Ruden always placed his bets on Ethan, quite confident he was the perfect candidate for the task at hand.
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