In A Flicker

by George R. Lopez

  “Flicker’s up and running perfectly!” Gesturing toward an access door, the good doctor led the way in advance of Ethan’s support team. Ethan knew his way around the building but he deferred, following dutifully behind. It was one of the few jobs Dr. Eschmann had, to escort him like a dignitary as if it was his first visit to the site.

  Once through the entrance, the last of the group (which looked like an entourage following a prize fighter to the ring) hit the security pad, closing the oversized slab of metal behind them, effectively muffling the heavy whirring of machinery.

  “Dr. Van Ruden has been here all night greeting visitors, heading up the Public Relations team.” Eric continued in better audible conditions.

  As they walked along Ethan looked over his shoulder at Colin.

  “You think Anson brought beer?” Colin asked rhetorically of Ethan who shook his head and smiled, recalling their night of celebration together at The House.

  Turning his attention back to the corridor ahead, little by little, employees began to emerge from office and lab doors aligning the walls of the hallway.

  “Good luck, Dr. LaPierre.” One head popped out.

  “Viel Gluck, Arzt LaPierre.” Several of the workers spoke in unison.

  “Bon chance, Medecin LaPierre.” It was an international Bon Voyage party.

  Ethan never felt more uncomfortable. He was the player at center stage, yet the spotlight felt too hot. He had no appetite for it, no craving of attention from others. Even in his familiar classroom setting his methodology of teaching was minimizing eye contact, keeping the focus of young minds on the work at hand. He was acutely aware of the significance of the events unfolding and the electricity it was creating. Anson would tell him to hold his head high and play the role of Ambassador for the project, star of The Consortium. Once again, regret fell upon him for never pursuing thespian training. He was a very shy man and a very bad actor.

  In an understated corridor, an incredibly vast maze of halls, tubes and humming, whirring, buzzing walls, all vents and equipment, Ethan could hear the faint sounds of muffled music like a distant echo chamber. He did not recall seeing any speakers being installed in his presence but the sounds had permeated his mind for a moment. As the entourage continued forward, the soft repetitive snare drum and bass became instantly familiar. Ethan and Colin looked at each other and began to snicker, saying the same familiar name at the same time. “Anson.”

  “One pill makes you larger and one pill makes you small

  And the ones that mother gives you don’t do anything at all

  Go ask Alice, when she’s ten feet tall.”

  Anson was a prideful product of the 1960’s and always made an effort to remind everyone (twenty years younger or more than he) that the greatest era of music and of revolution was in his time. Booming one final reminder of his plight, Anson had Jefferson Airplane’s “White Rabbit” piping through the communication system that broadcasted in this section of the LHC, the magical place where the ALICE project became a true and legitimate looking glass into the past. They were going down the rabbit hole to “Go ask Alice”. Perhaps, just perhaps, Anson was spot on.

  Music continuing to play, Ethan was also greeted by the sounds of spontaneous applause from a group awaiting his arrival. Past the sounds and showcase, past the people in attendance there was a doorway, an invisible doorway into the past. Ethan reflected back to the first time he saw the Flicker, or did not see it, until he looked at one of the thermal imaging screens. The control room was a simple moving pod transformed into a makeshift operation center. Standing in front of a monitor, Ethan stared at the portal, amazed he was about to create a path for his future by stepping back into the past. Though not visible to the naked eye, on the screen he could see in multiple spectrums the barrier he would soon breach.

  The doorway was fluctuating, oval to circle to oval, a free-flowing form pulsing in the light spectrum, from yellow to blue to red, indicating temperature variations. An energy access gate to another time and place, it was so beautiful. For practically every moment since its accidental discovery in the ALICE system, so many of the world’s greatest physicists and mathematicians labored in cooperation with LHC directors to harness it, calibrate the collider’s energy, speed, heat; any and all other factors regarding manipulation, perfecting Flicker’s timeline, duration and location. Achieving accuracy to a percentage point, flawless in the mechanics of operation, it was the crowning achievement of mankind working in harmony with a force of nature never before witnessed. Ethan gazed at it with wonder, humbled by Flicker, his ride into the history books.

  Ethan was not one to look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth. The facts were set, data compiled and analyzed. Flicker was so precise in specificity of calculation, he could have gone through at any present time to the planned arrival date and time in the past. There would be questions regarding the timing of this jump, scheduled three days before the anniversary of the first murder. He’d been told only three days prior, informed upon his arrival at the LHC, exactly why this project had been held up for so long, biding its time. Only then was it disclosed as a deliberate delay, their intention to synchronize the dates. Basically, The Consortium had been stalling for time and “20/20 Hindsight” was waiting out a calendar. It would be the first attempt to correlate the past with the present, pertinent for the sake of testing new theory.

  Of course, there was no such thing as Daylight Savings Time in 1888, although these slight variations were considered inconsequential by the scientific team when compared to the impact made by being able to accurately measure deviations to the second from Ethan’s departure to return. Having concocted this very scenario while dissecting the delay in his mind over months, Ethan had his suspicions but nobody confirmed them. Anson explained his decision to withhold such vital information with one line composed of nine simple words:

  “Less time for you to be mad at me.” Then he winked.

  Knowing Anson’s warped mind enough when it came to his Scopes, Ethan also assessed that by keeping the time short between project approval and Flicker jump limited the Scope’s tendency to overthink and stress about their project submission. Never known to hold a grudge, Ethan accepted Anson’s rationale with good humor, no hard feelings. Being present at the site certainly softened the blow. Actually, Dr. LaPierre applauded the concept. There was a perfection about it he could not ignore. In spite of the realization that this approval could have come sooner, it all appeared meant to be in an exciting moment of exploration. Anxious to get on with it, Ethan longed to arrive at his ultimate destination to make his appointed rounds. Dates and stars had aligned and his date with destiny had arrived.

  Framing the invisible Flicker anomaly was something new and different, quite necessary from the perspective of the Medical Department effectively arguing their point. Considering the premise of this project, the expected proximity between the Scope and people of the target era, a vital precaution was taken with the installation of the sterilization chamber positioned directly in front of the vortex. On loan from the World Health Organization (WHO), the chamber was a preventative measure, another step taken to assure there would be no pathogen hitchhikers into the past or brought back from it. Nothing was left to chance. Just to the left side of the invisible portal was a large digital clock box displaying red illuminated numbers.

  00:12:41

  “Ethan!” Anson’s forceful, familiar barrel-chested voice echoed throughout the facility, followed by his roaring laugh. An offering of camaraderie for all to witness, watchful eyes enjoyed an embrace between the two men.

  “Good morning, Anson.” Ethan barely uttered his greeting, trying to catch his breath while locked in another Swedish bear hug.

  “A great morning! A wonderful morning!” Anson exclaimed.

  PR was Anson’s forte. Leading Ethan up to a glass barrier separating them from the uninoculated audience all present, the crowd he was expected to “hobnob” with included various dignitaries, progra
m contributors, heads of state, religious leaders and other media and marketing targets. No need for a formal introduction. They all knew precisely who he was and what he was about to do: make history. Ethan felt dizzy, overwhelmed by the social circle of admirers. The transparent partition was more for a dramatic effect. Ethan had been sufficiently immunized against virtually any bug. Anything external would be wiped out in the sterilization chamber before his jump. Anson thought keeping their guests behind a glass wall added impact and would diminish Ethan’s stress level. Though well-intended, it failed. His awkward stance and sweaty palms could be diagnosed as agoraphobia were he not a professor at a prestigious university. This was all just too weird. He had always been eager to get on with this project, to go back in time, never more so than in those few fleeting moments, feeling quite like a gorilla caged in the zoo as humans stared at him. The only visual distraction for countless eyes in the room was the minister standing off to the side, softly praying for and bestowing a blessing upon this event as pomp and circumstance with the Almighty present, another Van Ruden maneuver.

  Ethan always considered Colin Bishop his friend, a colleague, even his brother. Never before had he been his hero until the instant he approached, wrapping an arm around Ethan’s shoulders, easing his discomfort, protecting the man from himself.

  “Sorry, ladies and germs, but our man of the hour has already had his shots and, I for one am not sure all of you are free from infectious disease so I think it best we press forward before his overexposure to all of you filthy rich people!”

  The crowd laughed, exploding into applause as Colin whisked Ethan away to a secure location far from the enthusiastic crowd, a small room off the project floor.

  “Any more of that nonsense and you are going to demand your own trailer with fresh flowers in your dressing room.” Colin often joked even when he should not.

  “Bollocks. Well, I DO want a personal assistant. You, perhaps?”

  “Yeah, you know what you can do with that fucking idea, mate.”

  Both men laughed then, for a moment, stood silently, each avoiding eye contact with the other, looking around as if the words to speak next were floating by on the air, awaiting someone’s grasp.

  “Look, Col.” Ethan began.

  No one understood Ethan better. “I know, P. I have got everything covered for you. There’ll be a pint waiting here when you get back. I’ll be the one in the hazmat suit with a cane and top hat doing the Bishop Bounce, my moves you most enjoy.”

  “Well, that’d be a dead giveaway, wouldn’t it, and quite a sight for the rest.”

  The affection between them was so obvious, almost painful. Having bonded as brothers in their youth, this separation would literally be the longest since they met. Though neither said it, they both knew it. Should something go dreadfully wrong, they may never see each other again.

  “Well.” Colin abruptly extended his hand. “Best be off with you, then.”

  Ethan stared at Colin’s gesture with confusion then embraced his best mate, his friend, his brother, his hero. A comrade in arms.

  Leaving the anteroom behind, they walked toward the chamber entrance. Colin turned, an astonished expression on his face.

  “I just got it, P! Your project title is ‘20/20 Hindsight’ but you could not have known it then, could you? I mean, you filed your submission years ago. Now you’re leaving in the year 2020! It’s a good omen, mate! It’s as if you’d known it all along. Ethan LaPierre! Come now, give us a kiss.”

  “You’re a twit.”

  “You’re a twat.”

  00:08:19

  Sharing one final laugh before separating, Colin led Ethan back into the project room, which was now cleared of all unnecessary personnel. Anson remained in the room. As the Consortium’s PR man, he knew the project’s future was only as stable as its last project success. Each jump was a chance to promote and sell the concept to the next group of financiers and charitable donors. Oh, but his heart was in it this time. Anson walked towards Ethan with his arms open wide and gave him another giant-sized bear hug. His coffee and cigar stained smile was gleaming through his rust colored handlebar moustache and beard, peeking through like the early rays of sunshine. As he embraced Ethan he made sure his back was to the isolated audience.

  “Alright, Ethan. Let them see a confidant smile from you! When I let go of you laugh like I’m capable of saying something fucking funny, lad.”

  Ethan looked up to see all these unfamiliar faces through the glass partition. He mustered a smile to hide the awkwardness of the role he represented and the burden he bore at the moment. Anson, still with his back to the viewing room slowly altered his facial expression, gazing at Ethan like a proud father. No microphones nearby, no one behind the glass could hear their exchange.

  “I hate my fucking job.” Anson continued. “You know I have four daughters.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “I couldn’t be any prouder if you were my own son.”

  Ethan felt uneasy, never hearing or seeing this side of his mentor before.

  Anson grabbed both of Ethan’s shoulders. “Be invisible, be safe and come back home or you’re going to have to answer to me. Understood?”

  “Understood.”

  Anson, still holding Ethan’s shoulders, did not speak but kept staring at him.

  Ethan, looking to his left then to his right, cautiously queried, “You’re not going to head butt me now, are you?”

  Anson burst into his hefty laugh once more then turned to the curious onlookers, keeping his arm around Ethan’s shoulders, one final sale made to the buyers.

  00:05:33

  The dull, scuffed gray flooring of the area around Flicker’s invisible doorway and sterilization chamber was painted with yellow caution lines, a framed doorstep leading to the breach’s entrance. A Flicker support team member passed Ethan his period medical bag. Another handed him his aged bill fold with a generous amount of currency. Finally, he was presented credentials establishing his false identity, the documentation validating his medical education and citizenship. Ethan tucked away the billfold and paperwork into his 19th Century jacket pocket. Opening the medical bag, hoping there was some sort of gift left by Colin or his students or even Anson, Ethan knew all too well The Consortium would never have allowed anything to slip past them, as risk of contamination of the past was priority one. It was just wishful thinking, only the journal and surgical tools inside it.

  00:02:59

  The time had come. Within a few seconds of standing in front of this doorway, Ethan reconsidered the Cox Paradox. He could not see that which would transport him to a time he’d never been, walking the streets he knew so well in the year 2020. How horrifying it must have been to reach this point then, in the last moments, lose his nerve. It must’ve be demoralizing, that sudden loss of confidence. Had he failed to overcome the disability, David Cox would have suffered a lifetime of regret.

  Ethan had no such issues, no lapse in personal or professional confidence. Only for sentimental reasons had he, once again, glanced over his shoulder, one last time, first spotting a good friend. Anson was still in the room. As they made eye contact, he wondered if this far journey would prove to be somehow redemptive for him. A flawless mission executed, a seamless return may further bury Anson’s frightening experience with a Japanese soldier years ago. Then he looked toward Colin. Again, no words. Just a smile exchanged. Colin, true to form, grabbed his crotch and made a “peace” sign with his free hand, mouthing the same line he’d used on Maggie as he yelled across The Valley: “Have a safe trip!”

  00:01:51

  Returning his focus to the task at hand, Ethan watched the digital clock ticking down to a series of zeroes. It was time. Stepping up to the yellow line designating the edge of the breach, this was something he’d had the opportunity to do before on seven prior occasions. During trials he’d been whisked away to preselected, remote locations. This would be no different. Flicker really was an Einstein-Rosen Bridge betw
een two times and locations, yet no movie or theory ever described or depicted it correctly. There was no tunnel or worm hole, no molecular alteration or derivative pains such as exiting the birth canal. Clothes did not burn off the body and the brain did not get scrambled or fried. Nothing with an electronic pulse ever short-circuited, not a thing lost in translation or transportation. As Ethan recalled, it was more like being a celebrity walking through a door to find a paparazzi using a high-resonance flashbulb to take his photograph. That was it! A bright, blinding light then he’d be through it. All the Scopes who ever made the jump described it as “anti-climactic” for an event of such historical significance. Yet, there it was, so the focus on impact became the event on the other side, no longer the many events around getting there. So be it. Ethan stepped into the chamber. Pausing for a decontamination process to work its magic, once concluded, a light flashed then Ethan stepped through time.

  00:00:00

  It hit him like a boxer, a straight jab to the nose then into the gut. Noxious odors immediately brought the time traveler to his knees. Retching in the shadowed alley, gasping that putrid air in between the vomiting only made the stench worse. He and The Consortium medical staff and historians had anticipated this physical reaction but could not duplicate its fullest capability for debilitating the Scope who’d have to breathe this air. As his nostrils stung, his lungs slowly began adjusting to the new pathogens. The faintest echo, the sound stilled the man. Approaching footsteps. But who the hell was walking through this unsavory part of town at four o’clock in the morning? “It is four, isn’t it?” Ethan reached for his trusted companion, his antique pocket watch.

  “Fuck me!” Shocked beyond belief, he inadvertently shouted. Ethan suddenly realizing that he had left his confidant, his friend behind in the closet! The precious timepiece remained where he’d left it, tucked away in the pocket of his 21st Century suit. Hanging there, awaiting his return, it languished unused in a dark, drab corner of the living quarters Ethan called home while preparing for the jump. Not that the timepiece miraculously GPS synchronized with the correct time in this presumed century. It served no real purpose in that respect. That aside, he couldn’t believe it! How could he have possibly forgotten his closest inanimate object? And especially considering Anson had given him permission to take it along, only because it was authentic to the era.