by Alex Scarrow
CRM-309-1567-2051.
He looked up at the crate again and his lean face creased with relief that the old man,Waldstein, had been smart enough not to smash up his machine as he’d publiclyclaimed… but instead to have secretly arranged to hide it down here while the museum wasbeing mothballed.
There, didn’t I say have faith?
Kramer nodded. His instinct always seemed spot on.
CHAPTER 16
2001, New York
Liam looked unhappily at the graffiti-sprayed metal shutter. ‘Are you certainit’s safe to go back in there, Mr Foster?’
The old man nodded assuredly. ‘We left nothing on in the arch that the seeker couldleach from. No power for six hours. It’ll have faded to nothing by now.’
He grabbed the bottom of the metal shutter. ‘Liam, crank the manual winch at the sidethere, would you?’
Slowly, creaking noisily, they winched it up and found themselves staring into the ominouspitch-black interior of the archway.
From above the arch a deep rumble made the girls and Liam jump.
‘Train from Manhattan to Brooklyn,’ chuckled Foster, ‘runs over theWilliamsburg Bridge above. Come on, there’ll be no spooks in here now.’
The old man stepped inside, out of the litter-strewn backstreet, and disappeared into thethick darkness.
Maddy nodded at Liam. ‘You first.’
He managed a wavering smile. ‘There was me thinking ladiesfirst.’
‘Not in a million freaking years,’ she replied.
They heard a switch being thrown inside somewhere and immediately several flickeringfluorescent lights, dangling on dusty flex suspended from the archway’sceiling, winked to life, bathing a damp cold floor inside with a pale, unwelcoming glare.
Maddy made a face.
That’s our ‘field office’?
The floor was an uneven, cold concrete; stained with oil; gouged, scarred and pitted from alifetime of previous tenants. Across the floor she could see loops of thick cable running fromone side of the archway to the other. Inside she guessed it was just about big enough to parktwo single-decker buses tightly beside each other.
Along the left wall a bank of computer monitors haphazardly filled a grubby workbench. A fewyards along from it in the corner she could see a large perspex cylinder filled with liquid,like some kind of giant test tube.
The back wall was laced with entwined drooping cables hitched up off the floor on hooks andrunning towards a hole in the wall through which they disappeared. Beside the hole was asliding door of corrugated metal. She presumed that led to another room.
On the right she noticed the little brick alcove they’d awoken in several hours ago.Beside the alcove was a wooden kitchen table, and a scattering of mismatched chairs. A coupleof armchairs were arranged over a threadbare throw rug. Another alcove contained an electricstove, a kettle, a microwave and a skanky-looking sink. Beyond that, an open door led on to anuninviting toilet.
It reminded Maddy of her older brother’s grubby shared flat in Boston; all it neededwas a floor knee-deep in dirty laundry and discarded pizza boxes.
‘It’s a mess,’ said Maddy.
Foster stepped over a rats’ nest of network cables gaffer-taped to the floor.
‘It’s your home,’ he said. ‘Come on in.’
They stepped gingerly inside. Sal scooped her fringe out of her eyes and surveyed hersurroundings with a barely concealed expression of distaste on her face.
‘Can we decorate?’ she asked.
Foster laughed. ‘By all means. A few more cushions, posters and throw rugs won’tdo any harm. Sal — ’ he pointed — ‘would you hit that switchthere?’
She turned round and looked at the wall beside her. ‘This one?’
‘That’s right.’
She did so and, with a cranking whir, the metal shutter wound down behind them, clatteringnoisily as it hit the bottom.
While the three of them stood motionless, trying to find something to like about their newsurroundings, Foster strode across the floor, stepping carefully over snaking cables, towardsthe metal sliding door on the back wall.
‘What is all this stuff, Mr Foster?’ asked Liam, pointing towards the computermonitors on the workbench and the large cylindrical water tank.
‘All in good time, Liam. First, I’m going to acquaint you with the fourth memberof your team.’ He reached for a handle, slid back a locking bolt and pushed the doornoisily aside.
Sal, Maddy and Liam stepped cautiously towards Foster, looking through the opening into thedark space beyond.
‘Come on, nothing’s going to bite you,’ he said, waving them over.‘Your other team member’s in here.’
‘So, er… why’s our teammate hiding alone in a dark closet?’ askedMaddy suspiciously. ‘He’s not some kind of weird albino freak, is he?’
‘He’s…’ Foster hesitated. ‘Well, perhaps the best thing is forme to just introduce you. Follow me.’
He took a step into the darkness. Sal swallowed nervously as she heard hisshoes clacking across the hard floor inside.
‘We normally keep the lighting very low in here. The in-vitro candidates are verysensitive to bright lights, especially the smallest ones. Just a second…’
They heard Foster moving around, fiddling with something in the darkness. Then, very gently,a couple of wall lights began to glow red softly. With that, they could just make out half adozen tall cylinders in front of them, each about eight feet tall. As the soft crimson glowfrom the lights above increased, Maddy decided to lead the way in.
She could see tall cylinders of clear perspex. Inside each she could just about make out somedark, solid mass.
‘So, uh… what’s in those tubes?’
‘I’ll give you a little more light,’ Foster spoke in the gloom. They heardhim flick a switch and then, in the bottom of each cylinder, an orange spotlight winked on,illuminating the contents.
‘Oh my God!’ She recoiled. ‘That’s… utterly gross!’
Each cylinder contained what looked like a watery tomato soup in which floated a gooeysediment and strands of soft tissue that dangled and wafted like snot in a toilet bowl. In themiddle of the murky stew of the nearest tube floated something small and pale and curled up onitself. Strands of umbilical tissue connected to it so that it looked like a pale larva caughtin a glistening web of entrails.
‘That’s a… that’s a human foetus! Isn’t it?’ said Maddy,stepping towards it and peering closely through the glass. Liam and Sal joined her.
‘Prenatal phase. That one is in pre-growth stasis. It’ll remain like that untilwe need it.’
‘Here,’ he said, standing by the next tube along, ‘we have one that is approximately one third of the way through the growthcycle.’
They looked into the murky water of the second tube to see what appeared to be a boy ofeleven or twelve years of age, hairless, naked and tucked into a similar foetal curl. Like thefoetus, umbilical cords connected to it and curled down to the bottom and up to the top of thecylinder.
Liam found himself recoiling at the sight. Horrified, disgusted and curious at the sametime.
‘That’s not a real boy in there… isit?’
‘No, it’s an artificial,’ Foster said. ‘Grown from engineered humangenetic data.’
Liam shrugged. The word ‘genetic’ meant absolutely nothing to him, but he wasreassured by Foster’s answer that he wasn’t looking at a real child floating like a pickled egg in a vinegar jar. He leaned closer to get abetter look at the still form of the boy.
And then its eyes suddenly snapped open.
CHAPTER 17
2001, New York
‘Oh Jayzus!’ Liam blurted as he and the girls lurched backwards inhorror.
‘It’s OK,’ said Foster. ‘It’s OK. It’s not going to leapout and get you.’
All three of them gathered their breath. Sal giggled nervously. Maddy shook her head.‘Oh my God, it’s like something out of Aliens.’
They watc
hed in silent fascination as the boy’s eyes slowly swivelled round to look atthem through the murky fluid.
‘I think it’s seen us,’ said Maddy.
‘Yes,’ replied Foster, ‘it’s seeing us, but there’s nointelligence there. The body’s motor responses are handled by a small organic brain atthis stage. It has the brain capacity of a mouse. Real cognitive processing, in otherwords… thinking, that’s incorporated later whenthey’re nearly full term.’
The boy’s mouth opened and closed silently.
‘Is it trying to talk?’ whispered Sal.
‘No. That’s just a reflex action.’
Liam watched the cloudy liquid drift in and out of the boy’s open mouth. ‘How canit breathe?’
‘Oxygenated liquid solution. It’s breathing the liquid into its lungs, just likewe breathe air.’
Liam shuddered at the thought of that. ‘But that must feel just likedrowning.’
Foster nodded. ‘I suppose it would feel like that if you were unused to it. But thisunit has known no different.’
The boy in the tube cocked his head.
‘Jahulla!’ gasped Sal, leaping back. ‘Did you see that?’
Maddy stepped closer to the glass tube. ‘Are you sure it’s not… youknow… thinking?’
Foster nodded. ‘Trust me. There isn’t enough brain matter in there to think. Yes, it’s awake and looking at us, but it’s notwondering who we are.’
She shook her head. ‘It looks just like a normal little boy. That doesn’t seemright to me.’
‘Come on,’ said Foster. ‘We’re here to meet yourcolleague.’
With some difficulty he managed to drag them away from the boy in the tube, past a couple oftubes covered over with a tarpaulin.
‘What’s in there?’ asked Liam.
Foster shook his head. ‘Mis-growths. I’ll need to flush them sometime.’
‘Mis-growths?’
‘Ones that didn’t turn out quite right. It happens from time to time.’
Sal started to lift the canvas and peek under, before Foster stepped forward and pulled thetarpaulin back down. ‘Probably best if you don’t look,Sal. Inside these tubes is the stuff of nightmares.’
‘Oh,’ muttered Sal.
‘Here,’ said Foster, ‘this is your colleague.’ He pointed towards thelast tube. Like the others it was full of murky organic soup, but this time, through thefloating clouds of debris, they could see a fully grown man.
‘Gosh!’ uttered Maddy. ‘It’sfreaking…’
‘Well built?’
She nodded. Liam studied the creature inside. He was easily six, maybe seven, feet tall,broad shouldered, every part of his stocky frame wrapped with well-defined, bulky muscles.Liam was reminded of a book by a woman called Mary Shelley. The story was about a monsterraised from the dead by a mad old man called Frankenstein.
‘It looks like some kind of superhero,’ whispered Sal in awe.
‘Uh… it looks very strong, so it does,’ said Liam warily, guessing how muchdamage just one of those huge hands could do. ‘Are you sure it’ll behave itself,Mr Foster?’
The old man laughed. ‘Oh, don’t worry, Liam, you couldn’t hope for a morereliable colleague.’
‘Does this one have the brain of a mouse too?’
‘Yes. But it also has a silicon neural net processor unit and a wafer-plex data storageunit inserted into its cranium.’
Liam looked at Foster, bemused by the gobbledegook. ‘A silly-con new…what?’
‘A computer in its head,’ cut in Sal.
Liam, none the wiser, turned to Sal. ‘A what?’
She sighed and cocked a dark eyebrow. ‘You really are from 1912, aren’tyou?’
‘It’s a machine that lets the unit store information, Liam,’ said Foster.‘Lots and lots of it. In that skull is a small block of circuitry that we can fit morefacts into than a hundred libraries full of books.’
Liam’s jaw dropped. ‘How’s that possible?’
Foster waved a dismissive hand. ‘That’ll have to come another time. The historyof computers is another whole subject, and one we don’t have time for right now.’He stepped towards a panel on the side of the tube. ‘This unit’s been full term for a while now — waiting its turn. So, let’s not keep itwaiting any longer, eh? Stand well back… This stuff really smells.’
He punched a button. The bottom of the perspex tube swivelled open, releasing a flood tide ofthe thick liquid on to the floor. It splattered and spread — a large viscous steamingpool of gunk that smelled appalling, like meat gone bad. The creature inside flopped outthrough the bottom on to the floor, loose and lifeless like a large twist of boiledtagliatelle.
‘It’s dead,’ said Sal.
‘No, it’s booting up,’ replied Foster.‘Give it a moment.’
They watched in silence as the warm foul-smelling liquid steamed on the floor. Liam notedwith some relief that it was draining away through a grille in the middle of the floor.
Then the naked form twitched.
Maddy and Sal gasped.
‘That’s a good boy,’ whispered Foster. ‘Come on now.’
The muscles flexed and rippled down its back as it slowly stirred to life. After a few groggyseconds it pulled itself up on bulging arms, as thick as any normal person’s thighs,until it kneeled on its hands and knees.
The creature’s gaze slowly drew up from the floor and rested on them.
Liam could see in the thing’s grey eyes the twinkling of something that looked like anawakening intelligence. The clone opened its mouth and vomited out a river of thick pink goothat splattered on to the floor.
Maddy made a face. ‘Ewww.’
Sal curled her lip. ‘Oh, that’s totally jahully gross.’
‘Has it just been sick?’ asked Liam.
‘No, it’s emptying the liquid out of its lungs.’
It gurgled for a moment, the sort of sound a contented baby might make aftera feed. Finally, its mouth struggled slowly to form what appeared to be a clumsy and awkwardversion of a friendly smile.
‘Ba-a… gagah… bub… glah…?’ it uttered.
CHAPTER 18
2066, New York
Kramer finished erecting the wire cage, tightening the last of the bolts holding ittogether before standing back to look at it.
‘This is it?’ asked Haas. ‘This really is the first ever timemachine?’
Kramer nodded, admiring it silently.
It was little more than a metal grille box, the size of a shower cubicle. Sitting beside iton the floor was something that looked like a copper kettle and, next to it, a modest palmtopcomputer. A few feet away their portable generator chugged noisily, feeding a steady supply ofpower to Waldstein’s machine.
‘The displacement energy field is fed into the wire cage,’ said Kramer.‘It’s only big enough for us to go through one at a time. It’s going to takeus longer than I thought to get where we’re going.’
Karl Haas looked at his watch. ‘The deadline passed half an hour ago, sir. The policesurely won’t wait much longer.’
Kramer nodded. ‘I know. We should get started.’ He kneeled down beside thepalmtop and started to tap the touch-screen with a stylus.
‘It will be cold where we’re going, Karl. The men will need to pull out theirwinter tunics.’
‘I’ll warn them. Should I call through the — ?’
His question was interrupted by the sound of a muffled thud.
Kramer looked at him sharply. ‘What’s that?’
‘They’re coming in!’ Karl straightened up. ‘I’ll have the menfall back from the main hall. We can hold them on the stairwell to the basement. It’s agood choke-point.’
‘Whatever you think best. Just buy me as much time as you can.’
Karl nodded and turned on his heel, running down the dark aisle and already on the radio tohis men upstairs.
Kramer looked back at the screen and tapped in the time-stamp: a very specific time, a veryspecific place. He turned to two me
n standing nearby.
‘Max, Stefan, we must start by sending the equipment through first, allright?’
Both men nodded and began dragging their boxes and canvas sacks into the cage.
Karl Haas reached the top of the basement stairs and stared out through the opendouble doors into the museum’s dark main hall.
He thumbed his radio. ‘Rudy, Pieter, what’s your status?’
The earpiece crackled a reply. ‘They’re inside the building. They sent tear gasand flash-bangs down the left wing and they’re moving our way.’
‘Pull back to the main hall. And hold them there for as long as you can. We’resetting up a defensive position on the basement stairwell.’
‘Copy that.’
Karl squinted into the darkness of the main hall and realized, despite the slithers of blueflashing lights stealing in through the boarded-over windows, it was still too dark.
‘OK, gentlemen,’ he spoke quietly into his radio throat mic, ‘it’sshow time. Everyone, go to night-vision.’
He reached up to the unit strapped around his crew-cut head and flipped thenight-sight HUD down over his left eye.
Moments later he heard the first percussive rattle of a firearm echoing around the emptyhalls.
He turned to the man kneeling on the stairs beside him. ‘You ready for a fight,Saul?’
The soldier nodded, even managed an edgy grin. ‘Yes, sir.’
The men lifted in one last sack of equipment and closed the door to the wirecage.
‘Stand clear,’ said Kramer.
He looked down at the palmtop’s small glowing screen. ‘OK, then,’ he said,crossing his fingers behind his back. He turned to Max and Stefan. ‘This is where we getto see if this old machine actually works.’
He tapped an icon on the screen — PURGE.
Immediately sparks spurted from the wire cage, showering on to the equipment inside. For amoment Kramer worried the canvas sacks might smoulder and catch fire, causing the ammo clipsinside to explode.
But the display of fireworks was short-lived. As the last glowing embers cascaded down, herealized the cage was already empty. He looked at his two men, wide eyed and grinning likefools. He laughed.