by Terry Persun
“Yes you did. But did you not look through your memory for when I told you not to let anyone see your hands?”
“It was dark when I went outside. No one was around. No one is ever around,” Fenny said.
“Are you talking back to me?”
“Of course I am, doctor. You have asked me a question.”
“I mean back-talk. Is this back-talk?” Dr. Klein stood pointing at Fenny. He had not shut the door, which meant that they were not totally safe from the outside either.
“The door,” Fenny said.
“Don’t change the subject.” Dr. Klein appeared to be getting angrier, but Fenny only became more confused as to why. Perhaps it had to do with back-talk. Fenny was unfamiliar with the difference between talking back when asked a question and back-talk, but would look it up later. For now, though, he said, “I was merely wishing to complete the action. I installed the hands and wished to test them.”
Dr. Klein swung around and thrust the door closed, making a loud slamming sound.
Fenny took a step backward from the violent sound.
Dr. Klein’s facial expression changed. He looked distressed, but sad. “I don’t want you to get into trouble,” he said. “I don’t want to get into trouble either.” It was an admonition of truth.
“I don’t want that to happen either, doctor.” Fenny stepped closer.
“Come on,” Dr. Klein said as he waved his hand urging Fenny closer to him.
Fenny walked over and stopped a foot in front of the man who was responsible for giving him hands.
Dr. Klein reached up and brushed dirt from Fenny’s top hand. The data sensations were multiple. Then the doctor brushed the other hand off. Fenny closed his fingers around the doctor’s hand and said, “Shaking hands.”
“Yes, shaking hands is a cordial greeting. How do you do?”
Fenny sensed what he considered joy. “Fine, and how do you do?”
CHAPTER 6
“ROGERS AND MATTHEWS loved that I dismissed Steffenbraun the way I did. But you could tell by the way he left the room that he was pissed. I don’t know what it is about these geniuses, but they sure are control freaks.”
Mavra put her hand on Neil’s neck and patted it. “It takes one,” she said.
“I’m not that bad,” he said, knowing full well that she was right for the most part. He did like to be in control when he had the chance. It wasn’t meant to be demeaning; just that he felt more qualified to be looking at the big picture, pulling the pieces together, and having others doing the detail work.
“You’re a pretty smart and capable guy.” She cocked her head. “Enough said.”
“That’s why I love you,” Neil gave her a peck on the lips then stepped from her embrace. “You’re a straight shooter.”
“What happened during the interviews?” she prodded.
“No one had been on the case long enough to know very much. The agents had basically been briefed as I had. It was their second time through and, in all honesty, they were bored. I don’t blame them. For my taste, it’s all a bunch of bullshit. That’s why I commandeered the agents. Partly because they’d do an investigation from the inside, check cameras, talk with staff, interview the doctors. And partly to keep them busy and out of my hair. You and I both know that you can’t shut the FBI down by telling them they’re off the case. Might as well use their talents.
“The doctor, on the other hand, is delusional if he thought he could get rid of the FBI and hide what’s really going on by bringing in the military. As for that whole thing, and the kid that Steffenbraun appointed as the go-between, that’s most likely bullshit, too. The kid, Smythe, just makes intercommunications that much more difficult. I’m not even sure the military is involved for Christ’s sake. He could have duped orders sent to the FBI.”
“I don’t know. I would suspect that would be pretty hard to do. Maybe the military involvement is for real. It is their project, their money, right?” Mavra said.
“Okay, I’ll go with that.”
“No danger, though,” she said with a grin.
“So far. But the guy in the video did have a gun.” He ignored the look she gave him. “Honestly, as weird as that thing looked, I still think it was planted. Nobody mentioned a car being stolen, so how could they, if there was a they, get away with all that equipment?”
“Need help?” she said.
Neil went over and rubbed her back, pushing the ball of his hands along her shoulders. He knew where she held her tension. “What have you got in mind?”
“Not that. I mean I could pull some cards on it.”
“We could try.” He sat on the edge of believing and non-believing in her psychic abilities. He’d seen some amazing feats from her, where she pinpointed a body, knew where a murderer hid out, but he also knew that she was only a bit more than seventy percent correct. Pretty good for a psychic’s track record, but not perfect. He depended a lot on the thirty percent of the time she wasn’t right. About the danger, for instance, he knew his own abilities and relied more on those. Danger was relative. What might be dangerous to her was standard fare for him. He’d been in tough situations many times and always managed to escape with his skin. Either way, he supported her and wanted to hear what she had to say. When she was on target, it would also make sense to him. He’d get a feeling about it.
He followed her into the bedroom.
Mavra had her rituals. She began by putting both hands on her desk in front of her. She took a deep breath. Relaxed her shoulders. After a moment, she picked up the silk sheath and let the cards drop into her hand. Shuffling, she kept her eyes closed. “I’ll pull three cards as insight into the whereabouts of the time machine.”
“The alleged time machine. And let’s try to keep the language more generic. If they knew I told you about this, I’d never get another job.”
“The whereabouts of the equipment in question, then.” She gave him a wink. “No matter how much you protest, you always tell me.” She resumed shuffling, then pulled one card after another and laid them on the desk in a small arc in front of her.
Neil recognized the cards, but she never read them the same way twice. The cards were used as a guide to help her engage her psychic abilities. She had said once that she did see particular areas move or stand out more one time than another. He never fully understood her though. The cards always looked flat, like pictures to him. Nothing in them ever moved.
He watched closely as she traced a finger over the edge of one card then through the center of the next, wondering what she saw. At the last card, she tapped her finger. It all looked so mysterious even though he’d seen her do it a hundred times, a thousand. He knew that even with his bilateral thinking ability he could never get to that particular place that she entered so easily. All he knew was that he’d also be involved. He’d have to apply the symbol, the message.
“It’s scattered.”
“Scattered? That’s pretty direct. Nothing like, ‘I see leaves and rocks?’ or ‘Near the growling animals?’ You’re saying directly that they stole the machine so that they could dismantle it?” He paced the room, his finger to his temple, tapping, tapping. “Why would that thing…” He stopped. “Oh, for fucking Christ’s sake. Jesus, I can’t believe this.”
“You figured it out that easily?”
“The robot thing knocked out the camera. There are no other things. The doctor took the son-of-a-bitch apart himself and scattered the pieces. The damned thing doesn’t work; it never worked. I’ll bet those videos were purposely created to throw everyone off. That kid probably did it at home. Graduate students worship their professors. He’d do anything for Steffenbraun.”
Mavra went back to shuffling the cards. “Let’s clarify this, shall we?” She pulled one more card and set it across the other three. It was the Tower: people falling from a tower with lightning flashing in the sky. She shook her head.
“The demise of the equipment?” Neil suggested.
“No. I don’
t see it that way. There’s something wrong here. There’s more to it than stealing a machine to scatter the parts. We’re missing something that has to do with strong emotions, not anger exactly, but fear and perhaps desperation.” She pointed to the man falling. “He’s gone over the edge,” she said, “by choice. Maybe there’s no other way but to jump. It’s either that or die in the fire.”
“Means nothing to me,” Neil said. “Who’s gone over the edge? Steffenbraun? He might be desperate, though, wishing to continue his research, but having funds yanked from the project.”
Mavra shook her head harder. “No, it’s not him. I don’t know why I feel that way, but it’s not.”
“First things first,” Neil said. “We’ve got to find that equipment. Where we find the parts may tell us a lot about what happened and why.”
“If Steffenbraun took it apart, could he have reused some of the important parts in the fake machine he showed you? Hidden under everyone’s nose, so to speak?” Her face brightened with the idea.
“It was only his suggestion that the machine was a fake. The hull was from the same helicopter model, but was definitely a different hull. That could have thrown me and everyone else off track. The equipment hooked up to it would be similar anyway. It is an ongoing project.” He thought about it. “The important pieces could still be there. You may be right. A synthesizer looks like a synthesizer. No one would know if it was stolen or not.” He shook his head. “No, that wouldn’t matter anyway. He no doubt backed up his data. And if so, the one sitting there would be exactly the same. He could continue his research while we’re chasing the stolen one.” Neil shrugged. “He’s buying time.”
“Back to the people who took it,” Mavra said. “It would take more than one person to remove the hull from the building, right?”
“A couple people could lift it I suppose. Those hulls are awkward to carry but they are pretty light. The electronics were mostly located on tables and benches around the machine. I’d think the wiring and some of the coils were the heavy parts but easily disconnected and, like you suggest, put back on what Steffenbraun wants us to believe is the fake machine. Shuffled around and placed in different places, the thing would appear to be a different machine.” He snapped his fingers. “I need to learn more about this doctor. Where’s my reading pad, in the shop?” He turned around as though looking for it.
“Probably on your bench where you were using it last,” she said.
“Right. I’ll think about how the thing could be moved from the lab while reading up on Steffenbraun. Go over my notes, too. I jotted down some of the equipment I recognized.”
“You should get some rest. You were up pretty early this morning.”
“I’ll take turns letting my minds sleep.”
She continued to stare at him.
“I know, Mavra, my body wasn’t made to operate twenty four seven even if my minds can handle it. I’ll rest. I just have a few things to do first.” He headed for the door.
“I’ll order take out. Any cravings?”
“You know my cravings,” he said, stopping for a moment.
Mavra shook her head at him. “When your mind’s excited, your whole body checks in. But it still needs rest, not recreation.”
Continuing down the hallway to the shop to retrieve his reader, he said, “You know me too well.”
Neil located his reader and hesitated before he picked it up. The experiment from the night before lay across the bench like a half-eaten meal. He touched the circuit board, then ran his hand up along one of the cables that hung halfway off the bench. The parts were scattered across the bench. That’s what caught his attention. The machine didn’t have to be anywhere but right in front of them. The equipment and connections had always been scattered and they still were. The hull had been swapped out, that’s all. Mavra’s exact words, he thought. “Where the fuck does she come up with this shit?”
Grabbing the reader, he decided to take it to the park. He often read outside, letting the cool air touch his skin, the dim light of approaching evening close in around him. The wireless signal was strong in the park. It was easy to tap into the net.
Mavra was on the phone placing an order as he walked into the kitchen to go through the living room and out the front door. He mouthed the word, “Park.”
She nodded and placed a hand over the phone. “It’ll be a picnic.”
Neil loved the way she adapted to whatever was going on. She called it “embracing the universe.” Serendipity was easy for her, which made it easy for him once he learned to follow her lead. Usually he liked to have a plan, or the semblance of one, even though that seldom happened in his line of work.
There was something about the outside that Neil loved, but couldn’t put his finger on. It relaxed him more than sitting on the couch or working in the shop. He walked in long strides down the walk and turned toward the park, only a few blocks away. Traffic volume was low, an occasional car went by, moms or dads on their way home from picking the kids up from practice, late workers heading home for dinner. When he began to walk and read at the same time, he slowed. The reader glowed stronger as the night settled in.
Steffenbraun had been a brilliant physicist, had won a Glazebrook Medal and Prize and a Rutherford Medal and Prize, as well as several others. All done in his early and late thirties, then nothing, a paper published here and there, and eventually the move from academia to working for the government at the Wheatley Research Center. It wasn’t until he reached his early fifties, though, that he must have felt a need to step out and be noticed again. Perhaps it was the fifteen years or so of not being in the limelight, of not having any new discoveries, which made him eager for recognition again. Why he had chosen to enter the realm of time travel confused a lot of people. He got recognition and attention again, Neil thought, but for what ends, to be considered a crackpot? In opposition to what everyone said, negative visibility wasn’t as good as positive visibility, at least not in his field of work. He was taking a great risk? Why?
Neil found a bench and sat down. He kept an eye on the people going by and watched for Mavra instead of letting one side of his mind rest. He’d sleep later. Alternating sleep for each side of his brain tended to give him the feeling of flying across the International dateline, the jet lag could be rough.
As for Steffenbraun, not everyone in the field thought he was crazy. Some took his ideas in stride, or as another way to view the concept of time travel. After all, time travel had been studied and theorized about for years. It was mostly that Neil dismissed it as being practical, something that could actually be done. Theories on time travel were one thing, but who’s going to get close to the center of a black hole or allow their body to be fragmented and put back together in another time? It was all the practical pieces that were downright ridiculous, not the theorizing.
He continued to look things up and read more about the proposed ideas. He wasn’t a physicist, but could follow the general thought process if not the precise formulas. Of course, there was nothing in his research on Dr. Steffenbraun that mentioned building an actual machine. The government wouldn’t let that out of the bag no matter how obvious it might look. So Steffenbraun got his attention for his variations on old theories and his assertions toward ideas that stretched the envelope somewhat.
Neil set the reader on his lap for a moment. The sky opened to clouds and a few stars before him. Orion’s belt peaked through an opening, visible but surrounded by thick darkness. The idea of traveling through space at warp speed was equally as interesting as time travel and equally as impractical. No matter how mathematically sound some of those ideas were, they were still out of the realm of practical application. And Neil was all about practical application.
Mavra came into view along the same walkway he had taken. She carried a paper bag with their dinner tucked inside, no blanket, no basket. They’d picnic on the bench. Although unusual, he was good with that.
She was the one who didn’t care about practica
l application. To Mavra, traveling through time and space were as natural as the trees around them in the park. She time traveled in meditation, in her relaxed states. She pulled information out of the future and brought it back for him to apply to the present. As odd as those practices seemed to him, he believed in her and her ability to retrieve information even if that information was a bit foggy.
He smiled as she approached. Perhaps it was just love that made him feel the way he did about her abilities. And that was the most unpractical emotion in the world. Accept that, and the door opens pretty wide.
“I’m being followed,” Mavra said.
CHAPTER 7
DR. KLEIN RUMMAGED through the packages that had accumulated at the boundaries of the room. Boxes and padded envelopes bore labels from around the world. Inside he found all manner of electronics and computers, along with the latest in neurogrid and bio-circuitry plug-ins. He had designed and uploaded some of the interface components to a proper bio-lab for the build process before the components were mailed back to him for eventual use. Those items were waiting to be tested and installed. He kept them in a small bio-chamber at the end of his workbench.
Other components he bought through a variety of government accounts, and still other specialty components had been sent to him for evaluation. This was what a two-time Nobel Prize winner — one in Physics and one in Medicine — can have if he chooses: a lifetime of play. That’s how he saw it. He had access to technologies that no one else had access to but him. And he didn’t have to get approval from anyone, as long as he operated within the law. But what was play if you didn’t break the rules or push against the fence from time to time?
He laughed to himself as he opened another package. There was a foot inside the box. Peeling back the synthetic overlay, he recognized the arrangement of parts, if not the actual components, as something he had worked on at one time. Innovation had taken the foot’s capabilities to a whole new level. Piezoelectric motors had come a long way in their ability to be controlled and available power levels.