Rebel in Time

Chapter 11

'No wonder everyone's so upset about the security here,' Troy said. 'A time machine — why, just the idea of the thing, it's almost too big to take in! On television, sure, you see people jumping back and forth through time, but everyone watching knows that it's just actors in costumes and cardboard sets. But to have a real one, here, in this lab—' He ran out of words, looked to see if his glass was completely empty, then drained the remaining drops. Roxanne saw this and stood and hurried to the bar.

'Sorry. I'm being a rotten hostess. But you're right, the kind of time machines that zip into the past and future like temporal trolley cars, they happen only on television. Ours is not quite that impressive. When we turn it on we use enough electricity to light up all of Chicago to, well, do very little.'

'Like doing what?'

'I'll show you. Let's just finish these before the ice melts.'

He sipped — and was struck with sudden apprehension. 'Could your machine, could it have anything to do with McCulloch's disappearance?'

Roxanne thought for a moment, then shook her head no.

'I think that it is highly unlikely. You mean could he have sent that gold somewhere for his own nefarious purposes? That is so close to impossible that it is impossible. The biggest target object we have used so far only weighed a few grammes. But let's get down to lab nine before they lock up for the day. I'll show you just what I mean. We'll have to hurry. Bob Kleiman comes in at the crack of dawn — but he leaves just as early as well.'

Laboratory 9 was right down at the bottom of the building. They hadn't been there on their earlier tour. The heavy entrance door was locked and even the security guard could not open it. He had to telephone through to security central and identify the two visitors before the lock clicked and the door slid aside. They went in and, as the heavy portal closed behind him, Troy had the strange sensation that the hair was stirring on his head. He held his hand to it and felt it writhing under his fingers. Roxanne noticed his shocked expression and smiled.

'Nothing to worry about,' she said, rubbing at her own hair that was now standing straight out from her head. 'Static electricity. A few million volts of it, but no amps to speak of, so there is nothing to worry about. Side effect that happens when the machine is in operation. But it gives you some idea of the kind of juice we use here.'

It certainly did. The electrical fittings were most impressive. Wires thicker than his arm swung from gigantic ceramic insulators, looping down into the guts of hulking great machines. Most of the apparatus was grouped in the brightly-lit centre of the room — where the floor apparently bulged upwards. It wasn't a bulge, Troy saw when they walked closer, but a ridge of grey stone that projected up through the white concrete floor. Some of the machines were bolted to it, while others hung out over the stone on shining steel arms. A man in a laboratory smock was working at one of the machines; he turned around when Roxanne called out to him.

'Bob, you've got a visitor. Lieutenant Harmon, Doctor Kleiman. Troy, Bob.'

'My pleasure,' Kleiman said, wiping grease from his hand onto his already stained coat before extending it. They shook hands. Doctor Kleiman looked very much like the classic image of the scientist. His greying hair was raggedly cut and long overdue for a barber's attention. And his eyesight was bad; he blinked through bottle-thick lenses at Troy.

'If you are here to recruit me for the Army you are too late. I been four-F since I was born.' Troy smiled.

'You're safe,' he said. 'You don't look like cannon-fodder to me.'

'You betcha. So, since the purpose of this visit is not official — what is the purpose?'

'A demonstration,' Roxanne said. 'I thought Troy would understand the project better if he could see just what we are doing. Are you running any calibration set-ups?'

'Been doing them all day, and if you don't mind some self-adulation I will humbly tell you that I have added two more zeros to the right of the decimal point.'

'How wonderful!'

Roxanne almost clapped with joy and Troy almost wished that he too could get so excited by decimal points and zeros. But he knew better than to ask for an explanation.

'However, don't take my word for it,' Bob Kleiman said, turning to a computer terminal. 'Let me just feed in some info and I will show you. You, Troy, do you have a quarter with you? Admission to this show is two-bits. Good, thanks.'

Bob took the coin over to a workbench, laid it flat, gave it a few rasping strokes with a file, then handed it back.

'Look close,' he said. 'I've put a nick right behind the cute little bow on George's pigtail. Correct?'

'Right.'

'And the date on the coin is 1965. Is this coin unique enough so you will be able to recognize it again? Some people always claim they were tricked.'

'They could have been,' Troy said. 'I didn't notice the date when I gave you the quarter. You could have substituted another one just like this, and have a prepared duplicate as well.'

'You're right, this guy is a sharpy, Roxy, watch out for him. So do some additions yourself, Mister Sharpy. Take this knife and the coin and make it unique so you will be positive there is no hanky-panky.'

Troy scratched a cross on Washington's noble forehead then returned the quarter. Bob backed away from it, hands raised. 'No way, Sharpy,' he said. 'You put it down yourself, over there on top of the rock, on the laser spot. Otherwise you will claim that I palmed it.'

There was a flat area on top of the rock that was marked in the centre by a disc of ruby light. Troy laid the coin on the spot of light and stepped back.

'The experiment begins,' Bob said, throwing some switches, then squinting at the VDU screen of the computer to see the figures displayed there. He used them to set a different set of instruments. 'Done,' he said. 'If you people will kindly join me behind this insulated barrier we'll be able to avoid some of the sparks. That's it, on the rubber carpet, hold onto the brass rail at the same time. Troy, does that fancy Army turnip on your wrist have a stop-watch function?'

'Yes.'

'Okay. Switch it on and start it going when I hit the controls. Now!'

There was a sharp crackling in the air and a vivid display of coronal sparks from a number of metal surfaces. The effect died away very quickly and Bob led them back to the experiment area. The rock was bare.

'Where's your coin?' he asked.

'Gone.'

'You have keen eyes.'

'Thanks. But where did it go?'

'When did it go would be more grammatically exact. Keep watching. It should be exactly seventeen seconds. Now!'

The coin reappeared, there on the rock, looking as though it had never moved. Yet no one had gone near it; the nearest piece of apparatus was a good two feet away. Troy had pressed the button on his watch by reflex. He looked at it now. Seventeen point seven seconds. He reached out and picked up the coin. The nick was there, as was the cross. 1965.

'That's really great, Bob,' he said, closing his fist tightly on the coin. 'Now would you kindly tell me just what the hell happened?'

'My pleasure. At a cost of approximately four bucks' worth of electricity, your twenty-five cents was sent ahead in time for exactly seventeen seconds. For us, in the eternal present, the coin appeared to vanish. But it wasn't gone, it was just sitting on top of the rock, seventeen seconds into our future, waiting for us to catch up with it. Seventeen seconds later we did — and from our point of view it suddenly came into being on the rock. Which was not true. It had been there all along. It just took us some time to get there. Now say that you don't believe it.'

Troy opened his hand slowly and looked at the coin. 'I believe it,' he said, and was surprised at the hoarseness of his own voice. 'I don't understand it — but I believe it.'

'Congratulations,' Roxanne said. 'The overwhelming majority of people who see this demonstration just don't want to believe what they have seen. It goes against their image of the world and they just can't accept it. That's why we do all the games to mark the coin. But despite this, most of the time they still refuse to believe what has happened and prefer to look for the gimmick that fooled them.'

'One general took his pocket knife to the rock,' Kleiman said. 'Swore that it was cardboard and hollow. Broke the blade, you can still see the scratch right there.'

'I can accept it all right,' Troy said. 'Though it does give me a strange feeling just behind the eyes when I think about it. Does this thing work both ways?'

'What do you mean?'

'It went forward in time — but can it send things back in time as well?'

'Theoretically, yes,' Kleiman said, turning off a series of switches while he talked. 'But we just don't know yet. Experiments have been made, with just a few particles of matter at first, then slightly larger objects. The objects vanished all right, but they never reappeared again. So we went back to the drawing board to overhaul the theory before we made any more experiments.'

Troy was trying to get the possibilities of the machine straight in his head. And at the same time was worrying at the idea that the machine might have some connection with Colonel McCulloch. 'Can you send anything, anything at all?'

'So far what has been sent has made the trip. Were you thinking of anything specific?'

'Gold?'

'Why not? There's some silver in that quarter of yours, probably minute traces of gold as well. No problem.'

No problem? A big problem. What possible earthly connection could there be between McCulloch, the gold, this machine, and the future — since the past was ruled out? What? Absolutely nothing he could think of. And his head was beginning to hurt. 'Thanks for the demonstration, Bob. I appreciate your help.'

'You're welcome, I'm sure. Could I ask what your interest in all this is? Or is that classified?'

'Not classified at all. I'm in security and I'm making an investigation that involves some people here. So I have to know more about the mechanical details of the project.'

'Security? Now isn't that just great.' Bob bent over his console and disconnected a canon plug. 'Just the man I want to see. I've been trying to get ahold of Old Snarly, your Colonel McCulloch, all day. All I get is excuses.'

Troy's eyes met Roxanne's and he saw his own worried tautness mirrored there.

'What do you need the colonel for?' Roxanne asked.

'To do his job, that's what.' He straightened up and shook the end of the cable at her. 'Deadlines you give me, and reports to fill out, but do I complain? I do not. But I do not labour alone. Harper, my assistant, does all the paperwork, a paragon who is never late and never out sick. But today he is not only late but he is not here. Nor is he at home when I call him on the phone. Nor is Old Snarly at his post when I need him. So can you maybe find out what is going on around here and let me know?'