The Forgotten Room

34

After a few minutes, Olafson shifted in his chair, cleared his throat.

“Several days ago,” he began, “you asked me if I’d known the forgotten room existed, or what it might have been used for. I told you I didn’t know.” Olafson hesitated again. “That’s not true. At least, not precisely true.”

All of a sudden, the director — whose eyes had been roaming the room as he spoke — met Logan’s. “There’s something you have to understand. When you showed up here in answer to my summons, I was in shock. I was completely overwhelmed by what had happened to Will Strachey — by what he’d done. There were things you said, things you asked me, that I didn’t fully absorb at the time. If I had absorbed them, I might have forbidden you to examine that room. But I’ve had time now to reflect on what you’ve said. And I’ve had time to…remember.”

Watching Olafson, Logan was suddenly reminded of their conversation in the director’s office, before they’d gone down to dinner, when he’d told Olafson about Project Sin and the missing files, and of his suspicion that the forgotten room had been the location of some mysterious research. At the time, a look had come across the director’s face: the look of a man who’d just come to a realization.

“Go on,” Logan said.

“The fact is, you’re quite right, Jeremy — more right than you know. Secret work was going on here in the late twenties and early thirties. I can’t tell you the nature of that work, because I don’t know what it was. But I know knowledge of the work was confined to just the small group of scientists undertaking it — and the director of Lux at that time. I do know the work was being conducted in an undisclosed location here, on the Lux campus. I think it’s safe to assume that location was the secret room that you — and, I fear, poor Will — discovered.”

The director rubbed absently at his chin. “I don’t know any details. What I do know is that those few who knew about the work held out great hope for it; that it would prove to be a true boon to mankind. But as the nineteen thirties progressed, the mood of hope turned to one of concern. You know, of course, that Lux’s charter prevents it from undertaking any research that could possibly be used to harm humanity.”

Logan nodded. “So I assume this secret research began to lead in that direction.”

“Yes. Or at least, the promise of that direction was there…should people have decided to act upon it.”

“So the research was abandoned, permanently.”

“Abandoned, yes. But not permanently. A decision was made to mothball the work — to seal it away, in essence — until such time when it could be reexamined, and a determination made as to whether technology had sufficiently advanced so the work could be accomplished in such a way that it couldn’t be retasked to harm humanity.”

“A scientific time capsule,” Logan said.

“In effect. To be reopened — or, at least, reconsidered — one hundred years later.”

“And, no doubt, all paperwork, journals, and notes on the project were moved from Lux’s central files to the forgotten room itself. That would account for the gaps in the record.”

“Most likely. And then the room itself was sealed.”

“No.” Logan rose to his feet and began pacing. “I don’t think it needed to be sealed. The only entrance was hidden inside a column in a disused storage room on the floor above. The secret room was, to all intents and purposes, already sealed off.”

“In any case,” Olafson went on, “the few scientists who had worked on the project took solemn oaths of secrecy and left Lux within months of the project going black. That much I know.”

“What else can you tell me?”

“Not much. In my office there’s a safe — a special safe. It contains a sealed dossier. In 2035, that dossier is to be opened, and a panel convened to determine whether the old research can be safely reactivated. When I took this position eighteen years ago, I was told — among various other things — about the existence of this dossier. It is the duty of each outgoing director of Lux, in fact, to brief the incoming director on it, and to explain the importance both of the dossier itself and of the year 2035.”

“Passed down, in secret, from one to the next. The same way an outgoing president briefs the new one on intelligence matters, hands over the nuclear football.”

Olafson grimaced. “I can’t say I like the allusion, although that’s it in a nutshell. But you see, Jeremy, I am four directors removed from the events that took place here in the midthirties. I was told about the secret work, about the dossier in the private safe, during the course of a five-minute conversation years ago. By the time Will killed himself, I’d forgotten all about it — or, I suppose more accurately, it never occurred to me that it might have any bearing on recent events.”

“No,” Logan said. “No, of course not.”

“That’s why I had no problem sanctioning your exploration of that room — and also why I didn’t link its existence with Will’s death. But given what you’ve discovered, given that device you just showed me…I don’t think there’s any doubt.”

“I agree.” Logan stopped pacing. “So let’s go.”

The director frowned in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“Let’s open the safe.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m perfectly serious.”

“You don’t understand.” Now it was Olafson’s turn to stand, alarm on his face. “By telling you this, I’ve already broken my oath as director of Lux.”

“But the answers we need are in there, and—”

“Jeremy. I’ve told you this, I’ve voiced what no director has since 1935, to let you know that you’re right. Secret work, dangerous work, was being done here, no doubt within the secret room. You’re close to an answer now — I know it. Now I’ve provided you with the confirmation you need to keep you on the right course.”

Logan, almost dazed by this sudden refusal coming on the heels of such an unexpected revelation, struggled with conflicting emotions. “Greg. It’s your moral and ethical duty to show me the contents of that dossier.”

Olafson shook his head almost sadly. “No. I’ve already broken my oath as director. I’m sorry, but I can’t compound that by breaking my promise to the Lux charter.”

“Then more people are going to die,” Logan said quietly.